Rules: make a poll with 10 of your favorite shows, they can be just 10 shows you loved watching or your top 10 tv shows of all time, and have your followers choose their favorite then tag 10 people.
ah yes. my personal favourite moment from the book: the first time Rocky realises Grace is the most intelligent idiot he’s ever met
“I return to the tunnel to tell Rocky about how smart I am.” ,,,, bro could only call you bad because he simply didn’t have the words to describe ur silliness grace let’s not hype ourselves up too soon.
Hi Apple users, Apple released a fun thing where they take your photos and Siri transcripts and use them to train AI! And they may be automatically turned on without your knowledge, because oh boy they sure were for me!!!!!!!!!!!!
Open the “apps” section in your settings (it’s usually at the very bottom), go to photos and scroll until you see “Enhanced Visual Search” and then turn that shit off. Then go to “Privacy and Security”, scroll until you see “Analytics & Improvements”, and turn off “Improve Siri & Dictation” as well.
I am an artist with hundreds upon hundreds of my artworks in my photo album. I also have plenty of photos with not only my own face, but the faces of my friends and my family. I do not appreciate that being used to train AI without my consent, and I’m pretty sure it’s the same for others too.
I’m so tired of big companies.
EDIT: I made a mistake this feature isn’t used to train AI, but it does still take your photos to be analyzed by AI. This is a feature that was automatically turned on without notice, giving nobody the option to turn it off or on until they find it themselves.
Thinking about how Grace definitely mistranslated (or at least oversimplified a translation) somewhere with the phrase “you sleep, I watch” because a) Eridians aren't watching anything, they're all blind, and b) Rocky at least can definitely hear Ryland when he's not in the room, but still insists on being physically close to him while he's sleeping.
Grace discovers at some point on or after the journey to Erid that the word he's translated to 'watch' is closer to 'guard' in this context, and that while it's just a social norm nowadays, technically in doing it he's agreeing to fight off any prehistoric Eridian beasts that might attack while Rocky's sleeping.
Beasts that were the same size/bigger than Grace, were adapted for Eridian gravity and didn't need a xenonite suit to breathe.
Rocky has a lot of fun coming up with wilder and wilder explanations as to how Grace could theoretically defend him from these creatures using a combination of ingenuity and Science.
(His suggestions get a lot more elaborate after they both watch Home Alone.)
One night before bed Grace gets curious and asks how Rocky thinks he'd defend him against some Earth predator like a bear.
Rocky pauses.
“Bear is Earth creature with no carapace, internal skeleton like Grace question?”
“Yeah.”
“… If bear attack while you sleep, I hit it once and it instantly die because inefficient internal skeleton breaks into small pieces. Demonstration!”
From the Nashville Zoo’s fb page! Here’s the petition, please please please take a moment to add your name (even if you’re not from Nashville!). If you are from Tennessee, contact your representatives and make it clear that the people do not want this data center. This is an AZA accredited zoo which is home to several species of critically endangered animals, we NEED to protect it. Make your voice heard!
Feeling emotional about the concept of Rocky being able to hear Grace’s heartbeat. Like what do you mean he was alone for 46 years and he had no choice but to sleep without anyone watching, terrified cause he’s never had to do that before in his life, but then he befriends this alien and he’s weird and soft and his internal organs make noise and maybe that’s annoying at first but it becomes something soothing, a steady presence, always there. It speeds up when he gets nervous or excited and steadies out, calm and predictable, when he sleeps - and it’s always the first thing Rocky hears when he wakes up.
And what do you mean that the first time Rocky fell asleep after they parted ways to save their respective planets, he had to wake up to silence instead of Grace’s heartbeat.
Humans are pretty prone to mimicking noises. like even subconsciously. sometimes we even unintentionally pick up entirely different accents. and you literally can't tell me you've never meowed or woofed or chirped back at a cat/dog/bird at least once in your life (unless you are physically/audibly unable to do so).
So Grace 1000% starts picking up and mimicking Eridian noises.
One day, Rocky will be working on something, only to freeze as he hears Grace behind him suddenly exclaim in fluent Eridian "SHIT!"
