Hi hi! I know that I send a lot of idea for fics inspired about your art but I feel like they just make like such cute fics! ANYWAY, could you make a fics about your last doodle? (The one with Simon teething). Maybe Grace say like that his teeth on the side of his face are super cool and whatever and that Simon agree that they’re AMAZING for tickling (that’s not what Grace meant or maybe it was 👀👀). Thanks! Feel free to ignore tho❤️
Teething
𖥔 OF COURSE!!! I wanted to write a lil something based off that doodle anyway, you just gave me a reason to do it immediately lmao! This fic is based loosely off of THIS doodle I did! I hope everyone likes it, there just being adorable together! ALSO @saturnzskyzz wrote THIS fic off of that drawing too! PLEASE go over to there blog and give it a read and give them even more love, its amazing and adorable and I cherish it sooo much! 𖥔
𖥔 Slight spoilers for both movies and book! 𖥔
Summary: Simon thinks some of his mutations are gross but Grace is there to convince him otherwise!
Switch!Grace / Switch!Simon
Word count: 2,895
“C’mere.” Simon murmurs, pulling himself closer and resting his head on my stomach. He’s settling between my legs, stretching out across me. I close the laptop resting on my chest just enough to peer over and see him snuggled closer into me with a deep sigh. A smile comes to my face as I hear and feel a soft purr come from him. I push the laptop open again, looking over my data.
Simon doesn't ask anymore, just climbs into my lap like it belongs to him. It's become so normal. He's gotten so clingy nowadays, not that I'm going to complain. The Simon now is so much different from the one I met a year and a half ago. If you had told me how much he loved to be held and touched back then, I would have laughed right in your face. I couldn't even get close enough to look at his wounds, let alone touch him.
The trust he holds in me and Rocky is so precious to me; I try to hold it close and so delicately. It almost feels like an honor to be this close to him, to see him so open and vulnerable.
My eyes glaze over the screen for a few silent minutes, only filled with Simon's rumbling of content when he shifts his head up. Slowly, I feel him lift my shirt, like if he moves slow enough, I won't notice.
‘...Simon.” I huff from behind the laptop, shivering slightly as the cool air hits my stomach. Focus, Ryland, on your data.
“Keep working Angel…don't let me distract you~” he hums softly. The smirk was evident and clear in his voice. I roll my eyes with an exaggerated sigh. The cool air is replaced by a warm feeling, scratchy but soft.
I glance over the laptop again with a small frown. ‘Don't let me distract you,’ he says with his head under my shirt. I lift the laptop and place it next to me on the bed, quickly abandoning my work. Simon starts rubbing his face against my skin, causing me to squirm in his hold slightly.
I reach out and pull my shirt off of his head, his curly hair a bit frizzy from the friction. He stops a moment, peering up at me through his eyebrows, making me blush slightly.
‘What are you doing?” I question, quirking an eyebrow up and poking him on the forehead. He says nothing and continues to push his face deeper into my tummy. A small reluctant smile forces itself onto my face as his beard scratches at my sensitive skin.
Simon closes his eyes and his head shifts to the other side. I flinch, feeling the mutated teeth on his right side dig into my skin. Although not all that painful, the added movement of his head worsens it.
“Ow—Simon, you're stabbing me.” He freezes and lifts his head to look down, his hair falling, obscuring his face. A light red mark starts forming on my skin, then a small bit of blood pools in a little pearl and rests on top.
“Shit, sorry.” His head leans forward and I feel his tongue run across the little area, wiping the blood away. I jump and let out a squeak, more out of shock than anything.
Ew.
Simon looks back up at me with this kind of guilty look even though it was clearly an accident and starts shimmying off my lap. I quickly grab at his arm, giving a small frown as he tries to run away, like he suddenly is not allowed to be here anymore.
“Si, it's fine. I want you to stay.” I smile, pulling at him. “It barely nicked me.” Reluctantly, he pushes himself back to his previous spot but holds his head up, his neck quirked up in an awkward position. Surely he's not going to hold it up like that the entire time.
To prove me wrong, he sits gazing at me, then stares into space for around two minutes, clearly uncomfortable and craning his neck. I roll my eyes again with an amused huff. I know this is his way of being nice and considerate but he can be a little ridiculous without realizing it.
Not wanting him to strain his neck and head more, I reach out and rest my hand on top of his head, pushing it back to my skin. He looks to me once more, looking for assurance, and I sense his slight resistance. I give a soft nod and he lets himself rest back onto me with a sigh, his shoulders untensing.
I card my left hand through his hair, twisting the soft locks around my fingers, feeling him melt deeper into me. He lets out more rumbles and purrs as my fingers lightly scratch at his scalp and move down to his ear. I carefully extend my right hand and use the mutated teeth to cup the side of his face in a gentle and loving way.
Simon jumps and twists his head away, like I burned him. “Don’t. They're gross, and you're gonna get poked again.”
I shake my head. "Stop, they're not gross.” I correct and push my palm into the side of his face again. Although he doesn't flinch away, his eyebrows furrow and a frown comes to his face. His tail flicks behind him in what I have come to know as annoyance.
"They're just teeth, Si.”
“They’re…wrong.”
“...they’re yours.” My hand moves on its own to lightly trace over one of the ridges of a tooth.
He goes quiet and I watch the gears turn in his head, leaning ever so slightly into my touch.
He's always had a terrible image of his body when it comes to his mutations after everything that happened. Although he never usually voices it out loud, like right now, he does have a habit of hiding any and all mutations he can, even if he shouldn't.
I've told him that I don't mind if he walks around with his mutations out but he seems embarrassed about them, and I guess from what I've gathered from this conversation, he thinks they're gross too.
"...you're still gonna get stabbed. And yes, they are gross.” He opens his eyes to stare deep into mine, almost challenging me to disagree again and of course I do. Like I would just let him feel that way about himself.
“Well…I think they're pretty awesome.” I chuckle while bringing my other hand down. I scratch behind his ear and lightly trail my nails down his neck, watching as one corner of his mouth twitches. He breaks eye contact, squeezing his eyes shut and starting to squirm.
“Y-You don’t hahave to pretend.” He fights the laughter bubbling in his chest. A frown comes to my face at his accusation. Why would I even lie about that?
"I'm not. I do think they're awesome.” Well now I HAVE to prove him wrong. Show him that I love every little bit of him, head to toe.
“Stohop.” Soft giggles spill from his lips as he pulls his shoulders up in defense, turning his face completely to the right and stopping my hand from moving, though my fingers continue to scrape against his skin.
“Aw, we can't have that. How am I supposed to tickle your ear now?” I chuckle lightly too, watching him struggle to stay still and keep the smile on his face from breaking through. “Move your head for me, Si?”
I nudge his shoulder with my trapped hand, feeling him shake his head a little bit against it in resistance. His face turning redder by the second.
“Nohohooo!” I move my fingers and hook under his chin slightly, scratching as much as I can, watching his tail start to wag adorably behind him.
“No? Welp, I guess I have no other choice…” My shoulders shrug as I pull my other hand away from his cheek and bring that down to the gills along his neck, tracing over the seam.
He barks out a laugh, his head quickly flinging to the left as I scratch at his skin. With the other side of his neck free, I scratch behind his ear again, fluttering my fingers over the shell.
“G-Grahace—EEEHEhehehee!! Stohohop—NOHOHO—!!!” He starts wiggling side to side; his head shoots down into my tummy again, not knowing which side to protect anymore, desperately pulling his shoulders up more.
“I’ll stop iiiiif…you say your teeth are amazing.” His legs kick against the bed and notice how he’s not putting up much of a fight; his hand just tightly gripping at my shirt. I trace a single finger around the back of his neck, pinch at his nape, and scratch the small spines that flow down his back, causing him to shoot his face back up at me.
The sight brings a giant grin to my face, his eyes crinkled shut and his cheeks a bright red hue. I slow my fingers to just dust his skin with my fingertips, letting him talk.
He peeks his teary eyes open at me, blushing more at my stare. “Nohot awesome.”
So stubborn.
“Fine. Have it your way.” I lift my hands from his neck and ears for a moment as he greedily sucks in breaths. My hands worm under him, scratching at his underarms. His elbow shoots to his side with a squeal, making him fall face-first into me again.
“AH—NAHOHOO!!! OKAYOKAYOK—*SNRK*—AHAHEHE—I-I'll sahahay ihIHIHIT!!” He sputters into my skin. I still my hands and bring them up to push his hair away from his eyes and tuck it behind his ears, earning me a slight squeak in return.
His body goes limp against mine as I continue my petting and scratching at his scalp, messing up his hair as small curls stick up. He waits a moment, hiding his face from me.
“I’m waiting, Simon~” I grin as he looks up with almost a pout. "Or do you need some more convincing?” I wiggle my fingers out in front of him. Anxious laughter suddenly springs from his mouth and he flinches away, his sharp teeth sticking out from his lips.
“Fuck no!” He yelps and tries to compose himself. “Ahem—no, I do not.” His ears flush with more embarrassment as I look at him with an expectant look. He avoids my eyes, looking out at nothing in particular, and lets out a quiet sigh.
“Fine. They're amazing…” I smirk triumphantly as he looks back to my face. “...amazing for tickling!” Before I can ask what he means, I watch in awe as the skin opens up on the left side of his face. I don't think he's ever shown me how it opens before. I've always wanted to ask but it felt like an overstep and he's already let me run so many tests and experiments at this point it almost felt rude to ask for any more, especially about stuff he's particularly sensitive about.
The sharp teeth flare up and out while the bottom ones open downwards and I can see his normal teeth and jaw behind. It's pretty remarkable; the teeth can flex and move, not stuck to a bone structure like human teeth, giving him a range of movement and motion, from what I can tell.
Simon quickly but carefully pushes the open side into my stomach as I screech, my arms flailing uselessly. He stops for a moment, giving a worried look, analyzing my face. When it's evident by my beaming smile that he didn't stab me this time, he starts right back up again.
It feels like nothing I have ever felt before. His sharp teeth twitch and move, carefully digging into my skin, like he's gnawing on me. Under that, I feel his jaw open and his normal teeth nip at my skin in an agonizing way.
I was definitely and unfortunately right about the range of movement hypothesis, and on top of that, his skin and flesh of his cheek seem to be able to move and twitch more too.
“AH—NOHOHoho!!! WahaHAIT—SIHIHIMOHOHON—!!!!” I reach forward, pushing at his shoulders as he starts to sway his head back and forth slightly. Simon pulls loud cackles from me and through all the commotions, I feel him smirk against my skin.
“Hm. I guess you were right. They're pretty fuckin useful." As he talks, his jaw and teeth scrape up and down against me, the rumblings of his voice and the air being pushed through his mouth tingling my skin.
“N-NOHOHOT WHAhahat I meheheant!!” My eyes squeeze shut, my cheeks flush, and I kick my legs out, digging my heels into the bed to push myself away. As a result, I feel his face move down as I move up, forcing his face to my lower belly, causing me to squeal and buck up my hips.
“Oh? It isn't? I mean, you sat there tickling me all you wanted with your cute lil tummy just sitting here out in the open begging for some attention.” My blush deepens, rushing to the tips of my ears as I shake my head 'no' frantically again. “I disagree, you sure this wasn't your little plan from the very beginning, Ryland?” I shoot my hands up to my face, trying to hide my embarrassment and stifle my laughter.
To be fair, this was NOT my idea from the very beginning! It was HIM who had his face under my shirt before any of this started and I will NOT take this slander!
“NO! NOHOhoho, ihihit *snrk* wahasnt’!” I peek my eyes open through my fingers and see his own closed in content as he continues to press his sharp teeth lightly into the pudge. They move up and down, just enough for me to feel as his skin lightly swipes against my own. He looks almost peaceful compared to my chaotic laughter.
“Sure.” He responds, clearly unconvinced. I feel him take a deep breath in and then blow against my skin. I arch up with a squeal as he continues to press raspberry after raspberry. His skin ripples into mine, making the teeth jump and wiggle against me more.
“TOHOHOO MUHUHCH—!! SIHIHIMON—!!!” I yelp out, my hands abandoning my face to push at him harder now and, in retaliation, he shoves his hand into my armpit.
“Stop pushin so much.” My arm flails back, trapping his wiggling fingers in my armpit. I start to sit up, trying to curl inwards. He digs in vigorously, making me flop back down with more laughter.
“EHIHIHEHAHAHhaha ohoho go-GOHOHOSH—!!!” He snorts out a laugh against my skin.
"I'll ease up a bit for you, Angel, because I'm so nice and all," and he does. Simon stops the raspberries, lifting his face from my stomach while slowly moving his fingers to lightly scratch under my arm, though it's still unbearable.
I watch with wide eyes as the side of his face closes back together and he smiles warmly at me. Though it's short-lived and is replaced by what I would consider an evil grin. He dips his head back down and starts to pepper light kisses against my belly.
“Better?” he mumbles into my sensitive stomach and although it is, I don't admit it.
“Nohoo ihits nohot!” My other arm comes out and weakly pushes at his head as uncontrollable giggles spill from me. I fling my head back against the pillow, my legs flailing behind him wildly, doing nothihng to actually stop his attack.
“Look at this lil bellybutton.” He teases, his lips shift to kiss the area, and I hear him start to purr again, clearly enjoying my torture. “So cute," he hums into it forcing a giddy squeak from my throat.
“Ehehehaha stohohop! Nohoht thehehere!” He shifts his head down more, scrapping and rubbing his beard over the little area as I arch up again with another squeal.
“Quit wigglin so much. I’m tryin to show you my appreciation and love.”
“I-I dohon’t wahant your lohove—AH-WHAHAIT—!!!” He says nothing, lets out a fake gasp of offense, and shoots his head back down, blowing a raspberry against my navel. “OKAYOKAHAhay I-I dohoho wahaHAHANT IHIHIT!!!” I back track immediately as he blows one last raspberry, then plants another kiss, a cocky grin spreading across his face.
He pulls his hand from under my arm and wipes at the spit covering my stomach, making me squeak and flinch away, my residual giggles filling the air.
“Calm down Ry, I'm done.” I sigh, relaxing back into the bed, glancing at him with a silly smile. “For now at least.”
I decide to ignore that last comment and reach down to pull him in close, holding him against me. He settles back onto my tummy as his eyes flutter closed.
“I still think they're amazing.” I murmur and look down at him. I absentmindedly run a thumb over the side of his face, feeling the bumps and ridges of the teeth. They truly are beautiful, even if he doesn't see it that way.
“You keep touching them.” He states in an odd tone I can't read while his head rolls to the side.
My thumb stills. "Yeah? Is that okay?”
He doesn't answer but starts purring quietly again. He shifts, hiding his face in my stomach but I feel him smile against my skin with a hum.
𖥔 I like to think about how it would take Simon quite awhile to ever get completely comfortable showing off his mutations and such and how much of a help Grace was with that part of his life and accepting and loving those parts of him 𖥔
OH MY GOSH IM FONNA CRY THIS WAS SO ADORABLE!!!!! The attention to how long it’s been since they’ve known each other and by that time, Simon is becoming more and more comfortable with Grace is so heartwarming I CAN’TTTT
I don’t know how to explain it, but the way you write makes my brain capture the PERFECT imagination of how this would play out bro, ITS LIKE I SAW THIS HAPPEN WHILE READING IT
Which I do that with every fic I read, but the DETAILSSSSSSS bro AAUUUGGHHH your writing is like seeing a shooting star, AMAZE AMAZE AMAZE!!
I also heavily appreciate the shout out!! you made that fic of mine happen with your art!!
A/N: aaayeeee I’m back with another Drabble 😛🙏 I literally got this done in like.. 15-ish 30-ish minutes or less because i got inspired by this gem right here from a very talented mutual of mine!! So I wanted to add my little twist as well as recreate that little scene into a fic :]] go check out their art and fics!!! They are HECKIN CREATIVE!!!!! (Btw all credits go to @cacoonedmoonworm !!)
I also apologize for how painfully obvious it is to tell that I was sleep deprived while making this 😭
Warning: this is a tickle fic just to warn. Not your forte? Keep on traveling the Milky Way :] (sorry that was hella bad but I’m leaving it)
Anyways, enjoy!! :]
There are five stages of teething within a baby.
To explain what it is specifically: teething is a common word, heavily familiar within parenthood when their baby is going through their early stages of living. Zero to six months they already have a primary of twenty teeth hidden beneath their gums, until they’re about four months old where they start to actually feel them move up and reveal themselves out of their gums.
The different stages are the babies ages during these symptoms while going through teething.
Going down the list, we have:
Stage one (zero to six months): like I said, they’re born with primarily twenty teeth hidden under their gums. Scary!!
Stage two(six to eight months): the lower and upper front teeth, also known as the incisors, eventually warms up and says hi to the world. They are the first to erupt out of the gums.
Stage three(ten to fourteen months): this stage typically starts around stage two, but usually parents don’t start seeing these bad boys until their babies are a bit older. The primary molars start coming out from the lower and upper jaw.
Stage four( sixteen to twenty-two months): the canine teeth start to make its way on the dance floor!! Woohoo! These raptors are wedged in-between the top and bottom molars and incisors. Pretty cool stuff!
And lastly, but certainly not least, stage five(twenty-five to thirty-three months): the big kahuna’s start merging out like no one’s business! Their large molars. For some children, they hurt the MOST during teething.
