Raspberry switch

Hi my names liyliy ^_^/ Lee leaning switch / bi / she/her/ 19

[sandinthepipes]

I feel like the biome dome should end right at the edge of Grace's bedroom. You cannot tell me rocky watched grace sleep for years waiting for him to wake up, and then was like "yeah sure, here's you're private house where you'll sleep alone".

My rock baby would go fucking mental until Adrian caved and went "here's our new house, half eridian, half Dome, our bedrooms are adjacent so you can sleep with your head right next to grace"

[cacoonedmoonworm]

Admittions

𖥔 Ngl this is purely a self-indulgent Simon fic. Ticklish Simon is rotting my brain and this is what has come of it. Not all that much plot, more just Rocky tickling him to pieces! I will note that I do headcanon Simon opening up to Rocky quicker to Grace (at least for this fic specifically) and I feel like that's not as popular but I do still hope you enjoy and that I also hc Simon to be one of the most touchy clingy people known to man! Ik ik a bloodymary fic with no bloodymary in it, sue me i just want Simon tickled! Oh also Rocky will refers to Simon's gills as vents bc to Rocky thats exactly what they are and also giving them something in common outside of Grace is cute, i wasn't sure if that would have caused an confusion! It was a fun and cute dynamic to mess with! 𖥔

𖥔 Slight spoilers for movie and book! 𖥔

Summary: Simon asks Rocky and simple question about why he treats Grace the way he does.

Ler!Rocky/ Lee!Simon

Word count: 5,250

“R-Rocky?” I startle a little at the unexpected voice. This may be the first time he's actually muttered my name. My claws scratch at Grace's scalp and rub at his forehead as he sleeps.

“What, question?” The new human, Simon, is curled up on the floor not that far from the bed. I’m shocked; he’s hardly spoken since we found him around three human weeks ago.

When he’s not sitting and observing us in silence, he hides himself in a small storage room with some blankets Grace practically forced him to take. Grace always checks up on him whether Simon wants it or not. The only useful information we’ve gotten out of him is his name.

Grace is taking it harder than I thought he would. Unfortunately, I think he got his hopes up, finding another human and assuming they would be friends rather quickly. 

I can't blame Simon for not being more open sooner. You can tell the other human has been through a lot. He is missing an arm, covered in scars and mutations, and his heart never seems to settle. 

He hardly sleeps at all. I don’t know how he does it. Days will pass, his eyelids low and his movements sluggish, but he fights through it, and I thought Grace was bad when it came to staying up too much. 

I hear him shift and groan in pain; his stomach growls constantly, but he only takes very little from Grace, whether it be food or pain meds. He all but knocked Grace out when he pulled him toward Armondo to help with his wounds and such.

But over the past week, he’s started making these little visits. He waits for me and Grace to settle ourselves in. I cuddle up with Grace, making him comfortable and ready to sleep. After about an hour, Simon slips into the dormitory, looking to see if Grace has succumbed to his exhaustion. Only then does he come in and lie on the floor by the bed.

This is the only time I’ve seen him sleep for more than an hour at a time, although he always seems to wake before Grace does and then leave for his closet as if nothing happened. I’m not going to complain; I can watch both humans more easily this way. 

Why me and not Grace? I'm not really sure. Logic would dictate that in Simon's situation, choosing between another human and some alien he's never seen before, he should have picked Grace. I have a theory that something in his life has made him adverse to human interaction, so much so that his fear of humans trumps his fear of the unknown alien.

I’ve started leaving blankets and pillows on the floor for him. I know I’m treating him like some sort of animal, but I don’t know what else to do to help. I did offer the other two empty beds, which Grace would certainly not mind, but he prefers the floor. He curls up into a tight ball, tail held close. Close to the bed but not to close, just enough to see over the ledge at me and Grace.

“Why…why do you do that to Grace?” He shifts uncomfortably on the floor. His voice is low and gravelly and has a hint of something like frustration.

“What, question?” Confusion laces my voice as I turn my attention to Grace's sleeping body. I don’t seem to be doing anything out of the ordinary.

“All the touching. Babying.” He pauses for a moment and glances up at us. “He’s a grown man, and you pet and touch him.” He’s hiding his face behind his wavy hair, though it's as emotionless as ever. 

It's incredibly hard to read him. Grace is so expressive; he moves his hands while he talks, and his face shows pretty much all his emotions he's feeling in real time. Simons sits still, maybe with a raised brow and always with a frown. His eyes stare deep into you, studying you and your movements. I don’t mind, but I think it makes Grace a little uncomfortable.

“Rocky love Grace. Obvious.” I troll out fondly, rubbing circles into Grace's temples. Grace shifts slightly more into me in his sleep, while Simon stays silent. 

“Love?” he asks me back. It’s small and quiet.

“Rocky love Grace. Give my Grace love and comfort. Attention.” I feel myself get a little flustered, though I mean every word of it. Simon continues to stay silent for a moment, but he moves to sit up.

“I just—is it not weird?” He doesn’t sound upset but more confused. He lets out a faint, exhausted sigh, I'm sure from the constant anxiety and adrenaline flowing through him and the lack of sleep.

“No. What you do for loved one. Human also benefit from touch. Grace love pets. Rocky love taking care of Grace. Show Rocky care…. My Grace.” I coo softly at his sleepy face. “Grace sacrifice much for Rocky. Rocky will give anything if Grace ask.” I’m glad that Grace is out cold for this conversation; he would tease me about becoming all sappy on him.

He goes quiet, rubbing at the opposite side of his torso with his hand. His eyebrows knit together in thought. I decide it's best to try and keep this conversation going since this is the only time he's actually felt like speaking.

“Simon think it weird, question?” I ask, trying to get him talking again. Simon looks up and stares as I take a claw to run through Grace's soft hair.

He quickly looks away. “I don't know.”

“Simon don't know, question?” Simon can be very confusing. I hear his hand squeeze against his side. I'm pretty sure there isn't any serious injury there, at least not one I can hear. 

“I didn't—we don’t really do that…where I'm from.” His permanent frown deepens as he looks back down into his lap. “I didn’t have someone to take care of me like that. I didn't have a ‘Rocky’.” 

I feel myself soften at his words. No wonder he's been so hesitant to accept our help. I scoot away from Grace a bit so he can see me over the ledge of the bed better. He glances up, eyes showing he's incredibly worn out.

“Grace is lucky to have you.” His face is blank, but his words are almost pathetic. Personally, I think I'm lucky to have Grace. None of this would be even happening without him.

I think for a moment. I’m assuming there’s a reason the human wanted to ask these questions to begin with. One of the very few full conversations from him is about my affection towards Grace, which is definitely an interesting topic to pick first.

“Simon jealous of Rocky affection for Grace, question?” I ask amusedly. This simple question has gotten the most reaction I've seen out of the second human since he's been aboard this ship. His breath hitches, his heartbeat, although already racing, quickens in his chest, and I can hear the faintest of blood seep into his cheeks. The spined tail curled up around him stiffens and straightens out, the end flicking ever so slightly. 

Very interesting.

He decides not to answer, so I ask some more questions. “This reason Simon stare at Rocky Grace, question? Watch affection, question?” I trill.

He fidgets with his shirt, one of Grace's stupid science pun shirts, and looks away but ultimately shakes his head, though I can tell he's lying. I hum and shift back into Grace's body. We sit in silence for a few minutes, and I can practically hear Simon thinking. His hand moves up to feel where his other arm was, rubbing the bandaged end.

“Simon want affection like Grace, question?” I cut through the silence. He's staring into his lap, heart beating out of his chest; he seems more scared than embarrassed.

“Uhm…” he swallows hard. “Uh–can…I-I don’t…” I stop petting Grace and move to stand. I scuttle the ledge and wait for the human to gather his thoughts. He quickly looks up at me, eyes wide, and stutters more. 

“Breathe.” I hum soothingly. He swallows again but takes a shaky inhale; actually, his whole body seems to be shaking. I notice how he's curled in on himself, shoulders hunched, and he brings his chin to his chest.

“I don't know.” It comes out as if he's disappointed with himself that he couldn't quite ask for what he wanted. He frowns more, but his eyebrows are turned down in worry.

Again he sits in silence, thinking. I decided I'll be the one to save him from his own thoughts. Watching the push and pull on his brain, although amusing, makes me feel sorry for him.

“What if Rock want to give Simon affection and pet, question? Would Simon allow Rocky to show it care for Simon, question?” It's not him asking; it's me asking. I think that should help this whole dilemma he's having. He seems to perk up ever so slightly at the prospect. 

“You care?” He sounds genuinely baffled by this thought. I kind of thought saying the words would make him relax, be happy even but he once again seems to brace himself for my answer. Like I was lying about it and was about to rip his hope right back out of his hands. Sure, we haven't interacted much, but that's more on him than on us. We've tried talking and making The Hail Mary as accommodating as possible, feeding him, and even bathing him when he first arrived soaked in what Grace said was human blood.

He just truly doesn't seem to trust us.

“Of course Rocky care.” His head lifts slightly as he glances in my direction. “Rocky know Simon go through a lot even if Rocky not know the details. Understand why Simon is the way Simon is. Different. Not bad. Confused and hurt. Understand why Simon want affection.” He shifts uncomfortably. The words that were meant to be comforting were clearly making him more tense.

“Can Rocky fix, question?” He takes a moment, rubbing at his own stomach. I’ve seen signs of touch starvation in Grace before too. This is why I made the tighter suit, specifically to help with this situation. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t also for my benefit and love for Grace as well.

He nods ever so slightly, like he's unsure himself if he's ready for this. I can't lie, his attempt at asking is and was adorable, but I keep that to myself. It’s refreshing to see something other than a scared animal fighting for its life. Something more human.

I climb off the bed and walk up to him. I stop as he freezes and backs up slightly. 

“Rocky Simon go to other room. Let Grace sleep. Okay, question?” Although he doesn't smile at me, his face seems to relax back to the same stoic look. 

We walk out together, the silence drowned out by his rapid heartbeat. There’s a pile of blankets and pillows we use when Grace and I watch movies together, and I let him take a seat. 

“Where Simon want pet, question?” He's been so touch-adverse; I'm not really sure how to approach him without scaring him off, and I know he is particularly sensitive about the mutations around his body. 

“Huh?” He's currently curled up on himself, hugging his legs up to his chest, his head off to the side. He seems shocked I even gave him the choice.

“Where Rocky start, question.” I gently ask. A small blush starts to creep up his neck.

“I-I don’t—I…” he shifts uncomfortably as his heartrate picks up again. 

“Can Rocky try, question?” His eyes finally find me, and he gives a small reluctant nod. 

I slowly approach, and although he does flinch, he doesn't move away. I take two claws and rest them on his knees. I feel the skin twitch under my touch.

“Simon straighten legs.” He hesitates. "Is okay." I wait patiently. Eventually he slowly uncurls. Slowly, he unwraps his arm from his knees and straightens them on either side of me. I settle myself between his legs, resting on his pelvis. He freezes at the pressure, his arm raised like he doesn't know what to do with it. Heart beating out of his chest, I decided to hold still, just letting him process that I'm here. 

“Okay, question?” He nods, but his breathing has picked up. He looks terrified, shaking. His arm and legs are the only places with few to no mutations, so I decide to start there.

I push up the fabric of the shorts he's wearing, giving me more access to his thighs. I used my claws to lightly trace down his legs on either side of me, and I feel goosebumps take over his skin. Slowly, I pet up and down, circling his muscles like a massage. He sinks slightly into the touch but his eyes are wide and tracking my movements, like he's ready to pounce at any sign of danger. His arm lowers to his side, and I feel him lightly grab at one of my legs. 

I let out a happy trill at the progress I've made with him tonight. His face relaxes, his eyebrows finally softening. He lets his eyes slowly fall closed, and he lets out a soft sigh. I can't stop the light giggles that come from me, and he quickly flicks his eyes back open, looking embarrassed.

“What?” He starts to frown at my reaction, which only makes me giggle more. 

“Nothing. Simon just cute. Simon finally relax.” I hear a blush rush to his face, and he looks away, staring at nothing.

We sit in silence for 10 minutes before I feel the hand on my leg squeeze a few times softly. I stop my movements, worried I've gone too long and too far but I feel him sag instead.

“Don’t stop…” The words leave him so quietly I almost miss them. Simon's face immediately looks horrified, like the sentence escaped without permission. He tightly presses his lips together and frowns. He looks away for a moment and finally mutters, “...more please.” Happiness washes over me as he finally requests something for himself, even if it was small.

“Of course," I hum in acknowledgment. I remove my claws from his legs and carefully place a claw on his stomach but don't move it. He glances down at the touch, eyebrows furrowed together. 

After getting no pushback, I slowly lift his shirt, exposing his injured flesh. I push it up to under his arm and get a clear look at the gills hiding underneath. It was hard to hear them with Grace's tight shirt over top, holding them all but closed against his skin, but now they sit open. 

He's still, very still. I didn't know humans could be so still. It's then I realize he's holding his breath, and the hand on my arm grips tighter as if he's bracing for pain. I lower the claw to his stomach, opening it out flat and then slowly rub in a circle.

He jumps rather violently, and a small squeak comes from him. I quickly pull my claw away but notice the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

“Simon okay, question? Hurt, question?” I ask while placing my claw back down but once again holding it still. He flinches at the touch again and squirms slightly. 

“N-no. I'm okay.” I take a second claw, placing it on the other side of his tummy, and start scratching, and his reaction is immediate.

“Ah-wahait—!” He slaps his hand over his mouth, and I probably should stop because he did ask to wait, but I'm curious about how he's going to react. He squirms from side to side, and his legs kick out next to me with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Simon ticklish, question?” Amusement laces my voice. He shakes his head feverishly, his hand holding in as much laughter as it can. I go back to rubbing softly, not wanting to overwhelm him.

“Hmhmhm!” Little hums start coming from him; I see his arm straining to stay by his mouth and not shoot down. Puffs of air flutter from his vents as his laughter strains in his chest.

The one thing I really take notice of is his ear. Well maybe not really an ear anymore; rather, his little fin, where his ear should be, finally stops drooping and unfolds up. It’s crazy; I thought the downward swoop of the fin was just how it looked, that it didn’t or couldn’t move but seeing it up and flared out in giddiness makes me all the more happy myself.

“Simon lie.” Trills come from me as he just shakes his head more. His eyes peek open at me. “Rocky help Simon and Simon lie. Ungrateful.” I joke as I go back to scratching, and he lets out a little squeal. He’s very adorable when he’s not trying to kill you or figure out if you’ll kill him. 

Finally, his hand shoots down, grabbing at mine. He’s biting his lip, unusually pointy teeth sticking out the corners. A goofy smile spreads across his face; he’s desperately trying to stop it.

“R-Rohocky!” Giggles finally spill from his lips. They're low and stifled, but they're there. He almost sounds like he’s in pain, like he’s not sure he’s allowed or should be laughing, trying to keep it all in.

And that’s when I hear it.

A soft thudding from behind him. His tail is wagging against the blankets. 

Oh that’s adorable.

“Simon like tickles, question?” I coo teasingly at him and still my movements. “Simon like tummy rub, question?”

“Wha—noho.” What a little liar. He looks at me with a flustered but confused expression, forcing a frown back on his face. ”You do that to Grace too," he grumbles.

I pause. "Simon notice, question?” I tease him since he gave himself away and I hear a cringed expression take over his features, clearly regretting what he said.

“Simon tail move.” My carapace shifts closer to his middle as I feel the vibrations from the wagging.

“Huh?” And I stay silent, letting the soft thumping of his tail tell us both his real feelings about the situation. And just like that, it stops moving. He suddenly hides his face in his elbow and leans onto his back against the pillows, trying to roll over but failing with me on top. 

“I…I didn’t know it did that.” Simon is making me think that my idea that Grace is just an endearing person is wrong and that it might just be a trait of the human race as a whole.

“Grace like tickles also. Simon not need to be embarrass about tickles.” I try to reassure him, but he just shakes his head like he can’t accept that information.

“Simon want Rocky to stop, question?” He just stays silent. I hear his blood pooling in his face. Although Grace also likes to hide when embarrassed, he never just shuts down from it. Grace is momentarily flustered, while Simon seems to be unable to stand it. Being vulnerable appears to be rather difficult for him and I guess admitting you like or want something is the hardest thing Simon can do.

I find him very amusing. Deliberately ignoring Grace and me when we have tried to speak to him. Trying to put up this stone-cold act while wanting affection this whole time. I assume he did it in an 'If they're scared of me, they won’t hurt me’ type of way, but to fold when the two creatures you're stuck with end up being cuddle bugs and you start yearning for it while observing them is rather funny but also sad.

I understand why he probably finally broke. Grace and I are so touchy. For Simon, who admits that he isn’t used to affection, the thing he wanted so bad probably seemed so easily tangible. The affection he wants is right there, all the time, just between me and Grace.

I remove my claws, and he just continues to lie there, hiding his very obviously blushing face and feelings. “This is stupid, I’m stupid." he mumbles into his arm.

“Why, question?” I felt like it was going so well, too. I'm not sure what flipped, maybe some confusing human reason. He decides to not answer me.

I take a digit and softly place it into his belly button. I scratch lightly at the skin as he lets out a startled squeal. 

“EEEAHAhahahaAH—!” Shockingly he still continues to say nothing, preferring to laugh his head off instead. His hand shoots down and haphazardly feels for my claw. 

“Simon must use words. Rocky cannot understand.” I push in a little more. I see him try to curl back up to a sitting position, but the pillows in the curve of his back and, I think, the fact that he’s missing an arm make him flop back down, twisting and turning.

I see his tail start to sway again, and I snicker. What a poor human. To have the emotions you find embarrassing on display because of a tail you did not ask for is tragic in an adorable way.