Turns out Eridian swear words are usually expressed in the same decibel that humans can whistle in.
med people are so annoying "This family's 8 year old child who was about to go through a major surgery and kept crying that she was hungry so they pitied her and gave her food, she then had a heart attack in the surgery. They're so stupid 😒" girl they didn't know that could happen or why it happens. it takes so little time to explain to them that will happen instead of telling them "no food" with no explanation 10 times
"Before surgery, your body’s reflexes that protect your airway are relaxed by anesthesia. If there’s food or liquid in your stomach, it will near certainly come back up and go into your lungs, which can cause choking, a severe lung / heart infection or even a heart attack. That’s called aspiration, and it is life-threatening. It's hard, but it's only a single day to prevent near certain death. Not eating or drinking beforehand massively lowers the risk and helps prevent these life threatening situations under anesthesia." <- TIP: patients have brains which allows them to receive information just like you
I have four kids. I’ve had one or another of them need some kind of surgical procedure that requires anesthesia four or five times over the past 15 years.
This Tumblr post is the first time someone has explained to me *why* I couldn’t feed them before those instances.
I’m not stupid. I understood that just fine. Hell, my kids would have understood that just fine. But no one bothered to tell us.
i did know this before having kids (i have six). we have a kid that's needed multiple procedures requiring anesthesia. and every single time, i am asked multiple times if i'm sure he was not given any food or water after a certain point.
every single time i have had to say, "i understand that if he had food or water, he could aspirate it into his lungs under anesthesia. i am not lying to you." THEN someone would make a little note and i would stop being repeatedly asked.
not a single time was that risk explained to me. the only reason it came up was because i already knew. i still don't understand why it isn't standard pre-op counseling or pre-op check information, when me as a parent acknowledging the actual risk also put THE MEDICAL STAFF at ease because i conveyed that i had informed understanding as reason to not lie about giving my kid food.
"maybe some people will get nervous and refuse surgery" okay so they need more counseling about risks and anxiety, not less information in a way that actually does endanger their child or themselves!
Emily Peal
Episode: 3x03 The Inside Job
Character: Sophie
I know what I'm doing here. Someone has to cut $90 million of putrid dead weight from this flabby company. And that putrid dead weight is you all.
Wakefield agriculture is teetering. I know it. Your board knows it. Your shareholders know it. The only people that don't seem to know it are here in this room, which is why you are all fired.
Tommy Mackinaw
Episode: 5x01 The (Very) Big Bird Job
Character: Nate
Mr. Roemer, I got to admit something to you. I intended to meet you today. This plane, this one-of-a-kind plane, this biggest plane in the world… How would you like to own the Spruce Goose?
summary: your heart-to-heart with rocky leads to a lot of unnecessary teasing targeted towards grace. you can't help it—he just makes it so easy (based on this textpost // @viviennejinx!)
pairing: ryland grace x gn!reader
word count: 4.3k
tags: fluff and humor, not actually unrequited love, mutual pining, bad flirting, basically teasing to death, flustered!grace, developing relationship, platonic!rocky x reader, first kisses, gn!reader
cross-posted to ao3
Grace is off in the crew quarters trying to take a nap. He’s been all tuckered out, you think, since Rocky decided to start co-habitating with the two of you on the Mary. Though it’s probably the most efficient way to work altogether—instead of moving to and from the midpoint of your ship and Rocky’s—it’s clearly driving Grace crazy. Boundaries, he keeps telling Rocky, There’s a delicate line that’s being crossed. More than crossed. Hopped and skipped. And still, Rocky’s insistent on moving in. You don’t have any major objections, considering that Rocky is a positive change to your usual routine.
It isn’t the most convenient arrangement in the world, but Rocky is having you lug xenonite boxes and panes of glass into the Hail Mary from the connector tunnel. You have to wait a half an hour each for the materials to cool down before you can pick them up, so there’s a whole lot of get-to-know you time. After the first batch of belongings, Rocky is sure to ask you about the basics—what Earth is like, what humans are like, and your expertise on the project. The second batch is exponentially more personal. Rocky asks about how you came to be on the ship, where on Earth you belong to, and if you miss your loved ones.
And, on the third and last batch, you and Rocky are sitting in the connector tunnel on a pile of empty storage crates, effectively repurposed into seating. It’ll be a short break, now, for you to catch your breath. You’re trying to get a good stretch out of your arms and legs as you sit on the slanted crate. You’re certainly expecting to be sore after all the strenuous labor of carrying Rocky’s things. Meanwhile, Rocky is rolling back and forth, back and forth—still testing out the mobility on his new xenonite ball. He seems pleased with the development. Or, bored. You can never tell what he’s thinking when he gets all roll-y. It only becomes apparent here when he decides to ask you: “Is Grace mate, question?”
