obscure tickle scene enjoyer<3 22, they/he/she, autistic, demi-ace
Mostly nonsexual but still sort of a kink blog so please only interact if you’re 18+ rarely i shitpost about other things too
My name is Red, I'm a solid 50/50 switch, I am from new england, I am still in the tk closet, and after nearly 10 YEARS of lurking on tickle tumblr I finally decided to bite the bullet and make a blog.
I'm sorry if my tone sounds needlessly serious, I am autistic-- and also this is a serious thing for me, so I guess it only makes sense. :]
This will be mostly textposts and reblogs, since most of my main fandoms are too abysmally small to make content for because it will immediately be traced back to me. Textposts can be found under the tag #red says stuff.
However, there is one main thing I have a penchant for, and that is finding obscure tickle scenes!! Whether it be from shows, books, movies, games, I wanna show the community some scenes they’ve never seen before (and find ones I’ve never seen before either— I’m always down to be flustered by a good scene XD) Those can be found under the #tickle scene tag.
I'm also an artist! I rarely post art due to insecurity but art can be found under the tag #red draws stuff.
NON-TK BLOGS, PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG MY TK CONTENT. I NEED TO KEEP IT CONTAINED.
BUT IF YOU ARE A TK BLOG, IF YOU LIKE MY POSTS PLEASE REBLOG AND COMMENT/TAG!! I LOVE HEARING YOU GUYS’ ADD-ONS BC YOU ARE A LOT MORE CLEVER THAN ME
(and also because i’m insecure and need constant reassurance that people actually like my ideas. wait what who said that)
Do not RP with me unless I explicitly say you can.
Please refrain from sending me tickle-related asks unless we are friends.
Minors, ageless blogs, bots and cishet men, please do not interact. I am not interested.
Terfs, magas, maps pedos, gen-ai asslickers and zionists, you can fuck right off and don't come back. EVER.
I have been in the tickle closet quite literally as long as I can remember, so this is a massive step for me. I'm hoping that finding some friends in the tickle community will help lift that 20-year weight off my shoulders and help me finally experience this thing.
One reason I put this off for so long is because I'm TERRIFIED of being involved in any drama, so please be nice to me. If for some reason I do something wrong, please tell me in dms so I can try to fix it/apologize. I have no idea how I am perceived by others and am terrified of accidentally saying or doing the wrong thing without knowing.
I do have another blog under a different tumblr account, but I will not say what it is. I'm not shady, I promise; just making sure to cover all my bases so I'm not found out by my other moots.
Other fandoms I like (biggest ones in red) include:
-Date Everything
-Pokémon (in general but especially Team Rocket)
-My Immortal (NOT harry potter. I must specify this)
in which you fall victim to a giant spider and its many, many, many children
aaa hello,,! pls enjoy another drabble type thing feat another scenario i think abt sometimes and have. very normal feelings abt i. promise
~2.6k words, cw: tickling (sfw but with kink in mind + slightly intense), lee!reader, inhuman/monster!ler, multiple lers, teeny tiny lers, stuck in place, spiders, nearly full body tickling (stomach, bellybutton, chest, neck, ears, back of knees, etc)
The first thing you notice when you wake up is the stickiness on your arms and legs. It’s slightly soft, not gooey or greasy, but strong in its grip. You try to wriggle and are met with firm resistance. Panic begins to creep in through the haziness of your still sleepy mind and you take a few quick, deep breaths, trying to keep yourself calm as you survey exactly what sort of trouble you’ve landed in.
You aren’t hurt, which is good. The last thing you could remember from before losing consciousness was falling for what felt like–– well, not that long, actually. Time had stilled for seemingly a moment or two and then there was nothing. You must have passed out before you’d landed in…. what exactly did you land in? You shift your head from side to side as much as you can in order to get a better view of your surroundings.
At the far edges of your vision, you can see the dark grey rock walls of a cavern. You aren’t sure how big it is because you can’t quite see the cave room floor, the little bit of sunlight trickling in from above quickly being swallowed up by shadow. Around you, intricately braided ropes of white stretch from wall to wall, forming a spindly basket of shapes and patterns that glisten like crystal shards.
It’s a web. A gigantic spiderweb.
All the warnings you’d been given about the humongous arachnids local to the area start flooding back to you. ‘Avoid the deeper parts of the forest,’ your neighbor had told you when you’d first been moving into your new cottage. ‘The underbrush is so dense, it makes the entrance to underground caves— spider holes, we call ‘em— almost invisible. If you’re not careful, you’ll fall right in!’
Internally you curse yourself for not heeding their advice. If you had listened more seriously to their rambling, maybe you’d have some idea of how to get out of this situation, but as it stands, you’re stuck. Which is not ideal.
You spend a few minutes attempting to tug yourself free, practically thrashing in your efforts, but the web holds you tight, merely bouncing back and forth with your movement. You go until you’re panting hard before finally relenting and relaxing again. It’s probably best to conserve your energy. You take a few minutes to catch your breath, feeling the web slowly return to its previous stillness beneath you.
And then it wobbles again.
You freeze. The dip you feel can only be caused by something very large and very heavy. Your eyes jump from shadowy crevice to shadowy crevice, searching frantically for whatever had just made its presence so purposefully known, and then your gaze flits upwards and your stomach drops.
Eight eyes, black and glittering, stare down at you from the dark. Despite not being able to see its full form, you can tell the spider is monstrously huge. It keeps itself hidden, tucked away from the sunbeam peaking in through the canopy. You’re frozen in place, both literally and figuratively. There is a long moment where nothing moves but the web, still swaying slightly under the spider’s weight, before something suddenly crawls out from the shadows beneath the giant arachnid. It takes a second for you to register what exactly it is.
Another spider: much, much smaller than the first, so small its presence doesn’t disturb the web at all. It creeps down towards you in graceful, careful strides, its movement slow, almost hesitant. You feel like you should be trying to get away from it, but instead you just watch, stiff as a board, as the little thing stops an inch from your face, its multiple tiny eyes surveying you with what seems like curiosity.
It shifts a bit closer, and you can almost picture it cocking its head to the side like a puppy. One minuscule leg reaches out, brushing against your cheek, so light it almost feels like the tip of a feather. You’re so baffled by the sensation that you don’t even realize the spider has moved until you register it crawling onto your head.
Your face screws up in discomfort and you go even more still, as though maybe if you just didn’t move, the spider would grow bored of you and scurry away. It doesn’t. You clench your fists tight as you feel it move from your hair, to your forehead, to your temple, down your cheek, under your chin…
Oh. That tickles.
Your expression scrunches for a very different reason now. The spider’s little legs slowly making their way across your throat feel like someone is brushing a miniature feather duster across your skin. You try very hard not to react, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your lips together in a stubborn attempt to supress the wobbly smile spreading across your face. It’ll move away from your neck eventually. You can handle this. It’s not that bad.
Something tiny and soft rubs up against your wrist and your eyes shoot open.
It seems you’d been so focused on that one baby spider’s actions, you’d failed to notice the arrival of many, many more, none of them larger than your fist, some of them smaller than a coin. They surround you almost completely, blinking at you with the same curiosity as their sibling. You and the army of little spiders stare at each other for a long second… and then you jolt when the one by your wrist begins to crawl up your arm, a handful of its brethren following suit.