Now.. typically, stage five occurs when the child is twenty-five to thirty-three months like I said before and not when they’re thirty three years old who grew an extra pair of enormous teeth on the side of their cheek.
What I didn’t explain however, is that I’m getting flawking MAULED by a human-like-alien who happens to be thirty-three year’s old with ENORMOUS teeth growing out of the side of their cheek.
Did I also forget to mention that we are aboard the Hail Mary? Heh.. I’m gonna die.
“SIHIMON!” Yep. That’s me. Screaming in bloody agony while this complete monster(joking) eats me alive.
“Nom nom nom.” Simon says in a goofy voice, although at the time it was not goofy to me, while he playfully used his larger set of teeth on the side of his cheek to scratch, poke, and nibble all over my bare and incredibly sensitive stomach.
“IHIHIT’S TOHO MUHUHUCH!” I squealed out loud. It was embarrassing to say the least. I knew I was somewhat ticklish, I mean come on? Rocky and I had a few tickle fights since teaching the little rascal about the concept of tickling, but this??! TEETH to STOMACH?! Lord have mercy, I might be a dead man for other reasons.
“Is it, angel? I’ll go easy on you then, okay?” He eased up a little bit, but the change in sensation didn’t make it any better. The lighter touch increased my sensitivity tenfold, and my face went even redder than before. To ground myself I pushed at Simon’s shoulders yet we both knew how already tired and weak I was from all the laughing.
His teeth made it to my bellybutton and I could have swore I almost short circuited with the way it just felt so meticulously ticklish!
“AH- noho! Si-simohon! EEHAHA-!!” The feeling was incredibly flustering, and I wanted to hide my face under my hands, but I continued trying to push him off me but to no avail. I was almost blessed by him moving away the second he grazed my bellybutton, but I guess my reaction to it made him pause and look at me with an evil glint in his eyes.
“Wait..” I say as I have trouble looking at him in the eyes. The predicament was so silly, my brain was almost turning into mush by this point.
“Simon.. no- wait! Sihi-!” I couldn’t even finish my sentence before he went back to teeth at my bellybutton once again.
So yeah. Don’t get curious about one’s teeth unless you want to get absolutely destroyed. Can’t say I didn’t regret it though.
OMG THIS IS SO CUUUTE!! I LOVE the beginning with the teething segment hehe it was funny! I’m so happy I was able to inspire you!!! Also belly button tickles *chefs kiss*
A/N: aaayeeee I’m back with another Drabble 😛🙏 I literally got this done in like.. 15-ish 30-ish minutes or less because i got inspired by this gem right here from a very talented mutual of mine!! So I wanted to add my little twist as well as recreate that little scene into a fic :]] go check out their art and fics!!! They are HECKIN CREATIVE!!!!! (Btw all credits go to @cacoonedmoonworm !!)
I also apologize for how painfully obvious it is to tell that I was sleep deprived while making this 😭
Warning: this is a tickle fic just to warn. Not your forte? Keep on traveling the Milky Way :] (sorry that was hella bad but I’m leaving it)
Anyways, enjoy!! :]
There are five stages of teething within a baby.
To explain what it is specifically: teething is a common word, heavily familiar within parenthood when their baby is going through their early stages of living. Zero to six months they already have a primary of twenty teeth hidden beneath their gums, until they’re about four months old where they start to actually feel them move up and reveal themselves out of their gums.
The different stages are the babies ages during these symptoms while going through teething.
Going down the list, we have:
Stage one (zero to six months): like I said, they’re born with primarily twenty teeth hidden under their gums. Scary!!
Stage two(six to eight months): the lower and upper front teeth, also known as the incisors, eventually warms up and says hi to the world. They are the first to erupt out of the gums.
Stage three(ten to fourteen months): this stage typically starts around stage two, but usually parents don’t start seeing these bad boys until their babies are a bit older. The primary molars start coming out from the lower and upper jaw.
Stage four( sixteen to twenty-two months): the canine teeth start to make its way on the dance floor!! Woohoo! These raptors are wedged in-between the top and bottom molars and incisors. Pretty cool stuff!
And lastly, but certainly not least, stage five(twenty-five to thirty-three months): the big kahuna’s start merging out like no one’s business! Their large molars. For some children, they hurt the MOST during teething.
Now.. typically, stage five occurs when the child is twenty-five to thirty-three months like I said before and not when they’re thirty three years old who grew an extra pair of enormous teeth on the side of their cheek.
What I didn’t explain however, is that I’m getting flawking MAULED by a human-like-alien who happens to be thirty-three year’s old with ENORMOUS teeth growing out of the side of their cheek.
Did I also forget to mention that we are aboard the Hail Mary? Heh.. I’m gonna die.
“SIHIMON!” Yep. That’s me. Screaming in bloody agony while this complete monster(joking) eats me alive.
“Nom nom nom.” Simon says in a goofy voice, although at the time it was not goofy to me, while he playfully used his larger set of teeth on the side of his cheek to scratch, poke, and nibble all over my bare and incredibly sensitive stomach.
“IHIHIT’S TOHO MUHUHUCH!” I squealed out loud. It was embarrassing to say the least. I knew I was somewhat ticklish, I mean come on? Rocky and I had a few tickle fights since teaching the little rascal about the concept of tickling, but this??! TEETH to STOMACH?! Lord have mercy, I might be a dead man for other reasons.
“Is it, angel? I’ll go easy on you then, okay?” He eased up a little bit, but the change in sensation didn’t make it any better. The lighter touch increased my sensitivity tenfold, and my face went even redder than before. To ground myself I pushed at Simon’s shoulders yet we both knew how already tired and weak I was from all the laughing.
His teeth made it to my bellybutton and I could have swore I almost short circuited with the way it just felt so meticulously ticklish!
“AH- noho! Si-simohon! EEHAHA-!!” The feeling was incredibly flustering, and I wanted to hide my face under my hands, but I continued trying to push him off me but to no avail. I was almost blessed by him moving away the second he grazed my bellybutton, but I guess my reaction to it made him pause and look at me with an evil glint in his eyes.
“Wait..” I say as I have trouble looking at him in the eyes. The predicament was so silly, my brain was almost turning into mush by this point.
“Simon.. no- wait! Sihi-!” I couldn’t even finish my sentence before he went back to teeth at my bellybutton once again.
So yeah. Don’t get curious about one’s teeth unless you want to get absolutely destroyed. Can’t say I didn’t regret it though.
Just wanted to update you guys on my bio. I changed the “minors DNI” to “minors DNF/ do not DM”
It makes more sense with this blog because 1. At the end of the day, I don’t care who interacts with my posts. 2. This blog is sfw so ultimately.. why should I be limiting who interacts when I can’t control who sees my posts anyways? And 3. I was an overthinking 18-20 yr old
This was during the time when everyone thought they had to changed their bio once they turned 18, and I was one of those people and stuck with it 💔
This blog was intended to have fun and to bring whoever stumbled upon my work joy without second guessing whether or not they are ALLOWED to interact with my post
I still don’t want minor’s following me or DMing me for other reasons, but the small interactions with my post, I am fine with.
I really, really like the concept of a tickle monster- but i sort of wanted to put my own spin on it, as i find a lot of tickle monster tropes have already been used- so I created Silta and Pet!
Silta feeds on laughter, which is gauged by his glowing tail rings, but to the point where he’d actually die if he were to run out of glow. So, naturally, expecting every ‘hunt’ (ambushing unsuspecting individuals who stray too far off the path) to end in a 100% success rate is far too risky. Therefore- he gets himself a pet!
Pet lives with Silta as his food source, free to roam the den and live life as best he can. I guess you could call him a domestic prisoner? Silta cares about him in his own warped way, making sure he’s fed and clean (I’m thinking a tickly grooming scene would be fun), even setting up a room for him with his limited human knowledge.
Pet essentially just exists to be tickled, but his quality of life isn’t abysmal. Silta thinks everything about him is hilarious, he’s uninterested in humans for the most part but heavily endeared with Pet, and although the feedings themselves can be pretty intense Pet is never subjected to real harm or misery. Yippee!
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If you’re interested in ideas for Simon’s terrible horrible no good very bad day fic, maybe something where he’s ashamed/hates his mutations, specifically the ones on his face? Cause I can’t stop thinking about him getting so angry with how he looks that he tried to yank out the teeth with pliers. Don’t know how successful he’d be but he’d damn sure try. I get that it’s a pretty heavy topic & you might wanna pass on it, but just thought I’d share! I’ve been LOVING all your fics!
ABSOLUTELY I’LL WRITE THIS.
Yo this is SUCH a peak suggestion ohhh my god,,, I love me a dark heavy topic to write about, I NEVER mind!!’
ALSO TYSM FOR ALL THE LOVE!! I always love seeing your little notes on your reblogs TEEHEE
Tooth & Nail
This one’s dark, gang. Not the whole time, of course, but hot mama this was a hell of a write- LMAO.
I feel like I apologize for something every time I post but whatever bruh. I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. a lot came up while writing, I had to cut and rewrite a lot of it… I’m afraid it might be a little disjointed?? But maybe I’m overthinking… anyway, as usual, there will probably be typos. I’m blind, siIIIGH.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Lee!Simon (Iron Lung) Ler!Grace (PHM)
TW’s: heavy mentions of blood, depiction of a severe mental break, self harm, teeth, and the removal of them, swearing
❦ Simon cannot stand the appearance of his new mutations, nor the discomfort they cause. Attempting to take matters into his own hands, he leaves Grace to pick up the pieces, which thankfully, he’s more than willing to do.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Half the battle of recovering after physical trauma is the physiological condition.
The human body can find a way to function, even under the most obscure circumstances. With enough time, life will find a way to persist.
It may not look the same as it did before… smooth lines become jagged, even tones become blotchy…
But cells, blood, muscle, organs, and skin don’t care about how they look. Life in a body is about utility, not aesthetics.
As true as all of this is, ithe words fall meaninglessly flat to someone who may be physically healed, but not entirely emotionally.
Words can only go so far…
-
“Don’t pick at your skin, Si, you’ll irritate it.”
I mutter, hunched over a hunk of metal I was in the middle of clumsily dismantling, removing hammed screws with nothing but thick, hooked pliers and hope.
“It’s itching.”
I look up to see where Simon was scratching, since I’d only responded to the sound before.
His hand, clawed and rigid against the marred half of his face, raked at the skin around the split that gave way for long, sharp teeth protruding from the back of his upper and lower jaw, across almost to his canines.
I nod slowly. “Yeah, that area’s gonna be a little sensitive for a while. Still, don’t mess with it.”
“It’s been months- everything’s done healing… it’s just this stupid face thing!”
“Well, the skin on your face had to stretch and break in… kinda unconventional ways to accommodate your new teeth, so your body’s still acclimating.”
“God I hate these stupid fuckin’ things.”
“Your teeth?”
Simon grunts in reply, leaning back in his chair. There was a resentful darkness in his eyes.
“Why? I think they’re awesome!”
“You think everything’s awesome.”
“Somethin’ wrong with that? I’m a positive guy, what can I say.”
Simon rolls his eyes. “They make everything 10,000 times more difficult. Eating, talking - I bite my tongue like… five times an hour… and they’re just hideous- I mean- why on the outside of my face?!”
“Hey, hey - first of all they’re not hideous, don’t say stuff like that. You’re just not fully used to them yet. As for everything else, that’s just dental recovery, bud. I mean, yours is a special case, sure, but all your symptoms are normal!”
“How the fuck would you know?”
I smile, setting the pliers down.
“When I was in my 20’s I had to get my wisdom teeth taken out. All four of ‘em. I knew it was important, I knew I had to do it, but you wanna know what I did?”
Simon tries to look disinterested, but he takes the bait.
“What.”
“I waited. Years. Like, four years. I was in excruciating pain all the time, they were growing in crooked, and bashing into other teeth and impacting them- oh it was a nightmare. Once I finally bit the bullet and got them all removed, and got all the teeth I messed up in the process fixed, you wanna know how long it took for me to fully heal up?”
“…How long…”
“Two. Years. Two years! My jaw was so sore and jacked up the first six months alone, my brother had to feed me soup like a baby. I couldn’t talk, eat, sleep comfortably, or use a straw for at least 3/4 of that time. And I managed to give myself a dry socket at some point too… beside the point. What I’m saying is, I get it. It’s normal. And my dental work was internal.”
“…Why the hell did you wait so long?”
“I’m scared of the dentist- is that really what you gleaned from my story? My dentophobia?”
“Is that a word?”
“I promise it is.” I chuckle, reaching across the table to catch Simon’s hand before he instinctively scratches at his face again.
He groans. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, just be careful.” I smile, releasing his hand, and going back to my work.
Simon nods slowly.
“It’d be so much easier if I could just-“ he snaps his fingers. “Get rid of them. Have a symmetrical face again…”
He sighs, carefully watching me pull and yank at old nails, wiggling them out slowly but surely.
“Symmetry is so overrated. You’ve got character this way. I would have killed to look that cool as a kid.” I smile.
Simon hums softly.
I take a look at the clock mounted on the lab wall. It’s getting to be evening - not that it matters in space anyway.
“Why don’t I make us some ramen?” I suggest, sitting upright on my stool. “It’s soft and easy to eat. Won’t irritate your jaw.”
Simon chuckles. “Everything we eat out here is soft.”
“Wrong. You ever try uncooked ramen?”
“Raw?!”
“Yeah, with the seasoning backet sprinkled over it? It’s great! It’s like a bag of chips’l
“Euch…”
“Oh come on, it’s the same thing as cooked ramen, just dehydrated! It’s not bad!”
Simon wrinkles his nose.
“Whatever, hater. Go wash up while I get supper ready.”
-
It’s been fifteen minutes…
Thankfully our soup was well insulated in the food heating system, so I wasn’t nexissarily worried about dinner getting cold.
I was concerned about what could possibly be taking so long.
“Grace!”
“Woah-! Rocky! Hey bud- w-where have you been? I haven’t seen you for hours.”
I’d been so lost in thought I hadn’t even heard Rocky’s thundering hamster ball careening down the hall… somehow.
“Rocky working up in cockpit.”
“On what..?”
“Third chair. Rocky make chair for Rocky!”
I tilt my head, hands on my hips.
“You already had a chair, buddy- yours was the copilot seat. What, you don’t wanna be my copilot anymore?”
“Rocky still copilot. Two copilots now! Rocky give human chair to Simon, and Rocky build new chairthat can accommodate ball!”
I smile. Honestly, that’s really sweet of him.
“Ohhh Rocky that’s really nice of you to give your old chair to Simon, I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it.”
“Good good good.”
Roxky shifts around proudly in his ball, trilling softly.
“Speaking of Simon… he’s taking forever to come up to eat.”
“Why, question?”
“I dunno! I sent him down to wash up almost 20 minutes ago…”
Rocky stands still, a stream of clicks echoing through the hamster ball.
“Rock, you don’t have to spy on him I’m sure he’s alright-“
“Rocky see Simon in bathroom in dorm.”
“W-what? Still?”
“Sitting on floor, statement.”
My heart sinks. “On the floor?”
Rocky trills in reply.
“Cannot see much else. Very still.”
“Like- alive still? Or passed out still?”
“Cannot tell, statement.”
I hufff, hesitating for a moment, before starting off to the dorm.
“Rocky come too, question?”
“N-no bud, you stay up here for now. I’ll call if I need you. I don’t wanna overwhelm him.” I call over my shoulder as I jog through the lab to the hatch.
I pass the table I had been sitting at with Simon e just a little while ago. Everything was, for the most part, in place…
But my pliers were missing…
-
“Simon? Simon! Where are you, man?! Your noodles are getting cold!”
…no reply.
I crawl down the ladder, doing my best to be as quiet as I can.
“Simon..?” I reach the landing, standing still, waiting for any sign of life.
There’s a rustle from the bathroom. Found him.
“I’m coming in, bud… just- just a warning…”
“N-no…”
I freeze. That’s Simon’s voice for sure, but he sounds different… weak, maybe.
“Not an option.” I don’t mean to sound as stern as I do.
I take a deep breath, and approach the open bathroom, knocking on the wall to announce myself before turning the corner.
Oh my god… oh my god oh my god…
“H-holy crap- Simon?!”
The hunched, heaving figure in the corner doesn’t reply.
I can see red, but I can’t see the source. It’s on him, there’s some streaked on the floor, and he’s got his hands clenched by his face.
He’s got something.
“SIMON-! Simon, drop it, NOW!”
I shout, rushing into the room barely large enough for one person, let alone two.
I nearly slip on a small, slick puddle of blood, steadying myself on either wall, before dropping down in front of Simon, who I’m not even sure is fully aware that I’m here.
He’s breathing heavily, so much so that he’s growling upon every exhale. His eyes are wide, looking through me, rather than at me, both hands, real and prosthetic, grotesquely sparkling with blood, wrapped around some kind of tool.
My pliers.
The blood’s coming from his mouth… the teeth on the side of his face.
“Simon, listen to me… drop the pliers. Now.” I plead with him, desperately trying to keep my voice calm and even.
I want to reach for the pliers, but any number of things could happen if I make the wrong move here.
I could jab him in the face, I could accidentally aid in removing whatever he’s got a hold on - anything could happen. My safest bet was to talk him down.
“Simon. Can you hear me? I need to know that you can hear me.” I shuffle closer to him. My knees streaked red, but I don’t care.