“Wow. Presumptuous,” you punch out. It’s a nice shock to your senses, the forwardness of Rocky’s inquiry. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it, but obviously, it seems that Rocky’s confident that he’s got it all figured out. “Where are you getting that from?”
“Grace make all effort to do bad science jokes. Is baaad.” Rocky says. “But laugh like Grace mate.”
“That could just be me being polite,” you test. “It’s really important for morale, you know, laughing.”
Rocky pauses for a moment, stilled in his xenonite casing. Then, he tries again: “Is it same for heart rate too, question?” He chirps in a repetitive manner, something akin to a chuckle. There’s not much you can do to disprove the physiological facts. Rocky’s as clever as you’d expect—and it isn’t like you’re trying to conceal the nature of your relationship with Grace.
What you’ve got with him is neither here nor there. It’s perfectly middle-ground, and really, you're satisfied with it. Grace is a decent roommate; he’s observant—knows what ticks you off, what pleases you, avoids the former and tries for the latter. You can already tell that he’s a little bit sweet on you, just by the way that he looks at you with soft blue eyes—corners of his eyes crinkling as he busies his hands with whatever prop he decides to pick up. Glass beakers, microscopes, xenonite models, you name it. It’s always the same.
And you’re always staring at him with your chin propped up on your palm, at once amused and enamored. You’d known you would feel a certain way about Grace ever since you’d both woken up on the Hail Mary. You’re attracted to him, of course, but there’s also something else. Even without a whole memory, your mind lingers on him longer than need be. It’s something like love, if not exactly that. “Well, we haven’t talked about it, but we’re as good as mates,” you decide to tell Rocky.
“Is unclear,” he mumbles. Aloud, it does sound like very strange terms to be referring to the current circumstances. A very human arrangement, you think. Rocky concurs with a stamp of his arm down on the plated floor.
“We live together, we eat together. I can tell I want to kiss him and he wants to kiss me,” you list off, counting on one hand. “We cohabitate in the same space like two mates would, but we haven’t had the opportunity to… have it out. It’s mission-first thinking.”
Rocky begins to roll towards a batch of glass propped up on the wall, a wordless sign for you to pick it up for him. Break’s over. Begrudgingly, you follow along, lifting the trapezoidal glass pane up with both arms. As you swing it into a more secure grip, he seems to speak more softly. “More Eridian than human.”
“Who? Me?” you say half-heartedly, still very focused toward your grip on the xenonite glass. It’s more difficult for you than it is for Rocky to carry the whole thing through the hatch door of the Hail Mary. Still, it sounds like a high compliment.
“Yes. Is Eridian thinking to view Grace in definite terms. Grace as mate, inevitable. Is beautiful!” Rocky raises a claw up, wiggling his little rugged fingers in a gentle sweep across the empty space in front of him. It’s reassuring, certainly, that Rocky views you in high regard. Even though you’re breaking a sweat trying to carry this weighted pane for your new shipmate, you still make a concerted effort to give him a wide grin.
“Thanks, Rocky.”
—
There’s a good mood going between you and Rocky after all the talking. Grace picks up on it quickly after his long nap, when he sees the both of you huddled in the lab working on one of the larger dry-erase boards. There’s a bunch of calculations scrawled neatly in black across the whole white surface, alongside a larger diagram of the ship’s engines. While he’s been sleeping, it’s clear the two of you have been wading through the more complex engineering issues. Hearing Grace’s footsteps approach, you turn to face him over your shoulder with a grin, “Morning.”
Grace looks straight out of bed, with his punny tee and his sweatpants—blonde hair sticking up in random directions. He seems to be stretching his back out as you greet him, eyelids heavy. “It seems like someone ignored the memo to pack light,” Grace grumbles, nudging his mug towards the corridor behind him. The stack of xenonite crates and glass you two amassed is generous, to say the least.
“Hey, I’m just the mover,” you hum, “You’re gonna have to take it up with the big guy.” You jut your index finger out towards Rocky, who’s tapping one side claw against the glass.
He merely buzzes, “Rocky need equipment to save Earth Erid stars. Don’t mind.” He rolls closer to the center of the room to get a better scan of the corridor, before returning to your side at the white board. “Same volume of mess as before Rocky arrival.” Rude. When you look back over at Grace, he doesn’t seem to have any major objections. It is true; the two of you were maybe a little bit slobbish before Rocky came along.