I push an arm under his lower back, pulling it back toward myself and forcing his tummy up. He flails at the feeling as I carefully dig into his lower back and scratch at the spines there.

“NAHAhahahe R-RohoHAHAHA—!!” I hear him try and get words out.

“Why Simon say Simon stupid, question?” His body gets stuck between arching away from the claws attacking his stomach and the one scribbling around his back.

“R-ROHOhocky *snrk* pft-hehehaHAHAH—!” His mouth tries to clamp shut, sputtering over his laughter, as his tail picks up speed.

“Very good Simon. Use words. What Simon want, question?” I tease him as I pull my claw out of the little hole. I instead trace circles around it, the muscles on his stomach twitching and tensing. I slow the claw on his back and softly rub there, soothing the skin, then take another and dig into the pudge along his tummy. He's less lean than Grace is and I think I prefer it that way; he's more squishy. Very cute that way.

His hand flies back up to his mouth, muffling his cute noises. My claw migrates to his hip and I place the other on the opposite side. I massage into the divot in his torso, feeling the bone. He bucks up with a screeching noise, his hand abandoning his face once again, desperate and clawing at me. He seems so ticklish everywhere.

“RohoHOCKHEHE—!! I-I’m gohoing tohoho wahahake GrahACE UP—ACKAHAH—!!!” He says this instead of just asking me to slow down. He is excellent at dodging the questions I keep asking.

“Simon better be quiet then. So loud.” I tease him, and he tosses his head back and cackles, pulling a deeper blush from him. Grace is fine; he can sleep pretty soundly, and I think I’m partly to blame. My constant fidgeting and tinkering with things as he sleeps, I think, has caused him to get used to sleeping through noise and after a week of sneaking into the dormitory when Grace is specifically sleeping, I know Simon is aware of this too. He's just making excuses at this point.

I rub slow, agonizing circles into his flesh as his head shakes from side to side, his curly hair a mess and his headband askew. He looks happy and giddy, something so different than he's looked his entire time here. I feel the urge to pull more sounds from him to make up for the past few months.

I move my claws upward, pinching along his sides. Each pinch pulls a little squeak from him and his laughter seems to get stronger the higher I move up. I finally reach right below the start of his vents and stay in the spot, digging in.

I notice his vents have closed themselves, which I find fascinating. His arm has pressed itself tightly against his side, trying to block my claw while his body twists to the right, trying to run from the side he can’t protect.

“NAHAHAT THEHEHERE *SNRK* —IHIHEHEHAHA—!!” His breathing starts to sound short and strained.

“Simon can ask Rocky to stop. Rocky will stop when asked.” I slow my movements to light squeezings on the lower bones of his ribs.

Although his face is beat red with a wide smile and small tears in his eyes, he somehow looks worried and surprised.

“Yohohou wihihill?” His voice is so high compared to normal, squeaky with laughter. The genuine shock in the way he asks makes me upset in an annoying way that eats at me. 

I let out a frustrated hum, not specifically at him per se but the way he’s been programmed to think.

“Of course Rocky stop if Simon want tickles to stop. Simon just ask.” I dig in a little bit, making him flail in my hold. “Simon ask for anything. Rocky will try to give.” Trying to show that, yes, bodily autonomy is something he possesses and that, yes, he can ask for anything if he so pleases.

He sits there giggling to himself and I can tell he’s fighting with himself and it's adorable. To stop the affection he craves so much or fall deeper into it. 

“Cahahan i-it juhust be a breheheak?” The question comes out in huffs. “Cahan you keep going a-after?” Joy floods through me at the question, and I feel a rush of warmth for him. Finally, acknowledging he wants more.

“Yes. Simon breathe." Happy trills come from me and I let my claws go still, just resting against his skin. I feel the rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to catch his breath. He sounds a little wheezy and his breathing is uneven. He eases his arm and rests his hand on his chest, a smile still plastered on his face.

“Simon. Use vents to breath. Easier and better. More air intake.” He looks at me with a dumb look and I point to his vents. 

“O-oh. My gills. Okay.” The vents flutter open as he relaxes more. I hear as the air is sucked in and his breathing almost immediately seems to catch back up with him. His body melts onto the blankets and pillows, and he rests his eyes closed. 

We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes when he speaks up. “You can um…start again—If you want to—AH!” I take the opportunity to grab his hand in mine and pull it up over his head. Before I get to even respond, he's grinning and squirming around, tail wagging behind us. I can't stop the amused hums that come from me.

I wiggle a claw over his underarms, slowly inching it closer, relishing in the giggles that start to spill from him. His eyes track me as I pull back slightly.

“Rohocky stohop.” I giggle and shoot my hand down to his skin and stop right before I touch. He squeaks and jerks hard but groans in annoyance. I once again pull back and slowly descend onto his skin, pulling more soft giggles from him.

I snake another arm to the other side of his body while he's distracted by my other claw and dig into the underarm he can't protect, making his legs kick out and what's left of his arm flail. 

“ROHOhocky?! I-It tihiHICKLES!” I scratch at his other underarm and feel him strain against my hold, his pointy teeth showing again.

“Yes. Is point.” As I slow my movements. I decide to test my luck and gently start making my way down his body. I feel him tense as I reach the top gills along his sides. I glide a digit along the seam and he lets out a shrill screech. I open my claws on either side and hold them flat against all three vents on either side and give the whole area a few squeezes. 

“NAHOHOHO *SNRK* WAITWAITWAHAHAIT AH-ROHOCKY—EEEAHAHAH—!!!” I let myself squeeze a few more times as he kicks and squeals. I finally let go while climbing off of him and he curls up on his side. 

Tears stain his cheeks and his face is impossibly red. I run my claws gently over his back and head soothingly, feeling his breath. I try to flatten out his hair, brushing it out of his face. 

I hear a low rumble come from him. The sound makes me freeze. Simon immediately notices and his eyes open. 

“What?” It's like he doesn't notice it. It's soft and content. It tells me he's happy. 

“Simon purr.” I excitedly trill.

His eyes go wide, then immediately squeeze shut in embarrassment. It's not the same purring Grace does in his sleep; "snoring" is what Grace called it. This comes from Simons chest, quiet and soft but there. I coo softly at the sound and how soft his features look now. He peeks open his eyes and stares at me, blood in his cheeks, as I wipe at his leaky face. After a few moments he sounds like he can breath again and I pull him up. 

“Simon Rocky go back to Grace. Let Simon sleep. Rocky know Simon tiered.” He nods, still laughing softly. He lifts himself up on shaky legs and stumbles back toward the dormitory.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

The next day Grace is explaining something about human culture to me. He's up at a whiteboard scribbling away as he rambles. 

I heard Simon wake a few minutes ago. Even though I tried to get him to stay with me and Grace until Grace woke up, he ultimately wanted to go back to the closet. I hear him as he creeps out and towards our direction; I assume to observe us some more. I tune back into Grace's voice; it's excited and energetic. I can tell he misses being a teacher. 

I'm pleasantly surprised when Simon plops down right next to me. I inch away on instinct, but he grabs a leg and pulls it into his lap. He starts trailing his fingers over the length of my arm, up and down.

Grace has gone quiet, staring with his mouth open in shock and awe. Simon stares back, getting noticeably more uncomfortable with the sudden attention on him. I make a short hum sound, snapping Grace out of his trance and he just looks over to me in bewilderment. I flick a claw, signaling him to keep teaching like nothing happened before he scares Simon off. He clears his throat and stutters over his first few words but turns back around to the board and continues his ramblings, a rather large smile growing on his face.

‘I-is this okay?” Simon whispers. I feel his hand tug at my closed claw and I open it for him. 

“Yes. Is nice.” I feel him press his thumb into what would be my palm, rubbing in soft circles. He's shockingly gentle, even after all the wrestling we did the previous night. I worried he felt the need to ‘return the favor,’ and the petting is what this is about but I decided to stay quiet and not ruin the moment. 

I see him tune into Grace's lesson, absentmindedly petting back up the length of my leg.

𖥔 I hope you enjoyed me torturing Simon! 𖥔

[slimeylee]

AAAHAHJAHWJDAGWFHGAWFJAWGKAGAHH THIS FIC GENUINELY MADE ME SO INSANE OH MY GOD AWWAWHDGHWAJDJWF AMAZE AMAZE AMAZE AHAHAGWHWAHWFJKG !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 IM TWEAKING SO BAD /vvvvvvvvvvpos/!/hyp

[morsobaby]

Often disabled people wildly overestimate their ability purely via ableist conditioning where they feel pressured to, or mistakenly think they Should be able to do all the same things as their ablebodied peers.

In this case, accurately assessing their comfort levels might feel like underestimating themselves. But it's necessary to not overexert and avoid further burnout.

So remember if you're disabled, underestimate your abilities more often. Either you were mistaken and end up feeling good afterwards despite the activity, or you were correct and spared yourself extra grief by stopping just when you needed to

[nudityandnerdery]

Hey, we’re in line for some absurd temperatures here in the southwest this week. This is very important to know and keep in mind. Be safe, stay hydrated, stay out of the sun as much as you can.

[katajainen]

For my fellow Europeans south of us who are currently suffering from extreme heat. Stay safe!

[belovedapollo]

I’d also like to add this

Additional you can also put them on your palms, also, make sure to always use a light towel or kitchen paper and don’t put the ice bags directly onto your skin!

[cacoonedmoonworm]

5-Second Head Start

𖥔 This one is just silly and cute! I just wanted to write some more Simon and Rocky friendship stuff! I struggled so incredibly bad with this one! I feel like I just couldn't quite get Simons inner world to actually sound correct and I still don't think its the best but if i keep messing with it ill go insane lol but I hope you all still like it! ALSO hoping to make a really quick masterlist soon! 𖥔

𖥔 Slight spoilers for movie and book! 𖥔

Summary: Rocky and Simon have gotten physically close over the past year and Grace definitely doesn't feel left out.

Ler!Rocky / Ler!Simon / Lee!Grace

Word count: 4,908

“Oh, you're going down!”

“Rocky like to see Simon try!”

Rocky’s high-pitched cackling rings out as I chase him down the corridor, through ‘The Don’t Go Crazy Room.' He veers into the lab, his claws clanging against the floor.

I jump forward, tackling him to the ground as we roll across the floor with momentum. I hear Grace yelp at the sudden noise and commotion, turning to look at us. We scramble in a heap, pushing, pulling, and hitting each other. 

I grab an arm and he lets me pin it to the floor as I push at his carapace. Suddenly two claws are hugging my middle and he flips me hard onto my stomach.

“Simon not win! Rocky too strong!” The alien smugly says from above me. He smashes a claw into my face, pushing and squishing my cheek. 

I hear Grace laugh at my expense in the background…but it's different. He laughs differently when he's actually amused. Normally it's loud and bright. Today it's quieter, like he's trying not to interrupt us. I don't know why I noticed that.

“Not fair! You have more arms!” I argue as I push my legs underneath myself, straining against his weight.

“Not Rocky fault human design poor.” He lets up, allowing me to try to turn the tables, as adrenaline-filled giggles spill from me. “Simon should not have ‘missed place’ other arm either.” There’s a teasiness to his chords.

“I did NOT fucking ‘misplace’ my other arm, you-oversized-paperweight!" Excitement comes from him in response. He thinks he soooo funny.

I grab a claw, lacing our digits together, and push against his arm. I try to plant my knees, but he easily slides me across the floor just by walking into me.

My smile grows, baring my sharp canines at Rocky, letting out a playful growl from my chest. He returns the noise, mimicking it with a low rumbling sound, making me feel a little silly. This all makes me feel silly. But in a good way.

"Oh, you're gonna get it for that!” It’s supposed to sound at least a little threatening, but the stupid smile stuck on my face and the way my hair is a mess and sticking out every which way make it seem anything but.

I rip my arm away from his and pull back. He raises three of his, following defensively. I find an opening and strike at his carapace with force. He freezes and dramatically falls to the floor, clawing at the air like he’s clawing at heaven above.

“Ow. Simon got Rocky. Dead.” He flops over, legs going rigid, letting out little fake pained trills. I cover my smile, snickering at his acting skills. He can be so silly sometimes.

I give Grace a brief glance, but he’s stopped laughing and is just staring. I force myself to pull my eyes away.

I dramatically collapse into Rocky. “Ugh, I think you got me too, Rock. Drawl?” I offer but his arms immediately curl around my middle and squeeze. 

“Rocky lie! Rocky win!” He shouts, flipping me over on my stomach again, pinning me down.

“Ah-shit! No fair!” I laugh, reaching back to grab him, but he just settles on my back, sitting on top and sprawling his legs out while carefully avoiding my wagging tail. He settles on his new seat with a satisfying hum.

“Simon very hyper today.” My cheeks go a little red at the comment as I succumb to Rocky’s weight. I lay, catching my breath, enjoying the cold floor of the ship on my face. I feel two claws start to rub at my upper back and shoulders, making me melt further into the cool surface.

"Well, I’m clearly not the only one.” I argue with a grin. We’ve been going at it for a good thirty minutes now and I’m not going to complain.

I flip my head over and look at Grace again. He seems to notice and forces a smile back onto his face.

“I would join but you guys would break me.” He lets out a low chuckle. It's true. After whatever the hell happened with me physically, I seem to have gotten a bit stronger. Unusually stronger, and I seem to have gotten a bit…tougher? Hits that would have normally hurt don't as much. This is what allows me and Rocky to play so rough. 

“Yes. Grace squishy.” Rocky adds and starts rubbing a claw through my hair as well, smoothing it back into place. I smirk at what Rocky said, but Grace’s smile seems to falter.

“I want a rematch," I huff, squirming from underneath Rocky.

“Oh. Simon want to loose again, question?” That cocky little alien! “Rocky give Simon…five human second head start.” He crawls off of me and helps me up. I swerve on my heels, not wasting any of my head start. 

Rocky lets me run. He started doing that awhile ago. At first I thought he was getting slower, maybe from the strain of space. Turns out he was giving me a head start. I never asked him to. I don't think he needed me to. He just knew I loved that part. Makes me feel light and airy, like I’m not stuck on a ship barreling through space.

I sprint to the dormitory, Rocky hot on my heels. I feel the air pushing through my light shirt and into my gills, filling my burning chest. My head feels scrambled but elated and my limbs are loose. It feels so nice. So different than what I used to feel.

“Human so slow! Need more legs!” He calls after me, making giddy anticipation flow through me. 

"I'll let our human manufacturer know!” I remark back. Who knew wrestling with a rock would be so fun. Who knew wrestling in general could be fun, actually?

It seemed so scary. The first time Rocky pinned me, I thought I was going to die. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was worried Rocky wouldn’t stop. That if it got to be too much, I wouldn’t be able to do anything. But when I frantically called out, he stilled and held me softly. Now I don't even think about it. Funny how that happens.

I make it into the room and spin to stare at Rocky, trapped with only one exit. My eyes frantically looking from him to the door.

“Simon in corner. Make Rocky victory easy!” 

“Oh yeah? Don’t get too ahead of yourself! I’m gonna throw you out the airlock!" He lets out pitchy laughter.

“Yes! Affectionate threat!” He laughs, not the polite trills he gives everyone else. It's a loud squeaky noise. The one that vibrates through him and into me. I didn't think he could sound like that when we first met. Turns out he can, usually because of me. He trills as I frown a bit at the failed threat. He slowly stalks toward me, claws raised. We rotate around each other, stupid giggles coming from both of us. 

I hear the door open and see Grace slip into the room with a laptop. I raise a brow. Rocky seems to have stilled at his sudden appearance as well. He settles in the bed and starts typing something, oddly quiet.

Hm.

I turn back to Rocky, running at him while he’s distracted. He jumps with a squeak and catches me in his arms, claws tightly gripping me.

“Simon! Carful! Simon balance not good!” He pulls me forward into his carapace. “Carless.”

"Well, I knew you would catch me.” He doesn’t deny it. Annoyed grumbles come from him as he, gently this time, throws me back to the floor. 

Gentle coos from Rocky make me look up at him. “Simon very cute when like this.” A claw comes up to trace around my face and squish at my cheek again. He brushes my hair out of my eyes, making a soft sound of amusement. I feel my face get warm at the compliment and grumble, my chest heaving in and out as I try and catch my breath.

I lie for a moment and notice how Grace is no longer typing. He is just looking off at us again. Nothing new seems to have been added to the screen of the laptop since I glanced over last, only to start back up again frantically.

“Simon looking at Grace a lot.” And to prove him right, I quickly look between Grace and Rocky to make sure he didn't hear him.

“Am not." I feel my face warm even more.

“Looking a lot, statement.” 

“Shut up.” I grumble as I scramble back to my feet and try to book it to the now unblocked exit. Rocky quickly and frantically grabs one of my legs, trying to keep me here with him, and I slip.

“OW—!!!” I fall face first, hard, like very hard, into the wall of the Hail Mary, bouncing off right back onto the floor. “Ugh…fuck…” My hand shoots to my face, checking to see if I broke my nose. 

A rather loud, alarmed noise comes from Rocky and he scrambles to my head, grabbing my face again. He turns it to face up at him, another small squeak coming from him; I'm assuming it's at the damage.

“Ah apology apology! Was accident!” He pulls me up and I feel my nose start to bleed. The warm liquid starts flowing down my face, the familiar taste of iron on my lips. I don't think it's broken; the pain isn't all that awful either but I have a feeling I'll have a killer headache in a few hours.

“One day, you guys are going to put a hole in the ship.” Grace retorts with a small smile from the bed, but Rocky seems to entirely ignore him. I see him frown and slouch when no response comes.

He anxiously pets at my head and even pinches off my nose for me as I let out a laugh, squeezing my eyes shut. He really must be sorry; it's not often he willingly touches our leaky human fluids on purpose. 