The sensation of them on your forearm isn’t too horribly ticklish, but you can feel your sensitivity rising as their feathery feet move towards your shoulder. You squish your lips together in a tight line to try and fight off the inevitable as one spider meanders across your collarbone, another lingers in the crease of your elbow, another slips beneath your sleeve, and very quickly all your defenses collapse. Your upper body jerks, making the web twinge yet again, and the remaining spiders shift and scurry around you, drawn in by the sudden motion.
“Ah–– eehee––! Wait!” You squeak a little as more tiny tormentors start to close in. “W–– Wait! Wait!”
Your protests fall on deaf ears, the spiders seemingly only encouraged by the sound of your voice. One wiggles its way under the fabric of your tunic and you can feel it taking slow, exploratory steps across your lower stomach. When it reaches your naval, it stumbles, surprised by the sudden dip in terrain, its fuzzy leg falling into the depths of your bellybutton. This earns another squeak from you.
“Ack––! Get–– get out ohohof there–!”
You wiggle your hips in a fruitless attempt to dislodge the spider, and you can hear it softly clicking in distress as you do. Unfortunately this does little more than bring more of its concerned siblings beneath your shirt to investigate the commotion, their downy feather bodies brushing like teasing fingertips over the sensitive stretch of your tummy.
Crap, crap, crap. The little spiders aren’t stopping. They’re also not attacking you, or trying to eat you, which you suppose is a good thing, though it’s hard to appreciate your luck when you’re busy trying not to dissolve into helpless laughter. Your eyes frantically jump from side to side before landing on where the giant mama spider is still skulking in its shadowy corner. Its multitude of eyes haven’t left your squirming form for a single moment.
What is the purpose of this? Is this what giant arachnids are known for? Are they tenderizing you, preparing your body for consumption in some weird, horribly ticklish way? Or maybe they’re just genuinely curious about your warm squishy flesh and the way it writhes when touched. Your neighbor had spoken like people falling into spider holes was commonplace, but maybe they were exaggerating and this is the first time these creatures have ever seen a human. Gods, you wish you’d taken the time to learn more about the stupid magic forest surrounding your town. If you had, maybe you wouldn’t have—
“Aha–– eeheehee––!” Breathless laughter interrupts your thoughts. “Nn––nnnahahaha!”
One of the baby spiders moves up your side and your giggles jump as it softly crawls over your right ribcage. There are a lot of them on you now. Thankfully only a select few have figured out how to access the soft, sensitive skin beneath your clothes, but the ones that had are quickly proving to be your biggest concern, finding tickle spots even you were unaware of.
A particularly small spider nestles itself into your navel. When it reaches the bottom, it keeps crawling, trying to move deeper and supposedly very confused by the warm little tunnel ending so abruptly. The sensation makes you squeal and thrash. A separate but equally effective spider skitters around your ear, barely a whisper against the cartilage. The waistband of your trousers are— thank the gods— too tight for any of the little pests to wiggle past, but your relief at this quickly morphs into even gigglier distress as one of the ones by your left boot finds it way under your pant leg. You try your hardest to kick your feet in instinctive protest as you feel it crawl from your ankle, to your calf, to the back of your knee, where it seems to settle itself comfortably into that sensitive concavity.
“Ahaahaha! Oh–– Ohoho gohohods–– stop ihihit!”
Your voice pitches up into a squeaky hiccup. There’s so many of them and they’re everywhere, only a few precious stretches of your skin left untouched by the spiders’ ticklish skittering. It’s overwhelming, it’s all-encompassing, it feels like it will never end, and then, out of nowhere, all movement stops. The tiny creatures on your body come to an abrupt halt and everything around you stills.
Almost everything around you stills.
The web is wobbling yet again. It moves in deep, dipping shudders as something very large and very purposeful makes its way down towards your trapped, helpless form. You want to run; you want to tear yourself from the sticky prison encasing you and hightail it all the way back to your little cottage, but your limbs are too tired from squirming to even attempt an escape. You pant, skin prickling under the frozen touch of the baby spiders covering it, and wait for the inevitable with your eyes shut tight.
But the inevitable doesn’t come. A gargantuan shadow is cast behind your eyelids and you tense yourself in preparation for the sting of a bite, yet in place of white hot pain you instead feel a small, careful tug at your tunic. As your mind races to grapple with the lack of fangs sinking into you, the fabric of your blouse is gently but unceremoniously ripped open. Goosebumps erupt as the cool air of the cavern hits your torso and your eyes shoot open.
Those eight glittering eyes stare down at you, each one as large as your head with a color akin to polished obsidian, your own terrified face reflected back at you from within their inky black depths. The spider shifts its giant maw downwards, fangs speckled with saliva, inching closer and closer to your now very exposed and very vulnerable stomach.
I’m gonna die, you think. I’m going to get eaten by a giant spider and I’m gonna die. And I just paid off the mortgage on my stupid cottage.
Except the giant spider does not eat you. The feeling of its jaws pressing into your skin is not followed by white-hot pain; in fact you don’t think it even broke the skin. For a moment you’re completely baffled as to its motivation, the reason behind its apparent mercy, and then everything clicks into place when its mandibles twitch, gently tweaking the sensitive bit of tummy beneath your bellybutton.
“Wh–– wha––ahahAHA––!”
You can’t even properly react to the new stimulation before the various baby spiders dotting your body start to chirp and shift, almost vibrating with contentment, seemingly very happy that their mother is joining in on this new experimentation of theirs. You’re instantly overcome by squealing laughter as your trapped form is riddled once again with soft, quick, horribly ticklish sensations, now with the added torment of the giant spider’s gentle mandibles squeezing and pinching your stomach.
If the little spiders’ fuzzy bodies were akin to feather dusters, their mother’s rounded fangs are like deft, nimble fingers. It’s an absolutely torturous combination. You aren’t quite sure what tickles more: the ghosting of barely there plumage all over your skin or the pointed, concentrated teasing above your waistline, practically digging into your sensitive flesh.
“AhahAHAHA! St–– stohoHOHOP–– EEHEEP––!” Your noises hit their crescendo. The giant spider, silent and stoic in the face of your helpless hysterics, stares down at you as it pokes and prods and pinches endlessly. “I–– I cahahAHAHA–– I cahahan’t–– pleaHEEHEEHEASE––!!”
Every inch of you is thrashing against torturously ticklish touches both light and forceful; it’s all you can feel. Even the stickiness of the web entrapping you has long since faded into the background. In the deepest recesses of your mind you suppose you should probably still be worried about being eaten, but currently all you can think about is the sensation of little eight-legged menaces scurrying over your overly sensitive body and how their mother’s mandibles are so, so horribly effective at tickling that you almost wonder if they were designed specifically for tormenting you in this way.
Your vision blurs; your insides hurt from laughter. You aren’t quite sure where you are anymore. Is this your life now? Are the spiders going to tickle you until you pass out, or explode, or die? Any or all of those options feel equally likely with the way your brain is starting to melt, lost in the overwhelming experience of being utterly and completely overcome with tickles. You think you might not be able to take a single second more…..
And finally, finally, it stops.
It takes you a moment to realize the spiders are retreating. The feeling of them slipping off of you is so similar to the earlier tickling, you don’t notice your torment has been paused until suddenly your skin is a lot more bare than before. Your ears are ringing. All you can hear is your own ragged breath as you take in gulps of cool cavern air. When your eyelids crack open slightly, you just barely register the gigantic blurry shape of the mother spider and its hundreds of children backing away from your exhausted form. God, are you exhausted. You’ve never felt so tired in your life. You can’t fall asleep here, you absolutely should not fall asleep here, but despite your best efforts you can feel yourself slipping into the oh-so tempting arms of unconsciousness.