The three of you seem to fall back into routine easily. Grace is still trying to wake himself up with generous gulps of black coffee. You and Rocky continue on with your calculations and diagram. You’re trying your best to stay focused on the work—but the two of you have been working on these problems for the past hour and now, Grace is in front of you with his entirely sleep-ridden appearance. He just looks… perfect. And, out of the blue, Rocky shoots out an abrupt: “Why choose Grace for mate, question?” There’s a clatter to your left. Grace’s grip loosens on the handle of his mug, a sizable drop of coffee splashing onto the steel counter beside you both. He decides, at once, to place the mug down and away from himself, before wiping the mess up with the sleeve of his navy-blue hoodie.
Grace sputters, “What? Mate—we're not—that would require at least kind of—" He’s speaking so intermittently that he can barely get a full sentence out. You raise a brow just watching Grace mesh his hands together, fingers interlocking and coming apart. He’s not making it any better for himself.
The wide-eyed look that you give Rocky isn’t nearly as mortified as Grace’s. While it’s accompanied by shock, you’re very intrigued by the nature of Rocky’s question. You have no idea what he’s shooting for, but it’s clearly working. Grace is talking to himself, dazed as he fixates on soaking the coffee up with his sleeve. Rocky stays silent in his xenonite casing. He’s anticipating an answer out of you, and so you’re going to have to give it to him. With a rather astute tone, analytical in nature, you offer up, “Well, he’s passionate. That’s a plus.”
Grace’s brows furrow together. “Sorry?” He’s floored. You can’t possibly be talking about him, but Rocky’s asking and you’re answering. It’s really not adding up. Grace is looking at you over the frame of his glasses, eyes squinted in perplexity.
“The molecular biology, the teaching,” you note, “Gold stars all around.”
“Dedication valuable for Earth mate selection,” Rocky nods along. It isn’t anything he doesn’t already know. While Grace has been asleep and the two of you have gotten to talking, Rocky knows practically all the minute details of why you’ve “chosen” Grace. The point of hashing it out in front of him now is unclear—aside from the potential entertainment value. That makes sense.
“Okay. He learned humor while I was napping. I’m not offended at all.” Though he tries to laugh it off, Grace doesn’t sound at all sure of himself. He’s very close to pacing back and forth, not sure whether he should try to change out of his now coffee-soaked hoodie or question the two of you further. When you and Rocky turn straight back to work unaffected, you at the front of the board and him tracing his claw across the glass with a sort of contemplative silence, Grace is shell-shocked. He’s muttering under his breath, “I don’t think I get the joke.” Both of your backs are turned to Grace; he can’t see the growing smirk that’s cropping up on your face.
It’s a quick pivot back to work. “I have a feeling that we should make a few minor adjustments to the rear fuselage. There’s going to be a lot of strain on engines when we get to Tau Ceti-E.” You click your tongue, circling the lower right quadrant of the diagram in a red dry-erase ink. Once your little annotation is completed, you tuck the marker in your back pocket.
“Agree, agree, agree,” Rocky tips his body towards the white board. His texture monitor is showing a complex, grayscale copy of the board to a T. It’s as if neither of you have tried to tease Grace to death just seconds prior. He’s glued to the ground with a weary kind of expression on his face. Grace is frowning, truly and deeply, with his palm squeezing the back of his neck. You could almost feel bad if you weren’t so pleased to see Grace like this; rarely is he speechless.
A few minutes pass. Then, Rocky approaches the same question from a different vantage point. “Grace attractive by human standard, question?”
“Well, he's handsome by my standard, and I’m pretty sure a lot of humans would agree,” you admit. “He is a bit dorky, but I like ‘em that way. That’s preference, though. Not all humans are into dorky.”
Rocky returns your statement with a rushed out, “Yes, yes, yes—preference. Understand.”
“Okay. Hello?” Grace speaks outward towards the lab. His voice carries throughout the hull of the ship, and the two of you are still non-reactive. “We’re doing it again. I am in the room.” His old teacher’s voice is coming out again—one hand shot up in the air, trying to flag your attention.
You look at him over your shoulder with a soft “What was that, Ry?” You’re very pleased to see that his cheeks are glowing red underneath the white-gold frames of his glasses. You drag your gaze up and down his raised arm, with a particularly sharp grin hanging off your face. So toned. “Didn’t hear you,” you tilt your head. Grace lowers his arm slowly, turning back around to pick up his mug.