“Not funny! Simon hurt!” He taps his leg against the floor for emphasis, but I just laugh even more. I peek my eyes open and see that three of his claws are busy holding me, so he has to balance on the other two.

Feeling rather playful still, probably from all the adrenaline from being chased and then almost knocking myself out, I bring my legs up and push him out with my feet as hard as I can. The move manages to make him stumble back and I scramble to my feet, talking off once again.

I hear Rocky anxiously call after me, “Simon! Stop running! Hurt! No play!” But I just continue to giggle, making my way back to the lab. I bring my hand up to my nose, trying to stop bleeding all over the ship as I run, but my god, it’s hard to run with one arm when that arm is occupied with something else.

I feel my balance tilt, almost tripping over my feet and falling again as Rocky lets out a startled whistle in response.

“Simon will hurt himself again! Stop running now!” He might have been right about my balance after all. 

He corners me again, but I can tell he really is trying to block my exit this time. I shift from right to left, but he just moves closer.

“Simon…not playing.” He scolds, his vents hissing.

“I’m fine.” He angrily taps a claw against the floor.

“Not fine. Leaking important fluid.” He slowly advances. “No escape.”

“Very ominous.” I lower myself a little, trying to take back some space but Rocky holds his position. Another grin comes across my face and I hear Rocky let out an annoyed hum in response.

“Simon too hyper.” Mean…but fair.

But once again, Grace comes into the room. He looks awkward as we both freeze to look at him again. He opens some random cabinet, bringing his hand up to his chin as if thinking hard about what he’s looking for. Then he closes it, taking nothing. He lingers with our attention on him. Why is he still here? He clearly didn't find what he was looking for.

“Glad you guys are having fun.” I see his ears flush as he mutters an apology for interrupting. His ears always go red before the rest of his face. He settles at one of the tables in the lab, shuffling through random papers. There’s a small frown on his face and his eyebrows are knitted together. I’m surprised he didn’t go back to the dorm. He never brought the laptop back here with him.

Suddenly I’m tossed on my back to the floor again with a yelp.

“Simon stay.” Rocky says firmly. I smile at him again and a frustrated chirp rings out. “Rocky mean it.” He presses a claw into my chest, pushing hard. I wheeze as he forces the air out of my lungs.

“Okay okay. I’ll stay.” He huffs and skitters off but stops wearily for a moment to see if I’ll take off again before actually leaving.

I find Grace's eyes again, but he looks away once more. A frown fights its way into my happy features at his odd behavior.

My attention turns to Rocky as he returns holding some towels. He helps me sit up and places a towel on my face and starts scrubbing softly. 

“Thank you.” I sigh, and he pulls my head closer to him. He traces around my face with another claw, rubbing my forehead where it slammed against the wall. He’s so gentle. It’s weird to be treated so delicately after everything I’ve gone through.

“Apology.” He pushes into my beard and mustache, cleaning away the thick red liquid that stains the hair there.

“It’s okay, Rock. It was an accident.” I’m a little worried this one-off accident will stop our little fights in the future. I don’t know what I’ll do if he insists on this. It’s the most fun I’ve had in years.

“I guess you won again.” I reach up and glide a hand over his carapace. He pulls away from my face for a moment. I run my hand along his plates, along the cracks of his body. His vents flutter with a whistle.

“Simon can not hurt Rocky.” He purrs into my hand, enjoying the attention. He caught me.

“I know. Just a habit.” Just to make sure.

I look to Grace, who is staring again and he quickly looks away, fumbling with something on the lab table. Every time Rocky touches me, he looks and then immediately finds something incredibly interesting somewhere else. Once again, a frown crosses his features, but he doesn’t look angry. I quirk an eyebrow up at him as he tries to sneak a glance back at me. He stands up quickly and speed-walks out of the room. 

Weird.

“Why Grace unhappy, question?” Rocky asks. “Sound sad.” He pushes my face towards the sky, wiping down my chin and neck.

“He isn’t.” I squint in Rocky's direction, tilting my head down just for Rocky to push it back up again with a hum. I feel the blood in my nose start to run down the back of my throat.

“Grace watch us.”

“He always watches us.” I cringe and swallow at the feeling, tasting the liquid in my throat.

“No. Different watching. Not normal.” He trills. His carapace cocks to the side, vents shifting.

“…”

I sit, thinking back to his weird actions. The little comments he’s made over this hour of playing. I have a theory.

“Yeah. Maybe he is. A little.” 

“Why, question?” His trills are low and full of worry. 

“I think he may be a little jealous, Rock.” I smile while looking back down; it’s a little endearing. And a little childish.

“Of what, question?” 

“I think about how we can roughhouse together. Be close physically in ways he can’t…and he just has to sit there and watch.” I feel a pang of sadness thinking about how we unknowingly were leaving him out. It's something I should have noticed before.

He pushes the towel back to my face as more blood seems to dribble from my nose.

“Rocky Simon should include Grace in play. Need Grace happy.” I immediately picture Rocky throwing Grace down to the floor or through a wall and grimace. Rocky's and my idea of pretend wrestling is similar, but to Grace it was probably different. Gentle and light. I would be scared to hold such a delicate being like Grace the way I do with Rocky. So scared to break him.

“I need him happy too.” I mumble into the towel.

The thought of Grace feeling left out on his own ship worms deeper into my brain. I go quiet, pulling at a few locks of hair and shifting them between my fingers in thought. 

“I have another idea, Rock.” It comes out nasally and I close my eyes again, leaning into Rocky’s touch.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

Rocky and I are fooling around again. Nothing like the play fighting a few days ago, just wrestling in one spot. Pushing and pulling against each other while on one of the beds. Rocky works as an outlet for all the cooped-up energy flowing through me and I appreciate every second of it. Although I was in prison, and being stuck in a confined space is not new to me in the slightest, my new situation (or maybe my mutations) seems to have flipped some sort of switch in me. I get in these moods where I just can't sit still and I gotta move. 

A moment later Grace walks into the dormitory. We both turn toward him, and Grace freezes. 

"Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you guys were in here.” I see his eyes look over us, analyzing how Rocky has his claw in mine, pushing me against the mattress. The smile on my face and disheveled hair and clothes. Once again his face falls.

I frown and Rocky lets me up. I slide off the bed and stand, staring him down. Rocky shifts his carapace in Grace's direction, letting out a low rumble.

“W-what?” an anxious smile makes its way to his face. His glasses slip down his nose. He looks nervous, his hands suddenly fidgeting together. We stand in silence for a moment. I catch his eyes and stare deep into them.

“What Grace fastest running speed, question?” Amusement laces Rocky’s chords and Grace raises a brow, his worried smile falling ever so slightly.

“...why?” He takes a step back as Rocky climbs off the bed as well.

“No reason!~” I growl in response, Rocky and I creeping toward him. My tail flicks lightly as the anticipation builds between the three of us.

Everyone goes still for a moment. Silence settles around us. I see the gears turn in his head while a giddy smile makes its way to his face.

Grace makes the first move, fleeing as fast as he can. He climbs the ladder with shocking speed and sprints down the other way to the ship. I quickly follow, but the ladder slows me down. I’m kinda happy about that; the chase is one of the best parts in my opinion.

“Friend Grace! Come back!” Rocky chirps as we run after him, who is now anxiously giggling. Loud thumps echo through the ship as we make it to the lab. 

Me and Rocky have him cornered. Grace turns as his back presses against the wall, hands held up and open defensively. His face is warped between a worried and playful expression.

“W-wait! Guys—!” I close the distance and he lets out a squeak as I hoist him over my shoulder. He's surprisingly light, which only makes me think back to how breakable he is compared to me and Rocky. He squirms and kicks at me, already pleading frantically. God, he's so dramatic.

"I've captured the captain, Rock.” I smile as his squirming picks up more. I feel as he pulls at my shirt, clawing at my back.

“Good, good, good.” 

I bring him over to Rocky and gently place him on the floor. Rocky immediately grabs his arms and pulls them over his head as I settle on his waist. Grace looks scared, more than I thought he would.

“C-comon guys! Two on one isn't fair! A-and I’m not as strong—your gonna hurt—“

“Grace too fragile for wrestling, statement." Rocky trills out snickers and I watch Grace's face turn a little red. It hurts a little to think he would believe we would actually do something to hurt him.

“Hey!” he squeaks out. “I’m not ‘fragile’!”

“Grace space blob.”

“ROCKY.” The hue of his cheeks seems to deepen. 

"It's true," I agree, nodding my head. “Very blob-like. You barely have a structure…" I punctuate my sentence with a soft squeeze to the pudge on his stomach, making him squeak. “I mean, one hit from me or Rocky and you'd explode."

“I-im not that weak, okay. You're gravely exaggerating my dexterity!” I see as he pulls at his arms. “You have mutant strength; that's not fair! You'd be a blob like me without it!” I huff out a laugh in response.

“Oh yeah?” His eyes flick to mine, and he nods his head nervously. I furrow my brows at him and watch a hint of smugness make its way to his face in the form of a tiny grin.

“One safe combat option remaining.” Rocky says as Grace tries to throw me off. I place my fingers in his outstretched hollow, and he goes still. Anxious eyes find mine as a wobbly smile comes to his face. He starts to desperately squirm and twist before I even start.

“Noho. Simon. Rohocky...” He tries to sound stern but fails miserably. His cheeks are red and his eyes are frantically looking around my face.

I flutter my fingers and a small squeak comes from him. He twists his face into his arm and bites his lip. 

"Oh, playing hard to get, Angel?” I scratch at the fabric harder and hear his laughter sputter from his mouth. He frantically shakes his head, his glasses askew on his face. “Common, laugh for us. This is what you wanted, right?” I smirk, seeing my teasing make his face blush even more. 

NOHOhoho! I-I nehever shahid—AH!!” I pull his sleeve up over his shoulder and run my nails over his bare skin. His body arches up as he pulls desperately. Rocky shifts himself closer, placing one of his claws in the other underarm, clawing softly.

“WAHAHIT! ROHohcky AHA—DOHOHON’T—!!” His hair becomes disheveled as he jerks back and forth.

“Grace wanted to play.” I see him get more flustered at Rocky's comment. I slide down to his highest rib and dig in. He squeals out a plea while his legs frantically kick behind me. I feel around the bone, pushing my fingertips in between the spaces and vibrating before slowly dragging my nails back up to his hallows.

“EEEAHAHAhaha!! Nohoho I-I dihiHIDN’T *SNRK*—!!!" Squeaky laughter comes from him. He kicks out, pushing his feet into the floor, pushing himself into Rocky more.

“Don’t lie, Grace. You're too obvious.” I let my fingers go still, and I see Rocky do the same. “You looked left out.” All those frowns he had on his face flash into my mind.

"N-no, I dihidn't," he breathes, catching his breath while looking away, a wobbly smile on his face. 

“You watched us wrestle for close to an hour.” I take my finger and slowly draw circles into the outstretched skin of his armpit, making his body shiver and jump. “Following us room to room to watch.” I grumble accusingly.

“NO! Nohoho—AH!” I see the blush across his cheeks leak down to his neck at being called out. 

“Rock, take over for me, will you?” I slowly drag my nails down over his ribs, feeling each bump of his bones, until I make it to his side. I give a few squeezes as I watch Rocky place another claw in his other underarm, replacing mine. Goosebumps race across his skin at the light touch and he squeaks.

“ROHOHCKY! DON’TDONOnon’t tahahake o-OVER—STOHOHOP—!!” His head falls back against Rocky's carapace as he cackles, squeezing his eyes shut. His laughter makes me feel warm and I can't look away. 

“Yes. Grace sad. Want to play with Rocky Simon. Cheer Grace up with play!” Rocky happily chirps out, speeding up his tickling. He shakes his head in response, wiggling underneath us.

“Ya know, you could have just asked. We would have involved you.” I make my way to his hip and squeeze into the bone, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers. I smile as I see the blush deepen the tips of his ears and his eyes go wide. “You moped around, pouting the whole time when you could have just asked.”

“NAHAHAT THERERE—EEHIHIAHAhaha *snrk* NO—!!” I rub circles into the bone, his hips bucking up. “SIHIMOHOHON—!!!”

I reach behind myself, squeezing down his thigh, each pinch earning me a squeal with more laughter. I finally make my way to his knee and I latch on. I squeeze rapidly at the joint, his legs frantically kicking. Small tears wet his lashes as we continue.

“Grace embarrass about play, question?” I slow my touches and so does Rocky. Grace's chest heaves up and down. I lean forward and grab his glasses that have all but fallen off at this point.

“Nohot embarrassed…and I…I dohon’t pout…” He huffs out and I raise a brow at him. So he's a liar now. 

"That's what you got from this conversation?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Also yes, you do.” I smirk, reaching down to run a finger along the edge of his lips. "You're literally pouting right now.” He frowns, his blush deepening. I didn't know ones face could get that shade.

I reach down and grab at his stomach. He jerks hard and squeals. I lighten my touch to lightly trace my nails against the skin there.

"Ahahahehe *snrk* wahait!" He sucks in his stomach, light giggles coming from him. Back and forth I sweep my fingers from side to side, slowly watching the skin twitch and Grace squirm. 

“So why not ask?” I still move my fingers but keep them pressed into his flesh. He bites his lip, giggles coming to a stop. 

He sits in silence for a moment, like he's carefully picking his words.

“I just…didn't want to intrude on your guys' relationship and stuff. It's nice that you guys have something separate from me.” He looks away, a sad look coming to his face. "It's a good thing." He tries to reassure us, but the way he looks away lets me know how he really feels. 

"It's not like I could participate anyway.”

I roll my eyes with an annoyed groan. God, he can be so weird with this stuff. It's not like we've known each other for close to a year now, stuck on the same ship together. He's known Rocky for even longer! I don't know why—I can't understand why he wouldn't just come and ask. He's the one who's always been open with his feelings. 

I look back over to him, frowning. He meets my gaze with a worried look. Worried about me being upset. 

"Rocky, let’m go," I sigh and Rocky does. I pat the floor next to me and he scuttles up, facing Grace beside me. Grace curls up a little but ultimately sits up to face us, though he looks like he'd rather be doing anything else.

I grab his hand in mine and squeeze. “You can't just not tell us stuff like this, especially if it makes you upset. We could have been more gentle. We could've—can check in on you more when we wrestle. Make sure you're okay, not hurt.” His eyes avoid us, and his hand is tense in mine.

“Y-you shouldnt have to do that, it's ok—”

“I get it.” I cut him off and his eyes flick to me. “I feel the need for close intimacy. I'm clingy. You know this, I know this, and Rocky definitely knows this.” Rocky lets out an amused trill and I smile. “But guess what? I had to ask you and Rocky to do that stuff. It made me sad that we didn't, so I asked like you taught me…and that's what we need you to do too.” 

“Understand, question?” Rocky reaches out and grabs his other hand while placing a claw on my leg. 

“Yes. Okay. I understand.” The tone he uses makes me think otherwise.

“Ryland, we're going to be on this ship for a long time together. You're good at this.” I try to give the best reassuring smile.

“At what?”

“Keeping us moving. Keeping me moving.” I mumble, looking away. “I don't know how to explain it." He waits patiently, eyes wide.

“I think…” I take my hand from his and rub the back of my neck, "...things are easier when you're around. Being yourself and happy.”

Silence.

"Grace heartbeat quick—”

“YES. Thank you, Rocky." He squeezes his eyes shut and looks away too, his ears red again. They do that a lot.

“Now,” I start shifting to stand. “I think we're going to give you a…five-second head start.” I smile as his eyes go wide.

𖥔 Guys I just love putting them in the most physically affectionate situations ever, literally the only reason Simon eats shit is so I could write Rocky taking care of him and them being cute and adroable 𖥔

[cacoonedmoonworm]

Heartbeat

Hello everyone!!! This is another pebbles fic (shocker I know) and I hope you all enjoy! I really like writing with the pebbles SO much there so adorable!

Slight spoilers for movie and book!

Summary: Grace is pebble-sitting by himself this time! The pebbles get worried they hurt Grace so he shows them what they actually did!

Switch!Grace / Switch!Pebbles

Word count: 2,495

“Ow! Don’t pull.” I yelp a bit as a claw tugs at my beard. I’m currently pebble-sitting, alone this time. I’ve finally proven I can be trusted alone with them, but I’m still nervous about being on my own.

I’m lying on the floor on top of blankets and pillows with three little babies surrounding my head. They're feeling around my facial hair, curiously following it around my face. Tiny claws comb through my beard with surprising care, occasionally snagging on a knot before immediately backing off again. I close my eyes and let myself relax into the attention. At this point, I completely accept that being treated like a very strange pet is just a part of my life now. I feel them graze my lips, moving upwards into my mustache. Excited hums emit from them.

I carefully open my jaw to speak again, “It’s hair, like on my head. It does have a bit of a different texture though.” I feel two climb up onto my chest while one stays against my cheek on the pillow, following up towards my ear. The two follow it back down to my chin, scratching lightly. When Rocky told them I like to be petted, I swear that’s all they do now, not that I’m going to complain.

I feel a few claws travel down under my chin, close to my neck, and I freeze. My heart beat quickens, and I know the pebbles notice too. They quickly stop their movements, trilling out concerningly. 

“Ah-it’s okay! Juhust tickled a bit.” A smile creeps onto my face, and I peek my eyes open. “It’s okay.” They don’t make any more movements, actually pulling back a bit, settling on my sternum. I’m sure they can feel my heart better through my chest in that spot.

“Aw, guys, it's okay, really! You didn’t do anything wrong.” The pebble by my cheek pulls back too. I open my eyes completely, moving my head up a bit. I shift to sit up, cupping my hands around the two babies on my chest so they don’t fall. I lower them into my lap and help the other pebble, who’s on the floor frantically trying to join them.