You wake up, much to your surprise, in the infirmary. As your village’s healer feeds you a foul-tasting concoction, you learn that apparently unsuspecting townsfolk falling into spider holes is a regular occurrence, even more so than your anxious neighbor had implied. It’s so regular, in fact, that there are nightly patrols of the forest and underground caves to check for any unfortunate victims. You want very much to ask if every person who finds themself stuck in a giant spider’s web winds up being tickled to tears, but you can’t quite force the words out. Perhaps you really were just particularly unlucky.
You decide to pointedly ignore the part of yourself–– the incredibly stupid, deeply embarrassing, morbidly curious part of yourself–– that kind of wants to go trekking back into the woods to see if the experience can be replicated. If only for the sake of science.
The economy is so bad that the knismos working retail jobs are spending a bit too long in the cleaning and haircare aisles looking at brushes and scrub tools
Squirmles love to lick up sweat excreted from apocrine glands during a "feeding" session. This stress sweat is high in fatty acids and nutrients.
Sweat from tickling is also a natural human defense, intended to make skin more slippery to dislodge attackers like insects. Squirmles must keep their fuzzy grip to slither around, so they make sure to keep their prey clean.
Author’s note: More PHM content COMIN’ AT YA! I knew I wanted to do a fic with Rocky in his upgraded suit from the start, and I remember hearing that Grace uses Rocky like a backpack in the book, and from that one image an idea was sparked! (The backpack thing is like in one description and has nothing else to do with the fic but for some reason I remember that being one of the main inspirations for this 😭 Lol) Thank you for all the kind words on my previous PHM fic by the way! 💕 I hope you enjoy this one too!
(Also available to read on AO3!)
Series: Project Hail Mary
Characters: Ryland Grace and Rocky
Word Count: 4,121
Summary: Rocky and Grace are testing the Eridian’s new xenonite suit to see how well it holds up in different activities. The pair is having trouble coming up with what they should test next with the suit, until Rocky comes up with an idea thanks to a little reminder about Grace’s laughter-inducing reflexes.
---
When Rocky first proposed the idea of a “skin-tight” xenonite suit for himself on the way back to Erid, Grace was thrilled along with Rocky. “With a new suit, Rocky can be closer to Grace!” the Eridian stated, and Grace gladly welcomed the idea of his friend being able to interact with him more outside of a giant sphere. However, once the excitement of the idea was out of the way, now came the question of practicality. Both of them certainly knew it wasn’t impossible, but how they were actually going to execute it was still in the air.
With two scientific minds on the case though, the odds of pulling it off increased significantly.
On the way back to Erid, Rocky created multiple prototypes with help from Grace with some calculations and adjustments. Some of them were too thick and bulky where Rocky could barely walk, some were way too tight like Rocky was encased in cement, and one just straight up exploded. How, they still have no idea.
It took the entire trip back to Erid before they finally found a base model prototype that functioned well enough, but it still needed tweaking. Plus, once Grace’s dome was built so he could live on Erid, Rocky’s new xenonite suit had to be tested under brand new, human conditions instead of a spaceship.
They broke their tests down into three categories: dexterity (how efficient could Rocky move his limbs), speed (how fast Rocky could maneuver), and durability (how well Rocky’s suit could handle the test without sustaining damage like cracks or scratches). They also added a fourth category for comfort. It started off as how comfortable Rocky was in his suit, but it quickly transformed into how comfortable the suit is for Grace when Rocky gives him hugs or snuggles up to him. So far, it’s excelled in that category.
Grace sits on the floor of his Eridian-made house with his legs crossed. In his hands, he has a notepad and a pen.
“Okay, so we’ve already checked the suit against atmospheric pressures; activities like swimming and running; elements like water, sand, grass… doors,” Grace lets out a little chuckle at that last one.
The rock alien across from Grace pipes up, wearing the newest version of his tight, but comfortable xenonite suit.
“Yes, Rocky learned that suit can handle door if Grace hits Rocky with it,” the alien’s computer voice from Grace’s laptop translates. Grace is starting to get a little bit of a grasp on the Eridian language, and Rocky his, but it's always nice to have the translator in the room.
“I didn’t hit you with the door! You ran into it while I was opening it!” Grace points the pen at his friend and smiles.
“How Rocky tested suit against door is irrelevant, statement,” Rocky waves his claw.
Grace huffs out another laugh. “So, what do you want to test next?”
Thinking it over, Rocky taps his rock face like where a chin would be located. “Rocky is not sure. What does Grace want to test next, question?”
“I asked you first.”
“I asked you second,” Rocky responds like it’s a game.
“Hey, are you copying me?” Grace jokes, “What are you, a parrot?”
Grace thought Rocky would continue throwing quips at him, but instead, Rocky tilts his body to the side. If Rocky could blink in confusion, he would. “Do not understand Grace,” Rocky replies, “Grace say new word.”
“Oh. Did I never explain what a parrot is?” Grace is a little surprised himself. Out of all of their conversations, he’s surprised something humans usually learn in kindergarten never came up. He puts his pen and paper down and pushes to the side. “It’s an animal back on Earth. I mentioned to you what a bird is, right?”
“Yes, yes!” the alien perks up, “Rocky recognizes bird.”
“Well, a parrot is a type of bird. Some humans have them as pets. They’re able to mimic speech or sounds that a human teaches them, or that they pick up from their environment. They usually perch on a human’s shoulder as a companion,” Grace taps at his own shoulder.
Rocky seems intrigued at this, wiggling his body. “Rocky understand! Rocky repeated Grace, so Rocky sounded like parrot.”
“Exactly.”
The alien still has an exciting thought on his mind. “Can Rocky be Grace’s companion?”
“What do you mean? You already are, buddy,” Grace smiles.
“No, no. Like bird!”
“What?” Grace chuckles.
“With new suit, Rocky can be Grace’s bird companion on shoulder!” Rocky skitters over to Grace, sliding behind his back before the human can respond. He drapes his stony arms over Grace’s shoulders like a backpack and tries to hop on top of the human.
Grace playfully tries to elbow him off, “What?! No way! You’ll crush me, you big boulder!”
“Grace will be fine. Rocky want to try! Grace, lower shoulder!” Rocky takes another attempt at climbing on Grace, his scrambling back claws grabbing and swiping across the sides of his torso to gain a foothold like a ladder.
The human continues to ‘fight’ off the curious alien. “Rocky–! AH! Wahahait wait! You’re tickling me!” the squishy human compacts his arms to himself and giggles.
Rocky stops his skittering, but keeps his arms over Grace’s shoulders. The alien learned about what tickling was back on the ship when Rocky had poked Grace’s fleshy side one day. Rocky tickled Grace all the time to pass the boring moments in space, and to mess with the human (Rocky thinks it’s a nice bonding experience too), but Rocky was slightly limited to the pokes and prods he could do through the mesh of his big, clunky ball. But now…
Rocky gets a smug idea. A low purr takes the place of a smirk.
Grace recovers, still on the parrot thing, “I don’t think this is going to work, bud.”
“Rocky knows what he wants to test next with the suit,” the alien pipes up from behind.