“Ha-ha,” Grace punches out. He’s trying to seem unbothered by this whole situation, but it really is bothering him. No matter how hard he’s trying to maintain his composure, Grace is flushed. You can practically see the steam rising off the top of his head. It’s an illogical conversation playing out in front of him and the effort’s no use. You and Rocky are absolutely impossible. “I’m going to go for a metaphorical breath of fresh air. I will… see you both shortly.” Grace is too nervous to push it any further, and it seems like he’s leaving you both to do a cool-off lap around the ship.
You can hear him talking to himself as he leaves the lab, as if possessed by his own confusion. “Handsome…? Is it April Fool’s? Mary, can you pull up a UTC calendar for me, please? What month is it back home?” Louder, the ship’s computer rings out a staticky, “The month is: June.” Grace’s muffled groan rings out towards the two of you..
You turn towards Rocky with a slow shake of your head. “You’re really mean. Did you know that?” you ask Rocky. He pushes closer to you. Like you’re any better.
“Grace not know you are mates when obvious. Grace fault,” Rocky says, with both claws pointed in the air. You think it’s supposed to be a sort of shrug.
—
After Grace’s little cooldown period, he’s back on his feet and wanting to teach you how to sample astrophage. Even though you’ll both be out there at the same time, spacewalking side by side, he wants you to be prepared. It’s best that you both know how to handle the equipment. You’re not completely convinced that he’s over your little bit with Rocky earlier, but he seems altogether unoffended enough to talk to you. While you and Grace are running through the sampler together, Rocky’s not far away. He sits in the corridor, sifting through his things—no doubt listening to the two of you working together.
Grace's fingers trace over the orange lining of the box before he slides it towards you. “You’re going to have this whole sampler rig attached to your suit. It’s supposed to be portable, so it shouldn’t be too much of a hassle for us to bring it out and set it up on the topside of the deck,” he explains. You’re nodding along; something tells you that you’ve heard this entire lecture before—that Grace is using the words that he might’ve before your launch—but it’s altogether pointless to point it out now.
You’re watching as his hands surround either side of the sampler; he pulls out, simultaneously, two metal grated plates. “Okay. These plates are supposed to intake the astrophage going towards Tau Ceti-E.” Grace closes the one set and opens another. “And these are supposed to grab the astrophage that’s leaving. We’ll grab input first. Then, output.”
Mindlessly, Grace grabs the off-white masking tape off the counter beside you, nearly brushing your waist; he tries to ignore the minimal contact, pressing the bar of tape onto the first set of plates. Then, the second. Grace discards the roll on the counter, before picking the dry-erase marker out of your pocket and presses it into the palm of your dominant hand. Grace flinches as his fingertips graze the surface of your palm. He’s still trying to keep a fair distance after your little debacle with Rocky earlier, but he just can’t help it.
“You want me to label it?” you laugh.
“It’s lab standard,” he insists. “If we mix them up, we’ll have to sample all over again—and that would mean we’d have to clean the plates. And if we do that poorly…” Grace makes a big show of making a miniature explosion with his hands. It’s difficult not to scoff at him. You know it’s lab standard, but he could easily label them himself. The apprehension worn on your face makes Grace sigh. You’re able to read him too easily, and he surrenders over, “And I like your handwriting more than I like mine.”
There—the root of the issue. You shake your head, “You’re a teacher, Grace. Legibility is, like, a job requirement.”
“If that were true, the staff at Grover Cleveland Middle would’ve been chopped in half,” he chuckles. As far as you’ve seen, his handwriting isn’t bad at all. To each their own, you suppose. You lean down to write on the open panels of the sampler, Grace watching carefully over your shoulder.
“See? This is part of the mating ritual, too, Rock.” It barely comes out as a whisper as you’re writing down “a1. input” and “a2. output” neatly across the tape for either panel. It’s sarcasm really, but you realize much too late that Rocky might not interpret it as such. Grace, somehow, is much more occupied at watching over your labeling technique; he murmurs back a distracted “Hm?” before furrowing his brows. He stands straight up, eyebrows furrowed. It might have taken a second to register, but Grace is fully aware of what you’ve said—
And suddenly, Rocky is practically shouting down the corridor with a hurried, “wait, wait wait!” You can hear the successive rapid thunks of him sliding into his xenonite ball, sealing it, and rolling back towards the both of you. The Eridian practically comes barreling in through the doorway, running into the white metal shelves of the Hail Mary with a childlike ardor. “Is initiating kiss, question?”