They sit unusually still in my lap. Normally they're constantly moving. Twitching. Clicking. Climbing over each other. Now all three are quiet. Oh no. They probably think they hurt me. I’m sure hearing another alien's heartbeat skyrocket out of nowhere is a little scary for them.

“Here. Look, I’ll show you what you did.” I scoop up a tiny pebble. They’re a deep blue color with specks of gold and have lines and swirls across their body. It settles in my palm as I reach a finger towards it. It grabs on lightly and squeezes.

I push my finger underneath their arms and scratch ever so lightly. Rocky is quite ticklish here, so I’m hoping it’s the same for them. The pebble makes a high-pitched squeak and frantically starts squirming. Adorable chirps and trills erupt from them as the other two in my lap start pulling on my shirt. I lower my hands to their level, letting them get a better look.

“I know you guys have a version of tickling too, though it’s different from what I’m doing right now. You guys use sound waves and vibrations, right?” I flip the pebble in my palm, its little legs scrambling in the air. I press into its underside, making its legs shoot out straight; I can’t help but laugh at the little action.

"Well, humans use touch. It works for you guys because I can still make vibrations with touch that travel to your fleshy insides. Human skin is ticklish, so that’s why when you guys touched me, it tickled. Humans are just ticklish on their necks, where you guys ended up touching. See? No harm done!” I clarify to them.

I tap on its tiny body, showing what I just explained as the little baby erupts into high-pitched trills, pushing at my finger. From what I can tell, tapping and drumming seem to work best with Rocky; they are more intense than the ticklish vibrations produced by normal scratching and touching.

The other two look on curiously while the third one flails and cackles. Its arms slowly seem to stop fighting, and I take that as my cue to slow to a stop. God, they're adorable!

I glance down and ask, “How are you holding up? You okay?” On closer inspection, I see little wisps of steam coming from their vents, making me chuckle a bit. I carefully plop it back into my lap, and the other two scuttle up around it.

I see one brown pebble with red markings poke at the blue one, making it jump with a squeak. I hear a tiny hiss as more steam comes from it.

“Hey, hey, let them be for a moment!” I reprimand the one who is poking the other as I scoop them up. It goes still in my grasp as I begin poking at its brown carapace. It, too, squeaks and squirms, pushing at my finger.

“Yeah, let’s see how you like it when someone pokes at you.” I giggle, pretending to use a stern voice. I poke gently along as it squeals, curling into itself. Well, that won't do.

I use the thumb of the hand I’m holding it with to push an arm out of the way and hold it trapped against its body. I’m going to try something that gets to Rocky all the time. I flex two fingers together and, every so lightly, flick at the open space between its arms. It all but screams, sounding between a flute and an oboe, its arms scrambling to the spot. Seems to work on all Eridians, not just Rocky. That’s good to know.

I stop and let it fold in on itself again. Tiny giggles continue spilling from it as it curls up in my palm. 

“There you go,” I murmur. I run a finger along the top of its carapace, nice and gentle. The same way Rocky likes. The frantic squeaks slowly shift into a soft hum. Its little claws unclench one by one until it practically melts against my hand. Cute. I place it with the other two, and I see the third go rigid. 

“I won’t tickle you.” I say with a snort as I push my glasses up my nose, and it visibly relaxes. Unfortunately for the little milky white quartz pebble, the other two didn’t seem to find it all that fair that they were the only ones tickled, and I watch the start of a tickle fight in my lap. Squeaky trills erupt from the third as the other two surround them, using what I just showed to tickle the other. I can’t tell if they are also using sound to tickle them on top of the physical touch, so I ask.

“Are you guys also using sound? It’s kinda mean to do both.” I hunch over them a bit to get a better look. They stop their tapping, and the other baby stops moving. Oh, so they're not using both. But I’m assuming, as a demonstration to me, I hear a chord start. I look around and see the quartz pebble and the blue one start to squirm and laugh as the brown baby stands triumphantly between the two. The chord gets louder, pulling squeals from the other pebbles.

I laugh, “Okay, I see. Now give them a break! They look like they're about to combust!” I point out the steam emitting from the other two. I hear the sound slow to a stop, and they cuddle together in my lap. I lean back on my hands, stretching my spine.

A noise catches my attention, and I look back down. The little Eridians are making grabbing motions, so I give them my hand.

“What?” Confusion laces my voice. They all grab at my hand, pulling my fingers out. They start tapping like I did to them, and I snicker.

“No, it won’t really work there. And tapping isn’t all that effective against humans.” They sound disappointed and start letting go of my hand. 

“Wait…” I bite my lip. I’m not sure it’s the smartest idea to teach them how to tickle me, but…their sad little chirps get to me. I’m too much of a softy to disappoint them.

“Um. Okay.” I push my legs out straight and scoot back against the nearby couch. I pull them up closer to my hips, and I feel my cheek get warm as I pull my shirt up to my neck. 

“Try here.” The words leave my mouth before I can reconsider them, or rather the consequences that will come from them. They shift their carapaces towards my stomach. “Uh.” I gesture towards my stomach anyway. “For humans, scratching, squeezing, and tracing, I would say, works best….” Listing off everything they would need to know.

I squeeze my eyes shut in anticipation, but I don’t feel anything. Peaking out, I see they seem to be hesitating, arms reaching out but not touching. Oh right. My heart beat.

Anticipatory giggles worm their way into my words, “L-look. Humans' hearts beat fahast at all kinds of stimuli. It dohoesn’t always mean bahad. It could be that I’m really hahappy, or really embarrassed. Or, like right now, I’m excited and nervous—b-but nervous in a good way!” I correct, biting back a smile. “It’s just, tickling gets to me particularly hard.” I glance away, a little flustered.

I feel them shift a bit, and I look back down. I watch as the three carefully press little claws into my stomach, making me flinch a bit and giggle. “Hehaha gohohood! Lihihke thahat.” This seems to encourage them, and they push in more, experimentally squeezing at the muscle and skin. I shoot up, trying my best to keep my squirming under control. I tightly grip the collar of my shirt as I hold it up while shifting my other hand, trying to keep it busy and not grab at the pebbles. 

I hear excited trills and squeaks come from them as they tickle me to pieces. “Seehehe nohoHOT *SNRK* SCAHahary!” I feel myself start to slide down the couch slowly and try to plant my feet into the floor. The pebbles add more arms and explore other spots. They pinch and tweak at my sides, making me jump and fidget. I force my free hand down to my side but up enough that the pebbles still have access to the sensitive skin. One latches onto my hip, making me squeal.

“EEEAHAHaha—thahahat tihiHICKLES! NohoHO!” I start to twist about, not being able to sit still anymore. Another pair of claws grabs at my other hip, and both my hands shoot to my face, covering my blushing face and smile. My shirt ends up rolling down, but it does little to deter them. They just push it up and keep pressing in. They vibrate with excitement, hearing my loud laugh as a sign of encouragement.

One pebble presses into my belly button, and I all but scream while my hands shoot down to cover myself. 

“WAHAHAIT—NOHOT THEHERE!” They shift back out of the way of my hand. I cover the sensitive spot while curling into myself. They all freeze immediately. The excited clicking stops, and their tiny bodies huddle together. I swear they somehow manage to look guilty. Great, I scared them again.

“Uhuhm—I-it’s okahahy! Juhust sehensitihive.” I force my arms up again, deciding to grip at the couch behind me. “I-I wahasnt reheheady for it. You guys can keep gohoing.” I sheepishly say. “...If you guys want and are still curious.”

I didn’t need to tell them twice. They immediately return to my tummy, scratching at the sensitive spot again. I guess because it gave the best reaction, they want to experiment more. I squeeze my eyes shut hard, kicking my feet behind them.

“EEHAHAHA—G-GAHA—GOHOHO TOHO A-ANOTHER SPOHohot PLEHEHEASE! GUHUYS!” I shriek, holding on to the couch for dear life. They suddenly stop tickling again, and I'm thankful, of course, but I thought they would keep going. I open my eyes to see them shift around and angle towards the door. 

Still giggling, I ask, “Whahats wrohong?” I glance at the door. I don’t see or hear anything for a brief moment until a sudden knock rings through the house. Before I can even say anything, the door is being opened, and Rocky and Adrian are walking in. Excited trills erupt around me as all three immediately turn their attention towards the Eridians.

“What Grace doing, question?” They both stop in their tracks and "stare." I feel a blush climb up my neck.

“Uh… j-just teaching the pebbles about human anatomy.” Rocky taps one of his limbs in annoyance.

“…Grace lying. What Grace doing question?” He asks again. Before I can argue that, actually, I kinda was technically teaching, the babies take the opportunity to show what they learned.

“GAH—wahahait! Lihihittle o-ones!” They dig in while I start squirming again. My arms fly to my face to shield me from Rocky and Adrian.

“Oh. Grace teach tickling, question?” Adrian trills out with a giggle. They both scuttle up next to us and settle on either side of me. The babies excitedly click and squeak out to the older Eridians.

“What else pebbles learn, question?” Rocky asks with a playful tone. 

“D-dohont—“ I plea before they once again scratch at my belly button, making me screech. I feel Rocky grab onto an arm threatening to grab at the pebbles, holding it down and out of the way.

“NAHAHOHO AHAHEHE—STOHohoHOP I-IT! DOHONT ENCOHOURAGE THEHEM!” My free hand lightly pushes and swats at their little claws. Adrian and Rocky let out squeaky laughs, making me blush more.

“Don’t encourage, question? Grace the one who teach pebbles tickle. Not Rocky’s fault.” Well. He does kinda have a point, I guess. 

“OKAHAY *SNRK* OKAHAY, NOhohoHO MOHOHOREHE—!” I curl up the best I can as their arms come to a stop. Rocky lets my arm go and grabs the pebbles from my lap. I take the opportunity to slide all the way down to the floor and roll onto my side. Adrian wraps an arm around me and pulls me close so my back is leaning against them, and I close my eyes in content. 

“Pebbles have fun, question?” Rocky asks as I peek through half-lidded eyes, smiling when they erupt in joyful trills. I feel Adrian start to rub at my back, and I sigh.

"Grace have fun, question?” Adrian asks quietly as Rocky plays and talks with the pebbles. 

“Yes.” I smile and look up at Adrian. “They were good. They're very cute, full of energy.” Adrian takes another claw and pushes my hair up out of my eyes. Their claws carefully comb through the messy strands as I feel myself sink further into them.

“Adrian glad.” they say softly. I hear a squeak, and both Adrian and I shift toward the others.

I see the pebbles tapping at Rocky’s carapace as Rocky folds in on himself with squeaky cackles. Oh yeah… I guess I kinda showed them how to tickle Adrian and Rocky too. Oops...

[cacoonedmoonworm]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE CAN YOU MAKE A FIC ABOUT SIMON GILLS OR SOMETHING?? (Like the art you just made and I just love that I’d love to see a fic about it)

Itchy Gills

𖥔 YES YES OF COURSE! Thank you for reaching out <3 I didn't know if you specifically meant with like the q-tips in the drawing so I added them in anyway! This was super fun to write but i struggle with Simon hard ngl! Ive read so many fics and hics about to characterize him i found it so hard to commit to one I think lol! Also this fic got away from me, sorry its on the longer side and i feel like it may be a bit word-y? But i hope you still enjoy it! 𖥔

𖥔 Slight spoilers for both movies and book! 𖥔

Summary: This ask was based off of this little doodle/character sheet I did of Simon! Simon is having gill problems and Grace offers to help!

Lee!Simon/ Ler!Grace/ Rocky is just there fr

Word count: 4,315

“Are you like, okay?” I ask Simon. For the last eight minutes, yes, I kept track; he’s been scratching at his middle. At first I didn't even notice; we were sitting watching some random movie, and then I heard his fidgeting. And then he would stop, then scratch again. 

We haven’t known each other long. Only a few months have passed since we scooped his soggy, blood-covered butt out of space, and we’re still getting used to each other's constant company.

“Oh—uh yes. Sorry.” I watch as his hand drops to his lap as he refocuses on the screen of the little laptop. Only moments later I see him try and rub at his side again. I can tell he’s trying to be silent after alerting me to his itching.

“Okay. What's wrong?” I sigh with a grin. He looks up at me again but continues his scratching.

“Nothin’. Just itchy.” His eyebrows furrow together as he moves his hand to the other side of his torso and starts scratching more.

“Very itchy, statement.” Rocky adds from across the ship. “Annoying.” Simon rolls his eyes with a huff.

“Yeah…you’ve been doing that for minutes on end. Clearly it’s not ‘nothin’.” I turn my body to him, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s my gills. They just itch. I don’t know," he mumbles as he pulls his hand away but then starts moving his elbow back and forth against his side. I stifle a laugh at the shimmying motion he makes, and he flicks his eyes to glare at me.

“Sorry, sorry!” I hold my hands up in defense. A frown makes its way to his face as he goes back to using his nails. 

“It just won’t stop.” He grimaces while shifting uncomfortably, rubbing his back against the pillows under him. Although he’s never let me touch his gills, I do know they wrap around his back.

“Doooo you want me to take a look~?” I know my voice comes out eager, too eager, and he frowns in my direction again. Sue me, the man’s got gills. What scientist wouldn’t want to have a little look? 

I’ve asked before and have gotten hard “no”s in response, but I haven’t given up yet! I can help but be curious about how he ended up like this.

“Is good idea. Help Simon make less itch noise.” Rocky’s voice has a hint of annoyance to it as Simon just huffs again. They both have become almost like bickering siblings over time. Although a little bumpy at the start, Simon and Rocky's dynamic has become very entertaining.

A giant smile grows on my face as I do my best at giving another grown man puppy eyes. He frowns more, staring, but keeps shifting side to side against the pillows. Shame be damned, I even clasp my hands together like I’m praying and bat my eyelashes at him. 

“God, fine. Stop. This is sad to watch.” He relents, grumbling with a sigh.

“Yesss!” I quickly get up and reach a hand out to Simon to pull him up and towards the lab. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦

I, of course, put on gloves and sterilize everything. I have a little cart full of supplies I may need placed right next to me; I can’t be too prepared. I’ve been waiting to get a proper look at Simon’s mutations the moment he got on this ship, and it’s finally happening! The man won’t let me touch him in general, so this moment is great progress!

I glance up at him, and although he doesn’t express much emotion in his face, I can tell he’s nervous. His shoulders are tight and turned inwards, which makes him look small while the end of his tail flicks nervously.

We’ve stationed ourselves on the table under Armondo, and Simon is perched on the edge, absentmindedly kicking his feet.

“Relax. I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do before I do it.” I try to give a reassuring smile, but my excitement overshadows it. I reach for the hem of his shirt, and he lifts his arm up and out.

"Okay," he breathes out. “I just don’t like people dissecting me.” Well, most people wouldn’t.

“I’m not gonna dissect you, I promise.” I reassure myself as I pull up the tee and gasp immediately.

“Ew.”

“Ew?” He repeats from behind his shirt.

“Ew but fascinating," I smile.

“Gee, thanks, Grace. That's really helping with my body image.” An amused chuckle leaves my lips at his comment.

Long strands of something that looks like mucus stick to his shirt, connecting to his gills. 

“What’s wrong?” His voice wavers a bit as he shifts on the table.

“Your…slimy?” 

“Slimy?” 

“Like sticky, I guess.” I pull his shirt the rest of the way over his head, careful not to get any more of the foreign substance on the rest of his body.

He looks down at himself and makes a face at the goo. 

“What is that shit?” He wastes no time reaching down to his opposite side and presses a finger into it and pulls away. It looks thick and coagulated and has a slight green hue to it. “Nasty.” 

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling your itching and rubbing probably made it come out.” I grasp his wrist and pull the mucus-covered finger closer to me. 

He suddenly shoots his finger in my face, and I jump back. “Ew dohon’t you dare!” I lean away from his finger as a smirk makes its way to his features.

“What? Just helping the scientist get a better view is all.” Evil snickers leave him as I bat his hand away. It's nice to see him be a bit playful.

“I don’t need your help, thank you.” I hold a hand out, and he gently places it into mine. I grab a towel to wipe off the gunk for him as he hums a thank you.

“Okay, I'm gonna touch them, alright?” Simon nods. The motion is small, almost reluctant. I move my hands towards his side and immediately notice how tense he is. Every muscle is tensed, like he's bracing for something painful.

"Hey," his eyes flick to mine. “You can tell me to stop.”

He stares at me for a second and then nods again. I don't think he fully believes me and that realization hurts more than I expect.

My fingers hover near the nearest gill. Up close, they're stranger than I expect. So thin. Delicate. Way more delicate than the rest of Simon. Just as I'm about to touch, they close. I pull my fingertips back, and they open again. Once again, I try to reach in, but it closes before I get the chance.

“Uh, Si? Could you stop doing that?” I pull back as they open again.

“I-I can’t help it.” He squirms. “It’s just happening.” 

I hum in thought for a moment. “Okay…try to cover your eyes.” 

“What?” He looks at me confused, and I can tell he’s getting anxious again. I know this is a big ask for him; he’s quite vulnerable right now, and asking, ‘Hey, could you also make it so you can’t see me, either?’ is going to be hard for him.

“Simon, you can trust me. I’ll stop when you say so, okay?” His eyes squint at me, like he can't quite tell if I'm lying.

“Okay.” And he hesitantly reaches his hand up to cover his eyes. I glance down and see his body has instinctively closed his gills once more. He’s clearly bracing himself for whatever I’m about to do, but I stay quiet and still. Slowly I see them flutter open again as he relaxes and I reach down to hook a finger underneath the lowest gill on the side without an arm, pulling it open slightly.

I flinch as an honest-to-god screech rips itself from Simon's mouth, but I keep my finger latched on. I hold as still as possible, slowly glancing up to Simon’s face. He looks just as shocked as I am but with a smile plastered across his face.