I carefully raise my hands, opting to take Simon by the shoulders in an attempt to ground him.
“I’m here to help you - I’m not here to do anything but help you.”
“You can’t help me.”
“Yes I can! Let me try!”
“There’s NOTHING YOU CAN DO.”
He lurches at me, and I tumble backwards, landing on my elbows.
Simon lets go of the pliers with the stronger, xenonite hand, using it to prop himself up above me. That’s progress. He’s only holding them with his thumb and two fingers now…
“Simon-“
“NOTHING.” He grits through his teeth, blood dribbling down his chin, landing like raindrops on my thankfully red shirt.
“Try me, Simon! I can’t help you if you don’t tell me how I can!” I can feel my heart pounding through my chest.
“I want them gone.” Simon’s voice is deep, manic.
“You want what gone…?”
He grips the pliers tighter.
“Y-your teeth! Ok, understood, you’ve want them gone…”
“I look like a monster…”
“No, you don’t, I promise you don’t…”
“I want it all gone, Grace… I want the gills gone, I want my face back… I want these fuckin… teeth…”
He sits up, gripping the pliers with both hands again, eyes squeezing shut.
“NO-! NO NO, SIMON, STOP!” I sit up, grabbing Simon’s wrists, desire my better judgment.
“I JUST WANNA BE NORMAL AGAIN. I DON’T WANT TO BE UNCOMFORTABLE ALL THE FUCKING TIME.” His voice breaks, slurred through his gritted teeth.
“OKAY, T-THAT’S REASONABLE! JUST- LET GO SO WE CAN TALK!” I plead, doing my best to pull his arms outward to release pressure on whatever tooth he’s got a hold on.
“WHY DOES IT FUCKIN’ MATTER TO YOU?! YOU DON’T KNOW THE HALF OF THE PAIN I’M CONSTANTLY IN.”
“EXPLAIN IT TO ME, SIMON! I’M ASKING TO UNDERSTAND!” I shout, putting everything I have into dislodging the pliers.
Simon is much stronger than I am, especially on adrenaline.
Brute force alone isn’t enough… I have to think of something else.
I look at my hand, streaked with Simon’s blood, and I have an idea. Understanding the risk of injury to myself, and more importantly, to Simon, but it’s my best shot.
I weigh my options, deciding it’s worth a try.
I loosen my grip with my left hand, letting Simon gain control of the pliers. I ease up with my right hand as well, lowering the resistance between us.
I swipe my hand upward, as though I slipped, sliding my palm against the hook of the pliers, hissing in “pain” and yanking both my hands away, holding my left tight.
“AH-! Crap-!” I wince, looking down at my unscathed hand, groaning and hunching over.
“GRACE-!” As I’d hoped, Simon’s attention diverts to me, and he reaches a hand out to me, lowering the pliers with the other.
I grab his arm tight, yanking him towards me, flipping both of us over, landing Simon on his back, stunned.
Both my hands find Simon’s wrists, pinning them to the floor. The xenonite elbow joint hisses and clicks in protest, and I make a note to take a look at the damage is no doubt caused later.
“Drop the pliers.”
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
“NOW. DROP THEM.” I shout.
Simon winces, opening his hand, letting the bloody tool fall to the ground.
I flick them away with two fingers, and they skitter across the floor, out of Simon’s reach.
“How much damage is there.”
“Get o-“
“Answer my questions, or I will put you under and look for myself.”
“Is that a treat?”
“It’s a promise. What did you do with the pliers, Simon?”
“…two.”
“Jesus…”
“They were coming out anyway.”
“What?!0
“They were already loose.”
“You can regenerate teeth?!”
“Yes.”
“What..? Whatever, Fine, fine- then why are you bleeding so much?!”
“They weren’t completely loose.”
I can feel my stomach turn.
“Let me see.”
Simon narrows his eyes at me.
“I’m trying to help you, let me see the extractions, so I know how I can help you.”
He hesitates.
“Open.”
Slowly, Simon loosens his jaw, opening his mouth. The left side opens just a little wider to account for the extra teeth behind what used to be his molars.
I can see two, dark, reddish black sockets among the spiked teeth. They weren’t too big, nut they weren’t the cleanest extractions either.
The surrounding tissue was red, swollen, and littered with pokes and nicks from the pliers - failed attempts to grip onto a tooth.
I grab Simon’s chin, tilting his head to catch the low light at a few different angles, making sure I haven’t missed anything.
“Two extractions, no fragmented teeth left behind … minor abrasions in the gums and surrounding tissue…” I sigh, releasing Simon’s face.
Simon rests his head back on the floor, closing his mouth again, and I sit up on his hips, taking a long breath.
“That the fuck were you thinking?!”
“Woah-“ Simon flinches, looking up at me like I’m out of my mind.
“Do you have any idea how much danger you could have put yourself in?! Any idea at all?!”
“…”
“What if you struck a larger vein? W-what if you gave yourself some crazy infection that neither myself nor Armando could handle?!”
“Gracie, I-“
“There’s a nonzero chance that you could’ve… I-… how many… never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing, never mind, I do t wanna know.”
“What were you gonna ask? You want me to talk things out, let’s start here.” Simon says softly.
“Fine. How many times have you done this? How many times, while I have been busy, sleeping, or otherwise occupied, have you been down here mutilating yourself to make yourself less of a monster that you never were to begin with?!”
“…Never.”
“Bull.”
“I promise, Ryland, I’m being honest.”
“You’re not just saying that because the teeth have grown back, and if never know the difference?”
“No.”
I sigh, nodding my head slowly.
“Please don’t ever do this again.”
“Okay…”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“You scared the hell out of me.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“No… no, don’t be sorry, it’s selfish of me to make this about how I feel- c’mon, sit up.”
I scoot myself back, freeing Simon’s legs from under mine, and he sits up slowly.
The moment he’s upright, I reach out, and pull him into a hug. The tightest I’d ever held him.
Simon’s hands find my back, holding me just as tight, his head buried in my shoulder.
“Are you in pain?”
“Not really… just sore.”
“Adrenaline…”
“No…”
“No?”
“No, remember I said they were already on their way out? Besides the initial… resistance, there was barely any pain. Kinda like a paper cut. Doesn’t hurt a lot, bleeds like a gunshot.”
“Okay- Simon you don’t have to explain this to me right now- we can do this later.” I pat him on the back a few times.
“It’s find. Talking through it helps. R emember the eel tooth I gave you?” Simon pulls back from the hug, and points to the xenonite pendant on my chest with a tilt of his head.
I look down as well, lifting the pendant in the palm of my hand to take a closer look at it.
“See how the root is shorter? Thats exactly how my teeth look. They’re not embedded as deeply as human teeth are.”
He’s got a point. At the top of the curved, saber tooth, is a short, flat root, barely half an inch long.
“Fair enough… ok, fair enough.” I let the pendant drop back down to my chest. “Shouldn’t be too hard to patch you up then… c’mon.”
I release Simon, and stand up, brushing the wrinkles from my shirt.
“But… The bathroom- I- shouldn’t I clean this up first?”
“I’ll handle it later.”
“Grace, I fucked everything up in here, I can clean it myself.”
I sigh shaking my head. “I said I’ll handle it later. I really don’t want you in here by yourself any more than absolutely necessary. It’s fine, I scrubbed the whole ship clean of ocean blood, I can handle half of a half bath.” I extend my hand down to Simon, with a thin lipped smile.
He hesitates for a moment, opening his mouth as if to protest. He thinks better of it, nodding, and accepting my hand. 

-
“Okay, swish this around and spit it back out.”
“Why do I have to spit it out?”
“It’s salt water with peroxide.”
“What-? Is that safe?”
“What’re you worried about safety for? Didn’t you tell me you drank isopropyl alcohol?”
“Same thing as the stuff you drink.”
“…vodka? Ethanol? No, not the same at all. A-anyway, yes, peroxide is perfectly safe fo sterilization purposes. It’s just water with an extra hydrogen atom. H2O2. It will upset your stomach if you swallow it though, especially mixed with salt and blood.”
I hand Simon a warm plastic cup, and he takes it, covering the toothy half of his face with a hand, sealing any gaps as he swishes the water around.
He winces - fron the sting of the salt in the extraction site, and whatever little nicks and cuts he’d made around his mouth, I imagine - and spits the now bright scarlet solution back into the cup.
“Yeah… doesn’t feel great, I know. But it’ll keep the area clean. I’m gonna have you do that twice a day until the new teeth starts coming in, and the internal cuts heal up, just to minimize infection risk.”
Simon nods, watching me set down a bucket of steaming, soapy water, only filled an out a quarter of the way for conservation sake.
“Shirt please.”
I have Simon seated on the dorm floor, with a few towels draped over his lap, and on the floor under him, hair tied back in my best attempt at a bun.
He slid off the black t-shirt without protest, setting it down beside him.
Thankfully there wasn’t too much blood on his chest or torso.
I think being in a dim, dark bathroom made everything look worse than it was. The majority seemed to have soaked into the collar of the shirt, concentrating the thicker streaks to his face, jaw, neck, and a few smatterings on his collar.
His hand was washed, and his prosthetic was removed to be properly repaired and sanitized. I could make quick work of the rest.
I wring out the sponge, bringing it up to Simon’s shoulder.
I don’t touch him until he gives me the cue to do so. Once he nods, I gently scrub away at the red streaks.
“I uh… I don’t know, I guess I thought it would make me look more normal…”
I raise a brow.
“What’s up?”
“Taking the teeth out, I mean… I dunno.”
Oh…
“Ah, okay. I can live with that reasoning. A little skewed, but…”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll give you two answers - one from a scientist, and one from a friend.” I dip the sponge again.
“Let’s say for a sec that your teeth didn’t regenerate, and you wanted to remove them all, given your current condition.” I start, scrubbing away at the top of Simon’s chest. “The extraction points would be visible from the outside, based on how those teeth are rooted, and once the wounds healed and closed, the scarring would most likely leave dents in your cheeks and jaw. Not to mention, you’d probably be in a world of pain… I don’t know what you consider “normal”, but that surely wouldn’t be it.”
Simon hums in thought.
“Now, as your friend, I really don’t think there’s any need to get rid of your teeth at all. Simple as that.”
“Why? I mean, thank you, but they’re so obtrusive, and they get in the way…”
“Same with my arm. My acid burnt arm, neck, and chest. I’ve lost so much feeling in the most random little areas, the skin is rough and tight and discolored and dry… but it’s part of me now. Ryland on earth would probably hate the way Ryland in space looks with a broiled body - or maybe he’d love it, I dunno, he’s a strange fella - but regardless, it’s part of me, my body, and my story. The series of scars tells a crucial story about how I got here… why I’m still alive, and what I’ve endured to still be breathing today.”
I tilt Simon’s head to the side to remove the blood from his jaw and beard.
“And the same goes for your scars, aand your mutations. Like yeah, old Simon didn’t ask for saber teeth, two sets of gills, one red eye, and a missing arm, but without gills, you would have drowned! That alone is incredible! Look at how much we’ve been able to learn about you through the changes your body’s endured! I- I mean it’s incredible! You can breathe fhrough four different parts of your body, you’ve got teeth that can rip through metal, dude- you’re a biological marvel! You could be from Marvel!” I smile, pulling back for a moment to assess my work. He was nearly clean.
Simon ponders my words for a while.
“…Thank you, Grace, I- I really do appreciate what you’re saying-”
“But…”
“But… even still- I just feel like I look scary. That’s not- I don’t think it represents me anymore.”
“Scary? Y’think?” I frown.
“Yeah… right?”
“If that’s really what you’re worried about, you’re a good looking guy, Simon. And that’s with scars and mutations. Good looking people tend to look even better with battle scars.”
“…What?”
“I’m being serious! How many movies have we watched with protagonists that take hit after hit, bump after bruise, and by the climax of the story, they look like the most powerful person in existence?”
“Those are movies. That’s fiction.”
“I could be convinced that you’re a movie protagonist like that.” I shrug, setting my fists on my hips.
Simon lets out a quiet, amused chuckle, which I’m ecstatic to hear.
“I’m just sayin’… I know I’m biased here, but I don’t think you need “symmetry” or stupid boring average features to be normal. You’re cool! You look cool, Simon.”
“…Thank you…”
“Don’t mention it… plus, I mean you’ve got fanged canines, which is like… objectively attractive…”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, I genuinely didn’t near you. You know my hearing’s shot.”
I clear my throat, willing away the red heat on the tips of my ears, and reaching back for the sponge, squeezing it a few times to reignite the suds.
“Just talking to myself. Anyway, I’m just about done… and now you smell like lavender, thanks to whatever infinite shelf life NASA soap they sent me out here with.”
“‘Now’? You sayin’ I smelled bad before?”
Yes. Like iron, sweat, and man. But I’d never say it like that.
“You said it, not me.”
“What?!”
“Hey! I’m just sayin…”
“Oh come on! Gimme a break, I’m aquaphobic. Rocky gets to walk around smelling like cat piss all the time, and you don’t say shit!”
“Ammonia, first of all, ok? It’s not cat urine, Rocky doesn’t even know what a cat is.And besides, that’s not his fault. His atmosphere is made of ammonia- and he doesn’t have an olfactory system, so he can’t smell anyway.” I huff.
“That’s probably why he still hangs out with your funky butt when you haven’t showered in days, stinkfish.” I chuckle, making a few final passes with the sponge over the side of Simon’s neck. I take extra care around his gills, though I can see his shoulder twitch.
“Stinkfish is ridiculous.”
“You know It was funny.”
Simon huffs, shaking his head.
“Oh- see?! You laughed! Told you!”
“That wasn’t laughter, I exhaled at you.”
“What’re you a bull?” I raise both index fingers to the sides of my head, letting out a heavy huff like an angry bull.
Simon gives me a thin lipped smile. Tough crowd…
“Oh come on, that’s a weak one. Let’s see that pretty smile with all those pretty teeth.” I snicker.
“Absolutely not.”
“Please?!”
He rolls his eyes at me.
Abandoning the sponge in the bucket beside us, I take Simon’s face in both my hands.
“Get the hell off me Gracie.”
“One smile. For the both of us. C’moooon.”
Simon narrows his eyes at me.
With the tips of my fingers on both hands, I gently scratch behind Simon’s ears, whatching his poker face shift just about as fast as the iodine clock reaction.
“GrahahAhahace! Get the hell away from me-!”
He rounds his back, shrugging his shoulders up.
“Oh! Oh, what’s this?! I think we’re getting somewhere!”
Simon attempts to grab both my wrists, only managing to grab one, forgetting he’s currently short one hand with his prosthetic missing.
“Ohhh, tough luck, buddy, your shields are down by half, womp womp!” I move one hand up to gently scritch along the spiked shell of Simon’s altered ear, tracing the fin-like shape as though I were trying to commit it to memory, and rolling the sturdy spiked tips between my fingers.
“AAAAahahahAHA- s-shIHIHIT- A-AH- AH-!”
Simon snorts, tucking his chin down towards his chest.
“Nuh-uh. No no no, Look up, look at me.” I purr, tilting my head to stay in his sight line.
“Shut uhUHUHUP-! Fuckin’ asshole!” Simon hisses.
“Up up, Simon, c’mon. My face is up here- lemme see yours!” I move one hand to his chin, tilting it up with a little resistance. He finally relents, keeping his face straight with mine.
He wears a reluctant, wobbly smile - still trying to hold himself together, but for what reason, I really was t sure.
That’s alright. Easy fix.
Without warning, I shoot my hands down under Simon’s arms, scratching against the uppermost rungs of his ribs.
“AaAAAHAHA-! WHAHAHA?!” Simon shrieks, wobbling backwards, rolling onto his back.
I follow him down, skittering lower, down his ribs.
“There we go! Look at that handsome smile! Tktktktktk!” I bring a hand down to his knee, squeezing the muscle just above it over and over.
“SHUHUHUT UP! A-AHAHAAAAAA- UUURGHAHAHA!” Simon growls through his laughter, thrashing around under my hands.
“Settle down, jeez! You’re gonna kick me in the nose!”
“GOOHOHOD.”
I gasp. “You would never.” I give Simon’s side a pinch, earning me a sharp jolt.
Simon lifts a leg at me like a cat gearing up to swipe.
“I wish you would!” I playfully threaten.
He kicks blindly - not quick enough to hurt me, if it were to land, of course.
I catch him by the ankle, turning my back to Simon, and putting his ankle in a headlock.
“NO! M-NONO WAIT- WAIT- I- I’M SORRY-!”
“You’re sorry you got caught, dummy.” I smile over my shoulder at him. “I’m a twin for Pete’s sake- you think I don’t know how to catch a kick?” I chuckle.
With my free hand I suddenly rake at the bottom of Simon’s socked foot, playing a little rougher than I usually do.
“Good evening, Simon.” Mary replies through the intercoms.
“Stop bothering Mary, man, I already promised I would stop.” I sit up beside Simon, allowing him to catch his breath.
“UuuuuuUUUGH.”
I smile, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder. “You alright?”
“Mhm…”
I nod, smiling rather fondly at him.
“…why are you staring at me like that?”
“I’m just sitting here!”
“Smiling like an idiot! What?!”
“Nothing! It’s nice to see you smile!”
“Oh shut up.”
