i really never got over my anime phase ◦ 20s ◦ she/they ◦ multifandom sideblog ◦ current obsession(s): ace attorney, murderbot, PHM ◦ banner by @biteitwhenitssoft
[ID: A Project Hail Mary comic. Grace is frowning as he works on a report, and Carl asks from offscreen, "Have you ever thought about getting out of your own way?" Grace, confused: "Huh?" Carl, unimpressed: "You're smart, man, but you cut yourself off halfway through all your sentences. Why?"
Grace hunches in and says, "Guess I was bullied a lot growing up, haha-" Carl cuts in. "So was I." Grace: "What? Really?" Carl pops Skittles in his mouth as he replies, "I grew up fat and black, I got my fair share of shit. Sure, it got to me, but I came around to the idea that those teenage dipshits were wrong about me. What's your excuse, man?"
Grace says uncomfortably, "I never- Uh. I, well-" Carl looks very unimpressed and says, "See? You're doing it again. Say what you mean to say." Grace slumps. "I guess I never thought about it that way." Carl: "Yeah. I know. That's why I said it. Get out of your own damn way."
We see the first panel in color: Grace floating outside the Hail Mary, surrounded by the red glow of Astrophage, as Carl says, "And once you do that? Hoo, man. You'll be unstoppable."
Back to black and white, Grace smiles emotionally and says, "Thanks, Carl." Carl stands up to leave and points at his paper. "Remember, Stratt wants that report by end of day." Grace hunches again and scowls, "Thank you, Carl." End ID]
in many projects, there is a Guy That Everyone Likes.
he is often quite skilled in his own right, but his main role ends up being Guy That Everyone Likes. running messages between departments gets a lot easier when nobody wants to shoot the messanger. everyone is happier whrn someone they like is in the room, and meetings go smoother when people are enthused about their work, that kind of thing.
grace was one of these guys.
i dont know when or if stratt ever confessed to basically blackbagging and murdering the Guy That Everybody Liked, but i think under the shock and pride and whatever else she was feeling in the meeting room with the rest of the original admin on the 26th anniversary, when ryland goes from "AHHH THE ALIENS COULD BE SENDING BOMBS AT ME" to buddy comedy roommate shenanigans with best friend rocky in what feels 10 minutes, she was pretty satisfied with her decision.
It’s been so long since I got to see a thing and think: wow yeah this could only happen on tumblr. This is one such thing and I had to contribute. Let Simon have a weird fucked up religious sorta relationship with Grace! This man has issues!! He’s never been off a space station!! The Hail Mary is literally as close as he could imagine as heaven!!!!!!
once again these are all from like the same two canvas files in procreate judging from the same color background. also straight up had a dream where grace and rocky figured out how to make gnocchi out of taumoeba hence the making gnocchi over a bunsen burner
“This means… of Rocky, possessive. Of the speaker.”
“My.”
“Correct. But only for names.”
“So you’re calling me…?”
Rocky repeats the word: “My Grace. Yes.”
“Are there other Graces? Why do you need to specify?”
Rocky considers this, tapping his xenonite-encased claws idly against the floor.
“No other Grace,” Rocky says. “We just do this.”
“Like an honorific,” Grace guesses. “It goes before everyone’s name? Everyone you know?”
Rocky whirs in surprise. “No, no, no. Not at all.”
“Okay, then who? What makes me qualify?”
Rocky is silent for a moment.
“...Does this offend Grace?” he asks, voice lower.
Grace blinks. “No! I don’t think so. Is there a reason to be offended?”
“Good,” Rocky says, relieved. Grace is starting to recognize what Eridian relief sounds like. “No, no reason.”
“Who else do you call that?”
“You don’t have this on Earth?”
Grace considers. What for, friends? He couldn’t call Marissa “my Marissa.” That would be weird.
“I still don’t know what it means,” he settles on. “So I couldn’t tell you.”
Rocky groans in frustration. He’s a very impatient tutor. “We just say it.”
“Are you my Rocky?” Grace asks. He hits the two keys to make the my note.
“I don’t know!” Rocky says. “You decide this.”
“I decide? Who do you use it for?”
“You. Adrian. I will use it for my pebbles.”
Grace blinks. “So few?”
Rocky shifts. “I am… you do not have the word yet. Eridian who works alone often, not close to many other Eridians.”
“What, mechanical engineer?”
Rocky chitters with amusement. “Acceptable.”
“Is Adrian your only friend?”
Rocky draws back, like he’s taken offense. “I have friends. Coworkers. But different.”
So just Adrian. And him.
“This worries you,” Rocky says.
“Adrian is your mate,” Grace points out. “I’m not your mate.”
“Correct. You are not. You do not like to be a mate.”
Grace isn’t sure how to respond to that, so he ignores it.
“I’m your friend,” Grace says.
Rocky hesitates, for a second. “...Correct.”
“Like your coworkers.”
“No.”
Grace sighs, rubbing his hand across his face. Okay, maybe that’s fair. It’s not like he felt about any of his coworkers like he feels about Rocky.
“Best friend,” Grace amends. “You’re my best friend, too.”
Rocky hums. “Acceptable.”
“Just acceptable? Now you are offending me. Can you just explain?”
This makes Rocky fall silent for a minute longer than usual. Grace is half-ready to apologize and to say let’s move on and to retype his own name without the superfluous my.
“The Earth ‘best friend’ is not strong enough,” Rocky says finally. “It does not translate this way.”
Grace runs his fingers through his hair, a little nervous, for some reason. “Okay.”
“It is…” Rocky pauses. He has to pause more often, now that they’re not using the translator, to simplify his language. “It means that I am not Rocky without my Grace. You are part of… of the whole. When I wake up, I think of you. When I work. When I eat. When I think I am going to die.”
Rocky speaks slowly, but it’s still a lot of Eridian for Grace to grasp all at once. Even as he works out the sentences in his head, he can feel hot tears rising in his eyes.
“It means that when you are sick, I am sick,” Rocky continues. “And it means I will take care of you, because taking care of you is taking care of myself.”
Grace bunches up his sleeve, wiping it across his face, blinking furiously.
Rocky’s voice is soft. “So Grace is part of Rocky. Grace is like a cell. You see? My Grace.”
Grace is quiet, for a moment, trying to get himself together. When he speaks, his voice is shaky.
“...Oh.”
Rocky hums, pressing his carapace gently against Grace’s arm. “You are leaking. Does this make you sad?”
Grace shakes his head, sniffing, crossing his arms across his knees and resting his chin on his sleeves. “Not at all.”
“Good, good.”
“I feel like that,” Grace mumbles. “Just like that. Just exactly—exactly like that.”
“About your old mate?”
“Don’t act stupid. You know I’m talking about you.”
Rocky hums, burrowing closer. Grace curls one arm around his carapace. That’s not enough, so he leans over, dropping his head down so his forehead presses against the xenonite.
“My Rocky,” Grace whispers in English.
“My Grace,” Rocky echoes in Eridian. Grace can recognize the note at the start. He will add it when he plays Rocky’s name.
“How long have you called me that?” Grace asks. “Must’ve been a while. I didn’t notice it change.”
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