"Uhhh, Simo—“

“Second human okay, question?” I hear Rocky frantically ask while scuttling down the hull. See, Rocky does care as much as he says he doesn’t.

Before I can ask or respond, soft, quiet giggles start spilling from Simon’s lips. His hand is firmly latched on my own but not moving or pushing, just holding it still. His other gills tighten, and I feel the pressure as the one I’m touching tries to do the same.

Rocky has made it to us and has climbed next to Simon, on the side I’m currently touching. He clicks and taps his leg.

“Simon ticklish, question?” 

Oh. Ohhhh.

My finger twitches, and he lets out a squeak with more laughter. I realize this is the first time I've seen a smile this big on him. It completely changes his face. Usually Simon looks worn out. Guarded. It's like he's waiting constantly for something bad to happen. Now he's laughing so hard he can't hide it. The sight sends a weird flutter through my stomach. I decide that's probably just relief.

“GRAHACE! I-I dohon’t knohow AH—WHAHAhat tohoho dohoho!” He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head rapidly.

“Um, just try and hold still so I can at least get a look inside.” A bewildered smile grows on my face, and I grab a little flashlight and hold it up close to the opening.

“Oh gosh. Simon…” It looks extremely gunked up in there. 

“Very bad.” Rocky leans close, clicking more to get a better look. “Why leaking, question?”

“WHAHAhahats wrohohong?” His body starts to twist and pull itself away from me. 

I remove my finger, leaning away as my mind races.

“Do the gills on your neck itch too?” I question as Simon takes in deep breaths. I peel off the dirty gloves and start putting a new pair on.

“Yeah, buhut not as muhuch as these ones.” He gestures to his ribs and sighs. “Why?”

“It is, like, very very clogged and congested in there.” I say while trying to think of theories and remedies at the same time. “How long has the itching been going on?”

He looks away. “Twenty-three days.”

“...You counted?”

"Yes."

“Simon! Why didn’t you say anything!?” I point an accusing finger at him. I really thought he would have trusted something like this with me at the very least.

“It’s my first time with gills; I don’t know what’s considered normal!” He scoffs.

I guess he has a point.

“Do you feel sick, like a head cold or anything?” I reach up and feel his lymph nodes for any swelling. His pulse pitter-patters against my hands as I feel around his flesh, careful to avoid his gills on his neck. I notice how his eyes shut and he shifts his chin up more. 

“Not at all.” He looks back up at me with worry, eyes blinking. He sure doesn’t sound nasally or anything.

“Open your mouth for a sec.” He hesitates but does as he’s told. As much as I want to take a look around the mutated parts, I decided now’s probably not the best time. I hold his tongue gently out of the way with a finger while shining the flashlight at the back of his throat. 

“No redness or swelling, and I don’t see mucus running down the back of your throat either.” Crap, I was really hoping a simple cold would be the problem. At least it would have been an easy fix, but now I don’t know what to do.

“Disgust. That happen to humans, question?” Rocky settles himself next to Simon, a claw resting on his thigh, I'm assuming in comfort.

“Yeah. All that stuff is connected in human bodies, so it was very possible that could have been it…but I don’t think it is. You don’t look sick or sound sick.” I pull my fingers from his mouth with a sigh. I take a few steps back and start to pace in a circle.

I need to think about this from a different angle. Simon isn’t really a human anymore, biologically speaking. What would cause just his gills to get congested? No. He is human. I think that’s the issue.

I feel Simon staring. Not glancing but staring. I've learned the difference. Most people look but Simon studies you. It's like he's trying to solve a puzzle that nobody else can see. Solve you.

He starts to scratch at his sides again, getting the substance on his hand. I walk back over to him and stand still in thought for a moment.

“Stop that.” I swat at him, and he grumbles with a frown. 

“Hm. I have at least a theory and a possible solution.” I take his hand and wipe it off again, scrubbing under his nails.

“Let’s hear it. Not much else we can do.” He looks away and into his lap. 

“I think it’s because you're not actually using your gills.” His eyes quickly meet mine again. 

"Yes, I do? I breathe through them, too, along with my face holes.” I smile a bit.

“No, no. You're not using them as gills. Like in water or, for instance, a blood ocean.” He raises an eyebrow. “If you were in some sort of liquid, the constant filtering would keep your gills clean and free of debris. You don’t have the chance to do that, so it gets all goopy in them. Bodily mucus that normally would build up would wash away, keeping bacterial and fungal growth in check and such. On top of that, dead skin cells and environmental debris could also cause irritation, leading to infection.” I try my best to explain to them.

“But how come I haven’t had any difficulty breathing?” 

“Like you said, you’ve just been only breathing through your face holes instead.” I slip off a glove and press it to his forehead. Yeah, I think he’s warm. I grab a thermometer and hand it to him. 

“Under your tongue, please.” He complies, his eyes crossing as he stares down at the thermometer in his mouth.

He looks ridiculous. Kinda of cute, actually. 

…

Anyway—

“Good theory. Make sense.” I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face at Rocky’s praise, hoping it comes up my expression form my previous thoughts.

I hear a beep and pull it from his mouth. Yep. He’s got a fever. 

“Well… I think it confirms at least some of my theory. You got a fever. I have a feeling your gills are infected.” 

“Bad bad bad.” Rocky anxiously taps his claw against the table, noticeably shifting closer into Simon's side.

“What can we do?” Simon’s voice shakes slightly.

“Well, Armondo will give you the best antibiotics he has, and we’ll try to clean out as much as we can.” I walk over to grab some supplies from a nearby closet and then a cup of lukewarm water.

“How are we gonna do that?” He calls after me with a frown.

I walk back up and show him a container of Q-tips with a sympathetic look. 

He glares down at the supplies, then glances up at me. “I don’t—is there another way?” I see a smile start to fight his way into his lips as he hugs himself.

“I don’t think so, Si.” He scoots away from me. I really don’t want to do this either, even if I find it very scientifically interesting and endearing on his part. I was hoping that when I finally got a good look at his gills, it would be his choice, not something he had to do. 

“Look. I know you know you're very sensitive there. The only way I’ll be able to clean all 12 of your gills out is if you sit still, and we both know you won't," I firmly try to say while sounding soft. “Rocky, I'm going to need your help with this.” 

Simon’s head flings to Rocky. “Wahait, wait! Why don’t we juhust see if the antibiotics work?” He pleads, now shifting away from Rocky too.

“If we don’t clean it out, it will stay infected.” He looks giddy and desperate and nervous at the same time.

“Why can’t we—“ 

“Simon. “If the situation gets worse, I don’t know how or where it could spread through your body. You're a medical phenomenon, and there is only so much I can do with the knowledge we have.” I reach out and pull his head to my chest with a chuckle. “I can’t let you die on me because of an infection.” I can't fathom losing him now just after I found him. Maybe it sounds selfish, but after thinking I was never going to see and touch another human being ever for the rest of my life, I'm desperate to cling to him with everything. He says I saved him, but I really think he saved me too.

I smile despite myself when his fingers curl into my shirt. Such a small thing, barely a tug. But Simon almost never reaches for people first with affection. The fact that he's doing it now makes my chest feel strangely warm. I pretend not to notice the small action. He’d probably let go immediately if I pointed it out.

“I know.” He mumbles into me as I stroke a hand through his hair.

“How Rocky help, question?” Rocky stands up and stretches a little.

"You're going to have to hold him still. He’s gonna squirm a lot.” Simon huffs in response but doesn’t deny it. “Lay back on your side. We’re going to do the one on your left. You won’t be able to fight me as easily.” 

He’s gone silent but does as he’s told. Rocky stands over him, pressing his carapace into his torso below his gills, effectively pinning him. A claw grabs onto Simon's hand to hold it still while his other holds his shoulders. His back is pressed into me; he’s facing away from me.

My eyes wander to his back and tail. Fleshy spikes grow from his spine; they almost look like cartilage, but maybe firmer? And then there's his tail. I've never seen how it actually connects to his body until now. The spikes along his spine follow all the way down his tail until the end. 

His body really is amazing. 

Wait. Not like that.

…Scientifically.

…

Mostly scientifically.

I rip my eyes and now blushing face from his back and notice he’s started squirming already, and I see a grin pull at his features. His body trembles as I continue to prep my area. 

I grab a Q-tip, soak one end in the water, and get ready to start, but then I see Simon has closed his gills again. Right.

“Rocky, can you spare a hand to hold the flashlight? I’m going to need to hold his gills open.” Simon tensed up more at my words. I pass the light to Rocky before looking back at his gills.

“Yes. Right here, question?” 

“Yes, perfect!” But his gills have yet to open again. “I need you to calm down, Simon.” I giggle a little while looking over his side.

“I’m trying!” It comes out frustrated, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

But after a minute they don’t open. After 3 minutes they still haven't opened. We're unfortunately going to have to pry them open. I grab a pair of tweezers that are specifically rounded off at the end. I carefully slip it under the skin's fold, and Simon jerks hard with a squeak. I push it up, opening the flesh, and I’m once again looking at how horrible the buildup is. 

“Okay, I'm starting. Simon just…try your best?” I really don’t know what else to say.

I push the Q-tip in and start wiping across the filaments, careful to not press in hard or damage any tissue.

“EEEAHAHAA—WHAHAHAIT!!!” Simon screeches from below me. His legs are kicking out wildly already, shifting underneath Rocky.

“R-RYLAHAHAND—HA-NOHOhohooo *SNRK* EAHAHAHAHA—!!!“

I try to gather as much mucus as I can and scoop it all out at once. I pull out the rather large mass and place it aside, and what do you know? I can see white, pus-like substances mixed with the other goo. I knew it; he does have an infection. 

I grab another Q-tip as Simon is shrieking under me. I can actually see the pinkish red color of his insides now as I swipe across the flesh, gathering the last bits I can see. I think that should be good.

“FUHUHUCK RYLAhahand! EEK—WHAHAIT!!!”

 I pull back, and Simon heaves, going limp, and Rocky eases up a little. 

“Second Grace very loud. Very ticklish, statement.” Rocky comments and gets a groan from Simon in response.

“How was it?” His face is beat red, but I can feel a slight gust of air pushing through the gills I just cleaned. Thank goodness cleaning it out seems to be helping.

“Fucking terrible. What do you think?” he mumbles, and I watch as he shoves his face further into the table. 

"Okay—well, I'm going to start on the next one, okay?” I try and soothe as much as I can as I press into his side again.

“SHIHIHIT! I-IT TIHIhihickles—*snrk* nohohoHOHO—!” His tail started to thump against the table as Rocky scrambled to hold it down and out of the way. I pull away as the claw holding the light falters a little as Rocky struggles to keep Simon down without hurting him. I feel him twist as he rolls onto his back.

“No. Simon stop twisting over.” Rocky scolds while rolling him easily back over and pinning him on his side. 

“Actually, could you roll him on his stomach? I need to get to the parts that wrap around his back.” He trills out an acknowledgment while he starts wrestling with Simon again.

“NOHOHoho nohohot thehere—oof!” Rocky not-so-gently flips him over and sits on his lower back, and I feel air being forced through his gills as Rocky knocks the wind out of him. His tail wiggles wildly toward the end, where Rocky can't reach as his legs desperately kick out. I pull Rocky's claw back over to reposition the flashlight. 

"I'm sorry, bud.” I scrape some more at the filaments and pull the rest of the grunk out, careful to hold the skin open gently. 

I see and feel his body shiver beneath my hand. Goosebumps race across his skin, the reaction immediate. He lets out a squeal and arches his back as I hit a particular sensitive spot. His muscle jump as his tail gives another loud thump against the table.

“EEAHAHAHA AH—OKAYOKAY I-I NEEHEhehed AHA BREHaheak hahahe…hehe…” I chuckle, pulling away. 

I decide to test my luck and gently run a hand over his back. The tension doesn't disappear immediately. At first he lies there breathing hard and I finally feel his shoulders drop a little. His tail stops thrashing about and the muscles under my hand loosen one by one. Like he's realizing that I'm not actively torturing him anymore. Simon lets out a sigh, sinking back into the touch. I avoid the spines running down his back but lightly draw my nails over the skin on either side. 

After a moment I ask, "Ready for round two?”

"No," but he nods yes, relinquishing his hand to Rocky again and bracing himself.

I start the process all over again with the others.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦

I finish wiping clean his skin, feeling the ridges of his gills along his middle. He's still squirming and giggling slightly, but I can tell he's drained. Rocky climbs off of him and pulls him upward into my arms.

I wrap my arms around him before he can decide otherwise. Simon practically melts. Just enough for me to feel the tension slowly draining out of him. His forehead bumps against my shoulder. For a moment he simply sits there breathing. Safe and exhausted. I run a hand through his hair. Then again and again. Each pass seems to pull another ounce of tension out of him. I see Rocky do the same and rub soft circles into his shoulders, letting out soft hums.

"I'm sorry, Si.” I chuckle but only get a weary sigh in response. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…I'll live…I think.” I feel him snake his arms around my middle, pulling me closer, and I can't help the blush that dusts the tips of my ears. Simon's hair is sticking up everywhere, curls messy and tangled. It would have been funny if it weren't weirdly adorable. 

“Y-you know we still have to do the ones on your neck, right?” He pulls away just enough for him to stare into my face. His eyes are glassy with tears and he's got this shocked and pitiful expression. I guess he forgot he had the other gills. 

“Okay. Let's do those ones tomorrow. How's that sound?” His body relaxes back into me with another sigh. “But you can't back out; they need to be done, Simon." I get just nods in response. I card a hand through his thick hair, hoping it soothes his nerves.

"We're also probably going to have to do this regularly. Like a monthly cleaning type of thing.” He tenses up again. "It's just going to get infected again, but hopefully, if we keep up with it, cleaning regularly should be quicker and easier on you than a ‘deep clean’ like today or tomorrow."  

“Okay.”

“And you have got to tell me if you start itching or hurting at all in the future! I don't want a scare like this again.” He squeezes my middle more and I notice his tail sway softly from side to side.

“I promise, Angel."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦

𖥔 Sorry its on the longer side, hope you liked it and it's what you were talking about!𖥔

[plumaluneee]

“Grace rest past measly human wake-up time.”

“Five more mihinutes!”

“Said 3 human hours ago. Is time go. Up up up”

Bit of a lazier sketch but ughhh tired tickly giggly Grace my beloved (and Rocky being a menace)

[blitzzeri]

silly little playfight part 2 commission :p gigglesss i love grace belly 😋😋😋

[cocoa-critter]

Bakin’ Biscuits

Two in one weekend guys get hype.

Another long-ish one, first person,yada yada, no warnings.

Might write some angst soon tgo… so enjoy the happy vibes for nowsies

Lee!Grace Ler!Roccky

Rocky is allowed on the bed to supervise Grace while he sleeps, which is closer than he’s ever been. With the new proximity comes a new Eridian habit that Grace hasn’t yet encountered.

2K Words

—

“Rocky!” I shout through the house, standing still for a moment, listening for clunky scuttling, or a chirp of acknowledgement. Nothing.

I groan, cupping my hands around my mouth, calling again. “Hey! Rock, where are you?!” The house in the biodome isn’t all that large, and Rocky supposedly has darn near supersonic hearing. So either he’s asleep, or he’s ignoring me.

I yawn, sleep and fatigue pulling heavily on my eyes. I had spent the entire day finalizing my curriculum for my Eridian students’ next unit on ‘The Foundations of Earth Chemistry”, and I was absolutely exhausted.

Building curriculum is already hard enough without he curveball of teaching the material to creatures who don’t even know what or where Earth is. But my students are eager learners, so I don’t mind the hurdles. They give me purpose, I give them effort.

Point is, I’d had a long day, and I needed sleep. But God forbid I fall asleep without my Eridian watchdog… I’d get an earful about it the minute I wake up. “Rocky! Come on, bud, where are- oof-!”

I stumble into the small living room, nearly losing my balance as I trip over a very familiar road block.

“Rocky! Jeez- what’re you doing in the middle of the floor-? Didn’t you hear me calling you?” I ask, plopping down on the edge of the couch.

“Yes. Ignore you.”

Oh good, so he just tunes me out. Awesome.

“Why? What if it were urgent?” I throw my hands up in exasperation.

“Not urgent. You would talk faster if urgent”

Well he’s got me there. I do become pretty frantic under pressure, which he’d know better than most.

As I look down at Rocky, I see that he’s got his laptop open.

“Whatcha readin’ there?”

I crane my me k down to see that he’s clicking through what looks to be a PDF document about… clouds-? Weather, maybe?

“Rocky do research on clouds and atmosphere on earth.”

I tilt my head. “why? Sudden interest in meteorology?” I chuckle

“Study clouds and atmosphere in order to improve biodome. More weather, even rain.” He turns around to face me.

I pause for a moment, confusion softening into appreciation. “You- want to improve the biodome by adding weather? That’s- that’s really sweet, Rocky, but that seems like a lot of extra trouble-“

“Give Grace weather to make Grace feel more at home.” Rocky shimmied in place, chirping proudly. I smiled softly, tears burning the corners of my eyes.

“Well thank you, Rocky, I really appreciate that.” I say, my voice much shakier than I expected. I reached a hand out, patting the top of his xenonite suit.

The Eridian have already been beyond accommodating for me since I arrived. The biodome alone is plenty, let alone having the privilege of teaching the little ones, or Pebbles, as I’ve come to call them. But now Rocky wants to go the extra mile and make sure everything is as true to home as possible? Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, but I’ve never felt more appreciated in my life.

“Leaky. Why leaky, question?” Rocky asked, taking a step closer.

“Oh nothing, nothing. Just emotional. And exhausted. Humans tend to be a little more sensitive when we’re tired.”

“Then sleep.”

“I was planning on it! But you wouldn’t respond to me when I was calling you to come supervise!”

I threw my arms up as I spoke, using the opportunity to wipe my eyes.