“What! I’m being serious! You’ve had a tough day! Ohhh what is it a crime to wanna see you happy?!”
“Why’re you being so saccharine sweet right now?”
“I’m not!”
“Yes, you are!”
“I think you’ve just been so mean to yourself all day, you’ve forgotten how love, care, and kindness are supposed to feel, you semi-aquatic storm cloud.” I jab him in the navel to punctuate my point.
Simon jolts with a strangled wheeze.
“Who’s the last person to actually treat you with kindness, hm?”
Simon is silent for a while, pondering, while I patiently wait, sitting crisscross beside him.
“…”
“Wow, seriously? The bar’s so low it’s in hell, huh…” I mutter.
“Do you count?”
“…You have to be joking.”
“I’m being serious!”
“No! Before me! Pre-Hail Mary!”
“…”
“No one?!”
“Nothing springs to mind…”
“Man… no wonder you’re so tough on yourself…”
Simon shrugs.
“We’re hopeless…” I joke, shaking my head.
“Hang on, who the fuck is ‘we’?”
“Us. Simon Fisher and Ryland Grace.”
“I’m not hopeless, I’m a work in progress. I just have my moments.”
I give him a look.
“And today was one of those moments.” Simon mutters.
“…”
“…”
“I’m really the last person in recent memory to be nice to you?”
“In all memory.”
“…jeez.”
“Yeah.”
“How’s it feel?”
“So bizarre.”
“Really?”
“Yeah- before, any positive interaction was uh… y’know, was expected to go both ways.”
“Transactional.”
“Exactly. I do something for you, you give me something back. Problem is, if you’re too nice, you end up getting ripped off, taken advantage of… So it’s not entirely a matter of everyone just being as asshole. You learn to keep your guard up. Safety, and all that.”
“Man, that’s brutal.”
“Mhm.”
“…”
“You don’t… feel like that here, do you? Like you’re indebted to us, or feel like you need to stay on guard?”
“No, no… not anymore.”
“Anymore?!”
“Well I didn’t know what I was up against before, or who you were… I- I dunno, it took time to trust you, but I can comfortably say that I do now.”
I nod slowly, eyes fixed on the floor. There’s a melancholy sort of happiness in my chest that I’m unsure of how to emote.
“I’m still coming around emotionally… evidently… but for what it’s worth, you’re the first person in my life that I feel like I can trust not to stab me through the back of I turn around. And maybe that’s because you saved my- oh- ohhhh shit… Gracie…”
I sniffle, wiping my eye with my sleeve.
“N-no, no it’s- I’m fine… I told you I’m a crier.” I chuckle through my wavering voice, smiling down at Simon.
Simon snickers, sitting up slowly, opening his arm out.
I fall into the offered hug, a bit dramatically, but the sets par for the course.
“Y’know, now that I think about it, I really didn’t get a lot of hugs back home either…” Simon mutters, wrapping an arm around my back.
“Oh come on, now you’re just trying to make me cry.”
Simon shrugs. “I mean… it’s kinda funny…”
“Ohhh you jerk!” I scoff, dropping my hands down to Simon’s hips, digging my thumbs into the bone like drill bits.
“SHIHIHIT-! A-AHAHAHA- OKAHAHAY!” Simon wriggles, trying his hardest to get away.
He manages to turn, but I catch him around the waist before he can scamper away.
The tractionless towels on the floor give way under his feet, and he tumbles onto his side.
“Unbelievable.” I tut, shaking my head. “You think it’s funny, huh?”
I push Simon down onto his stomach, giving him barely a second to catch up before I latch onto his ribs, scratching with purpose.
“A-AHAHAHAHA-!! I- IM SOHOHORRY!!”
“‘Hilarious! Grace cares about me so much it makes him cry!’ Thats what you sound like.”
I rake my fingers up and down Simon’s ribs, feeling the seams of his gills close tight under my nails.
I turn my wrists so that my fingers scratch against the grain of Simon’s gills, my nails every so often briefly catching on the edge of the plates, not enough to lift them, but definitely enough for him to feel it.
“AAAAAA- *hic* AHAHAHAHAHAHA- GRAAAAHAHAHACE! A-AH AH-! I SAID I’M SORRY! *hic* OHOHOH GOHOHOD!!”
“Ha! Aw, you’ve got the hiccups?!” I chuckle, moving down to the lowest pair of gills.
“Y- *hic* YES- YEHEHES-! I DUHUHUNNO WHYHYHY-!”
“Diaphragmatic spasms. They can easily be triggered by excessive laughter. Makes total sense.” I shrug.
“Y-YOU’RE SU- *hic* SUCH A FUCKIN MEHEHRD, MY GOHOHOD. STOOOHOHOP!”
I finally bring my hands to a stop, sliding them up to Simon’s back.
“Don’t you *hic!* dare.”
“No, no, I’m done, promise. Let me try something. For your hiccups.”
“What- ouuugh…” Simon groans, his body relaxing into the floor as I dig the heels of my hands into the muscle, slowly sliding upward.
“Relaxing your diaphragm with firm pressure… it relaxes the diaphragm, encouraging the spasming to stop.” Suddenly, I lift my hands away, folding them against my chest, though he can’t see with his head faced down.
“But I guess if it’s too nerdy, I won’t use my understanding of anatomy to help you.” I shrug.
“N-no no… *hic* I’m sorry, it’s not nerdy, Gracie… M’sorry.” He mumbles with an oddly desperate whine.
Oh how couldn’t I smile at that? I can’t help but wonder how many other people had the privilege of his trust the way I do right now… if anyone at all.
“Alright then.” I replace my hands on Aimon’s back, gently working the muscles around his diaphragm, wincing at just how tense he was.”
“You’ve gotta start stretching, Si… you’re wound tight like a guitar string.”
“I do. *hic* I just hold onto a lot of stress.” He grumbles.
“A knot or two is stress. This is insane.” I shake my head, continuing to coax Simon’s muscles to settle and relax.
Little more than a few minutes pass, and Simon’s hiccups fade.
“Better?”
“Mhm…” Simon mumbles.
His arm is bent at the elbow, supporting his head, which is turned to the side, eyes closed and relaxed.
“Sleepy?”
He groans in reply.
I carefully climb off of him, beginning to gather up the long forgotten towels, bucket, and sponge, sliding them away to be properly dealt with later.
“Well you can’t sleep on the floor…”
“Watch me.” Simon mumbles.
“Not a challenge. C’mon- just- at least get up on the bed down here. I won’t make you go all the way upstairs.”
“Tha’s your bed though.”
“Mhm. It’s better I keep an eye on you tonight anyway.”
I take a seat on the edge of the bed, pulling the quilt back, and patting the mattress.
“C’mon. You sleep, I watch.”
Simon doesn’t move for a moment, only offering me a heavy sigh. Before long, he groggily stands himself up, shuffling over to the bed.
I smile, letting Simon take the space between myself and the wall, and he plops down like a sack of potatoes.
A small, wall mounted light is perched above the night table - I flick it on, and pick up the book on the table.
“Mary, dorm lights off, please.”
“Dormitory lights: off.”
The room falls into dim, warm light from the fixture beside me. Simon sighs quietly, turning over, and resting his head on my shoulder, his body just about as close to me as possible without his atoms passing straight through mine.
I wormmy arm behind him, combing idly through his hair, along his scalp.
“Grace..”
“Hm?”
“…I’m sorry. About earlier…”
“Please don’t start with the apologies again.” I sigh.
“I- I just…”
“There’s absolutely no reason for you to apologize for a mental breakdown you couldn’t control, okay? Get that out of your head. It’s okay.”
“…”
“All I ask is that the next time you feel like you’re on the edge of your tipping point - for any reason- come to me.” I say softly. “I will always be here for you, but I can’t help to my fullest potential if you don’t let me.”
“M’sorry...”
“No, no sorry. Just say “okay”.”
“…okay.”
I smile, gently scratching the back of Simon’s head. “Good. Now go to sleep.”
Simon sighs, relaxing into the silence.
“…Angel?”
“Human?”
“Love you…”
I feel my heart swell. How many people has he said that to before?
Better question, how many people have ever said it to him..?
Out of character bloodymary tickle Drabble.. if you will good sir 🍷
I’m very sorry for how out of character this is, but I’m sleep deprived, and have a Lee mood that is souring through the clouds right now over these two 😭
Lee! Grace Ler! Simon
—
You know, with Simon only boarding the Hail Mary a few space weeks ago, he never thought his savior would be so aversive.
“Look me dead in the eyes, and say it.”
“Ihihi can’t!”
“You can’t.. what? Say it? ”
“Nohoho! I- I’m sohohory-”
“No no. What did we just talk about with the sorry bullshit? Stop apologizing all the time.”
“Ihihihi’m Saha- or.. uuhuhuhghh!”
to most, grace would be the avoidant type with conflict. Running away was his specialty of course. But Simon picked up on it quick after trying to explain to him that he shouldn’t even be apologizing for something that shouldn’t even have him think to apologize for? For example: just existing and being himself around another human being!
The level of trauma this man has is insane, and the fact that every little conversation they had always led to Grace saying, “I’m sorry to be a bother,” or, “I should’ve thought of it sooner, I’m sorry.” It was a never ending game of “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.” And Simon has had enough of it. All honesty, he was growing quite annoyed hearing that word over, and over, and over. He wanted an end to it.
“Aha. Ok.”
Simon firmly gripped the underside of Grace’s jaw line, and moved his head so he had a clear enough view to see the man in all his ticklish glory. His eyes were shut closed, while his cheeks were flushed, and his nose scrunched up. His glasses were hanging loosely on the side of his face, thankfully his ear was a good enough grip for the lenses to dangle there freely.
“Look at me, angel.”
Grace tried to open his eyes, even just a sliver of his eyelids folding up, but looking at him while in such a silly and flustering predicament was too overwhelming for his poor brain.
He shook his head weakly as he tried to redirect his head downwards, but Simon wouldn’t let him.
“Sihihihi- Ihihihi c-chpptt ehehahaha!” He couldn’t even rekindle his words, his brain was of mush right then. Simon couldn’t help but coo and pout over his pathetic attempts.
“Ohh, you poor thing… fine.” Abruptly, Simon stopped his blunt attack, and held Grace his shoulders now. Thankfully for Grace, he was finally able to catch a breather, but that didn’t change his mind from looking down at the ground.
“Ryland, look at me.” Again, he gently took the underside of Grace’s jawline to move his head up again, but the touch itself made Grace flinch on instinct, earning a few startled giggles.
He grinned at how silly he looked. “Yohou.. flinchy bastard..” he muttered out of his breath as he finally got Grace’s head to come up and he could finally see his eyes lock with his. The creases of the scientist’s eyes were like crescent moons, while his face was still flushed.
“Lahahanguage..” is all he said before he moved his eyes away from Simon’s after a while.
“Oh, so you want a round two?” His grip on his jawline flexed as he once again startled the poor man. Gosh, Grace was too ticklish for his own sanity.
“Nohoho! Nonono, ihihi’m sohohorry..”
The disbelieve chuckle that rang out of the dark haired man sent shivers down Grace’s spine.
“Yohou must really want this?”
“Ihihi dihidn’t mean ihihit! Sihihi wahahit!” His face flushed once more, as he tried to curl up into a ball from the tingling sensation from his jawline, but it was hard to do that when he was so close to Simon cris crossed and across from him.
“You know what you need to say.” He grinned before going in with his other hand, repeating the last session. Grace held onto his wrists tightly as he couldn’t comprehend words anymore. This whole predicament was ridiculous.
They both knew they were going to be here for a moment.
Legitimately forgot Carl was a whole ass character in the PHM movie even though I’ve seen it five times.. I was re reading my ticklcanon’s for grace, and I added Carl in there near the end and thought, “who tf is Carl?”
Now I know how Grace felt when he woke up from that coma
Omg I love your stories so much! Especially Precarious Plant!!! I didn't realize how much I need a chase scene between Grace and Simon. Keep up the amazing work!
On a side note, I had an idea for a scenario between them based on a short comic I saw.
In the comic, Simon panics because of trauma and because he is worried about running out of oxygen. Ryland comforts him and tells him to take some deep breaths.
However, my idea is what if after Simon calms down, Grace makes a point to show him that they have plenty of oxygen, and starts tickling him >:)
AHDJSK I LOVE THESE TWO CHARACTER SO MUCH
- Zephyr (@lizard-lee)
THANK YOU SO MUCH!!
Oh I love this concept… HECK YEA I’LL PUT A SPIN ON THIS!! LET’S GOOO
-
Deep Breaths
I am so sorry this took 99 billion years for me to finish, I NEVER write this slow AAAAUGHHH. ITS OK. it’s done, and that’s what matters.
This one’s a little longer, not too angsty, but it’s got a bit of an anxious kick to it. Simon’s still due for a day ruiner though- so he isn’t safe yet. LMAOOO. Please excuse any typos guys…
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Lee!Simon (Iron Lung) Ler!Grace (PHM)
TW: Swearing, very mild anxiety. Nothing crazy, just be aware!
❦ Simon falls under the assumption that the Hail Mary is not only on a fixed oxygen supply, but running low. Grace does his best to convince him that there’s nothing to worry about.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
“Rocky, what’s the word on the breeder tanks and specimen enclosures?”
“Tanks and enclosures sealed, statement!”
Rocky chirps back at me.
“Lights and climate controls stable too?” I shoot back, chewing idly on my pen as I mull over the checklist in my hand.
“Yes yes, all systems stable.”
“Good, that’s what we like to see.” I nod, adding a checkmark on the list.
“Simon, how’re the lights in the main hall? Any flickering, buzzing, or dimming?” I turn, calling down the tunnel hallway to Simon, who stood by the wall, scanning the breaker box.
“Looks good to me. Nothing abnormal.”
“Perfect. Thank you gentlemen, that’ll do it for the baseline system check!” I nod with a smile, happily completing the bi-weekly systems check in with a resounding “all good”.
“You two can feel free to scatter, I’m going to the cockpit to check nav, the smart computer, and life support.” I tucked the clipboard under my arm, nodding up towards the control room.
“Good good. Rocky go finish repairs on Simon fake arm.”
“Ah, so that why he’s missing his prosthetic?” I ask, eyeing the empty sleeve on Simon’s left.
“Yes yes. Need repair.”
“What the heck happened to it? You’ve only had it a couple weeks.”
“I didn’t break it, stop looking at me like o slammed it into a wall or something.”
“We had to lock you in the dorm for three days because you almost slammed me into a wall barely a week into you being awake here. Sue me for assuming you bashed it into something.”
“You can’t use that against me, that was a panic response.”
“To what?! Don’t pull that card on me, I didn’t do anything to you!”
“You were trying to inject me with something!”
“Painkillers! Because your arm was torn off!”
“Whatever! You didn’t warn me!”
“I thought you were asleep! Doctors don’t typically say 3 2 1 go when they’re giving a shot to a comatose patient.”
“You are not a doctor.”
“I have a doctorate!”
“In like, particles or something!”
“Molecular biology!”
“Same thing!”
“Wrong! Stop arguing with me! What happened to your brand new arm?!” I bark.
“Si mon no break arm. Faulty sensors make joints lock up too tight. Uncomfortable and inefficient. Rocky fix error.”
Rocky chimes in, his tone a little snippy. Clearly he’s sick of our shouting.
“See? Not my fault. Rocky’s on my side.” Simon flashes me a smile.
“Whatever. It was a safe enough bet blaming it on you.” I mutter rolling my eyes
“Stupid fox.”
“You annoy me. Greatly.”
Simon chuckles, and Rocky chirps along with him. I have no allies.
“I’m going upstairs.” I knew I lost the argument, but I’d rather fly into Adrian again than admit that, out loud.
-
Nav system looks good… still got a long ride yet to Erid… should probably figure out orbital specs before too long….
I mutter to myself, surfing through the displays on the wall of the cockpit.
Hmmm… astrophage numbers look good… water recycling looks stable… no airlock breach, food’s good, Armando’s good…
I nod to myself, sitting back in the seat with my clipboard.
“Pilot Detected.”
The idle displays all around me blink to life, but it no longer startled me like it had over a year ago.
“Yes Mary, thank you.” I mutter, scribbling on my checklist.
“Hey.”
I turn in my seat as Simon’s head pops up from the hatch.
“Yeeees? Can I help you?” I ask, twirling my pen in my hand.
“No, I’m just here to grab my notebook, I think I left it by the window.” Simon says, hoisting himself up rather impressively with his one and one a quarter arms.
“Oh? Yeah, your diary? Read the whole thing, cover to cover. It’s in the copilot chair- here.” I chuckle.
“Bullshit. It’s not a diary.”
“‘I love Ryland aoooo much, he’s the coolest, nicest, and smartest guy I’ve ever met.’ I think that was page nine?”
“Hilarious. It’s just an Astronomy notebook.”
“‘And he’s such a good teacher, and I love listening to him explain science to me!’ Page 15.”
“You’re full of shit.” Simon grumbles.
“Whatever you say. Here.”
I reach over, picking up the book and lifting it in Simon’s direction, while still keeping most of my attention on the pilot display, scrolling over to ‘Life Support’.
“Thanks.” The notebook slides free from my hand, and I drop it down with a hum and a nod.
“How much longer are you gonna be up here?” Simon asks, craning bis neck to see what I’m doing.
“Why, do you miss my company? Is that what you came to get your diary for?”