“Again?” Grace groans, pulling his glasses off and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. When he lowers his hand, you can see the blush spreading across his face, from the tips of his ears to his cheeks. “Okay. That’s it,” Grace huffs. “This has to end now. No more bits.”
“Graaace. Do not be mad,” Rocky whines in a low tone, “Is only kiss. Partial threshold for human relations.” Grace is tugging his hoodie off in a desperate attempt to keep a regular temperature. There’s a shelf hook close enough for him to toss up the garment haphazardly. Once it’s out of the way, he turns toward Rocky.
“You didn’t even know that word an hour ago.” Grace’s voice raises in tone and volume all at once, crackling with embarrassment. It’s unintentionally accusatory. Grace certainly didn’t code in <kiss>, and it’s not like Rocky can type into his own vocabulary bank. And Grace can’t seem to figure out why you’d code it aside from entertainment value.
“Kiss not bad word, Grace. Is normal,” Rocky explains calmly. “Now, do kiss. Please.” The begging tone that Rocky dishes out to Grace only makes him more and more impatient. Meanwhile, you’re simply watching the two of them bicker with one another—not interested in the slightest to stop the argument. Shamefully, you do want Grace to be pushed to his limit. And this happens much quicker than you would anticipate. Right about now, Grace has his hands locked together and resting just over his head. His face is still flushed, and he’s got his glasses hanging off his face.
Grace is trying to stay as calm as he can and failing. Every time the word is used, he’s getting deeply distracted by the thought of your lips on his. He can’t help the way his mind drifts to that very, very vivid fantasy of your hands balancing flat on his chest. Finally, he breathes out a heavy and burdened sigh: “No more kiss talk. We aren’t together, end of story.”
“I mean, we kind of are,” you say to Grace, who turns sharply mid-speaking to tilt his head at you.
“What?” he stammers softly. You’re not helping his case, especially with that tone.
Hands held behind your back, you repeat for Grace, “We are.” It's a matter of fact. Any semblance of sternness Grace was attempting prior crumbles at the drop of a dime. He’s pointing at you with his index finger, then at himself, then you again. “No, we’re not.”
You grab for Grace’s wrist, just over the red-band of his wristwatch. “Okay. Come on, we’re going up to screens.” Grace, still stunned, lets you drag him out of the lab and towards the corridor. As you look over your shoulder, you can see that Rocky is shooting you a strong thumbs-down.
—
The empty, numbered panels of the projection deck flicker to life into the backdrop of the river Seine. You’ve asked Mary to put on music—really, anything would do—and she decides to ring out some folk-rock song that you’ve never heard before. Something older, not too much ruckus when played loud. It’s a decent way to guarantee yourself a bit of privacy with your new, sound-attuned roommate. You’ll be lucky if Rocky can’t hear the two of you finally having this talk. Over the sound of the soft strumming guitars, you stretch your shoulders back. “I might have had a bit too fun teasing you. Sorry.”
“Well, I thought you were just… doing a bit. Like, ha-ha, ‘Ryland Grace dies alone in space,’” Grace mumbles. “Is it still a bit? You’re sending a whole lot of signals, and I don’t think I’m receiving—” Grace seems to quiet down as soon as you plant your hand down on his chest. He’s tracing his eyes from your hand, down your arm, and straight up to your face with his lips parted. “Or, I am receiving. A little bit.”
“Okay,” you decide, “You’ve thought about it, haven’t you? I have. We’ve been living together for the equivalent of… what, a few months now? I’m comfortable with you, and you’re comfortable with me. It’s been like that ever since we got sent up. Maybe even before. I don’t remember. But we like each other.” Your fingers are dancing soft on his chest, and his breath is hitching.
“We?” Grace echoes. “I was under the impression that you were, you know, kind of uninterested in me. Besides, you know, as a co-habitant. Mission-wise, it’s crucial for us to get along.” He’s clueless, clearly, because it hasn’t been like that at all—for you, at least.
You’re trying to stir up another line of reasoning for him. You have to meet Grace at his level. “There’s the, uh, Einstein quote. I know you know it, just… let me think.” You massage your temples with your fingers, trying to wrack your brain for it. It’s perfect. What is it, again?
It’s easy for Grace—the middle-school science teacher that he is—to pick up what you’re putting down. "When you sit with a nice girl for two hours, you think it's only a minute. But when you sit on a hot stove for a minute, you think it's two hours. That's relativity,” Grace nods, “But that’s a very crude explanation of the concept, and I don’t really—”
You shush him with a shake of your head. “Right. Eridians don’t have a conception of relativity. It isn’t necessary for them, because things are just… what they are. They’re literal and exact, and there isn’t any dancing around the facts.” you explain to Grace hurriedly. “So… you’re my boyfriend. You’ve been my boyfriend.”