“Apology. Apology. Go sleep now?”

“Yes. Let’s. I feel like I’m gonna pass out. We can chat all about earth meteorology tomorrow after class.” I say, hoisting myself up off the couch with a groan.

———

I folded my glasses, setting them on the neighboring pillow, lying back in bed. The room was peaceful, quiet, and cool. The artificial moonlight streaming in through the tall, hexagonal windows felt no less real or comforting than the real deal. Finally, sleep was within reach.

“Grace, question?”

I really have to change the volume on that translator one of these days.

“Yes, Rocky.” I mutter, eyes still closed.

“Rocky cannot see Grace from floor.”

“Then get on your chair.”

“Grace move chair into office. Office locked.”

I sigh loudly. He’s right. I moved his usual observation chair into my office earlier as an extra surface to stack my papers on. Drat.

“Well I’m sorry, buddy. You’re just gonna have to be on the floor tonight. I’m too tired to go get your chair right now.”

“Sad sad.” Rocky said with a disappointed trill

I did feel terrible. And he looked a little pathetic sitting there on the floor by the bed… oh what the heck.

“Okay. Come on Rocky. You can sit on the bed.” I concede, patting the quilt beside me.

“Happy! Happy!” Rocky immediately sprang up, scuttling in place before climbing a bit clumsily onto the bed, parking himself right beside my chest.

“Hello Grace.”

“Hi, bud. Are you gonna be quiet and let me sleep now?” I ask.

“Yes yes. Sleep now.” Rocky says, extending two arms across my middle as he settled in himself like a giant, stone cat. Normally I’d complain about Rocky’s weight on my body, but his arms were only about as heavy as a weighted blanket, and the insulating xenonite dulled the searing heat of Rocky’s body temperature into a comfortable warmth.

I felt, for all the world, like a swaddled baby. Finding myself once again drifting into desolately needed sleep.

Until again, I stirred. Although this time, for a moment, I didn’t know why. I had a lopsided smile on my face, but couldn’t figure out why.

“Hmph-“

I huff out softly, as I look down at Rocky, still stationed where I last saw hi- okay what IS that?!

I shake off the sleep fog, and focus. I feel a gentle pressure concentrated on my stomach. Looking down, I find the culprits. Rocky’s claws were… kneading me… like a cat.

I was only joking when I said he was acting like a cat. Why is he ‘baking biscuits’ on me?!

From what I could tell, Rocky didn’t seem to know he was doing it either. He looked distant. Entranced, even. Maybe he was lost in thought? Who knows.

“M-hmhmph-“

Another involuntary huff crawled from my throat. I had to be honest… it really tickled. Not enough to make me want to move or push, just enough to keep a stupid smile on my face.

It had been years since I’d felt any kind of physical contact from anything living- human or otherwise- so I figured that for my brain, this was filling some primitive void.

I took a deep breath, settling back down.

“Why Grace laugh, question?”

“GAH-! Rocky! You’re awake?!”

“Yes. Rocky no sleep when grace sleep. I observe. Why laugh, question?” He stills his hands on the blanket over me.

“Nothing! No reason. I was thinking about… something funny. I say with a shrug. My face heats up. I tend to get red in the face rather easily. Especially when I know I’m lying.

“What funny, question?” Rocky asks. My mouth hangs open as my brain stalls like a flooded engine.

“Lie.”

“Wgat..?”

“Lie. Why you laugh, question?”

“Well let me ask YOU something-“ I deflect. “What is this you’re doing with your claws? Why are you doing this?” I demonstrate by pressing my fingertips into the blanket a few times like he’d been doing.

Rocky seems annoyed that I ignored his question, but he humored me, at least.

“Idle movement. Keeps Eridian from falling asleep while observing..”

“Huh. I guess that mahahakes sense. Keeping muscles stimulated. Fair enough.” I chuckle as he begins to knead again for demonstration. Though this time, it’s a little more forceful - maybe because he’s not zoned out anymore. My head falls back on the pillow as a sleep riddled laugh tumbled from my mouth

“Ohohokay! Ok, I get it-!”

“Why laugh?”

“It tickles!” I push fruitlessly at Ricky’s heavy arms.

He pauses. “If tickle, why Grace not move? Or tell Rocky stop?”

I give him a puzzled look

“Grace say humans not like tickle, but Hrace not move. Grace like tickle, question?!

I shoot upright. “WHAT?! No! Don’t be ridiculous- I just- thought you were sleeping too- or lost in thought so I didn’t want to disturb you!” I stumble over myself w couple times, but in the end all the words come out in the right order.

“Hmmm. Grace know Rocky not sleep when Grace sleep. Lie.”

I scratch my head. “…Alright look- it’s been a while since I’ve felt touch- connection with life. It was nice, I guess.” I mutter.

Rocky hums quietly in his xenonite suit, then falls silent. I fidget in the dark quiet of the room. It’s excruciating.

“We call it ‘baking biscuits’ back on earth. The whole… kneading thing.” I say. Rocky looks at me curiously. “It’s a cat thing. They do it to show affection, and signal that they feel secure. I used to have a cat named Copernicus that loveHAHaA-! WOAH- ROCKY!”

My body stiffened like a board as Rocky begins to press his claws into my midriff fervently. I curl in on myself, kicking beneath the cover.

“WhAHA-! What’re you doing-?! HahAha-“

“Rocky show Grace that Rocky feel safe and secure!” He says proudly

“I- hAHAA-! I’m so happy you feel thahat way, but you’re not a caHAHAT! Yohohou can just say that!”

“Mmm yes, but Grace need affection!” He cheers, turning the angle of his arms so that he could poke and knead more efficiently, mostly targeting my stomach, but sending the occasional hit to my ribs, chest, and even one risky shot to the collarbone.

I howl , sinking lower into the bed, the cover being discarded in the chaos. At some point, my tshirt had ridden up without my knowledge of it, to which Rocky so eloquently shouted, callling me a ‘squishy squishy gross human. I yanked down the hem of my shirt again, and again, batted at Rocky’s arms

“OKAY, eNOHOUGH-!” I cried. At this point I was just about at my limit - pushing and shoving at Rocky’s arms, and thrashing around like a fish.

“Rocky stop when Grace stop lying.”

“WHAHAT-? I HAVENT LIED!”

“Grace say Grace no like tickle. Lies.”

“YOU CANT BE SEHEHERIOUS-“ I cackle, both at the absurdity of the claim, at the constant poking of my stomach.

“Grace tell truth. I stop”

I weigh my options here. On one hand, it’s late, I’m still exhausted, and I really needed to get some sleep before class in the morning… but at the same time my pride is on the line here… some things are supposed to go with you to the grave - what, am I just supposed to give that up because an alien told me so?!

…

“FIHIHINE. FINE OKAY. OKAY YES. GRACE LIKE TICKLE. I’VE SAID IT. HA-HAHA! GET OFF!” I relent. Whatever future consequences letting that out brings me shall remain an issue for Future Ryland.

And as promised, Ricky stopped. Immediately. He sat back, trilling and chirping proudly. “Good, good! I stop now.”

My entire body goes limp. Every muscle I had been holding taught unraveled slowly until I was one with the bed - splayed out, panting - and I could only imagine the state of my hair.

“Grace breathing fast. Is okay, question?”

“Yes.” I huff out

A moment of silence passed with only the sound of breathing to count the seconds.

“Grace sleep now, question?”

“Yes… watch…” I nod slowly, closing my eyes exactly where I am.

I hear the melodic tones of Rocky’s voice, and the immense weight of him clumsily walking across the bed. I don’t open my eyes. I then hear a bit of fidgeting by the foot of the bed, followed by a rush of warmth over me.

Rocky had pulled the blanket up over me again, and returned to his post, this time keeping his claws to himself.

…

“You can… do what you were doing before. Now that I know what it is. I don’t d” I mutter after a long moment.

“Biscuits, question?”

I snort. “Yes, you can bake biscuits, bud. Go ahead.”

Rocky chirps, replacing his two front arms across my stomach, gently, slowly kneading, pulling himself back into a deep focus, and myself into a deep, smiley sleep.

“Gnight… Rocky…”

“Goodnight, Grace.”

[harringtonsslvt]

୨ৎ IF YOU CHOOSE TO RUN AWAY WITH ME (I WILL TICKLE YOU INTERNALLY)

⤷ tags: ryland grace x reader tickle fluff, 1.2k words ⤷ summary: the two times ryland notices that you like it, that you want more: the one time he confronts you. ⤷ prompt: Okok i have a grace request if you're up for it?? No worries if you don't feel like it but i'd love to see a fic where Ryland realises the reader enjoys being tickled? Like he's tickling them for something stupid but when he stops the reader accidentally makes a disappointed face and he notices and then he totally teases them into oblivion for it 🫠🫠 Love love love your work! 💕 ⤷ author's note: courtesy of my favorite line in mary on a cross

"so you agree then."

"what?" your voice comes out squeakier than intended.

"you want," ryland whispers tauntingly. "to be tickled by me."

the first time ryland notices, it's subtle.

you're reaching for something on the shelves. out of the corner of his eye, a silver of skin peeks out at him under your shirt. he can't help it: it's right there, all smooth and soft and ticklish.

you were basically begging for it.

that's what justifies the frankly, quite cruel action in ryland's head. he simply couldn't resist- the thought of your body squirming and bright laughter pouring out of you is more than enough to sway his judgement. his hands creep towards you and land a series of rapid squeezes over your bare sides.

"a-ahAHA," you burst into giggles, horrified to find that the element of surprise has made the sensation ten times worse. ryland picks up on it- of course he does. he makes a mental note to sneak up on you more often. his fingers follow you, tickling as you slowly go limp, curling up on the floor.

evidenced by his crinkling smile, ryland finds this ordeal immensely hilarious. he reaches up, easily grabbing the jumpsuit off the locker shelf and handing it to you.

you glare at him, pouting petulantly on the floor, refusing to accept his olive branch. ryland's eyebrow twitches upward. you want more? he seems to question. his hands form claws, opening and closing.

you blush and grab the jumpsuit from his hands, refusing to meet his eyes.

ryland doesn't miss the way you stare at his teasing hands for far too long, nor the ghost of a crestfallen face as you leave to change into your jumpsuit.

the second time ryland notices.

there is something about ryland's hands. they are mesmerizing in a way that makes you stare.

your eyes can't help but trace the outlines of his soft fingers as they shuffle with paperwork, the crevices folding and unfolding. his left hand runs across his blonde hair, carving a path of runes.

his fingers tap, tap, tap across the surface of the table as he ponders over something, and you squirm, almost imperceptible. your brain envisions unholy things- his digits running across your skin. scratching. scribbling. tickling.

what the hell.

ryland's head turns in your direction, ever so slightly. you panic, and occupy yourself with stacking random papers on your desk. out of your peripheral, you can sense the corner of ryland's lip twitch in amusement.

it doesn't help your case at all when your trembling hands knock pieces of paper away from your messy pile, floating and cascading across the room. one lands directly next to ryland. he quirks an eyebrow.

"fuck." you murmur under your breath as you scoot down to pick it up. ryland raises his other brow.

"language.” he emphasises with a quick, gentle scribble at the back of your neck and you fold with a yelp, clutching the floorboards as though you could melt through them if you tried hard enough.

you pick up your piece of paper. the white gleams at you. pointedly. the fluttering traces of ryland’s fingers linger on your neck, teasing but not quite there.

ryland's already turned back to his work: you gawk at him. then back at the piece of paper- a desperate manifestation of your need.

"please tickle me. more." the words are slipping off the tip of your tongue, but your embarrassment swallows them down, down, down your throat and into your stomach until nothing remains.

you miss the entertained spark present in ryland's eye in your tickle-less misery.

the third time, ryland doesn't notice. he confronts.

"you like it."

"hmm?" you can't recall what you're doing, but something in his tone makes you glance up, curious.

"the tickling."

it's abrupt, the splutter that explodes out of you. your insides churn. you open your mouth to protest. then close it. you're half-convinced you look like a gaping fish.

ryland's scrutinising you like he's watching a puppy chase her tail in circles. his eyes are all wide and doting, catching your every miniscule movement.

"that- that wasn't a question." you manage to say.

"that wasn't an answer."

a pause. one that you don't trust. if it were anyone else, you would've thought that they had already let it go. but ryland grace doesn't just let things go. he starts intrigued: then he pushes, and he shoves, until every single one of his hypotheses are proved.

and you've just become his newest experiment.

"noho, look at me."

your eyes flicker hesitantly to meet his lens-covered ones, and to his delight, your cheeks tint a rosy pink.

"so you agree then."

"what?" your voice comes out squeakier than intended.

"you want," ryland whispers tauntingly. "to be tickled by me."

a string of stutters and protests pour out of your mouth. that doesn't deter ryland in the slightest. the way he looks at you, all fond and teasing, is too much to bear.

"okay,” his voice is factual. serious. “i won't tickle you, then."

and you know him well enough- ryland will follow through. a whine of frustration builds up in your throat.

"ryland." you clear your throat. you attempt to bargain with your pleading gaze.

"yes?"

you sigh.

"please." the walls suddenly look very interesting to you.

"please what?" you can practically feel the mischief radiating off of him.

"...please tickle me."

it comes out as a garble of syllables, the dreaded word spreading heat across your face. but despite the incoherency, this just about satisfies ryland. in a split second, he’s already making his way towards you.

oh, fuck.

you scamper across the room, ryland and his smirk swiftly following.

"w-wahait!" your hands are held in front of you as a weak means of defence.

"wait for what?" ryland laughs at the absurdity.

you struggle to find a proper response. instead, you dance around the room, evading his every step. ryland's circling you like prey and you can't help it- an anticipatory giggle bubbles up your throat.

"noho, back off!"

"but if i back off," the cocky grin on ryland's face is contagious. "how will i tickle you?"

he reaches for you and a gasp erupts from your mouth.

"bad grace!" you must be picking up rocky's vocabulary.

"did you just scold me," ryland snorts. "like a dog? you are so dead."

you whimper when ryland lunges for you, managing to duck past his arm. but when he grabs a handful of your shirt and reels you into his chest, a pair of strong arms wrapping around your stomach, you realise that ryland is always right- you are so dead.

"hi," he whispers into your ear for dramatic effect, laughing at your whimper as you glance back at him.

ryland drums his fingers, gently against your waistline. your hands circle his wrists, tugging them away but they don't budge an inch. even now, you can't help but stare at his fingers. intoxicating. calculating. tickling.

ryland notices, flexing them intentionally.

"where should i tickle, baby?"

oh god.

"noho- nohowhehre," your voice breaks off into helpless giggles when he claws gently around your stomach.

"i thought you wanted this!" ryland has the audacity to pout at you.

"shuhut uhp!"

"did you just shush me? hmm?" he vibrates his hands into your ribcage and a squeal escapes from you. "that was pretty rude of you."

you try and fail to pry his wrists away from your torso. ryland conveniently decides to ignore the way you're slowly going limp in his arms, landing stray scribbles over your sides as he holds you upright.

"had enough?"

you look back, mirth-coated eyes meeting his.

"oh my god." ryland laughs, a loud, genuine sound. like this is the funniest fuckin' sight he's ever come across. "oh my god, you really like this."

you forget how to talk.

in your embarrassed state, you spin in his grasp to face him, before your own hands skitter up his sides and into the hollows of his armpits. the result is instantaneous- ryland folds, breaking into tiny, wheezy giggles. you can't help but laugh along with him.

he grabs your wrists in a panicked frenzy and now, you're panicking.

you're pretty sure they could've heard you back down on earth.

join my taglist! ♡ m.list @saf0531 @emiemi1919 @tradingtruthsforlies @urmomhouse956 @latenightswithsteve @megan-chadwick @natxcps @teheblue @psychdjo @fiendforwriting @bunnypr1nc3ssxo @eddie-steve1986 @harringtondarling @kindawantthis @dianasaurousrex @l33nlikeacholo

[blitzzeri]

touch starved

[a-simple-lee]

You're still under my skin

Project hail mary (tickle fic: Ler!Ryland Grace, Lee!Reader)

🌌 summary: Affection is really important to you. Over time, you've learned to initiate hugs, and pats on the shoulder. You never thought you'd be able to ask Ryland to tickle you - but desperate times call for desperate measures. 🪐 tags: ryland grace & reader, tickling, fluff, 2.4k words 💫 prompt: "i have this thought but i’m too scared to consider it further on my own - imagine actually working up the courage to go up to ryland and ask him to tickle you. he’d be insufferable and would never let you live it down" -@/Kitkatfingers 🛰️ author's note: Heyyy I have no idea whether this is shit or not but it took me 1.5 weeks and a lot of sitting with my head on the desk so I hope yall enjoy <33 🌌credits: (thank you to @//harringtonsslvt for the post layout inspo! Space dividers by @//strangergraphics)

It was back again.

The wanting.

You had been keeping it controlled so far - after all, there were more important matters at hand. But things had been slow lately on the hail mary, and Ryland had not been helping.

You'd been close, in the way two people condemned to spend the rest of their lives in a metal box would be. You hugged. You bumped shoulders. You slept side by side. And you had stupid playfights.

Your thoughts float back to your most recent scuffle; how Grace had grabbed you by the shoulders, messed up your hair - how you'd tossed half-hearted punches at his shoulder, and he'd acted all offended. How he'd adjusted his grip where you'd slid down. How his hand had accidentally landed under your arm, and it had...well, tickled. You'd yelped, flailed, practically jumping out of Grace's headlock. The reaction had only prompted him to scramble after you, and the wrestling match, as it occasionally did, devolved into a tickle fight.

There seemed to be a mutual understanding that neither of you minded these too much, given how often they happened - humans needed touch, and...it was nice to make each other smile. Even it was incredibly silly.