Grace glances over his shoulder. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Grace asks right before a yelp rockets out of his throat; without a moment to waste, Rocky skitters his claws into Grace’s sides.
“AH! Hehehehey!” bouts of laughter already spill out of the human.
“Rocky want to tickle Grace!” The alien chirps. “For science!”
Grace clamps his arms to his sides and squirms in place. “Yeheheah, I figured thahahat part out! Whoa-!”
Rocky tackles Grace from the back like a big dog, sending the human belly-flopping to the floor as if he is a drawbridge. Grace stretches himself out like a cat flattening itself to the floor as Rocky stands above him experimenting with his claws on Grace’s torso.
“So! First test: dexterity!” Rocky announces. “With new suit, Rocky can flex claws much easier to scratch and squeeze at squishy flesh of Grace. Rocky will demonstrate.”
And the alien does, kneading at Grace’s side like dough and skittering his claws over the back of his ribs. Grace barks out a laugh on top of his other booming laughter and pulls his arms closer to his sides. Grace wiggles around, but Rocky holds one leg on Grace's back to weigh down the scientist so he stays lying on his belly.
The alien lets out a pleased chirp. “Surprised! New suit is working much more effectively for tickling already, statement. That, or Grace has become much more ticklish.”
Oh, now Rocky is just teasing him, huh?
“Reheheheally? I think it’s the sahahame!” Grace uses sarcasm to try and keep a sliver of his pride, but Rocky squashes that immediately with a well-placed squeeze to his side that causes him to snort. Grace face-plants into the floor, his chest bouncing with uncontrollable giggles.
“Grace serious, question? Can Grace hear self? Grace is laughing so much more,” Rocky counters the scientist’s claim. Grace can feel the blush creeping under his glasses.
“New suit can also tickle harder to reach spots, like here,” Rocky slips his claws into Grace’s armpits, to which Grace folds his arms down even tighter to himself and shoots his head up with giggles. He kicks his legs behind him. Rocky sees this and knows he has to take advantage of it, naturally. The alien turns and catches one of the human’s kicking legs. “And back of knees,” Rocky punctuates with a scribble to the pocket of skin.
Grace completely dissolves into a giggly puddle. “I see-hehehehe-ee that–AHA! Rohohohocky!!!” Grace swipes at the air when Rocky sneaks in an extra third claw to test a few tickles at the foot beneath his sock. The human presses his face back into the floor, slamming his fist to the ground next to the side of his head.
Even past his own overflow of giggles, Grace can hear Rocky letting out a squeaky chuckle as he scratches at Grace’s toes. “Still shocked how human's walking appendages can be so ticklish.”
Grace lifts his face off the floor. “Rohohocky! Stahahay focused ohohon the experiment!” he shouts at his friend, knowing that Rocky deviated from the task at hand to mess around a little.
Rocky hums out chuckles and lets go of Grace’s leg, giving the scientist a short breather. “Okay, okay. Dexterity has been checked for efficiency. Rocky will test speed now.”
Before Grace can even get out a word, Rocky leaps back to Grace’s top-half, now changing tactics to quickly scribble and scratch at his friend’s torso like he was flipping a bunch of buttons on a control panel.
Grace laughter returns in full force. “Rohohohocky!” Grace shifts so he can turn over on his side, and Rocky steps off of Grace’s back to allow the human to roll off his stomach. The scientist curls up and wiggles around on his side, trying to defend against Rocky’s swift claws attacking him from the front.
“Speed in new suit appears effective for tickling as well, statement. Can keep up with the movement of squirmy human. Squirmy like Earth worm,” Rocky throws in. “Does Grace agree, question?”
“Whahahat do you thihihihink?” Grace sasses, only getting two claws digging into his belly in response. He yelps and flops onto his back with a wheezy cackle. Rocky hops over the human like a hurdle to his other side, positioning himself there to continue the tickles.
“Grace did not answer question,” Rocky hums, knowing fully well that he’s teasing his friend.
“Ohohohokay yes!” Grace covers his face, leans his head back, and kicks out his legs. “I agree! I agree!” he quickly amends his statement before throwing his arms back down to his torso and swatting at Rocky’s claws.
Rocky’s suit certainly makes him faster, but Grace’s reflexes swinging around his middle like a shield is making it difficult.
Rocky almost lets out a little squawk of frustration. “Grace. Hands are in the way of experiment.” As soon as the alien says this, it clicks for Rocky that his new suit has the solution. He beams, “Rocky will move them!”
When Grace takes another swat at Rocky, the alien pauses his tickling to gently grab one of Grace’s wrists and hold his hand up by Grace’s head. The scientist appreciates the breather, but he also hasn’t fully processed his position. It isn’t until he sees Rocky’s claws preparing to come at him that he shoots back into a giggly frenzy.
“Wahahait! Wait, Rocky! Time out!” Grace waves his free hand, already turning his head into his shoulder with a smile and trying to lean away from Rocky’s hovering claw.
The alien seems surprised at this. Rocky tilts his body again. “Why is Grace laughing already if Rocky is not touching yet, question?”
Grace sinks his head into his shoulders, realizing his slip up. He flushes under his glasses. “Because! Because it’s funny!” Grace replies.
“It is funny, but not the reason why Grace is laughing,” Rocky doesn’t buy Grace’s explanation in the slightest.
With one of Grace’s arms held up beside his head and Rocky’s claw dangerously close, the scientist wagers he’s better off explaining the truth. Though, that doesn’t prevent the butterflies fluttering in his belly at the concept of trying to teach Rocky the cause of his outburst while in a precarious position.
He takes a breather to get his frazzled thoughts in order. He adjusts his glasses. “Um… okay… So you know how you’re going to tickle me, r-right? Well, even if you’re not actually tickling me, my brain is expecting it, so the anticipation is already activating my ‘flight or fight’ response, which in this case is causing me to laugh already. It’s kind of like our brain is tricking us that we’re being tickled before it even happens.” After he finished his explanation, Grace thinks he’s about to short circuit from embarrassment, right then and there.
There’s a moment of silence as the alien processes the new human quirk. Then, he responds, “That’s dumb.”
Grace lets out a flustered scoff, “Well excuse you!”
“How can the human brain be so easily tricked, question?”
Grace counters, “Well, I seem to remember YOU being tricked when I pretended to throw you a ball and you went after it when I didn’t actually throw it.” Grace snickers at the memory of fooling around with Rocky while they were on the ship, like his alien friend was a dog playing fetch with his little stress ball of Earth.
Rocky does not seem as amused. “Oh, yes. Rocky remember. Made Rocky feel foolish.” Rocky pauses. He hums and shakes his body; if he could smirk, this would be his way of showing he’s doing just that.
“But now, with new suit, Rocky can now trick Grace,” the alien brings up two of his claws and wiggles them closer to the scientist, whose arm is still snugly in the Eridian’s grip.
Grace squeaks, already letting out giggles against his control. “Rohocky! That’s so mean!”
“Take this! And that!” Rocky pretends to aim for spots across his torso where his claws can hover. The first few times get Grace to flinch and giggle, but Grace stops reacting as Rocky repeats his movements, like a cycle.
Grace blinks at the alien, “Well, it’s not going to work now since I know you’re just tricking me—HEHEY!” Grace is interrupted by one of Rocky’s teasing claws officially plunging itself into Grace’s outstretched armpit. Rocky’s second free claw joins in, scratching at his ribs, earning the happy sound of Grace’s loud laughter he was waiting for.