It takes a moment for him to process your argument. It’s very… forward. He seems to look past you towards one of the panel-screens. The projected river is still glittering behind you, and you’re not going anywhere. Mary even put in the effort of mixing this ambient watery sound—boats and people, back on Earth whenever ago—with the music track. Somehow, your traveling abode in space has made the absolute perfect atmosphere for this. You and Grace.
“Well, that’s just…” Grace nods slowly, “peachy.” He drops his head down in absolute disappointment of his own incapability to speak. What is he saying?
“Peachy?” you repeat quietly. You’re astounded that that’s the choice of word he’s selected for this entire ordeal. It’s so like him. You can feel yourself shuddering out a breath. Your cheeks are already sore enough as is—and you don’t think you can take another hard laugh.
“Don’t,” Grace says, “I have had a long and emotionally tumultuous couple of hours.”
“Are you mad about the teasing?” you ask, stepping closer to Grace. He’s barely paying attention, eyes glazed-over in a dazed fashion. He’s having trouble focusing on your words. Too occupied with you.
“No. Never,” he murmurs, eyebrows knitted together. You’re reaching for Grace next, hands swinging around his neck in an effort to pull him in. He’s fumbling with his hands, unsure exactly where to place them. They’re steady only when they find grounding on your midsection. You give him one peck on the lips. Then, another. He leans into the contact, the rims of your glasses brushing against the surface of your cheeks. It’s casual, comfortable—as if it’s not the first time. You’re his, and he’s yours. It’s effortless. Grace seems to finally ease up.
There’s a few loud thuds down the hall—presumably, your Eridian counterpart. The folk-rock is no use. Rocky has obviously been listening through the entirety of your back-and-forth. “Finally, Grace act like real mate. Congratulate, congratulate, congratulate.” His voice rings out loudly towards the projection deck. Grace is muttering under his breath again, something about those boundaries. At least now, you’re both on the same page.
i got more fun phm ideas if anyone needs writing ideas!
feat. weird fleshy human brains!
kay so methinks that the species of sentients with brains made of literal crystals who (based on how rocky seems to behave) seem pretty logic/facts driven and also may be a little rigid in terms of potential adaptability?
i think that the eridians would be a little freaked out or bewildered or something when grace explains that his brain changes entirely mid-crisis to produce entirely different chemicals that let him operate better under high stress situations. feat. cortisol and adrenaline which can do shit like increase breathing, heartbeat and blood pressure and slow the digestive and reproductive systems to divert more oxygenated blood to the brain and muscles. plus they can shut off pain receptors allowing the body to push past its limits and do things it normally blocks us from doing because we’d hurt ourselves (ie. shredding our muscles lifting cars, running with broken bones, etc).
and then similarly, our emotions are also at least partially driven by chemical-based reward/punishment systems our brains evolved. love? there’s a chemical for that. happiness? that’s a chemical. sad? that’s actually a lack of chemicals. literally every emotion can cause shifts in brain chemicals and hormones.
like imagine trying to explain anxiety? my species bodies and brains evolved to make us feel bad when we might be in danger or socially ostracising ourselves so that we don’t do that. why avoid social outcasting? hard to survive on your own, usually being by yourself with no infrastructure in ancient times meant death or a lot of struggle. and then trying to explain an anxiety disorder??? oh yeah my brain is not built right and registers things as threats or social ostracism way more often than it should. brain freaks out over nothing and i get to suffer for it :/
the fact that things like sadness, grief, heartbreak, depression, rejection, other negative emotions can physically hurt to experience. i think they’d be deeply concerned over that one. (cue grace being like “i told you it’s a reward/punishment system, why are you surprised there’s punishments?”).
the fact that (due to The Chemicals™) prolonged stress can actually have negative impacts on physical health. including but not limited to; potentially fucking up the thyroid and tanking energy production causing fatigue. altering brain structures causing depression, anxiety, brain fog/focus issues and memory problems and trouble sleeping. muscle tension and resulting tension headaches. gastrointestinal and cardiovascular issues. and also it can fuck up your immune systems making it easier to get sick and take longer to heal wounds.
