#phm drabbles

[only3bra1nsellz]

Just had a really funny thought about the lifespan difference between Humans and Eridian’s.

Do you think Adrian was a little jealous of Grace when he and Rocky touched down?

Like;

Grace: Yeah, It took us like four years to get here which was… a lot of one on one time to spend with someone.

Adrian absolutely seething with a TV drama’s worthy amount of rage: That must’ve been…Nice. I’m sure that short time was half as wonderful as the 186 years I spent with my mate.

Grace: Yeah, it must’ve been so difficult, Rocky’s been in space longer than I’ve been alive!

Adrien now confused : What?

Grace: I’m pushing into my mid 40s now, so I wouldn’t have even been born yet when the Blip A left erid.

—————

Imagine being Adrian. You’re 100% ready to tear-apart a wanna be homewrecker only for Grace to be like “I’m 3yo btw :D”

Immediate vibe change.

Now you’ve gotta build a habitat for this —perceived— alien toddler and yell at your mate for acting like such an absolute capital F freak around this child.

Adrian: What do you mean you ATE in front of him?? What is wrong with you?? Stop calling him stupid, you’ll give him self esteem issues!!!

Rocky: Grace already had those issues when I moved in.

[the-yearning-astronaut]

"Hallucination" or "whimper" for the whump ask?

Another double drabble!!

I float listlessly in the control room, legs curled up tight against my carapace. I should still be trying to find a solution to the problem, but what's the point? No astrophage means no fuel. No protection from radiation.

I'm dead in space.

I was so close. And now me and my people were going to die.

♪

I lose track of time.

At some point I think I hear a clang on the hull but I ignore it. Probably something else breaking…

Another clang. I reluctantly uncurl my legs.

Clank! Clank! Clank!

I tuck my legs back against my body with a whimper. Am I already getting sick from radiation? Surely I'm only imagining the sounds. There's no way—

Rocky!

Every part of me freezes at the sound vibrating along the hull. It can't be…

I don’t know if you can hear me! But I’m here, buddy! I’m on your hull!

No. He's not— Why would he—

I have my EVA suit radio on! Same frequency as always! Say something! Let me know you’re okay!

I'm scrambling for the communication equipment before I even register the need to move.

Rocky!

I find the right frequency. Static hissed.

Rocky?!

“Grace, question?”

Send me a prompt from the list and I'll write a PHM drabble!

[the-yearning-astronaut]

How about “blurry vision” and/or “oxygen” for a PHM whump prompt?

I actually managed to do both!!

Oxygen:

“Rocky,” I say gently. “Hey.”

Rocky remains pressed against the dorm wall, curled up into a tight loaf shape. I sit as close as I can get next to the xenonite barrier.

“Talk to me, buddy. What's wrong?”

Rocky makes a low, non-verbal vibration, deep enough I feel the hum through the xenonite. In very low notes he says, Rocky suddenly afraid of oxygen in you space again. Don't know why fear so bad when previously fine. Now so bad Rocky can't move. Has nowhere to go to be away from it.

Oh, crap. Was Rocky having a panic attack?

Blurry Vision:

“Fudging fudge,” I curse and drop the screwdriver to the table.

Rocky perks up from where he’s tinkering with something. Grace use rare strong swear – what wrong, question?

I sigh and run a hand through my hair, gesturing with the other at the broken pair of glasses sitting in front of me.

My only pair of glasses.

“I finally managed to break my glasses and now I can't fix them.”

Why can't fix, question? Rocky asks.

“Because I need them to see what I'm doing!”

Grace being stupid.

I huff, offended.

Give me glasses, I fix!

I blinked. Oh. Right.

Send me a prompt from the list and I'll write a PHM drabble!

[the-yearning-astronaut]

for the whump prompt, what about forced to watch or sweat? those seem inch resting

Managed to fit both prompts into the same drabble, so it's 200 words instead of 100.

Rocky's POV. CW for uhhh deteriorating health and disordered eating?

♪

I’d been too uncomfortable with discussions of eating to truly appreciate the gravity of Grace's situation when he was running tests on my food.

I wish I'd been more sympathetic, then.

Now I listen as Grace's health slowly deteriorates. It’s the only thing I can do. I have enough food for decades, if only he could eat it.

The taumoeba is providing him with calories, but nothing else of nutritional value. It's not enough. He’s attempted to eat the “coma slurry” more than a few times, but has never been able to finish a full serving.

He needs to eat it. He needs the vitamins, fats, and protein.

The next time he’s ready for a meal, I follow him into the dorm. I don't think he notices me.

Alright, Mary, Grace says to the ship. Time to try some coma slurry again.

The robot he’s started calling “Armando” hands him a tube.

Grace swallows.

I don't want to be here while he eats. But I have to. I keep my attention focused on him as he squeezes slurry into his mouth.

He shudders. His forehead begins to leak and he closes his eyes. Gags.

Spits it out.

Another failed attempt.

Send me a prompt from the list and I'll write a PHM drabble!