Rocky squeaks out a snicker. “Rocky likes tricking Grace, statement. Rocky got an even bigger reaction. Did not think that was possible.”
Grace cackles, “NOHOHOT fair!!! Yohohohou hahahave five arms!”
“Seems like a human problem,” Rocky shrugs.
“Ohohohokay! That’s it!” Grace declares. In a burst of instinctive playfulness, not even considering the possibility if this will work or not, Grace launches his free hand towards Rocky and squeezes his leg, wrapping his fingers into the back of his joint. Rocky squeals.
He instantly topples off of the human, hitting the floor backwards with a clunk like he was just shoved by an invisible force. Rocky scrambles to get back on his legs.
Grace quickly sits up, a slight pant leftover to his words. “Rocky! Are you okay! I’m sorry I was just playing! I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Grace says frantically.
Rocky waves his claws to reassure him. “Rocky okay. Rocky was not hurt. It was, however, a strange… funny feeling.”
At first, Grace is still worried, but the second he thinks about Rocky’s word choice, it hits him.
Grace starts to smile. “Wait a minute… a funny feeling you said? Rocky, you wouldn’t happen to be ticklish, now would you?” Grace’s grin grows wider.
Rocky stomps his foot. “N-No! It was just a funny feeling that made Rocky want to laugh!”
“Yeah, that’s called being ticklish, buddy. Ha! I can’t believe this!”
Rocky’s computer voice sputters. “No! No! Human tickling does not work on Rocky! Only Eridian tickling!”
“Wait, hold on-” Oh, this just got even better. “There’s an Eridian version of tickling, and you never told me?” Grace points an accusing finger at his friend.
Rocky freezes, realizing the gravity of the information he just spilt. He turns around to face away from Grace and crosses his arms.
“Rocky thought it was unnecessary to tell. Rocky was also in xenonite ball, so Grace could not touch. Grace’s attempts to try would have been futile.”
As much as Grace wants to ask about Eridian tickling, that’ll have to wait. Right now, he’s interested in testing a theory about Rocky’s new suit.
“But you’re not in that ball anymore, are you?” Grace smirks at him. Rocky whips around to face Grace; his rock face doesn’t show it, but the way he’s standing stiff shows he’s mortified.
Grace revels in Rocky’s reaction. “I think I know how we can perform the durability test of your suit,” Grace wiggles his fingers in the air.
With a squeak, Rocky tries to scatter, but Grace practically pounces towards him like a panther. The human lands on top of him and a well placed scratch to the side of the alien’s rock face makes Rocky squeal and his legs collapse from under him like a ton of bricks. The mesh of the xenonite suit under his fingers feels like the gel of an unfrozen ice pack, but he can also feel the hard surface of Rocky’s shell beneath. Grace quickly theorizes that his scribbling fingers are causing seismic-like waves to course through Rocky’s shell. In other words, it’s like Grace is creating a mini earthquake vibrating through the Eridian, resulting in the tickly feeling for Rocky, but he’ll have to confirm that theory later. First, revenge!
While his fingers skitter across Rocky, already earning sputters of high-pitched trills and gurgles from his friend, Grace swiftly sits back and drags Rocky into his lap like an extra heavy bowling ball, using his criss-crossed legs like a nest to hold the alien.
“Gr-Grahahahahace!” Rocky’s chirps become melodic, as if his laughter is performing a tune. He flails his limbs like he’s trying to regain his footing, but catching nothing but air. Grace knows Rocky is so much stronger than him, but the tickling seems to have the alien malfunctioning like a robot that just got a bucket of water thrown on them. Even his computer voice has trouble translating the increase of giggly garbles and squeaks that spew from the Eridian.
“Wow,” Grace has to giggle at the sight. “It looks like your suit is holding up so far. How about you, Rocky? You look really ticklish,” Grace emphasizes.
“Rohohocky is ticklish a nohohohormal amount!” Rocky tries to squeak with pride. “Human is mohohore ticklish! Abnormally so!”
“Oh no, I don’t think you’re in any position to be talking back to me, mister. I’m not going to take any sass from someone who looks like a jellyfish flopping out of water,” Grace smirks.
“Rohohocky does not know what that is! Buhuhut knows Grace is trying to fluster Rocky!” Rocky shoves at Grace’s legs to put up some kind of a fight, but the human knows that’s not the alien’s full strength. Rocky starts to heats up as if he is an electric blanket splayed out across Grace’s lap. Grace guesses this is the Eridian version of a blush when their surface becomes warmer.
“And it’s working, huh?” Grace observes, “Hey, does this work on you too?” Grace stills his fingers to give Rocky a quick breather. When the alien turns to face the human, he lets out a squeal and presses himself to the pocket of Grace’s criss-crossed leg as he notices Grace wiggling his fingers in his face.
The alien already releases chirpy giggles while watching the wiggling appendages he’s trying to get far away from move closer.
“Grahahace!” Rocky squeaks, his computer voice frantic with anticipation.
“Ha! It does work!” The scientist rejoices and plunges his fingers back towards Rocky for real this time, not wasting a second. Rocky shrieks again, and bats gently at Grace’s hands that are exploring around the small pockets of holes at the front of his rock face. “Who’s brain is getting tricked now!” Grace throws in for good measure.
“Shuhuhuhut your human face hole!” Rocky then shrieks when Grace grabs one of his legs and tickles around the center of his joint, very similar to when Rocky tickled the back of his knees.
“Excuse you! And it’s called a ‘mouth,’ Rocky. Did our anatomy lessons teach you nothing?”
“Rohohohocky knows human hahahave five fingers, ahahahand it is SO unfair fohohohor tickling!” Rocky states through his abundance of joyful chirps.
Grace scoffs, “Oh, well now you know how I feel!”
The alien shouts, “Nohohohot the same!”
“Oh yeah?” Grace lets go of Rocky’s leg and utilizes all ten of his fingers to the fullest, one hand at Rocky’s side, scratching like he was giving a big dog belly rubs, while his other hand skitters up and down his carapace like a spider. Rocky practically squeals, nearly falling out of Grace’s legs and onto the floor again.
“What were you saying again, Rocky?” Grace grins.
“EEP! 𝅘𝅥𝅮♬♪♬ !” Rocky chirps out a harmony with how much he’s giggling, “Ohohokay! Okay! Grahahahace has made point! Nohoho more tickle! Plehehease!”
As soon as he hears this, Grace promptly lets go of Rocky. The alien takes a few deep breaths then flops over Grace’s legs to relax.
Grace softly chuckles. He starts to feel Rocky’s heat return to its normal, warm temperature.
“You good, Rocky?” the human gives the alien a gentle pat. Rocky jumps from the touch at first, but he leans into Grace’s hand, knowing his friend has had his fun with him for today.
“Rocky is okay.” After a few breaths, Rocky crawls off of Grace’s legs so he can face his friend.
The alien stomps his foot to the floor. “Grace was evil, statement,” Rocky says, jokingly.
“Me? You started it! And I didn’t see you trying to fight me," Grace points out with a smile.
The Eridian ignores that second half. “Rocky started it for science! Grace for fun.”
“Hey, if you were doing it for ‘science,’ then I was doing it for science too! I was testing my theory to see if human tickling works on Eridians. The answer is yes,” Grace answers smugly, but scientifically speaking, he is curious to explore more about his discovery, another day though. “Plus, your suit stayed in tack, didn’t it?”