the way that the long term stress of working on and the hm project and then being sent on the mission having permanently changed the structure of his neural pathways meaning his brain is still acting on the assumption that it’s in danger in some way and reacting accordingly to things like it’s in danger even though he’s safe now. and that this happens often enough that humans have a well-documented history of this issue and a name and diagnostic criteria for it (ptsd). honestly explaining human mental disorders and illnesses would be so fascinating for a species that has (likely) unchanging brains made of crystals.
the way the human brain can just decide some memories are not important enough or too debilitating to keep and erasing or blocking them out. the way we use sleep to file short term memories to long term storage (hence why you get poorer memory if you’re not sleeping well).
the fact that a significant part of growing up for humans is learning how to regulate yourself and your behaviour and work and function through hormonal and chemical changes and imbalances.
anyways there’s so so many fic opportunities in there! let the alien rocks poke grace like the strange creature he is! let his existence be lowkey horrifying!
endless angst and hurt/comfort potential!
or maybe in your “rocky becomes a human” fics you could be a bit evil and make him completely debilitated and/or overwhelmed by his suddenly very biologically and chemically backed emotions that he has no experience regulating or working through!
idk i just feel like ppl could be doing more with the inherent differences between a species of rocks with hydraulic mechanical movements with more rocks and a species of very squishy fluid creatures made of mostly water with brains made of water and fats. be creative! invent your own eridian biology for funsies to make grace seem comparatively more strange/horrifying/impossible/astonishing/etc.
ive invented (note: dubious claim) something i call the bear diet which is mostly fruits and vegetables with fish as the main protein source and something like once a month you eat a few hyperprocessed foods of your liking because that is when you, the bear, raid a dumpster in the suburbs
Game companies hate emulation, but none of them seem to understand that a lot of us would just buy ROMs from them directly if we could. I don't want a fifth remake of Final Fantasy IV, I want to pay five bucks for the 3MB file you already made bank with thirty years ago. Nobody who wants to play something for the purpose of retro gaming is going to consider a $40 remake as the alternative option, and we're certainly not going to let the original dissappear. They're crying about opportunity cost for a product they're not even selling.
op i know you're probably talking about like, video games, etc, but this is also critical for research science - my lab has so much abandonware, either because the company's out of business, or the company decided to not maintain it, and it's a fucking nightmare. we have two windows 95 computers that are CRITICAL for performing experiments/data analysis because the software needed is abandonware. one of the main roles for a guy in my lab is to maintain these little dinosaurs because if they go out, we lose access to ~20 years of raw data for research. part of why is that these companies also make their own file types, and make it difficult-to-impossible to convert those file types without their specific software. by habit, i convert all research files to more generic versions (txt, pdf, tif, etc) so that i minimize risk of losing my shit, but some stuff can't be converted.
for example, we have a microscope that is perfectly functional, good microscope, but its software is abandonware because the company refused to maintain it. the company is still in business, still makes essentially the exact same software, but they made all of the old tech incompatible with new software to force people to buy the new microscope tech. it would cost a quarter million dollars to replace this microscope. this perfectly good microscope.
so like, i know a lot of people look at the original post here and go "well op just wants old video games to play" (which is valid! games companies should not be able to push shit to abandonware and then close it off) but also this is critical for like. biomedical research. if y'all had any idea how much basic infrastructure built on science relies on shit that is technically abandonware, you would probably be horrified.
I wonder if we can get a public push to cut copyright duration back down to 20 years, at least when it comes to software, since technology marches on anyway.
If Grace could not fully get out of teacher mode even after being in a coma for years (the Rocky my hand is up scene), I can not even think how much worse it would get after he actually takes up teaching again at Erid.
I can imagine Grace, still in that "has been teaching for five hours" haze, trying to have a conversation with Rocky like:
"That's a great answer, buddy, you have earned yourself a sticker... Oh shoot Rocky I'm so so..."
"Yes, yes, Grace very sorry for speaking to Rocky like child, Grace brain thinks Grace still in classroom, apology accepted now where is my sticker question"
additional changes I would make if I became president:
Politicians' salaries are capped at $100k a year. Yes, including the president. You don't need $400k a year when you're not even paying rent, and if you can't survive on $100k a year in general that is a budgeting issue*
The freed-up revenue will go towards food pantries and homeless shelters
Hostile architecture is illegal
Owners of businesses/corporations with more than 100 employees cannot pay their lowest-paid employees any less than 2% of their salary
Planned Parenthood defunded, that money goes to resources for pregnant people, new parents, and the foster care system