If Grace had a problem with it, he'd never said - and besides, he never pushed your hands away, despite being more than capable.

...He probably had an inkling you had no issues with it either.

There was a look you shared, sometimes, whenever you successfully provoked him into tickling you - although you didn't always need to provoke him. Sometimes, you'd just look at him pleadingly, and he'd know. And after, you'd wipe tears of laughter from your eyes, and he'd adjust his glasses, and it would be there on his face. A knowing.

It was why you felt comfortable asking without asking, when the wanting arrived - you’d hide Ryland’s things, act extra snarky, squeeze his knee under the table - and if he didn’t tickle you, he still usually gave you some similar form of playful affection. It nearly always worked. 

Nearly.

This time, though, was different. Despite your best efforts to drop hints all week, it appeared Grace was too engrossed in his work to pick up on any. You’d prodded his ribs, thrown in plenty of sarcastic jibes - and, though you were loathe to admit it, deliberately stretched for high shelves a few times within tickling distance. All that, and Dr. PhD still hadn’t gotten the message.

So…no, he wasn’t helping at all. 

You'd looked into the science of it, once. Hugs released plenty of endorphins. It stood to reason touch-starved individuals might feel drawn to affection that caused laughter, which would release an extra kick of dopamine. It wasn't unfathomable that some people enjoyed being tickled.

So you knew you wanted it. And you could take a reasonable guess at why.

Didn’t make it any less humiliating to think about, though.

And now, after hours trying and failing to shut it out, there's a stubborn, giddy flutter settled between your heart and stomach. Your brain runs circles around the recent lack of touch, helpfully providing you with visions of hugs, playfights, cuddles, tickles, tickles, tickles-

This is bad.

You tap your pen furiously against your notepad, berating yourself for getting distracted again. A simple dilution calculation sits unfinished, abandoned in favour of your oddly specific yearnings.

C₁V₁ = C₂V₂.

The formula stares at you. It's simple: just plug in the values, make the needed solution. You’ve done it a million times by now.

Across the room, Ryland drums his fingers on the bench, his glasses habitually crooked as he contemplates his own data. It's only in your peripheral, but it's enough to scatter any possibility of concentrating. Your eyes linger a nanosecond too long on his hand, and you absolutely, totally do not contemplate his fingers tapping one-by-one like that against your ribs, so it's fine. You're fine.

Fuck.

Perhaps something more visual will help. You nudge the chair back, and grab a sample for the confocal microscope.

It's a more complex setup than the little desktop ones. Takes an eternity to switch the thing on - a million buttons, and loading screens, and safety checks.

You pass the time gazing intently at the desk.

Finally, it's ready. Taking a seat, you slot the sample in, and your hand drifts to the coarse focus dial, the sample shifting up and down with each movement. You will your eyes to stay locked on the viewport.

Your elbows bump against the desk as you hunch over the eyepiece. It's not comfortable, but you're used to it at this point, and it leaves your torso rather open to - nope. stop it.

Too late. The thought of hands, squeezing suddenly at your sides, flashes through your mind. Kneading. Poking. Teasing. A person, no one in particular, crowding closer to trap you against the bench, laughing low near your ear, his glasses bumping your neck-

God.

The fine focus does not make things any clearer.

"I can hear you thinking." A voice nearby. You nearly fall out your chair. Grace is stood over his laptop, hands propped against the table, glasses slid down his nose. Just…watching, apparently.

You steady your breathing. “Uh- what?”

“You’re distracted.” He steps closer.

“No, I’m not.”

“So…you meant to do that?” He points to the sample, which you have elegantly smushed against the microscope lens during your adjustments. Great. You rest your brow against the eyepiece in defeat.

“How many cover slips are we gonna lose to you, hm?” Ryland mutters, guiding you off the chair with a hand on your shoulder. 

You nudge him. “Shut up.”

He nudges you back. “Hey, I’m looking out for our equipment, here.”

You reach over, adjusting his glasses for him. “You’re dragging me away from my work.”

He grins. “Work? What work?”

“Rude.” It’s too easy, really, to swipe your fingers over his neck – your hands are already there, and your brain has been screaming affection affection affection for hours now. 

Grace, of course, leaps back with a squeak, half a giggle escaping before he regains his composure, hand held to his neck.

Mischief flashes through his features, for a moment. But he doesn’t take the bait. 

“Alright, alright, sorry.” He folds his arms. “What’s going on?”

You huff. “Nothing, just…”

“Bored? Tired?” Ryland supplies. Your gaze drifts inexorably to his hands, which trace idle patterns over his own arms. 

You are not going to get any work done like this.

“Kinda.”

You stride over, placing your hands on his shoulders, expression dour.

He tilts his head, frowning slightly.

“What, you need a hug?” His arms open wide, and you take the offer, even if it’s not quite what you’re after. It helps.

You spend a moment gathering your thoughts, Ryland giving you a brief but tight squeeze. It gives you the confidence to draw back and face him again.

“All good now?”

Heat crawls up your neck. For the fifth time in as many days, you give him The Look - the one that usually says everything you need it to. 

He raises his eyebrows, uncertain.

“Okay, so…not all good, then?”

“Grace.” Your voice nearly cracks. Delirious, you wonder if he’s doing it on purpose - but…no, there’s not a glint of malice in his eyes.

“What, what do you need?” He’s completely oblivious.

 “I want-” The rest of the words won’t come out. You give him one last pleading stare, hoping he’ll know the look in your eyes this time.

“What, what is it?”

Shit. You’re going to have to spell it out for him. 

“Um- it’s been a while since- uh.” The next few seconds are filled with your various stutters. Grace sits through it all patiently.

Okay, deep breath. You place your hands together, and brute-force the words out.

“I, um. I want you to tickle me.”

Silence. 

He leans back against the counter, eyes narrowing in the way they do when he finds something interesting.

And then, slowly…he smiles.

“...So you can ask for it.” His voice carries that familiar teasing lilt.

“You-You knew?”

“You are not subtle.” Grace doesn’t give you time to process the betrayal - just lunges forwards, scooping you into a hug from behind like it's nothing. His hands latch onto your hips, squeezing rapidly, and he laughs at the way you instantly start sinking downwards. 

“That was so hard for you, wasn’t it?” He muses, spidering his fingers over your stomach, following you towards the floor. “You were thinking about it for days!” 

That fluttering, hopeful thing from earlier does somersaults inside your chest, revelling at the familiar electricity running through your veins. The giddiness and joy at being held this way, despite Grace’s teasing, puts a silly grin on your face. You put your head in your hands, legs flailing wildly as you reach the ground. But Ryland’s not having it - he grabs your wrists, and slots out from behind you, choosing instead to sit over your legs. He pins your hands over your head, leaning closer.

You refuse to meet his gaze - and in your defence, it would be hard to - Grace’s free hand walks two fingers along the inside of your bicep, moving steadily towards your underarm. It’s rather distracting.

“Grahace-”

You risk a glance at him.

Bad idea. That grin is evil.

“You really missed this, didn’t you?” His hand swirls a tiny circle over your tricep, and your giggling stops being anticipatory. You frantically shake your head. 

“Yea, you did.” He laughs, a sing-song tone to his voice. His fingers creep lower, slowly tracing around your navel. Your breath hitches in your chest, delicate laughter stuttering out.

“You missed being tickled.”

The heat rising to your cheeks is mortifying - you let out a noise somewhere between a giggle and a whine. 

“Aw. Sorry, am I embarrassing you?”

“Yes-!” His hand abruptly claws at your side, and you tip your head back, lost in laughter. “No! Nonono-”

“Yes? No? Which is it?” Grace laughs. It’s a wicked noise. Horrible, even. You vow to yourself that you’ll tickle that laugh out of him once you’re free.

“FUCK you-” 

“Tsk. That’s rude.” He stills his fingers, leaning in to look you in the eye. “I won’t tickle you then.”

…If the ship’s hull somehow breached, right now, and you fell through the laboratory floor into the frigid vacuum of space, you would spend your last moments grateful for the feeling of the cold against your raging blush. 

Grace is attentively watching your reaction - which consists mostly of hiding your face against your pinned arms, and giggling through residual laughter. There may have been a very embarrassing flustered groan, but you don’t dwell on it.

“...Well?” He hovers a clawed hand over your tummy. “You owe me an apology.”

“Sorry, sorry-” You manage to squeak out, eyes closed tight once you see what he’s doing.

“...And?”

“And what?”

“And, what would you like me to do?” Grace looks at you expectantly. 

Oh no.

He’s waiting for you to ask him again.

“Absolutely not.” You open your eyes. His hand is closer. 

“...I just think it would help to practice asking, is all.”

“Ryland.”

“Ryland, now, huh? Must be bad.” He wriggles his fingers in the air, just a bit. Just an inch away. You can’t help it - you laugh a little.

“Plehease!”

He considers this - observes the shade of red your ears have turned - and snorts.

“...Alright, fine, be dramatic.” 

His hand makes contact with your torso, sliding your shirt out the way as he spiders a pattern across your skin. Then, hand still poking along your side, he leans down, and blows a raspberry.

You forget most of the English language for a moment, back arching in a useless attempt to throw him off, your focus completely consumed by the playful, buzzy feeling under your skin. At one point, you make either a snort or a hiccup, you’re not sure, and Ryland laughs against your belly, which tickles even more. Once he runs out of air, he pulls back, and pays attention to your ribs, his fingers climbing up each one with horrible, ticklish accuracy.

“...Two…” he mutters. You furrow your eyebrows between giggles, confused by the lack of context.

“GRACE-!” You manage to shout, unable to form a sentence through the combination of laughter and utter mortification. Pulling at your arms does nothing.

“Shush, now, you’ll make me lose count.”

His hand shifts to the next rib, one finger positioned above and the other below as he digs lightly into the space between the bones, and keeps counting.

“Three-”

Ok, now you actively wish there was a hull breach. 

“Four-” He continues, picking up his pace slightly to observe how your legs kick out more in response. “Only twenty ribs to go, you’re doing great.”

“Screhew you-!” You’re careful to leave the profanities out this time.

Grace smiles. “On second thought, this is going too slow. Fivesixseven-” 

His hand crawls rapidly upwards, slightly trailing towards your spine as it does so. At long last, he lets your hands go, so he can have both of his back. The freedom doesn’t do you much good - you feel like a puddle. Your limbs can barely move from the laughter. You hold onto Grace’s wrists loosely - but don’t push them away.

“You gonna let me go?” By now, he’s got both hands jammed under your arms, barely moving. He doesn’t need to move them, really - you keep squirming and laughing yourself into an infinite feedback loop with them stuck there like that.

“Plehease-” You can’t think through the giggles.

“I’m not doing anything! I’m not moving!” Grace is laughing along with you at this point, apparently highly entertained by your predicament. “Oho, you’re adorable.”

By some miracle, you finally manage to lift your arms enough for him to draw back. He doesn’t touch you again - just sits back, watching as you flop your arms over your face and ride out the tsunami of residual giggles he’s caused. 

After ten seconds of this, he leans forwards again, poking at your wrist. 

“You ok under there? Did I break you?”

If you hadn’t just been tickled to pieces, you probably wouldn’t have grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. But you have, so that’s what you do.

“Hey,” He laughs, stroking your hair. “Happy now?”

And despite the mischief in his tone - despite the stomach-flipping embarrassment you feel - despite the fact he’d known what you wanted the whole time - you nod. 

Ryland grins wider. “Good.”

Then, he leans over to catch your eye, his voice a tad smug. 

“...Next time, all you need to do is ask.”

[bixbees-back]

this is SO cute oh my GOD.

[duketod]

[cacoonedmoonworm]

I love this so much I can’t

[gigglygoob]

He's pouting cuz he wants more tickles 🥺

[milotkls]

eeeksjdksj if your rqs are still open… your artstyle is so gorgeous and i’m such a sucker for grace being destroyed so maybe just rocky or simon gushing abt how cute he is while being tickled. ryland ‘can’t take compliments’ grace btw

ok i suck at dialog so this one is significantly more embarrassing than the rest of them </////3 to make up for this fact, i have drawn both rocky and simon ❤ hope it suffices ❤❤

op is a minor, please keep in mind when interacting!

[soft--dragon]

Loneliness Haunts My Skin

Grace's years of isolation from humans result in severe touch starvation. Rocky takes one look at this problem and says, "Hold my minerals."

Word Count: 3,687

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Inspired by an adorable series on A03 focused on Grace being a wet cat and Rocky learning about human quirks (physical contact and mental health)  Link Below! Archive of Our Own: Platonic Cuddling Series 

The journey to Erid was slow going.

Space. More space. Some stars. A little more space. And oh, hey, would you look at that! Space again!

During his lonely trek back to Earth, Ryland Grace had considered cracking out the cocktail of Knockout Juice to slip him into a coma until he was home. Now, however, he wasn’t alone aboard the Hail Mary. Heck, he wasn’t even going home anymore. 

He’d been on such a rollercoaster of emotions over heading back to Earth. Despair, acceptance (not really), hope, then acceptance again (for real this time). With the finality of his choice to stay permanently in foreign space, something festered within Grace.

Despite the companionship he has, an awful emptiness latched its teeth into his core and wouldn’t abate. No matter how much time he’d spend with Rocky or watch clips of Earth in the Don’t Go Crazy Room, the feeling of wrongness stayed, and Grace has no idea how to stop it. 

A shudder runs through his form, making Grace hunch further in on himself, gripping onto his arms. His skin ached something fierce, despite his hands rubbing along the surface in a meager attempt to self-soothe against the barrage of phantom needles. What he would give to be bundled in his mother’s arms like he was ten again after tumbling off his bike and scraping his knee. Or being smothered in his dad’s all-encompassing embrace after a failed science experiment, a promise that one day, “He’d be the smartest and coolest of all scientists”. What he’d give for any form of hug at all whilst in deep space-

The invisible aches haunting his body intensify in a sudden surge. Grace freezes in place, struck by a daunting realisation.

…Oh. 

It was cruel and unfair, but it made sense. The urge to cry welling up behind his eyes has Grace's breath shuddering out of him sporadically. 

“Grace, okay, question?”

The doubled thudding of the Eridian’s back leg cuts through the static building in Grace’s head. He looks to the side and finds the alien ‘watching’ him intently, his carapace shifting in blatant concern. 

Grace has to push the word out of his throat. “...No.” He rubs his palm along his arm with a disconnected fervor. It doesn’t feel as though the warmth of his own skin is even getting through. 

“What problem, question?” 

How could he even begin to explain the torrential emotions wreaking havoc on his wrung-out body? “There’s something wrong with me.”

“Grace sick? Question?” Rocky is growing restless, feet thunking against the xenonite shell of his ball.

Grace swallows back the lump trying to start an uprising of sadness in his throat. It was a persistent battle. “It’s a human thing,” he rasps. “I don’t know if it can be helped.”

“Explain. Rocky fix.”

Grace shakes his head as he burrows into his arms, both to hide his burning eyes and to escape this conversation. Rocky couldn’t fix it. Bless that alien’s heart of gold for trying, but he just couldn’t. What Grace needed, what he was craving, was human touch. It had been years since he left Earth, and his skin was growing desperate for an inkling of steady, warm contact. But by abandoning his journey to Earth in favour of saving his best friend - which he didn’t regret for a second, mind you - he’d robbed himself of the chance to ever experience it again. 

Granted, the last memory of touch was being forcibly restrained to the ground, suffocating pressure pinning him down as he screamed for help that would never come. Not exactly a golden recollection of human connection. 

A steady series of tapping filters into Grace’s ears, getting past the marching band thumping away. He peeks over his forearm. Rocky has rolled himself so close that he’s right beside his friend. 

“Heartbeat fast,” the Eridian states, worry warbling through his medeloic voice. “Bad, bad, bad. Oxygen needed.”

He’s close enough that Grace can feel the alien’s warmth through the xenonite. His skin practically buzzes with the idea of leaning against the Eridian’s stone-like form, multiple arms encircling him with a pressure that could settle his racing thoughts and lonely heart.

Grace can’t help it. He gives in to his pathetic, human instincts. 

His arms stretch out from his self-contained ball of panic to clutch around the xenonite, drag Rocky into his chest, and slump against the warm, glass-like surface. A sob tries to strangle his throat, but any noise is kept locked behind Grace’s pursed lips. Rocky tucks himself against the wall separating them, soft melodic noises rumbling from his form in an attempt to settle the erratic pounding he can hear within Grace’s chest. He’d only heard this in moments of extreme distress for his human, and it hurt every time. Though Grace is trying to stay quiet, soft plinks of moisture hitting the top of the zenonite were heard loud and clear for the alien.

Grace clings to the zenonite ball as tightly as he can, trying to trick his mind into believing that the smooth, warm surface was what it was after. That this hug shared between two species unable to co-exist within the same environment is enough for his human instincts. 

His skin prickles. The tears keep falling. It isn’t enough. And it is going to stay that way for as long as he is away from Earth. 

A shudder runs through the man at this bleak thought, the ever-expanding pit in his chest feeling as though it’s swallowing up his entire being. 

As if he heard the emotional casam split further, Rocky’s warbles take on a mournful croon. “Grace, tell Rocky what wrong. Please?”

Grace presses his tear-stained cheek against the warm surface, sighing miserably. 

“I’m touch starved.” He says it quietly, fingertips brushing over a surface that isn’t organic enough to trick his brain into thinking it’s skin. “Humans are social beings; we naturally seek connection, and with that comes physical contact. It’s common with anyone we’re close to, not just mates. It’s ingrained into us to co-regulate, so when we go for a long time without that, it causes us to experience skin hunger. It makes humans feel bad.” 

Rocky cocks his body to the side, akin to tilting one's head. “Is hug helping badness?”