Rocky grumbles. “Rocky suppose suit did stay strong while being tickled by Grace…”
“Yep! That means it passed the dexterity, speed, and durability test. So this is one more thing we can add to the list,” Grace grabs his pen and paper that was pushed to the side and writes down ‘tickling’ as another activity they tested.
“Maybe Rocky should make the suit tickle proof…” the alien mumbles.
“If you do, I’ll just find a way to get you through your suit,” Grace banters back at him with a grin. Rocky rattles his body, which Grace knows is like the human equivalent of rolling his eyes.
A moment passes. Rocky speaks, “You know what Rocky just thought of?”
“What?”
Rocky steps forward. “When new suit is finalized, Rocky and Grace can use what was learned to make a suit for Grace.”
Grace’s focus shifts fully to the alien. “Really?” he asks, his heart touched simply by the offer. “A suit… for me?”
“Yes! So Grace can come visit Eridian home sometime!”
The scientist glows. “You would do that for me?”
“Yes, yes! Rocky is able to visit human home, so it’s only fair if Grace can visit Eridian home,” Rocky wiggles his body.
Grace’s big smile lights up all of his features. “Well, then we better start getting ahead on these tests then. We’ve got to make your suit the best it can be first,” Grace declares.
“Agree! Agree!” Rocky cheers. “So…what should be the next test, question?”
“Right…” Grace leans his head in his hand. “That’s what we were trying to discuss,” Grace realizes they’re back to square one. “Hmm…”
Rocky taps one of his claws to the floor as he thinks. Suddenly, he straightens himself on his legs like an idea has been shocked into his system. “Oh! Oh! Maybe Adrian has idea! Rocky and Grace can ask them!”
“Hey, good idea Rocky!” Grace shares in the alien’s enthusiasm.
“Then what are Grace and Rocky waiting for! Go let’s!” Rocky chirps.
“Heh, the phrase is ‘let’s go,’ buddy,” Grace replies. “But yeah, let’s go!” Grace hops up from his spot and Rocky skitters by his feet as the duo prepares to run off in search of their next round of experiments.
I head canon Grace being ticklish at least to some extent pretty much everywhere and Rocky loves to find all the little weird spots to drive him up a wall palm/arm tickling needs some more love imo
sorry it’s so sketchy looking, running out of ideas and motivation😔 (feel free to give any ideas you would want to see no promises I’ll draw them tho!) but I hope you all still like it🩷
Grace's years of isolation from humans result in severe touch starvation. Rocky takes one look at this problem and says, "Hold my minerals."
Word Count: 3,687
Warnings: None
This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)
Inspired by an adorable series on A03 focused on Grace being a wet cat and Rocky learning about human quirks (physical contact and mental health) Link Below!
Archive of Our Own: Platonic Cuddling Series
The journey to Erid was slow going.
Space. More space. Some stars. A little more space. And oh, hey, would you look at that! Space again!
During his lonely trek back to Earth, Ryland Grace had considered cracking out the cocktail of Knockout Juice to slip him into a coma until he was home. Now, however, he wasn’t alone aboard the Hail Mary. Heck, he wasn’t even going home anymore.
He’d been on such a rollercoaster of emotions over heading back to Earth. Despair, acceptance (not really), hope, then acceptance again (for real this time). With the finality of his choice to stay permanently in foreign space, something festered within Grace.
Despite the companionship he has, an awful emptiness latched its teeth into his core and wouldn’t abate. No matter how much time he’d spend with Rocky or watch clips of Earth in the Don’t Go Crazy Room, the feeling of wrongness stayed, and Grace has no idea how to stop it.
A shudder runs through his form, making Grace hunch further in on himself, gripping onto his arms. His skin ached something fierce, despite his hands rubbing along the surface in a meager attempt to self-soothe against the barrage of phantom needles.
What he would give to be bundled in his mother’s arms like he was ten again after tumbling off his bike and scraping his knee. Or being smothered in his dad’s all-encompassing embrace after a failed science experiment, a promise that one day, “He’d be the smartest and coolest of all scientists”. What he’d give for any form of hug at all whilst in deep space-
The invisible aches haunting his body intensify in a sudden surge. Grace freezes in place, struck by a daunting realisation.
…Oh.
It was cruel and unfair, but it made sense. The urge to cry welling up behind his eyes has Grace's breath shuddering out of him sporadically.
“Grace, okay, question?”
The doubled thudding of the Eridian’s back leg cuts through the static building in Grace’s head. He looks to the side and finds the alien ‘watching’ him intently, his carapace shifting in blatant concern.
Grace has to push the word out of his throat. “...No.” He rubs his palm along his arm with a disconnected fervor. It doesn’t feel as though the warmth of his own skin is even getting through.
“What problem, question?”
How could he even begin to explain the torrential emotions wreaking havoc on his wrung-out body? “There’s something wrong with me.”
“Grace sick? Question?” Rocky is growing restless, feet thunking against the xenonite shell of his ball.
Grace swallows back the lump trying to start an uprising of sadness in his throat. It was a persistent battle. “It’s a human thing,” he rasps. “I don’t know if it can be helped.”
“Explain. Rocky fix.”
Grace shakes his head as he burrows into his arms, both to hide his burning eyes and to escape this conversation. Rocky couldn’t fix it. Bless that alien’s heart of gold for trying, but he just couldn’t. What Grace needed, what he was craving, was human touch. It had been years since he left Earth, and his skin was growing desperate for an inkling of steady, warm contact. But by abandoning his journey to Earth in favour of saving his best friend - which he didn’t regret for a second, mind you - he’d robbed himself of the chance to ever experience it again.
Granted, the last memory of touch was being forcibly restrained to the ground, suffocating pressure pinning him down as he screamed for help that would never come. Not exactly a golden recollection of human connection.
A steady series of tapping filters into Grace’s ears, getting past the marching band thumping away. He peeks over his forearm. Rocky has rolled himself so close that he’s right beside his friend.
“Heartbeat fast,” the Eridian states, worry warbling through his medeloic voice. “Bad, bad, bad. Oxygen needed.”
He’s close enough that Grace can feel the alien’s warmth through the xenonite. His skin practically buzzes with the idea of leaning against the Eridian’s stone-like form, multiple arms encircling him with a pressure that could settle his racing thoughts and lonely heart.
Grace can’t help it. He gives in to his pathetic, human instincts.
His arms stretch out from his self-contained ball of panic to clutch around the xenonite, drag Rocky into his chest, and slump against the warm, glass-like surface. A sob tries to strangle his throat, but any noise is kept locked behind Grace’s pursed lips. Rocky tucks himself against the wall separating them, soft melodic noises rumbling from his form in an attempt to settle the erratic pounding he can hear within Grace’s chest. He’d only heard this in moments of extreme distress for his human, and it hurt every time. Though Grace is trying to stay quiet, soft plinks of moisture hitting the top of the zenonite were heard loud and clear for the alien.
Grace clings to the zenonite ball as tightly as he can, trying to trick his mind into believing that the smooth, warm surface was what it was after. That this hug shared between two species unable to co-exist within the same environment is enough for his human instincts.
His skin prickles. The tears keep falling. It isn’t enough. And it is going to stay that way for as long as he is away from Earth.
A shudder runs through the man at this bleak thought, the ever-expanding pit in his chest feeling as though it’s swallowing up his entire being.