“No, I just wanna know how much more peace and quiet time I have left.”
I chuckle, rolling my eyes.
“Almost done, unfortunately. Just checking life support and I’ll be done.”
“…Life Support?”
“Yeah- water recycling, climate control, oxygen. Y’know - crucial stuff.” I shrug, scrolling along the wide yellow and black display.
Simon says nothing in reply.
“You’re wasting your precious quiet time sitting up here talking to me. I’ll be done and down in just a couple minutes al…right..? Simon?”
I turn in my chair, and Simon is just standing there, lost in the eyes, and blank in the face.
“Simon?” I lower my voice, brows furrowed.
“Yeah, yes- yes?”
“You okay? You lost signal there for a second-“
“H-how’s our oxygen.” He asks suddenly.
I blink a couple times, turning from the screen, back to Simon.
“It’s- fine..? Our oxygen is fine. We’re breathing right now, which is a pretty good sign.”
“How long until Erid?”
“A long while still- over a year and a half. We found you two years and some change into the ride.”
Simon nods slowly.
He had a fantastic poker face. One I had never seen before. If something was bothering him, no one would know until he was at the tipping point. That said, a dead giveaway of Simon’s stress could be found just about anywhere but his face.
Clenched fists, tight shoulders, a bouncing leg, if he was sitting down, and the most obvious…
Crack
He cracked his knuckles when he had stress he needed to release.
Crack crack
“What’s wrong?” I lift a brow at him.
“Nothing.”
“Lying.”
“Not lying.”
“Hand and shoulders, Simon, you’re rigid as a board, and you’re cracking your knuckles - what’s going on?”
“Just- nerve pain. I’ll be fine.”
Lying. Straight through his giant sharp teeth. Pretty solid lie, I’ll give him that. He does still get surges of pain from his injuries and mutations every once in a while, but that’s not what he looks like stricken with sudden pain.
I’ll let him have it, though.
“…Okay.” I say calmly.
I treat Simon the same way I do my students when they’d lie to me to get out of something.
If you meet them with the attention and worry they’re after, they’ll walk all over you for the rest of the school year. You don’t just get headaches and stomach aches every testing period, that’s not how that works….
If you acknowledge the issue, and offer concrete solutions, like “okay, go to the nurse, and bring me back a note when she checks you over.” Or “alright, I can call your mother and have her come get you.” They’re less likely to pull the stunt in the future.
“Well… go take some medicine and have Armando check you out. Make sure it’s nothing with your jaw or your arm.” I instruct, nodding slowly.
Simon nods back, still a bit stiff in the shoulders. What set him off..?
Whatever the case, he made his way back to the ladder, and descended.
-
I gave it about ten minutes. Before I idled the system displays again, I took one more glance at life support.
From the menu, I could access Armando’s care logs - a painstakingly detailed, chronological summary of every procedure, checkup, medicine and food distribution, and crew chart update that had been recorded since the launch of the ship.
Upon clicking the ‘refresh’ button in the corner, the list of today’s logs appeared on the display.
Most recent log: my breakfast, five hours ago.
Simon didn’t take any medication, or visit the medbay like I told him to. So he was lying.
Then what was wrong?
-
“Grace come see!”
Rocky called out from the lab. I had barely gotten off the cockpit access ladder before he beckoned me over.
“One sec bud.” I jog down the hall to the lab. The air smells like copper wires and shouldering filament.
I enter the room, grabbing a pair of goggles and gloves from the wall. Can never be too safe.
“What’s up? How’re repairs going?”
“Good good! Rocky fix arm completely! No more glitch.”
He wiggled his carapace proudly, pressing the drawer of the airlock closed, and cycling it, passing the prosthetic to me.
I gently open the door, removing the arm, and quickly setting it down. Still hot… it felt like taking a hot pan out of the oven on 200°.
I hiss, shaking my hands as the prosthetic lands on the table.
“Stupid. Stupid Grace.”
“Whatever, I’ll be fine. Whats one more burn.” I shrug, pulling up a stool and sitting down at the lab table.
“Wow- it looks different now too- cleaner- did you update the exterior too?” I ask.
The xenonite on the exterior before was a bit more patchy. A lot of the inner workings were visible through gaps in the metal paneling. It was cool, a kind of steampunk style- definitely a little more prop than practical, as far as looks go.
Now, the arm was completely enclosed in solid, thin, flat xenonite panels, with the only gaps being where the elbow and wrists flexed. Long? Running, linear patterns stretched across the upper arm and forearm, resembling some of Rocky’s tattoo engravings in his limbs.
“Yes, Rocky scrap and rebuild exterior. Simon complain of things getting stuck in old arm. Bad bad. Give Rocky chance to put engravings on new arm shells!”
“Oh! So these lines translate to something?”
“Yes yes yes, these here mean Simon name. No have last name so Rocky give Simon Grace last name.”
I freeze, looking up at Rocky.
“What?! Yes he does, his last name is Fisher!” I spat out.
“Not real. Simon say Fisher not last name. Just place holder. Simon no remember last name.”
“But it still works! Why my name?!”
“Grace and Simon share everything! Food, clothes, secrets-“
“Secrets?!”m what do you mean secrets?!”
“-Names-“
“We don’t share names. That’s not a thing.”
“Yes is thing! Grace say humans share names when married!”
I raise my hand, palm facing me. “Do you see or hear a ring?! No! We aren’t married!”
Rocky hums.
“I’m telling him that means Fisher.”
“Rocky teaching Simon Eridian language. He will know.”
“Whatever- what else have you done with the prosthetic?” I sigh.
“Updated electric muscle signal sensitivity. Easier to flex, grip, and release without strain.”
I nod, “good, good. That was the issue to begin with, right?”
“Yes, faulty signal strength. Very glitch. Is ready for Simon now!”
The metal had cooled significantly by now, making it safe and comfortable to pick up, about the temperature of a hot restaurant plate. I lifted it - surprisingly easily, I expected heavier.
“Is the install process still the same?” I ask, bending the fingers on the hand experimentally.
“Yes. Straps attach to collar mount, shoulder support attach to straps, secure under arm. Prosthetic fastener attach snug to Simon arm, snap all connectors into place.”
That’s a lot of words…
“Got it.”
“Good good!!”
I’ve only ever been standing around while Simon’s prosthetic was being installed… hope I got it…
-
“Simon!” I call out, standing in the hallway like an impatient parent, fists on my hips, with the strap of the prosthetic clutched in my left.
I’d looked all over the ship for him, but I couldn’t find him.
Granted, when I say “looked” I mean I briefly glanced around Simon’s usual haunts - the lab, the UV grow room, the dorm, and his area near the window.
Nothing.
If it were Amy other day I wouldn’t be all that worried, but he’d been acting a little strange earlier, and prosthetic aside, I really just wanted to put eyes on him.
“Hey, Simon! Where are ya, bud?!” There was evident exasperation in my voice, I could hear it.
Creeak
Hey, so what was that…?
Creeeak
The sound is coming from the observation window, but I was about 80% sure I hadn’t seen him-
“Simon?!”
There…
“Simon did you not hear me calling you for the last 10 minutes-? Better yet, how do I miss you?!”
I throw my hands up with mild frustration, walking over to the suspended bed.
The xenonite chains that were supporting the bed platform in the air must have been responsible for the creaking I heard. They’re attached to a pulley, so that we can retract and secure the platform against the ceiling if we need to disengage the centrifuge.
Simon shrugs, and…
He signals to me with one hand, the hand sign for “glasses”.
I furrow my brows.
“Glasses?”
“Glasses off. Missed me.”
He signs again.
I reach up to my face, and notice immediately, the absence of my glasses. Lifting my hand a little higher, I feel them perched up on my head. Right… that explains it.
I bring my glasses down to my nose, blinking a few times, bringing everything into focus. That answers one question, but now I have another.
Why are we signing?
“Thank you… for that, I guess that is how I missed you.” I step up to the platform, crossing my arms on the bed.
“Is there a reason why you’re not talking right now? You alright?” I lower my voice.
Simon periodically went through spells of silence. Sometimes only for an hour or so, sometimes over a day. It was his brain’s way of handling all the stress swimming around in his head when it occasionally bubbles to the surface.
At the beginning it was pretty difficult to help him, communicate with him, or figure out what was wrong when he couldn’t speak to me.
We tried a few different solutions…
Writing was a little challenging- in all honesty his handwriting was pretty bad, and paper isn’t exactly a renewable resource out in the great beyond.
Rocky and I made him an augmentative, alternative communication device with some brutally subpar programming on my part. He uses it occasionally, but admittedly it’s pretty clunky, cumbersome to carry, and could do with an upgrade.
The best solution we’ve found, is sign language. I’m pretty proficient at it, as an educator, so we spent some time learning the basics, and Simon picked up quick. We can carry pretty seamless conversations in ASL now, whenever need be.
“Don’t want to speak.”
“Okay, sure… you don’t want to speak, verbally? Or you don’t want to speak to me specifically right now?”
“Verbally.”
“Gotcha… uhm…”
He doesn’t offer me anything more, just looking down at me, sitting crisscross on the bed above me.
“Well, how about I at least hook up your new arm, and maybe you can fill me in on what’s going on once you have both hands to chat with, hm?” I push the metal arm towards Simon with a smile on my face.
He looks down at it, then to me, and nods.
“Perfect. Can I come up?”
He nods again.
I hoist myself up onto the platform, taking a seat on my knees next to Simon.
“Ok, shirt off, please.” I make a motion for him to remove the t-shirt that used to be mine.
He slid it off without a word or hesitation, sitting straight. He knows the drill.
“Thank you sir… arm up.”
He lifts the torn arm out straight to the side. I pull a fabric slip from my pocket, tugging it over the stump like a sock. Once it’s snug to Simon’s arm, I pick up the prosthetic, and sigh, trying to remember the order of operations
Simon looks down too. He reaches over, tapping the straps that attached to the top of the prosthetic, then reaches up and tapped on the collar mount that was already around his neck.
Right!
“Yes! Thank you, collar to steaps, straps to mount, mount to prosthetic. I remember, thank you.”
I get to work, snapping and twisting and clicking and tightening, until the prosthetic was snugly in place, and sending and receiving signal as it should be.
All the while, Simon stayed silent. No quips, no complaining, nothing.
“Oookay, you should be all set. Can you spell you name out?”
“S-I-M-O-N” the mechanical hand whirs as he makes his way through the five letters.
“Perfect! So, now that you’ve got both hands, you wanna tell me what’s going on?”
I sit back and little, giving Simon some space.
He thinks for a moment, before raising his hands.
“Not speaking.”
“Gathered that much. I was hoping more for a why.”
“Conserve oxygen.”
I raise a brow. What? Oxygen..?
“Conserving oxygen…” re helpers, nodding as he signs.
“You check oxygen earlier today. Don’t want to waste oxygen. Not speaking, less intake.”
Okay…
“I- I’m confused.”
Snap!
We both jump as one of the straps on the prosthetic support comes undone.
“Crap-! Ugh, darn thing. Hold on, let me fix it…”
I scoot back over, and tend to the undone strap, fastening it back into place with a little more care than before, tightening it as best I can, bracing my hand against Simon’s chest… wait…
I pause for a moment, moving my hand down to the center-left of his chest. His breathing was shallow, and his heart rate was low… way lower than it should be.
“Simon, why are you breathing like that?” I ask, urgently.
He lifts his hands again, and gets halfway though the sign for “conserve” before I stop him.
“If you say ‘conserve oxygen’ again, I’m gonna freak out. What do you mean?! Why are you worried about our oxygen?!”
“You checked oxygen earlier. Limited supply, yes?” He signed back just as urgently.
“Whahat?! No! No, I- you misunderstood-“
“How not limited? Ship is made of three cylinders. One for fuel, one for us, one for oxygen, yes!”
“No, Simon no, three for fuel, one for us in the center, that extends outward.” I explain.
His eyes widen.
“Where oxygen stored?? How much?? Why are you talking so much?? Low oxygen.”
I shake my head.
“No no no, no. Simon, stop for a second.”
“Three breathing organisms on a ship with limited oxygen.”
“Stop. No, just listen.”
“No oxygen tanks in-“
“Quiet coyote. Can you please show me two quiet coyotes?” I sigh, raising my hands with index and pinky fingers raised.
“Patronizing.”
“No, I’m not, I just need you to listen and focus, c’mon. Humor me.”
Simon relents, and mirrors my hands with a deadpan stare.
“Thank you. What I was trying to say. Was that we don’t have limited oxygen tanks aboard the Hail Mary. The ship uses a recycling system that supplies us back with oxygen from the other gasses and water that we release in the cabin. It’s a cyclical system.”
“Then what were you che-“
“Hey, tell those coyotes to stop barking, I wasn’t done.”
“You paused.”
“I was taking a breath. Which is what I’m trying to convince you to do before you pass out. Now, as for what I was checking, I was just making sure that the recycling was in proper working order, which it is. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Simon looks at me a little bewildered.
“I promise! You’re nott in any danger of running out of air.” I take a deep breath in and out, just to prove my point. “See? No problem.”
Simon nods, looking down for a moment, losing himself in thought.
I wait patiently, in case he has something more to sign.
“I did not know that was possible.” He signs slowly
“Really?” I ask gently.
“I thought one-way vessels came with limited air. All the time.”
I hum, not looking away from Simon’s hands.
“I’m guessing the Iron Lung had limited supply…”
“Yes. I almost ran out.”
“Oh-“
“The hull breach got to me first though.”
I grimace.
“Right… I didn’t even think about that…. No wonder you got freaked out.”
“The air was really thin.”
“I bet.”
“Smelled like iron.”
“Yeah, so did you when we got you on board. But you got cleaned up, healed up, and here you are, right? Safe and sound.” I smile. “No blood, no thinning air, no creepy fish or whatever. Just a clean ship, a rock, and a teacher.”
“Yes, water.”
I tilt my head, a bit confused by the sign.
“Water?” What do you mean water.”
Simon meets me with the same confusion.
“T-H-A-N-K-S” he spells the word out instead.
“Oh! You meant ‘thank you.’ That’s this.”
I turn my palm toward my face, touching my fingertips to my mouth, and tilting my hand out as if I were blowing a kiss.
“This, what you did, means water.” I hold up three fingers, tilt my hand so my palm faces in to the side, and tap my index finger against my chin. “Close, though.”
Simon nods, mimicking the “thank you” motion.
“And you’re welcome. I hope that puts you at ease a little bit.”
He nods again.
“Still don’t feel like talking?”
“No.”
“Good enough. In your own time… will you at least take some deep breaths? You looked like you were gonna pass out earlier.”
“I am.”
“You aren’t. I can clearly see your chest barely moving, Simon.” I place a hand on his chest.
“Cold cold cold.” He signs rapidly, tensing up a little.
“Anemic, anemic, anemic, I’m aware. Breathe.”
“Panic. Go away.”
“You’re not panicking! Your heart rate is evening out, you’re not sweating, your eyes aren’t dilated. Don’t cry wolf.” I say, a little sternly.
“Coyote.”
“What? Oh- Stop. Breathe.” I can’t help but smile. “I’ll make you if I have to.”
He narrows his eyes at me with a challenging glare.
I roll my eyes, sighing. Fine, dramatics it is.
“EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY, CLEAR THE AREA!” I shout, sitting up suddenly, and shoving Simon down onto his back on the bed, being sure to not startle him too bad. He did ask for this, though.
“WE HAVE ONE, ADULT MALE, KINDA-HUMAN, UNREAPONSIVE, NOT BREATHING.”
Simon smiles, more out of shock than anything else, looking up at me like I’m fresh out of my mind.
“CHECKING FOR PULSE.” I make an obnoxious show of “looking for Simon’s pulse”, testing his wrist, putting a hand, then an ear to his chest, which I think got a little giggle out of him, then probing at the side of his neck with two fingers. I catch the pulse for just a moment before Simon shrugs up his shoulder and swats my hand away with a snort.
Now we’re cookin’.
“NO LULSE!”
“Yes there is.” He signs quickly.
I gasp, batting his hands away.
“HE’S CONVULSING!” I shout, voice a little raspy. I haven’t had to yell in quite a while.
“STARTING COMPRESSIONS. CLEAR THE AREA!” I chuckle, placing both hands on Simon’s chest, in the furthest thing from COR procedure placement, and begin gently pressing down on Simon’s chest, repeatedly.
Each “compression” forces a little bit of breath into Simon’s lungs, coupled with the quiet chuckles that squeezed their way through.
I pause, acting like I’m listening for signs of life.
“SIMON?!” I call out theatrically, reaching up to shake him by the shoulders.
Simon signs out “yes”, and I decide that isn’t good enough.
“STILL NOTHING! I’VE GOTTA DO MOUTH TO MOUTH!” Again, not protocol, but who cares.
I lean down, and Simon catches me by the cheek with his hand, pushing me back, the both of us snickering like idiots now.
“WE’RE LOSING TIHIME! HE’S NOT- HEHE’S NOT BREATHING!” I move my hands from Simon’s chest, sliding them under his arms, scratching gently.
Simon gasps, which I’m counting as a breath, and finally starts laughing like he means it.
“Oh- OH! HE LIVES!” I cheer, bringing a hand up to his stomach, and dragging my nails quickly over the tightened muscle.
“HE’S ALIVE!!”