Grace wishes he could say yes, but then he’d be lying, and he didn’t want to do that to Rocky. Shaking his head miserably, Grace scrubs a fist across his eyes to stem the flow of tears. “No. I’m hugging you, but I can’t feel you hugging back. Pressure is a key thing with hugging; it feels safer that way.”

Rocky trills sadly. “Apologies.”

Grace shakes his head again, but this time it’s paired with a weak, sincere smile. “It’s not your fault. Just sucks that our biologies are so different. I bet you’d give really good hugs without this thing in the way.” Grace knocks twice on the ball, emphasizing the distance between them.  

Rocky chitters, though there’s something contemplative about his tone now - an inquisitive warble rumbling through the plates atop his body. He leans away from Grace, his back legs thumping against the casing of his ball as he thinks. “Rocky has idea.”

“Yeah?” Grace lets his arms fall away, desperately ignoring the loss they feel as the warmth disappears from them. There was no need to be clingy. It wasn’t exactly like the hug was helping him in the long run. It was like putting a sticky plaster over a gaping chest wound and calling it a day.

Rocky trills again, more full-bodied. Determined. “Yes. Need to begin work now. Will show Grace when ready.” Rocky is practically buzzing. An eagerness tugging at his limbs as he fidgets in place, itching to start whatever ‘mystery project’ he’s begun cooking up.

“...You gonna tell me what your idea is?”

The alien gives Grace his version of a thumbs up and happily chirps, “No.”

______________________________________________________________

Two days. 

Rocky has been working nonstop for two days. 

To make it even more peculiar, he hasn’t allowed Grace anywhere near him as he crafts. Any time Grace sets foot in the lab, he gets hissed at. Forget Eridans being extraterrestrial lifeforms of complex intelligence. That sentient stone spider is a cat in disguise. Grace has it on good authority that the little guy practically purrs whenever he’s smug or has done something clever. There was simply no other way to describe the happy trills rumbling from his body. 

So, Grace has been forced to amuse himself with other things on the Hail Mary, as his only companion is acting like a kid fresh into puberty and staying in his room to play video games. Fortunately, Stratt had been generous enough to provide enough stimuli aboard the ship to keep the passengers entertained while they slowly died in an eternal abyss of stars. 

Unfortunately, he could only consume so many episodes of Star Trek in total silence before he felt an oncoming existential crisis about watching a space show in space.  

Thankfully, just as he’s considering going into the lab and risking being cursed out in Eridian, a series of clunks from multiple legs echo through the ship. Only… it didn’t sound like it was coming from inside the hamster tunnels running throughout the vessel. Nor was the clunking dulled slightly by a xenonite ball following the demands of five limbs. 

It sounds clearer. Closer. Concerningly faster than the ball as well. 

Grace drops the Comfort Quilt™ from his shoulders and scrambles up from his crossed leg position. He doesn’t even know what he’s bracing for, but what greets him when it stomps into view is not what he’d been expecting in the slightest.

Rocky is encased in xenonite. Not a ball. His body is literally wearing such close-fitting xenonite that it follows every crevice, bump, and grain on his form. 

“Hi, Grace!” He chirrups, sounding utterly exhilarated as he holds up a claw and splits it into the famous Vulcan greeting from Star Trek. “Surprise!” 

Thank god Grace put down his mug of coffee before preparing for a potential ambush, or the inventory would be down a cup. His jaw has long hit the floor in place of ceramic shards, eyebrows high as if pulled by a passing moon’s gravity. “You’re- you made a suit,” he sputters out.

“So Rocky can fix starvation of skin!” Rocky bounces and wiggles in place, the thin xenonite moving with him flexibly. He eagerly reaches out with his two front limbs. “Can hug properly now!” 

Grace stares. His ears heard it, but his brain could not comprehend the development. That being said, his heart definitely could, and it felt full enough to burst. 

He practically dives for Rocky and slams his full weight into him, knees colliding heavily with the floor. Rocky’s three back limbs counterbalance instantly, and the other two wrap tightly around his human. His claws grip into the fabric of Grace’s cardigan and stay there, keeping the man close against his body heat.

After months of being on the ship - technically years, but Grace didn’t count the coma for his own mental health - with absolutely no physical contact from another being bar a ball of xenonite, this hug was everything. 

It was tight, yet not enough for Grace’s deprived body. Every nerve was screaming from overwhelming warmth and pressure, but the idea of letting go only made Grace grip harder. He barely acknowledges he’s sobbing into the top of Rocky’s carapace; he’s too preoccupied trying to convince himself he isn’t dreaming. 

Rocky stays put, soft notes humming out of him in a gentle, soothing coo. He’s seen Grace cry before - that man had earned the title of ‘Leaky Space Blob’ after all - but this is different. It’s relief, it’s despair, it's everything the man has been silently yearning for in the depths of his subconscious. 

Rocky is more than content to stay where he was with Grace practically smothering him from his doubled-over position, all his strings cut and emotions raw. He would stay put for as long as Grace needs. He lifts one of his limbs from the floor and runs it through Grace’s hair. 

He pretends he doesn’t hear the high-pitched, wounded keening that leaves the human in a cathartic, emotional release.

______________________________________________________________

“How did you do this?” Grace asks. “This looks too thin- heck, it feels too thin to be safe for you.”

Rocky chitters, pleased. “Much trials and errors,” he says. “Important. Needed to make.”

Grace tightens his arms around Rocky for a moment before letting him go again. Well, kind of let him go, Rocky is lying over Grace’s legs with the man’s arms draped over his limbs. Yes, he was being a little clingy, but his entire nervous system was recovering from months of neglect. He needs this. 

“It means a lot,” he swallows back tears that threaten to have another revolution and overthrow his ability to see. He’s already shed enough to fill a water bottle or two. 

They’d moved to the dormitory once Grace felt reasonably steady to become a functioning human being again. (For those curious, it took a decent while for that to happen.) Now, he’s lying on his back atop the bedclothes with an Eridian carefully perched on his lower body as a steady source of contact. It seemed the small alien was enjoying the newfound freedom of touch without a ball getting in the way. 

One of Grace’s hands is being diligently studied by the Eridian. “Humans soft.” Rocky remarks, something like awe filtering through his musical tones as he delicately handles Grace’s fingers. “Too easy to damage.”

Grace snorts. “We can’t all be sentient canon balls, Rock.”

“What is ‘canon ball’, question?” 

“Projectiles we have on Earth. It was used in battle.”

“Rocky is terrifying space spider and dangerous ball, question?” 

Grace thinks of when Rocky first barged into the Hail Mary and proceeded to almost cause irreparable property damage to multiple items and devices within the ship. “Yes.” He states with a laugh. “You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

Rocky perks up. “Good reputation to have!” He prods at Grace’s fingers. “Better than leaky, squishy, space blob.” He pokes at the softer skin of the man’s side to further drive his point home.

Grace yips, batting Rocky’s claws away from his torso instinctively. “Hehey!”

Rocky jolts upright, removing himself from Grace’s legs. “Hurt? Grace hurt? Rocky hurt Grace?!” His voice flits up several octaves as he panics, hands tightly curled against his body to keep them far from his friend.

“No. No, no, you didn’t- hey, come back here, you silly goose. Stop freaking out.” Grace grasps one of Rocky’s retreating limbs and gently tugs him forward with an exasperated chuckle.

Rocky hesitantly steps closer, but doesn’t settle back down. Grace’s legs mourn the loss of their weighted blanket. “Grace make hurt noise,” he states. “Make same sound when burnt with solder iron.”

Grace sighs and sinks deeper into his mattress. He didn’t think this would be a topic he’d have to explain to aliens, but here we are.

“Humans have a pretty complex nervous system that has evolved to alert us when we’re in danger, specifically through touch. When you poked me, my body was telling me something was digging into a place where vital organs sit. The noise I made was just a byproduct of that.” 

Rocky considers this explanation, then makes a confused warble. “You laughed afterwards.”

Damn. Grace had been hoping Rocky didn’t catch that. 

“...Yeah.”

“Why, question?” 

“...It’s a human thing.”

“Explain. Grace live on Erid in future, need to know human biology.”

Well, no dodging the question now.

Grace sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It just tickled a bit, that’s all.”

“No understand word.”

Double damn. 

“...Tickling is when humans are touched in a certain way that makes us laugh. It’s attached to the nervous system thing, part of our fight or flight response.”

Rocky tilts his carapace and extends a claw to wiggle against Grace’s side again. The small squeak Grace lets out causes heat to flush his ears. Rocky chirps, delighted. “This make laughter on command!”

Grace opens his mouth to parry that point, only to gasp and fall into bouts of snickers when Rocky’s claws start prodding at his stomach insistently with both claws. “R-Rohohocky!” 

It’s been years, even more than he’s been on the Hail Mary, since he’s felt this sensation. The scuttling, electric sparks spread through his nerves, causing him to flail helplessly. His hands scrabble to both grab onto and bat away Rocky’s curious limbs. Neither tactic got him very far.

“Grace sound very happy,” Rocky informs him. Thank you, Rocky. We’d be lost without your keen observation skills. “Are all humans this sensitive?”

Grace makes a strangled, embarrassed noise in the back of his throat and tries to yank his legs up so he can curl into a ball and hide. 

“No, stay stationary. Rocky is not done exploring this.” Rocky’s claws grab onto Grace’s knees to simply push them away, only for Grace to yelp and kick his legs out. 

“Nononono- Rohohocky c’mohohon!”

Rocky chirps, curiosity singing through his melodic voice. “Tickles happen all over, question?” He inquires, his back hand squeezing Grace’s knee and thigh twice in place of stomping. 

“ROHOHOCK!” The hearty cackles that sprang forth like an exploded fire hydrant were answer enough.

Rocky scuttles and prods over the muscular limbs, little chirps of excitement emanating from the depths of his carapace with every new noise he draws from Grace. Scratching at the underside of the human's knees produced a series of breathy, unstoppable giggles that vividly reminded Rocky of the young Eridians back home with newly developed squeaks perpetrating their vocal cords. 

Rocky relays that thought to Grace, and the temperature of the human’s face increased dramatically. 

“Grace embarrassed, question? Sound cute.” Rocky reassures, wiggling his claws into Grace's lower abdomen. 

A flustered noise left the man, quickly buried behind his arms as he wriggled incessantly from the tickling. “E-Enohohough wihihith- my knees!” He pleads, the feather-light wisps of touch sending his brain into a haywire state of laughter. 

“That okay, plenty more to try!”

Grace feels pressure firmly lay across his legs, keeping them still despite their instinctive desire to kick. Rocky has become essentially deadweight, using his higher body mass to easily pin Grace to the bed. At first, his heartbeat kicked up in learned fear from being pinned down amongst dead grass, but the gentle touches and familiar warmth of the Eridian dashes his anxiety instantly. 

It was kind of hard to focus on the last memory of being pinned whilst Rocky's two front claws had taken to prodding all over the man’s torso. Light and experimental pinches being tossed in just for curiosity's sake. 

“Grace should have informed Rocky of this sooner, could’ve cheered you up easily,” Rocky says, mirth filling his voice as he takes in Grace’s blinding grin, flushed cheeks, and bubbling laughter. He made sure to keep his touch light, not wanting to accidentally hurt his friend; however, in doing so, the tickling was simply more unbearable. 

And as much as Grace's touch-starved body is relishing in this newfound, sorely missed companionship, it’s tiring quickly. 

“R-Rohohock! Plehehease! No- Nohoho mohohore!” Grace wheezes out a laugh before slumping back into the rumpled bedclothes, all fight disappearing and leaving him in a puddle of giggles. 

Rocky chirps, withdrawing his claws from Grace’s stomach. “This hurts, question?” He stomps his back foot into the mattress to punctuate his concern. 

“No, not at all.” Grace drapes an arm over his eyes and takes in grateful gulps of air, the last of his laughter shaking his chest. “Just overwhelming, bud. It’s been a long time.”

“But Grace is okay, question?”

The hollowness is gone. Grace’s cheeks hurt from smiling. He feels good. “Yeah.” The scientist reassures. “Better than okay. I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in a while.”

“Want me to do again, question?” 

Grace’s arm that’s draped over his eyes shoots down to preemptively cover his stomach, an embarrassed grin spreading across his face. “Uh- no, no, that kind of touch is usually for play. Kinda wanting to get some rest now, Rock.”

Rocky chirps, leaning a bit more into Grace’s chest, akin to a weighted blanket. He wraps his claws underneath Grace in a hug, while one reaches up to scratch through his hair. Grace practically melts, a blissful sigh heaving Rocky up and then down in a slump. 

“Better, question?”

“Yeh, feels n’ce,” Grace slurs out, eyelids long since closed, and wrapping his arms over Rocky’s warm, xenonite-enclosed form. It was like hugging a hot water bottle made of glass. Sleep was sneaking around the corner with a bat and a trip to Night Night Station. 

A claw slips down his scalp, scraping close to the skin of his ear. Grace flinches with a small grunt. The claw pauses.

“Grace is serious? Here as well, question?” The amusement is abundantly obvious. 

“Shut up,” Grace grumbles, gently taking Rocky’s front limb and guiding it back to his hair. 

Rocky chuckles. “Humans are very endearing. Will be doing this again, statement."

Grace rolls his eyes, trying to pretend there wasn’t a blush practically living on his ears now. Rocky let him dodge answering that. After all, he plans to use this newfound information to keep Grace’s spirits up. There would be plenty of time to prove to his friend that humans were loveable space blobs. 

“You sleep, I watch.” He murmurs, carefully scratching the man’s scalp in rhythmic patterns. 

Grace’s fingers intertwine with Rocky’s and squeeze. “Thanks, Rocky. …And thank you for fixing this. You’re a miracle worker.”

“Will always fix for Grace. Grace family, statement.” 

Grace squeezes a bit tighter, hoping Rocky understands the love being projected through the gesture. He pretends his voice isn’t choked up as he whispers, “You’re my family too. Statement.”

The rumblings of the Hail Mary almost match the lyrical purrs emitting from Rocky, sending Grace into the deepest sleep he’s had since being aboard. Safe. Protected. Loved.

[jaimeslay]

OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS

[vampiretickles]

Hey guys. I haven't written anything since literally 2021. When I was 16. Project hail mary and all the wonderful content has inspired me to start writing again, which I literally never thought would happen! Unfortunately I'm super busy with uni rn, sooo for now have some headcanons!!

[Mdni]

Project Hail Mary tk headcanons:

GRACE:

- switch of all time

- Idk how ticklish he was on earth, but I think with his time away from other humans, he becomes progressively more ticklish due to lack of touch

- I think his entire torso is extremely ticklish, as well as his feet. His back is also a bit ticklish and has him giggling, which he really enjoys

- his laugh is super goofy. I think it's a lot like Ryan Goslings; breathy and almost silent. When you get a really good spot, though, he breaks out into loud cackles and snorts

- hugely touch starved ofc, so oncr rocky discovers that Grace is ticklish, it becomes a regular occurance

He's definitely the type to hold onto himself and wriggle around so he doesn't hurt the person tickling him, especially since he's so strong

- I think when Grace is *really* refusing to get up, Rocky will jump up on the bed and sit on his legs, trapping his feet and tickling them. They're so ticklish that he ends up sobbing into his pillow, and usually gives up and agrees to get out of bed pretty quickly (unless he's in a lee mood)

- As most ppl have established by now, Grace is a super playful and (mostly) sweet ler

- he loves tickle fights, silly games like keeping ur arms up (also likes this as the lee) l, and teasing his lee so much

- "I knowww it must tickle so much"

- *gets a particularly cute reaction* "awww is this your favourite spot? I'll stay here a while"

- "what! I'm not even doing anything! Is something funny?"

- "don't stop? Wasn't planning on it buddy!"

- his tickling style tends to be really sporadic, until he finds a really funny/cute/endearing reaction, and then focuses on the spot that makes you do that, until he's heard it 100 times

- he'll focus on your worst spot at the very end, but he's merciful and won't go for too long... unless you want him to

- he likes to tickle squishy tummies the most :3

- he genuinely loves to tickle people he cares about and thinks their reactions are so adorable. Any teasing/ compliments are out of genuine adoration for them

- love love loves post tickle cuddles

- on that note – loves tickle hugs!!!!

- will 100% come up from behind and wrap his arms around you, face in ur neck giving you tickly kisses, raspberries, and nuzzling his stubble into you, all the while scribbling his fingers all over your tummy. It's incredibly flustering.

ROCKY:

- Grace finds out Rocky's ticklish sometime on the way to Erid.

- I forgot who, but I think a couple people have said that Eridian ticklishness is based around sound

- I'm thinking about the sounds that Rocky makes, and I think the sounds that tickle them would probaby be some discordant combo of extremely high and low pitches that they don't usually make

- perhaps Grace discovered it while doing something like using a tool, or doing some dumb voice. Rocky was very embarrassed bc he enjoyed having the upper hand on Grace and being a scary space monster™️

- his joints can also be tickled lightly, which Grace discovers once they're on Erid, hcing that Rocky makes a really tight suit that allows for slmosy direct contact

- when Rockys tickled he tries to run away. When he gets caught, or it's noise tickling him, his legs give in and he falls to the ground, kicking and stomping like crazy

- his laughter consists of super high pitched squeaks, which Grace thinks is really cute and teases him for

- Adrian is shocked that it took so long for Grace to find out, since Rocky is super ticklish.

- Adrian LOVES tickling Rocky, they think it's the cutest thing ever. Rocky let's it happen bc its Adrian and he can't say no to them <3

- Grace and Adrian both gang up to tickle Rocky, but then Adrian and Rocky gang up Grace. Adrian is only slightly ticklish, which Rocky prefers to keep to himself <3 he thinks theyre beautiful when they laugh

- Rocky is a super mean and teasy ler, making fun of Grace's sensitivity and using it to get him to do things

- he knows Grace enjoys it tho so it's ok lol