As if he heard the emotional casam split further, Rocky’s warbles take on a mournful croon. “Grace, tell Rocky what wrong. Please?”
Grace presses his tear-stained cheek against the warm surface, sighing miserably.
“I’m touch starved.” He says it quietly, fingertips brushing over a surface that isn’t organic enough to trick his brain into thinking it’s skin. “Humans are social beings; we naturally seek connection, and with that comes physical contact. It’s common with anyone we’re close to, not just mates. It’s ingrained into us to co-regulate, so when we go for a long time without that, it causes us to experience skin hunger. It makes humans feel bad.”
Rocky cocks his body to the side, akin to tilting one's head. “Is hug helping badness?”
Grace wishes he could say yes, but then he’d be lying, and he didn’t want to do that to Rocky. Shaking his head miserably, Grace scrubs a fist across his eyes to stem the flow of tears. “No. I’m hugging you, but I can’t feel you hugging back. Pressure is a key thing with hugging; it feels safer that way.”
Rocky trills sadly. “Apologies.”
Grace shakes his head again, but this time it’s paired with a weak, sincere smile. “It’s not your fault. Just sucks that our biologies are so different. I bet you’d give really good hugs without this thing in the way.” Grace knocks twice on the ball, emphasizing the distance between them.
Rocky chitters, though there’s something contemplative about his tone now - an inquisitive warble rumbling through the plates atop his body. He leans away from Grace, his back legs thumping against the casing of his ball as he thinks. “Rocky has idea.”
“Yeah?” Grace lets his arms fall away, desperately ignoring the loss they feel as the warmth disappears from them. There was no need to be clingy. It wasn’t exactly like the hug was helping him in the long run. It was like putting a sticky plaster over a gaping chest wound and calling it a day.
Rocky trills again, more full-bodied. Determined. “Yes. Need to begin work now. Will show Grace when ready.” Rocky is practically buzzing. An eagerness tugging at his limbs as he fidgets in place, itching to start whatever ‘mystery project’ he’s begun cooking up.
“...You gonna tell me what your idea is?”
The alien gives Grace his version of a thumbs up and happily chirps, “No.”
To make it even more peculiar, he hasn’t allowed Grace anywhere near him as he crafts. Any time Grace sets foot in the lab, he gets hissed at. Forget Eridans being extraterrestrial lifeforms of complex intelligence. That sentient stone spider is a cat in disguise. Grace has it on good authority that the little guy practically purrs whenever he’s smug or has done something clever. There was simply no other way to describe the happy trills rumbling from his body.
So, Grace has been forced to amuse himself with other things on the Hail Mary, as his only companion is acting like a kid fresh into puberty and staying in his room to play video games. Fortunately, Stratt had been generous enough to provide enough stimuli aboard the ship to keep the passengers entertained while they slowly died in an eternal abyss of stars.
Unfortunately, he could only consume so many episodes of Star Trek in total silence before he felt an oncoming existential crisis about watching a space show in space.
Thankfully, just as he’s considering going into the lab and risking being cursed out in Eridian, a series of clunks from multiple legs echo through the ship. Only… it didn’t sound like it was coming from inside the hamster tunnels running throughout the vessel. Nor was the clunking dulled slightly by a xenonite ball following the demands of five limbs.
It sounds clearer. Closer. Concerningly faster than the ball as well.
Grace drops the Comfort Quilt™ from his shoulders and scrambles up from his crossed leg position. He doesn’t even know what he’s bracing for, but what greets him when it stomps into view is not what he’d been expecting in the slightest.
Rocky is encased in xenonite. Not a ball. His body is literally wearing such close-fitting xenonite that it follows every crevice, bump, and grain on his form.
“Hi, Grace!” He chirrups, sounding utterly exhilarated as he holds up a claw and splits it into the famous Vulcan greeting from Star Trek. “Surprise!”
Thank god Grace put down his mug of coffee before preparing for a potential ambush, or the inventory would be down a cup. His jaw has long hit the floor in place of ceramic shards, eyebrows high as if pulled by a passing moon’s gravity. “You’re- you made a suit,” he sputters out.
“So Rocky can fix starvation of skin!” Rocky bounces and wiggles in place, the thin xenonite moving with him flexibly. He eagerly reaches out with his two front limbs. “Can hug properly now!”
Grace stares. His ears heard it, but his brain could not comprehend the development. That being said, his heart definitely could, and it felt full enough to burst.
He practically dives for Rocky and slams his full weight into him, knees colliding heavily with the floor. Rocky’s three back limbs counterbalance instantly, and the other two wrap tightly around his human. His claws grip into the fabric of Grace’s cardigan and stay there, keeping the man close against his body heat.
After months of being on the ship - technically years, but Grace didn’t count the coma for his own mental health - with absolutely no physical contact from another being bar a ball of xenonite, this hug was everything.
It was tight, yet not enough for Grace’s deprived body. Every nerve was screaming from overwhelming warmth and pressure, but the idea of letting go only made Grace grip harder. He barely acknowledges he’s sobbing into the top of Rocky’s carapace; he’s too preoccupied trying to convince himself he isn’t dreaming.
Rocky stays put, soft notes humming out of him in a gentle, soothing coo. He’s seen Grace cry before - that man had earned the title of ‘Leaky Space Blob’ after all - but this is different. It’s relief, it’s despair, it's everything the man has been silently yearning for in the depths of his subconscious.
Rocky is more than content to stay where he was with Grace practically smothering him from his doubled-over position, all his strings cut and emotions raw. He would stay put for as long as Grace needs. He lifts one of his limbs from the floor and runs it through Grace’s hair.
He pretends he doesn’t hear the high-pitched, wounded keening that leaves the human in a cathartic, emotional release.
“How did you do this?” Grace asks. “This looks too thin- heck, it feels too thin to be safe for you.”
Rocky chitters, pleased. “Much trials and errors,” he says. “Important. Needed to make.”
Grace tightens his arms around Rocky for a moment before letting him go again. Well, kind of let him go, Rocky is lying over Grace’s legs with the man’s arms draped over his limbs. Yes, he was being a little clingy, but his entire nervous system was recovering from months of neglect. He needs this.
“It means a lot,” he swallows back tears that threaten to have another revolution and overthrow his ability to see. He’s already shed enough to fill a water bottle or two.
They’d moved to the dormitory once Grace felt reasonably steady to become a functioning human being again. (For those curious, it took a decent while for that to happen.) Now, he’s lying on his back atop the bedclothes with an Eridian carefully perched on his lower body as a steady source of contact. It seemed the small alien was enjoying the newfound freedom of touch without a ball getting in the way.
One of Grace’s hands is being diligently studied by the Eridian. “Humans soft.” Rocky remarks, something like awe filtering through his musical tones as he delicately handles Grace’s fingers. “Too easy to damage.”
Grace snorts. “We can’t all be sentient canon balls, Rock.”
“What is ‘canon ball’, question?”
“Projectiles we have on Earth. It was used in battle.”
“Rocky is terrifying space spider and dangerous ball, question?”
Grace thinks of when Rocky first barged into the Hail Mary and proceeded to almost cause irreparable property damage to multiple items and devices within the ship. “Yes.” He states with a laugh. “You’re a force to be reckoned with.”
Rocky perks up. “Good reputation to have!” He prods at Grace’s fingers. “Better than leaky, squishy, space blob.” He pokes at the softer skin of the man’s side to further drive his point home.