Simon lets out a high pitched, sort of squeaky laugh, his chest rising and falling. Thank goodness.
“Now I’ve gotta check your vitals. You were out for quite a while! Thought I lost you!”
“No. Stupid. So dramatic.” He signs.
“We gotta crack that brain open too, because clearly you’re losing it. I’m not dramatic.” I scoff. “Okayyyyy, organs? Everything still in place?”
I bring both hands to Simon’s middle, kneading and pinching at the soft part of his stomach.
Simon snorts, shaking his head madly, and striking a fist against the bed. If this was his stubborn attempt to not laugh, boy was it cracking.
“Okay… Organs are where they should be… how about reflexes?”
I bring a hand down to Simon’s knee, giving an experimental squeeze just above the joint. He kicks his leg out, dropping it flat to the bed with a startled gasp.
“Wow! Reflexes on point! Other leg?” I repeat the motion, to the other leg, this time squeezing a little harder, latching on tight as his leg bucks under my grip.
“MMHMHAHAHA- OKAHAY!! EVERYTHING IS FINE!!” Simon shouts.
“Oh! Look at that we’re back online! I missed that voice!” I smile wide. “Doesn’t exempt you from a check up though, unfortunately. Bear with me!”
I snicker, sliding my hands up, and out to Summon’s ribs, I don’t move them.
“Grahahace.”
“Mhm?”
“Gehehet the fuck offa me.”
“That’s not nice, why must you swear at me?”
Simon lets out a sound that’s half groan, half chuckle.
“I just wanna make sure you’re breathing properly, that’s all!”
Simon glares at me, but it has no effect.
“Come on, biiiig deep breath in for me.” I coax gently.
To my surprise, he takes a hesitant breath, slowly taking in air. His ribs expanding into my hands.
“Good! Very good, hold it… aaaand… out!”
At the last word, I clawed my hands, and dug into Simon’s ribs suddenly.
“*snrk-!* A-AHAHAHA- SHIHIHIT!” Simon sputters, barking out laughter in shock, kicking his legs against the bed.
“Perfect, lungs are working!” I snicker, scribbling over Simon’s ribs, careful to avoid his gills.
“Just give me a couple more nice deep breaths and we’ll call it good.” I slow my hands, gently trailing them up and down Simon’s ribs.
“I- I cahahan’t breathe with you- touching me!”
“Well not with that attitude you can’t! I’m barely doing anything anyway.”
“You’re scrahahatching my gills, you fuckin’ ass!”
“Hey!” I hissed, jabbing my index fingers into the skin above Simon’s gills. He yelps, tensing like he’d just been electrocuted.
“You’re not gonna turn your voice back on just to curse at me in every other sentence.” I vibrate my fingers against Simon’s gills, a little rougher than I usually would.
“OKAHAHAY OKAY OKAY I’M SORRY IM SOHOHORRY, I WON’T ANYMORE-! GRACIE-!!”
“Promise?”
“YEHEHESS!!”
“And you’ll take some deep breaths for me?”
“AGH- YEHES!”
“And you promise to just ask me questions instead of working yourself up about things that you don’t need to panic about?” I speak unnecessarily slow, not letting up on Simon’s gills.
His back arched up off the mattress, teeth gritted, hands gripping my wrists.
“GRAHAHACE!! YEHEHES, ENOUGH!”
I chuckle, letting go.
“Okay! Okay. I’m done.”
Simon collapses down, gasping for breath.
“Slow down, breath in and hold it for a sec.” I say softly, placing a hand on his chest. He flinches, but doesn’t protest.
I feel his chest rise and expand, holding the air in for a moment.
“Good, good.. and… out.”
Simon lets the breath out. 
I nod, patting him gently on the chest.
Simon takes two more deep breaths before I’m satisfied, lifting my hand.
“How’dya feel?”
“Fine.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm… what?”
“That’s all? Just fine?”
“I mean- what more do you want me to say?”
“Well how do you feel now that you know you’re not slowly asphyxiating?” I shrug, scooting myself up beside Simon, lying down alongside him.
“Ah- well yeah, it’s nice to know. I just feel kinda stupid.”
“What? Why?”
“Why would we be running out of oxygen?? I mean, you told me you’ve been aboard this thing for years… there’s no way the ship would have tanks big enough for that much air…”
“Yeah but you didn’t know, that’s fine. Doesn’t make you stupid.” I shrug.
“Hmmmph.” Simon groans.
“I mean think about it- the only ship you’ve ever been on besides Mary was a flimsy rust bucket with hardly enough o then for a three hour trip. Of course you’d expect every other ship to have limited air supply.”
I shrug, turning to look at Simon.
“Assuming the worst and trying to prepare for it doesn’t make you stupid, Simon. It just means you’re-“
“Traumatized.”
“…yeah… not quite what I was gonna say, but yes.” I turn back to face the ceiling.
“But now you know, and there’s nothing to worry about.” I say, making a show of taking a deep breath.
Simon does the same, much to my delight.
“So…”
“Hm?” I reply softly.
“The air recycling system. It’s working properly?”
“Perfectly, yeah.”
Simon nods slowly. “Would you… mind… explaining how it works? I- I dunno, maybe understanding it would put me at ease.”
The stupidest, nerdiest, widest smile splits my face, and I sit up fast as a whp.
“You’re asking me to explain something to you?!”
“Oh dear lord- come on…”
“You’re asking me to explain science to you?!” I find myself tense from excitement, balled fists shaking in the air with unspent energy.
“Woah- okay.”
“What?!”
Nothing- just- you look stoked.”
“I am!”
“Gracie. It’s not that monumental of an event- you explain things to me all the time.”
“Yeah but you hate it!”
“What? No I don’t!”
“Wrong.”
“Correct! I may not know what the hell you’re talking about, but I don’t mind listening! Just- tell me about the air system? Before you implode, please?”
I nod, sliding to the end of the bed, and reaching back to grab Simon’s arm - his good arm - tugging him along.
He chuckles, following me off the bed.
“Okay, okay slow down- where are you dragging me?” Simon takes my wrist with his free, mechanical hand, and moves it down, so that our hands are connected.
He interlaces his fingers with mine, and my brain goes blank. Gosh, I’m lame..
“I- I uh… uhm to the uh…”
“Really? Holding hands broke you?” Simon chuckles, squeezing my hand gently.
“No…” I stand there for a moment, stiff, unsure of what to do next.
“Want me to let g-“
“NO. no- I mean, I don’t mind. Where was I going?”
Simon snorts. “To show me the air recycling system?”
“RIGHT! Yes! Okay, cockpit!” I start off, dragging Simon behind me.
“So, what do you know about zeolite filters?” I ask, looking back over my shoulder.
Simon chuckles, shrugging. “Absolutely nothing, Dr Grace.”
THIS WAS THE MOST CREATIVE FIC I’VE READ OH MY GOODNESS MY HEARTTTTT!!!! YOU WRITE GRACE SO GOOFY I LOVE ITTTT!!! And it’s SO in character AAAAAAHHHHH Grace’s acting when trying to get Dion to breath brought the most GOOFIEST smile on my face 🥹🫶🫶🫶
𖥔 Hey soooo I've been sitting on this one for a little bit now. It turned out a lot longer than my usual fics (1k-2k words) and i wanted to try my hand at writing something a little sad! I've written nothing but fluff up until this point so idk how i did with the sadder stuff (its genuinely not even that sad) I hope you all still enjoy anyway! 𖥔
𖥔 Slight spoilers for movie and book! 𖥔
Summary: This is set a little bit after Grace and Rocky get to Erid. In this one, Adrian is less then happy about the current situation pertaining to Grace, and its effects on there relationship with Rocky.
Lee!Grace / Ler!Adrian
Word count: 4,435
“I wish you would see Grace." Its tone is low and sounds exhausted. Rocky has gotten home finally. I haven't seen it in a few days. It's not like I see it much when it does finally come home anyway. Disappearing to Grace has become its new normal, even if I thought I finally got my mate back. Grace takes priority.
This isn't the first time it has suggested this. I think it asks at least once every time they see me, and my answer stays the same every time. “No.” It comes out harsher than I intend.
“He means a lot to me and so do you. I want you to get along.” I will say, it doesn't usually push after the first no; I'm a little surprised. It shifts closer to me while I'm working at my desk. “You work on the biodome team. You are in charge of so much of his life. This includes everything from what he eats to the conditions of the ocean in his home. You should be more involved physically..." I huff. Sure, maybe it would make my life easier to see the human in person, but my feelings towards the creature keep me away, and I think that's for the best for everyone involved.
“I work on the human because you don't trust anyone to care for it other than yourself and me.” We have a team, of course, but when it comes to Grace’s immediate health and comfort, I am the primary Eridian involved. Rocky shifts even closer to me; he's wobbling a bit. He's ready for sleep.
“I-I don't want you to just do it for me. Do you enjoy it a little at least?” I move away slightly as it reaches a claw out for me. “You were excited when we first arrived…not just for me, for Grace too.” Grace was exciting when he first arrived. An alien who saved not one but two planets and saved my mate personally. Of course I would find that exciting. And to have the opportunity to help lead in the invention of its enclosure was amazing. But not so much anymore since I learned what the consequences of its existence on my life would be.
“It keeps me busy" is all I give to it. “Why are you being more pushy than normal?” I sense something's up. The unaccepted claw retracts, and Rocky pushes it together with another, fidgeting. I knew it.
“I must attend a meeting pertaining to Grace. I won't be there with him… I want you there to watch him instead," it trills out sheepishly. “I don't know how long I will be gone for. I…do not want him to be alone.”
“It is alone right now, is it not? It can function and take care of itself just fine.” Annoyance and anger lace my voice a bit. Rocky scitters back a bit but tries to touch me again. Its words are starting to slur as exhaustion takes over his body.
“You know what I mean. Grace is…sensitive. I don't want him to be alone ever again.” I feel anger rise within me. What about me being alone? For decades I waited to not be alone again, and now, even with my mate back, I am alone. I feel the mercury boil under my carapace as I try and be understanding.
“I know you do not like him.” It's not that I hate Grace personally. I can't really. I've only ever interacted with him while he was unconscious the first few weeks of being on Erid. I have complicated feelings toward the human and the situation that has come with it.
“Please do it for me.” I move away from them again while trying to continue working.
"It's always for you, isn't it?"
"I-I…I'm sorr—"
"I'll do it. It's fine," I grumble at its despondent tone and move away from my desk.
Rocky comes over to me again. This time I know it isn't trying to convince me of anything; it just wants to sleep. The sight of it tugging at me hurts more than the argument did. Rocky is exhausted. Its movements are sluggish; it reaches a claw towards me. I flinch away before I can stop myself.
Rocky goes rigid and sits for a moment. “Y-you won't even hold me? You won't let me close to sleep?" It sounds broken, close to a cry but not quite. The sight makes me go rigid in return.
I let out a low hum. “...I need some space right now. I will still watch.” Rocky lets out a strangled whine, close to a sob, but settles on the bed close by anyway. I can tell it's too exhausted to really do anything about it; it's actively fighting off sleep that should have taken it days ago.
“Thank you, Adrian." the words come out slurred. I shift towards it to answer but Rocky is already asleep. Its claws are still loosely curled together where it has been fidgeting moments earlier.
Something inside me aches.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.
I arrive at the dome's airlock, wearing a thin Xenonite suit I've never had to put on before. Rocky stated that Grace knew I was coming to see him today instead of itself and that the human was nervous. To play nice, for Grace’s sake. I've taken the human's chart with me. While I'm here, I might as well take notes while I can and see what I can improve for him.
I step in and wait for it to pressurize, and then I'm on my way. I head out to the beach and start towards the humans' house. The sand shifts below my feet, and I hear the constant crashing of waves next to me. I move my attention to the “classroom” on the other side of the dome. I think making it a bit bigger would be helpful. More students to teach at a time, but to give the human more space to work with for demonstrations and such. Maybe add storage for materials so it's easier on the human.
By the time I come back to reality, I've approached the house. I realize we haven't exactly built the house for an Eridian of my size. I could probably get in, but I'm not sure how cramped the inside would be.
I knock lightly and wait a moment. I hear its footsteps frantically heading towards the door. It finally opens, and the little human looks up at me in awe.
“Hello Grace.” It's still silent, just staring. I shift uncomfortably at the tiny alien.
“Oh, uh, sorry. I didn't know Eridians could get so…tall." It chuckles a little, but I feel its heart skyrocket. It's for sure nervous. “Rocky told me you were bigger but didn't really specify how much bigger."
“Yes.” It fidgets as I speak. “Adrian does not think it is good idea to try and go in Grace house.”
It looks back at the structure and rubs the back of its neck. “Uh–yeah. It's probably better if we hang out outside instead. Um, let me grab my shoes.” It turns back inside and grabs what it's looking for.
I let out a small annoyed hum. The human is so loud. It is much louder now than when it was unconscious. I can hear its heart, its blood, and its breath. I can hear the crackles and pops of its joints, the way its tongue moves as it talks. So loud. How did Rocky get used to this noise? I would have gone crazy on that ship.
The tiny human comes fumbling through the door and walks ahead of me. I noticed the door that it left open and pulled it shut. And so forgetful.
We head down the beach in silence. Every wave crashes against the shore with a different rhythm. Besides me, Grace's heartbeat refuses to settle. Between the ocean and the human, there is hardly any silence at all.
The human comes to a stop and drops to sit, facing the waves. I do the same, crossing two arms in front of me, ready to take any notes on the human I might need.
“Grace nervous, question?" I ask softly. He spins to face me head-on.
He turns his head up at me and chuckles lightly. “You can tell?” What a dumb question.
“Yes. Grace heart loud and fast.” I hear blood pump to its face, and it looks away.
“Sorry.”
“Is okay. Human can not control.” Before I can stop myself, I reach a digit out and run it over its cheek, pushing its face to look at me again. "This is blush, question? Grace embarrassed, question?” I can't help but be a scientist first, I guess. The portable human thinking machine has made my life a thousand times easier. I can look up any knowledge about the human body and system, but seeing and experiencing it in person is so much different.
It lets out a small yelp at my sudden touch, making its heart beat more. The blood in its face reaches its ears. Although I want to, I refrain from grabbing at the tips of its ears too. One thing I don't stop myself from doing, however, is dragging that claw down to its neck to feel for the carotid pulse. It's one thing to hear but another to feel, and it's strong. I can feel its blood thump against its skin, rappidly, over and over.
“Amaze.” I murmur without thinking.
"Uh—umm, Adrian?” The little human squeaks out. It has squeezed its eyes shut and forced its head up to the sky to accommodate my touching.
I let out an amused hum. “Apology.” I retract my claw, curling it back into my lap. I stay quiet, hoping it will calm down. When no calming down happens, I try to pivot to my questions, hoping to distract the human.
"How Grace feeling, Question. Eating well, question?” I ask.
It clears its throat. “Uh, I'm feeling good. Better than I did! And yes, eating well!” he smiles.
“How are ‘burger’, question?”
“The me-burgers are amazing!” he shouts excitedly, hands moving as he talks. “You literally saved me with those things.” I feel myself get a little flustered at the praise, and I hate it.
“Saved Grace in other ways. More important ways.” I let it click out with some disbelief. I cure and bring this human back from death, but ‘me-burger’ is what saves it. Human priorities are weird and confusing.
“Well, yes," he rolls his eyes a bit. “But humans have a strong connection to the food they eat. Physically and mentally. Mentally I didn't want to eat, even though I was dying of starvation. The food tasted awful and had a horrible texture. Your idea to use my muscle was fantastic!” I feel him shift a little closer to me. “It tastes so much better than the other stuff. You kind of cured my starvation and helped cure my bad mental health at the same time!” It laughs as though what it said was funny and not worrying. Though I did not know how linked the mental state and food were, this information is helpful to know when synthesizing more food for it in the future.
“Adrian will work on making 'me-burger' taste better for optimal mental health and human relationship with food for future.” I mentally add this information as a task to get started on when I get back home.
“You don't have to do that, Adrian. I'm okay with the burger. I promise." It looks away, towards the artificial ocean again.
“Adrian must.” I let out a quiet rumbling for a moment as one of my claws gently plays with the sand beneath me. The human looks back at me.
“Why?” Its head cocks to the side, in a cute way, with wide eyes.
“For Rocky," is all I say, and I can tell it comes out sad. “Adrian will do anything that Rocky asks of it. For Grace.” I know Grace still needs a translator to some extent, but he is good at picking up tone.
He sighs, "Thank you for coming to see me today. Letting me meet you.” He smiles, but his eyes look sad, lids falling low. “I know you hate me, but…I still appreciate it. Appreciate you and everything you have done.” Its eyes well up with liquid. “I know Rocky puts a lot—too much—on you, and I know he's never home with you. I know that," he sniffs, looking down into his lap. “I-I feel like it's all my fault. I'm so…so useless on my own here. I-I'm such a burden to you…” he starts leaking, and I feel myself starting to panic now. I don't know what to do when a human starts leaking from their face.
I suddenly feel guilty, not a little guilty but deeply guilty. Grace looks so small sitting beside me. He is smaller than I ever thought he would be. Somehow I convinced myself that Grace was the source of my frustration. Looking at him now, crying into his hands, I realize how unfair that was.
“I don't hate you, Grace.” I try and speak as softly as I can. He presses his hands to his face harder, shielding himself from me.
"It's okay that you do. I would hate me too. I—I do hate me.” His voice cracks and he breathes in sharply. “I’ve ruined what y-you two could have had…” I can tell he's trying his best to keep his emotions in, sniffling and wiping the tears from his face just to have them replaced immediately with fresh ones.
I let out a low, pained coo. Slowly, carefully, I pull the human towards me. I expect it to resist, but Grace practically folds into my arms. The moment his head touches my carapace, he latches on. His fingers clutch at me desperately. I scoop his legs off the sand, holding him gently.
“Grace. Adrian does not hate you.” My words, which are supposed to be comforting, only seem to make it cry harder. "Adrian frustration is not Grace fault. Grace bring Rocky back to me. Rocky could hate Adrian. Not want to be mates and Adrian would be happy that Rocky alive and well.” Grace pulls his very leaky face from me, looking for a moment but not saying anything while he quietly weeps.
“I-I know your relationship with Rocky is bad…he acts different.” He babbles over his words, “I know w-why you didn't want to see me; I'm not that s-stupid—” I move my arm up in front, making him stop.
The notion of how fragile and small he is worms its way into my thoughts, and it makes me happy that he trusts me as much as he does. That he wants to be okay in my arms, even though he is adamant that I hate him. I let out a sad trill, running a claw through his hair.
“Grace save all of Erid. All of Earth. Grace risk life for Rocky. For me. Adrian will never hate Grace.” I scratch gently at his head, bringing my claw down to the side, near his ear. He breathes in deep and leans into the touch.
“Understand, question?” He nods slightly, but the tears and sobs don’t stop. “Grace.”
“Y-yes…I do.” He shoves his face back into me, pulling his arms to his chest. He shakes with sadness.
I feel myself heat up in embarrassment as I contemplate what to say next. “Adrian has…grown to love taking care of Grace…” Rocky was right. I do enjoy it as much as I told myself I didn't. All those times I pushed my limit on how long I could go without sleep and worked so hard for Rocky and Grace, I did, deep down, enjoy it. “Adrian happy hearing Rocky tell how Grace is happy with new thing.” I hum out rather quickly.
He seems to perk up at this. “Y-you don’t have to do that, Adrian.” His crying is slowing. I pull off his glasses, placing them into the sand next to us. I wipe a claw over his face.
“Adrian not doing anything but tell truth.” He starts giggling and pushing at my claw. He sniffs while I clear the tears from his face.
“Thank you…” he says, breathing in deep. I move my claw back to his ear to comfort him again, scratching it lightly. He shoots up with a high-pitched noise, and I flinch, pulling my claw back.
“Grace okay, question?” I frantically say, grabbing his chin and moving his head to the side. I trace his ear again, and he flails. “Where hurt, question?”
“W-wahait nohoho!” he squirms about in my hold. “Nohot hururt! Tihihicklish!” he squeaks out.
Rocky has told me about the human version of tickling before, specifically that Grace is quite fond of it, and it's come up in my research on the human body. It has a similar outcome to Eridian tickling. Laughing and wiggling around. I think this method will be a good way to make Grace feel better.
I pull my claw away with a hum of understanding, and he relaxes. He's lying in my lap, a small smile across his face, but I still see the faintest tears in his eyes. He moves his face to his hands, still sniffling.
“Hm. Adrian will give Grace check up.” He glances through his fingers.
“W-what?” he asks, his voice gravelly.
I gently pull up his shirt, and he tenses up. He's still quite thin, but fat has definitely started to come back. I reach my claw and grab at his ribs, giving slight squeezes. He jumps with a squeal.
“WAHAhait! Adriahahan!” He presses his arms to his side while twisting in my grasp. I feel around the bones, moving my claws up. His ribs definitely don't stick out as much as they did when I first treated him. I squeeze his top ribs while feeling his chest muscle for any growth.
“NAHAHOHO-AH I-I dohont neheheed a CHEHheheCK UHUP—“ he cackles, trying his best to dislodge my claw.
“Grace need check up from Adrian. Make sure Grace eat well. Check for fat and muscle growth.” I chirp with a playful tone. "Is Adrian job." I moved my claw from under his arm to trail down it, using another claw to pull his arm from his side.
“I-I ahaham! Ihihim eahahating gohohood!” I trace lightly down his arm as he pulls at it. I pinch at his elbow and let out a yelp and some more giggles. There’s some muscle growth here, though definitely not as much as I would like.
“Hm. Not enough.” I trace down to his wrist, then back up to his inner arm.
“Ah-I’m sohorry!” he tugs weakly at his hand, soft laughter leaving him.
“Grace no apology. Adrian work harder to help. Make grace strong.” I murmur it out while thinking of solutions for later.
I release his arm, and he presses it to his side again, his legs trying to come up and curl him into a ball. I stick a claw back down, feeling around his tummy. He screeches, fighting my arm.
“Good. Much fat and muscle here.” I firmly press in, feeling all the muscles twitch under my touch. “Rocky will be happy.”
“EEEAHHAHA—NOHOHO!” I hear blood rush to his head again as embarrassment takes him. “S-stohOHOP—ADRIAHAHAN!” He kicks at my carapace, and I can’t help but let out some giggles. He’s so small and weak; it’s amusing. I have to admit his little human sounds are quite cute.
“Grace too ticklish for exam, question?” I tease a bit, vibrating my claw. He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head rapidly.
“A-ADRIAHAHAN– *SNRK* THIHihis ihihisn’t neheceHESSARY!” squeaky noises come from him.
I grab a flailing foot with another claw, stretching his leg out as my other moves down to his thigh. I push into the muscle there and let out a pleased trill.
“Good human Grace! Much muscle here. Good good good.” His other leg kicks out frantically as his arms scramble to pull at my claw. “Such a good human. Adrian can tell Grace been running. Keep up with regiment. Good Grace!” I half tease, half praise, soaking in the new wave of blush creeping up his face.
I squeeze his knee, and his leg jerks hard. “How joints, question?” I know the gravity on our planet has taken its toll on his body. I scratch lightly at the underside, pulling giggles from him.
“T-they ahahache a bihit, not bahahd!” He covers his face, pulling at his appendage.
“Hm. Will work on problem. Brace maybe help.” I go back up and squeeze rapidly at his kneecap.
“ADRIAHAhahan! P-pleheHEHEASE! NOHOHO MOHOHORE-AHAHEHEhehe—“ I let go of his leg, and he immediately folds in on himself, gasping for air.
“Grace very good. Fat and muscle build good. Will add more magnesium and zinc to diet. Help.” I state, scratching at his scalp, pulling lightly at his hair.
“O-okahahay—“
“One spot Adrian check.” I unfold him a bit and pull down his pants a few inches, then push into his lower stomach, making him scream and fight me again.
“ADRIHIHI—NAHAHOHOHOT THEHEHERE!” He squeals, curling around my claw. I squeeze at the little pudge that sits there with content.
“Adrian happy happy happy! Grace get more healthy. Grace doing so good!” His cheeks flush again, ‘hiding’ his face as much as he can while wiggling around.
“NOHOHO—“ I move up a bit and press into his belly button.
“Yes.” I scratch lightly at the little spot.
“EEEHEHAHA—PLEAHAHASE!” He arches up while making a rather adorable noise.
I stop moving my claw, letting it rest against his tummy. His laughter lingers intertwined with little hiccups and tiny giggles. Different kinds of tears staining his face now. I rub soothing circles into his skin while he catches his breath.
His heartbeat is loud and strong. Alive. Every beat is proof that Rocky made it home. Proof that Grace made it home too. The little pitter patter settles something deep inside me.
He's curled up in my arms, his breathing and heart evening out. He has a smile plastered on his face, and soft giggles still spill from his lips. He wraps his arms around the leg that is still settled on his stomach, and he lets out a sigh.
“Grace…very endearing. Adrian understand why Rocky love so much.” My admission makes him shove his face in my arm with a flustered noise. I reach a claw up and pet at his head again, sliding to scratch at the base of his neck. He melts into my arms, eyes closing.
“Thank you. I hope you visit me again.” He shifts a little in my hold.
“Will visit. Promise." his small frame shifting to look at me again. “Adrian apologize for not seeing Grace sooner.” Guilt floods my chords.
"No, it's okay. I understand why.” He laughs slightly. "I would be upset at me too.”
“Not upset at Grace. Or Rocky. Adrian understand situation. Adrian knows feeling not logical. No one fault.” I rumble out gently. "Adrian apologize. Not Grace fault. Grace save Rocky. Adrian forever be in Grace dept. Should not have taken feelings out on Grace Rocky.” I move my claw to under his chin, scratching slightly. He smiles wide, scrunching up his shoulders a bit but tilting his head up, giving me more access.
"It's okay.”
“Is not," frustration lacing my voice. His eyes widen slightly. I can't get over what he said. "Grace really not like Grace, question?” He looks away as I lower my claw from his chin.
“I just–I hate the way I'm so helpless here, I guess? I rely on so many Eridians just to wake up and take a walk. I don't, like, hate myself. I feel like a burden to you and Rock–”
“Grace good burden. Adrian like Grace burden.” I see his heart rate start to rise again. I stroke his forehead as I see tears start to swell in his eyes again. He sniffs and takes a deep inhale.
“Okay, question?” I say firmly.
He wipes at his eyes. “O-okay.”
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.
“Adrian?” Rocky's voice pulls me from my thoughts. I hadn't even noticed it sneak up on me.
“Rocky! How was the meeting?” I ask tenderly. The waves crash softly in front of us.
Instead of answering me, its carapace shifts down, its attention on the little human asleep in my lap. It seems to look in shock and awe as I pet Grace. After a moment, it lets out a small excited sound, something I haven't heard in months.
“D-Did it go well?” Its voice vibrates from joy, already knowing the obvious answer.
I let out a giggle. “Yes. Me and Grace had a good talk.” I bring my claw to scratch at his scalp. He shifts, making adorable little purring noises in his sleep.
Rocky walks up in front of me and Grace. "I'm very, very, very happy!” it trills, bringing up its claws and shaking them.
“Me too," I reply fondly. Rocky suddenly stops; the atmosphere around it changes abruptly.
“Are…we okay?” I let out a small, pained sound as Rocky moves a bit closer to me.
“Yes. I am sorry, my love. I was never mad at you. I apologize for any hurt I have caused.” I reach an arm out, hoping it will come to me. ' I placed my emotions on you both when shouldn't have."
They come closer, about to take my claw, but hesitates. “I am sorry too. I have not been home with you to spend time or watch you sleep. I had you work nonstop on Grace, not thinking of your thoughts or feelings. I am sorry.” It shifts back and forth, two claws fidgeting together. “Do you still need space?”
“Rocky, I know why you did it. I do not blame you," I whisper out softly. “I would love nothing more than for you to be in my arms.”
It takes my claw immediately. It was as if I were afraid I might change my mind. I gently pull Rocky closer until it's pressed into me and Grace. The tension leaves its body so quickly it almost makes me laugh. I start caressing it the same way I'm doing with Grace, and exhaustion immediately starts pulling at it again. In my arms, it softens, and I can feel sleep beginning to take hold. A low rumbling starts deep inside Rocky. So sleepy and content with both of us here. I've missed that sound.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.
𖥔 Sorry its on the longer side, hope you liked it! 𖥔
GIYS IM ACTUALLY SO SORRY I TRIED TO DO THE COOL THING WITH SIMOINS TEETH BUT I LVITERALLY COULDNT DO IT WITHOUT IT LOOKGN WEIRD I NEED TO FIGURE THAT OUT
Me when I don’t have writers block, but also somewhat has writers block, but also I could really read phm right now, but I really want to continue writing this fic that’s been in my docs for days, but how about we try drawing? I have practiced my drawing skills in years, but how about we find ways to make my room look nice and cool and all space themed? Speaking of themes, how about I find a new blog format for tumblr? Maybe even instagram and all my other socials too?
Oh! But what about we go back to writing! Maybe a knew wip can help with my writers block even though I swore I didn’t have writers block! But, I can’t even finish a paragraph without thinking too hard on it. I’m overwhelmed, let’s watch something! How about markiplier? Oh! Or compilation videos of actors or YouTubers because.. why not??! Ohhh, I just remembered that I was going to binge watch the Star Wars franchise.. but that’s a lot to go through, let’s find a movie!
There’s too many that I want to watch, and too many that aren’t on the streaming services I have or else I need to buy or rent them.. how about I go back to writing? Yeah! I have a few wips I need to get through in order to be satisfied with my life… oh but now I’m overwhelmed again, this is too much work. How about…
Trying out a new look for my posts, how we like it, huh? Huh? It’s gonna take a lot more planning on the front end bc having to drag images 30,000 miles to the top of the post when they import is bonkers- WHATEVER.
Anyway, this one’s all fluff, super silly and dumb. I needed a pick me up, it’s been a week fr. Not well proofread, I don’t think… I lost my glasses, so…
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Switch!Simon (Iron Lung) Switch!Grace (PHM)
TW: swearing- it’s literally all Simon…
❦ Simon runs into a problem in the greenhouse, and needs Grace’s help to retrieve a plant that’s, annoyingly, just out of reach for the both of them.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
“Grace!”
I hear my name from across the house.
I’m in the middle of lesson planning, which is something I had, admittedly, been putting off for wife a while, and needed to knock out.
Maybe if I just stay quiet… he’ll think I’m not home… or asleep…
“Grace!” I hear footsteps approaching the bedroom- crap. I really don’t want to get up… what do I do?!
Play dead. Well- play sleep.
“Grace, I know you can hear me this house isn’t that big- …” Simon’s voice stops in the doorway.
“Very convincing. Yeah, your notorious sleeping position, laying like a mummy with an open laptop next to you. Would you get up?”
“How would you know how I sleep?” I grumble.
“I’m sorry, how many times do I have to come in here, so you’re not by yourself after a bad dream, for me to have a pretty good idea of how you sleep?”
“…You can get away with that because I do the same for you, loser.”
“Correct. Up.”
“Fine! Fine. Worte a Shot.”
“A shot in the dark with a blindfold on. Can you please help me? I don’t need you for that long.”
I sigh, lifting both my legs straight up, and using momentum of dropping them back down to sit myself upright, hands still folded over my chest.
“Jesus… Are you done, Dracula?”
“You’re the one with fangs.”
“Don’t start.”
“…Yes, what do you need?” I ask, begrudgingly standing up.
Simon shakes his head, turning to walk out of the room, and I follow close behind.
“I need to get this planter down in the greenhouse, but it’s a million feet in the air.”
“Rocky built that as an automated lift and lower system, didn’t he? You should be able to lower it from the control panel by the neighboring wall.”
“Yeah well, it’s not working. I got it most of the way down, but it jammed at about seven feet up.” Simon sighs.
“Ohhh Rocky’s gonna be mad…” I snicker. “That aside, isn’t there a stepladder in the greenhouse? Or at least one in my office.” I catch up, walking beside Simon now.
“Adrian’s borrowing them.”
“What could they possibly need with a stepladder…”
“Beats me. Point is, I don’t have one.”
I push open the front door of my house, hooking a left.
Rocky and Adrian were kind enough to build Simon a greenhouse in the biodome, and it was conveniently right around the back of my house.
It was… massive. There was enough room in the thing to plant, grow, and keep a thirty foot tree in the central, geodomed cathedral room, with shelving, lighting, and irrigation running all around the room like a botanical penopticon. 
The ground was mostly moss and clover, a lush green space that Simon often liked to read, dwell, and nap on while I was busy teaching.
He always looked so peaceful curled up in the foliage, with the yellow-green light dappling down from the skylights. Every once in a while, I’d join him.
Around the circumference of the cathedral was a metal path, starting from the wall and stretching inward about five feet, offering sturdy footing for more utilitarian activities.
There were a few offshoot rooms as well, used for storage, lab space, and a small, personal gallery room with a collection of some of Simon’s favorite plants he’s grown in the months we’ve been here.
The space in the very center sat empty, a tiered pedaatal of soil dedicated for Simon’s seedling, should he ever want to plant it. We were still working up the courage to separate the seedling from his amulet, but the option was always there.
Simon pushes the doors of the greenhouse open, the thick, humid air hitting me like a wave as we enter the small foyer leading into the central dome.
“Ah! You’ve planted some stuff around the center plot! Looks good!” I smile, walking over to the newly planted foliage, crouching down to have a better look.
“Anything special about these guys?” I ask, gently taking one of the tiny, hearty leaves between my fingers.
“No, not really. Just some sturdy ground cover. Sedum Angelina, is what it’s called. Adrian brought me some new substrate to try out in here, so I figured these succulents would be a safe start.
I nod, standing up. “Cool! Looks pretty. I like the bright green.”
“Thanks.”
“So what plant is it that you so urgently needed my help retrieving?” I put my hands on my hips.
Simon is already a few yards away from me, staring up at an obviously, very out of place shelf of plants, suspended awkwardly by articulated xenonite arms.
“This. It’s jammed, and that sucks, but more urgently, I need that philodendron up there so I can repot it. Its roots are going bad.”
“Uh huh… which one is the philoso-hedron, exactly?”
“…philodendron, ‘Professor’ Grace, and it’s the one to the right of the center.”
I hum in thought, looking around for anything I could use to step on to reach the plant.
“I’ve already looked. There’s nothing.”
“And so then what am I here for?”