Grace yips, batting Rocky’s claws away from his torso instinctively. “Hehey!”
Rocky jolts upright, removing himself from Grace’s legs. “Hurt? Grace hurt? Rocky hurt Grace?!” His voice flits up several octaves as he panics, hands tightly curled against his body to keep them far from his friend.
“No. No, no, you didn’t- hey, come back here, you silly goose. Stop freaking out.” Grace grasps one of Rocky’s retreating limbs and gently tugs him forward with an exasperated chuckle.
Rocky hesitantly steps closer, but doesn’t settle back down. Grace’s legs mourn the loss of their weighted blanket. “Grace make hurt noise,” he states. “Make same sound when burnt with solder iron.”
Grace sighs and sinks deeper into his mattress. He didn’t think this would be a topic he’d have to explain to aliens, but here we are.
“Humans have a pretty complex nervous system that has evolved to alert us when we’re in danger, specifically through touch. When you poked me, my body was telling me something was digging into a place where vital organs sit. The noise I made was just a byproduct of that.”
Rocky considers this explanation, then makes a confused warble. “You laughed afterwards.”
Damn. Grace had been hoping Rocky didn’t catch that.
“...Yeah.”
“Why, question?”
“...It’s a human thing.”
“Explain. Grace live on Erid in future, need to know human biology.”
Well, no dodging the question now.
Grace sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It just tickled a bit, that’s all.”
“No understand word.”
Double damn.
“...Tickling is when humans are touched in a certain way that makes us laugh. It’s attached to the nervous system thing, part of our fight or flight response.”
Rocky tilts his carapace and extends a claw to wiggle against Grace’s side again. The small squeak Grace lets out causes heat to flush his ears. Rocky chirps, delighted. “This make laughter on command!”
Grace opens his mouth to parry that point, only to gasp and fall into bouts of snickers when Rocky’s claws start prodding at his stomach insistently with both claws. “R-Rohohocky!”
It’s been years, even more than he’s been on the Hail Mary, since he’s felt this sensation. The scuttling, electric sparks spread through his nerves, causing him to flail helplessly. His hands scrabble to both grab onto and bat away Rocky’s curious limbs. Neither tactic got him very far.
“Grace sound very happy,” Rocky informs him. Thank you, Rocky. We’d be lost without your keen observation skills. “Are all humans this sensitive?”
Grace makes a strangled, embarrassed noise in the back of his throat and tries to yank his legs up so he can curl into a ball and hide.
“No, stay stationary. Rocky is not done exploring this.” Rocky’s claws grab onto Grace’s knees to simply push them away, only for Grace to yelp and kick his legs out.
“Nononono- Rohohocky c’mohohon!”
Rocky chirps, curiosity singing through his melodic voice. “Tickles happen all over, question?” He inquires, his back hand squeezing Grace’s knee and thigh twice in place of stomping.
“ROHOHOCK!” The hearty cackles that sprang forth like an exploded fire hydrant were answer enough.
Rocky scuttles and prods over the muscular limbs, little chirps of excitement emanating from the depths of his carapace with every new noise he draws from Grace. Scratching at the underside of the human's knees produced a series of breathy, unstoppable giggles that vividly reminded Rocky of the young Eridians back home with newly developed squeaks perpetrating their vocal cords.
Rocky relays that thought to Grace, and the temperature of the human’s face increased dramatically.
“Grace embarrassed, question? Sound cute.” Rocky reassures, wiggling his claws into Grace's lower abdomen.
A flustered noise left the man, quickly buried behind his arms as he wriggled incessantly from the tickling. “E-Enohohough wihihith- my knees!” He pleads, the feather-light wisps of touch sending his brain into a haywire state of laughter.
“That okay, plenty more to try!”
Grace feels pressure firmly lay across his legs, keeping them still despite their instinctive desire to kick. Rocky has become essentially deadweight, using his higher body mass to easily pin Grace to the bed. At first, his heartbeat kicked up in learned fear from being pinned down amongst dead grass, but the gentle touches and familiar warmth of the Eridian dashes his anxiety instantly.
It was kind of hard to focus on the last memory of being pinned whilst Rocky's two front claws had taken to prodding all over the man’s torso. Light and experimental pinches being tossed in just for curiosity's sake.
“Grace should have informed Rocky of this sooner, could’ve cheered you up easily,” Rocky says, mirth filling his voice as he takes in Grace’s blinding grin, flushed cheeks, and bubbling laughter. He made sure to keep his touch light, not wanting to accidentally hurt his friend; however, in doing so, the tickling was simply more unbearable.
And as much as Grace's touch-starved body is relishing in this newfound, sorely missed companionship, it’s tiring quickly.
“R-Rohohock! Plehehease! No- Nohoho mohohore!” Grace wheezes out a laugh before slumping back into the rumpled bedclothes, all fight disappearing and leaving him in a puddle of giggles.
Rocky chirps, withdrawing his claws from Grace’s stomach. “This hurts, question?” He stomps his back foot into the mattress to punctuate his concern.
“No, not at all.” Grace drapes an arm over his eyes and takes in grateful gulps of air, the last of his laughter shaking his chest. “Just overwhelming, bud. It’s been a long time.”
“But Grace is okay, question?”
The hollowness is gone. Grace’s cheeks hurt from smiling. He feels good. “Yeah.” The scientist reassures. “Better than okay. I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in a while.”
“Want me to do again, question?”
Grace’s arm that’s draped over his eyes shoots down to preemptively cover his stomach, an embarrassed grin spreading across his face. “Uh- no, no, that kind of touch is usually for play. Kinda wanting to get some rest now, Rock.”
Rocky chirps, leaning a bit more into Grace’s chest, akin to a weighted blanket. He wraps his claws underneath Grace in a hug, while one reaches up to scratch through his hair. Grace practically melts, a blissful sigh heaving Rocky up and then down in a slump.
“Better, question?”
“Yeh, feels n’ce,” Grace slurs out, eyelids long since closed, and wrapping his arms over Rocky’s warm, xenonite-enclosed form. It was like hugging a hot water bottle made of glass. Sleep was sneaking around the corner with a bat and a trip to Night Night Station.
A claw slips down his scalp, scraping close to the skin of his ear. Grace flinches with a small grunt. The claw pauses.
“Grace is serious? Here as well, question?” The amusement is abundantly obvious.
“Shut up,” Grace grumbles, gently taking Rocky’s front limb and guiding it back to his hair.
Rocky chuckles. “Humans are very endearing. Will be doing this again, statement."
Grace rolls his eyes, trying to pretend there wasn’t a blush practically living on his ears now. Rocky let him dodge answering that. After all, he plans to use this newfound information to keep Grace’s spirits up. There would be plenty of time to prove to his friend that humans were loveable space blobs.
“You sleep, I watch.” He murmurs, carefully scratching the man’s scalp in rhythmic patterns.
Grace’s fingers intertwine with Rocky’s and squeeze. “Thanks, Rocky. …And thank you for fixing this. You’re a miracle worker.”
“Will always fix for Grace. Grace family, statement.”
Grace squeezes a bit tighter, hoping Rocky understands the love being projected through the gesture. He pretends his voice isn’t choked up as he whispers, “You’re my family too. Statement.”
The rumblings of the Hail Mary almost match the lyrical purrs emitting from Rocky, sending Grace into the deepest sleep he’s had since being aboard. Safe. Protected. Loved.