“You’re taller, I thought you could get to it.”
“What?! How tall do you think I am?! Better yet how short are you?!”
“I thought you had better wingspan!”
“My arms aren’t that long. Strong, but not long.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“Ok, I’m gonna go home then.” I cross my arms.
“No! Just- help me think of something!”
I throw my arms up. “That’s so vague! I thought you already had a working idea!”
“No, scientist, that’s why I need you!”
I laugh incredulously, looking up at the plant.
It looks back at me.
“I’ll lift you.” I say with a sigh.
“What? No.”
“I’ve done it before.”
“When?”
“How’d you think you got out of your sardine can and into my medbay, Brinestein? I had to haul your butt across the whole ship!”
“Brinestein is so lame.”
“Whatever, you’re getting lifted.” I rolled my eyes, taking a few steps over to Simon.
“No! What?!”
“You want your phyllo-dungeon or not?!”
“Okay! God- I’ll step up on your hands.” Simon relents, groaning.
“Absolutely not. With all the mud and dirt and icky nonsense you track in my house on those boots? No.”
“I’ll take them off.”
“Even worse, actually. Just let me lift you normally! Like a cheerleader or something!” I chuckle, making a move to take Simon by the waist and hoist him upwards.
He flinches, taking a step back.
“What?!” I laugh, throwing my arms out, half in amusement, half in frustration.
“Don’t just come at me like that! Warn me!”
“Okahahay! 3 2 1 let’s go.” I count down quickly, taking Simon by the waist, and attempting to lift, only for him to gasp, and shove me off, a stupid, goofy half-smile on his face.
“Ohhhhhh brother, are we serious?” I rest my hands on my bent knees, letting my head hang.
“How am I supposed to turn it off?!” He barks out at me.
“Shh, don’t yell around the plants, Simon, they’ll think you’re yelling at them.”
Simon snorts rolling his eyes.
“I don’t know, just- flex your stomach or something. Just brace for it.” I shrug. “It’s gonna tickle regardless, but it’ll be over in two seconds.”
Simon nods.
…
“Ok but turn around and face the Philly-ding-dong so you can grab it.”
“Philodendron-!” He hisses, swiveling on his heels to face the suspended shelf.
“That’s what I said!” I chuckle, stepping right behind Simon. “Ok, ready?” I ask, hands at the ready.
“Yeah, just do it.”
“Ok, one… two.. theee!”
I take Simon again by the waist, just below the ribs, and get him about eight inches off the ground before I hear I sputtering snort, and he wriggles, slipping in my hold.
He falls back into my chest, my arms wrapped around his torso to anchor us both to the ground, the both of us giggling like drunken fools.
“Simon Fisher if you don’t pull it together and let me do this, I’ll give you something to laugh at, and that’s a promise.” I punctuate my joking threat with a pat on the chest, before pushing him up off of me.
“How about I lift you up instead, then asshole?!” Simon scoffs. 
“It’s not my Phil-the Dodo!” I laugh out with a dramatic shrug.
“Fine!! Then- at least lift me from here instead!”
Simon gestures under his arms, like that was somehow a smarter idea.
“…You must be joking.”
“…yeah, I don’t know why I even said that…”
“I don’t know why you say a lot of things. Alright, c’mon. Third times a charm.” I clap my hands, the sound echoing through the dome.
Simon sighs. “Okay… Go.”
I nod, taking hold of him again, lifting Simon up, and…
“AH-! Oof-!”
Simon thrashes, this time knocking us completely off balance, both of us tumbling down into the mossy ground. I held Simon tight to my chest as I took the brunt of the fall, sandwiched between plush moss, and Simon’s entire weight.
“You prihihick! You squeezed me that time!”
“Uuurregh- no I didn’t! You moved, and I readjusted so you’d stay stable!”
“Liar!”
“I’m not lying! It’s not my fault you’ve got gills with ten billion nerve endings in them, so the only place TO lift you up from is your waist!”
“IT WAS YOUR ISEA TO PICK ME UP!”
“YOU ASKED FOR MY HELP!! AND I CAN’T BREATHE!”
“YOURE HOLDING ME LIKE A VICE, IDIOT.”
I snort. “Oh yeah.”
Instead of letting Simon up, I tighten my grip around Simon’s torso, and dig one hand of curled fingers into his stomach, kneading the flesh like dough. The other hand slid over to his side, pinching and skittering over the area rapidly.
“AahHAHAHA- A-AAH! GRAHAHACE!”
I snicker, resting my chin on his shoulder as he struggled. “I told you I’d give you something to laugh about, Giggles!”
“GEHET- OHIHOFF!”
“Why?! Im enjoying my weighted blanket!” I made sure every breath ghosted over Simon’s gills.
“A-AHAHAHA- AH-! JEHEHERK!”
“Oh hush, you’re loving it.” I reach up and give his ribs a few jabs, with a rather childish “pbbft!” Sounds accompanying each one.
“IM NOHOHOT- AHAHA! STOP BREATHING ON MY NECK-!”
“Oh so you want me to suffocate? So mean to me.” I sigh through pursed lips, directing the air at the same spot. My hand travels up from Simon’s side, landing under his arm.
“You’re doing NOTHING to free yourself right now- ew! My lord you’re sweaty-“
I retract my hand from under Simon’s arm, wiping it off annoyingly on his chest.
Simon seizes my moment of weakness, thrashing to the side, and freeing himself from my grip
He rolls onto the moss beside me, and we sit up at the same time. He stares at me, I stare back.
He’s gonna chase me…
“Start running.”
“Yessir.” I mutter.
In the blink of an eye, we both tear off, running like bats out of hell. I clamber up to a stable, steady position, trying not to lose my balance as I run.
I don’t have to look behind me to know Simon’s hot on my trail. He’s much faster than me, but I know how to pivot.
I run about half the circumference of the greenhouse’s central dome’s paved path, and with a squeak of my shoes on the ground, I make a dangerously sudden 180, narrowly missing Simon.
“Ha!” I bark out as I continue back the other way.
Simon growls, adjusting from the disorientation. And following me once again.
With the little bit of time o managed to buy myself, I made the decision to turn into the propagation lab just up ahead, ducking in and taking a moment to assess my surroundings.
I find a large, alien-ish palm in the corner, tucked away among the maze of fronds, vines, and leaves in the lab. Perfect.
As quietly as I can, I scurry behind the massive, metal pot, hiding between it and the wall.
I had to admit, this was actually fun! I hadn’t played silly games like this in years…
“Ryyyyland…”
I hate this, I’m scared, and I’m not having fun. Why is his voice so deep?! It’s like he’s talking with a lion’s growl…
I know Simon’s in here with me, but the lights remain off. Awesome.
“You can’t hide from me in my own lab, Rocketman- I know the layout like the back of my hand.”
‘The one you’re missing?’ Is what I want to say, but I’m too scared to speak.
I hear heavy bootsteps navigating the room, the sound of things being shuffled and maneuvered. I move to peek over the pot to get a better look at where exactly Simon is.
Two red and brown eyes meet my gaze, looming over the pot as I peek over.
“Boo.”
I yelp, moving back, only to be brutally reminded that I chose a spot that locked me into an inescapable corner.
“NOOOO! NO NO SIMON! PleEHEHEASE!” I shriek, laughing nervously as Simon slowly steps around to the side of the pot, standing above me.
“Please what? What’re you begging for? I haven’t even done anything.” He lowers himself down, crouching in front of me.
“PleHEHEASE. Simonohon- you don’t have to do this.”
“I wasn’t planing to originally, but you made the Chase-and-find so fun…”
“W-what are you some kinda wild ahahnimal?!”
“Well- I mean… kinda.” He chuckles, tapping his external tooth with a metallic finger.
Oh my god he just might eat me…
Without another second thought, he lunges at me, knocking me back into the wall, and dragging me down to the floor, holding me there by my shoulders.
“OHOHOW-! Too rough! Jeez!” I complain, not bothering to struggle.
“Ohhh I’m sorry.” He says it in a patronizing tone, but he does take a little bit of weight off of me, but that’s about where the compassion ends, unfortunately.
“AaaAAAAAaaAAAAAAAAAHAHAHA-!!”
“My gid, I’m barely doing anything- my ears are gonna bleed.” Simon groans, slipping both hands up my sides, around the back. And up to my shoulder blades, scratching agonizing, slow circles into the muscle there.
“YEHEHES YOU ARE! GEHEHET OFF!!” I cry out, reaching my arms up to weakly push and punch at Simon’s chest. He seems utterly unphased.
“Well thank you for getting those out of the way for me…” Simon gathers both my wrists in this prosthetic hand, the grip tight and unwavering. He lifts them over my head, and against the wall above where I lay, and moves his free hand to the front of me, vibrating clawed fingers into my stomach.
“AAAAAAAHAHAA THIS ISNT FAHAHAIR!! I WASN’T NEARLY THIS ROUGH-!!” I whine, thrashing and bucking my hips.
“Cry about it.” Simon smiles. Deliberately dragging his hand so that one finger catches my navel.
“AAAAAHAHAHA-!! CRAHAHAP-!!” My whole body jerks, my arms pulling against Simon’s grip.
“Woah- that’s new.”
“NoHO IT ISN’T YOU KNOW THAT GEHEHETS ME!”
“Everything gets you. Everything.” Simon rolls his eyes, poking me in the belly button again, making me sputter.
“NOHOHOT TRUE.”
“Oh yea?!”
“YOU DON’T HAVE TO TRY.”
“Well if you’re gonna sit here and lie to my face, yes the fuck I do.”
“LAHAHANGUAGE!”
“Whatever GeekSquad.” He chuckles. “Let’s try… here.
Simon drags his nails along the underside of my upper arm, up the length of my tricep. I snort, turning my head to hide my face in my shoulder.
“Like who else would this work on?”
“A-ahAhaHA-! Th-thERE’s a lotta ner-“
“If you give me a breakdown of every nerve in your body right now, we’re gonna have issues.” Simon squeezes the area just above my elbow, cutting me off.
“Snrk- OKAHAY OKAY-!!”
Simon spends the next minute poking and squeezing me all over, just to prove his point. My hip, the part of my upper chest that nearly meets my arm, my thigh, my knee… and darn it he was right. I laughed at every one. I’m chalking it up to adrenaline…
“OKAHAHAY ALRIGHT I GET IT PLEHEHEASE-!”
I shake my head, glasses long since fogged up.
“I’ll stop if you agree to let me lift YOU to get my plant down off the shelf. Is that a deal?”
I groan. “Still with that stuhuhupid pill-addendum.”
“See now you’ve pissed me off.”
“Whahat?!”
“You know how to say it, assholw, you call everything by its Latin name!”
“Whatever!! It’s clohohose enough!”
“Say it correctly.”
“No! Get away!”
“Say it correctly!”
“No!!”
Simon tuts, hooking a hand behind my shoulder, resting near my neck.
“Still no?”
I freeze. “Sihihimon- Simon. C’mon-“
“3”
“WAHAIT! How do you say it?! I forget!!”
“2…”
“I DONT REMMBER HOW TO SAHAHAY IT!”
“1.”
Simon latches onto the nape of my neck, vibrating his fingertips roughly into the flesh.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHAHAHA-!!! NOOOHOHONONONO SILON! SIMON PLEHEHEASE!!” I feel my body tense up, my laughter becoming frantic, almost manic.
“Say it correctly for me, agree to my deal, and I’ll stop.” He pinches my neck, and slides his fingers upwards, sending an electric current down my spine.
“S-SHI- A-AHAHAA-!! UHM- UH- I CANT THINK!!”
“Yes you can, you’re great at it.” Simon purrs he momentarily switches to the side of my neck, offering me brief respite to think, only to return to the nape just a few seconds later. I can feel my face reddening as I for some reason hold my breath.
I let a breath out with a sputtered exhale through gritted teeth. I probably spat a little, but my eyes were closed. So if I didn’t see it, ir didn’t happen.
“PH-PHILO-DENDRON?!”
“Very good Angel, you’re halfway there.” Simon runs his nails up into my hair, and back down, making me shiver.
“A-AHA-! OKAY, Y-YES OKAHAHAY I’LL GET THE PLANT. ENOHOHOUGH!!”
Simon retracts his hand, and releases my wrists from the wall, and I slump into the ground, gasping for air.
“If you’d stop holding your breath you wouldn’t have to fight for air like this.” Simon chuckles, carding a hand through my hair, pushing it back off my face.
“You’re sweating like a pig…” he groans.
“Yeah, see how it feels?!” I huff out. He chuckles.
“Get offa me.” I hiss.
“What’s the attitude about?”
“You’re Heavy and you’re making me claustrophobic.”
“You’re not claustrophobic.”
“You don’t know my life!”
“You sleep with a weighted blanket. 20 lbs, And you pull it over your head. You aren’t claustrophobic.” I huff dramatically.
“I am when it’s you! Get offa me or I’m not getting your plant down.”
Simon shoots me a look, leaning slightly back down. I put my hands up defensively.
“Hey, what I said back there? I didn’t mean that.” I murmur.
“That’s what I thought.” Simon stands up, bracing himself on the wall as he extends a hand to me. I accept it, and he pulls me up with minimal effort.
“And you’re sure there’s nothing in here at all you can use to get your plant off that shelf.” I sigh, as we leave the lab, and make our way back to the suspended shelf.
“I’ve exhausted all my options, I assure you.”
I look up at the plant.
Stupid plant.
“Fine, let’s go. Let me step up on your hand.”
“Yeah, nice try Space Ranger, you’re going up cheerleader style.”
“Well, actually some cheer routines so use the hand ste-“
“Turn around and shut up.”
“Fine.” I turn around in a few theatrical stomps.
“Ready?”
“Don’t count me down, just go.”
“Alright, aaand- up!”
Simon takes me by my waist, lifting me up easily. I struggle for a moment, fighting the tingling feeling through my torso. I grab Simon’s philodendron, and I’m swiftly lowered back down to the ground.
“God you’re heavy.” Clearly, he’s joking, but I miss the cue
“No I’m not! I’m lighter than you are! You’ve got 7 pounds on me in muscle alone!” I protest.
“It’s a joke, hun.”
My face flares red as I clutch the plant.
“Don’t- you’ve never called- don’t call me that, don’t do that.” I stammer out.
Simon smiles at me. “Is it too warm in here for you?”
“No, shut up. Here. And I did it without flailing around.” I shove the plant into his arms.
It’s dark green, with flecks of pink all over the leaves. Honestly it’s quite pretty.
I’m sorry for calling you stupid, pretty plant.
Simon takes it. Examining it closely. He tips it to look at the roots through the clear planter.
“You’re gonna hate me.”
“…”
“This isn’t the philodendron I needed to repot. Its roots are fine.” He looks up and down the tall wall of greenery, spotting a similar plant a few feet to the right, and significantly lower, with obviously yellowed roots.
“…that’s the one I needed.” He snorts, dropping his face into his hand.
The mispronunciation of the plant got me everytime. Grace was such a little shit for that, I love it!! 😭😭 also the banter of those two felt so natural, and in character!!! this fic is PEAK
Alsooooooooooo- Grace almost SWEARING when Simon practically went for his death spot bro??!!!! Grace almost went against his own BELIEFS LMAOOOO. (At least from what it looks like, it seems that you tried to make it seem he almost swore, unless he was trying to say Simon’s name- I CANT TELL but either way, GOLD!)
• Grace is the type to become skittish when someone has long nails.. not for any particular reason, but when he feels them, he’ll act skittish and careful 😭
• Grace is the type to become the “comedic relief” for himself when he’s getting tickled.
• Grace is the type to drop a load of information about the human body when tickling someone just to be a little shit.
• Grace is the type to “catalog” certain spots when tickling certain people and would use it to his advantage to embarrass and fluster whoever he’s going after.
• Grace is the type to ask 21 questions over basic human knowledge, and if the person gets it wrong, he tickles them for forgetting such common information.
• This one’s a long one, but Grace is the type to explain to Rocky on why he “can’t visit earth, even if he truly wanted to.” Because he would be taken in to be experimented on; and when Rocky tries to push it a bit too far, Grace would be like, “oh, ok so.. if you were to truly be on my planet, they’ll experiment on you like this!” And then would just tickle the shit out of him for bugging Grace about it too much.
• Grace is the type to hide his face in his hands when being tickled or even teased on that matter. When his face goes red he goes RED.
• Grace is the type to become such a nerd and would want Ricky to explain to him how much a certain area of his body tickles because he wants to know the similarities in Eridians to humans.
• Grace is the type to fidget with his glasses when he becomes overstimulated when being tickled. He’ll just take them off and hold them for some type of ground level for his reactions.
“Why grace hold his glasses, question?”
“Tohoho grohohound myself!”
“What grace mean, question?”
“Rohohohocky!!”
• Grace is the type to be on a giggle high after being tickled. This man is too giddy for his own good.
• Grace is the type to.. wait, Nevermind- ROCKY is the type to comment how Grace laughs almost exactly like Ryan gosling and Grace is all like, “hohow dohoho you knohow who Thahat is?!!”
• Grace is the type to have ticklish hands more than ticklish feet
• Grace is the type to be really fucking cocky with Rocky and Carl when about to get tickled, but when it comes to the pebbles, Adrian, or literally anybody else on earth: he stutters, shrinks himself, and becomes very skittish and aware of his surroundings.
