At what point is it TOO much angst? I have about 23 pages written and they essentially haven't STOPPED crying. In my defense! Ryland is canonically a cryer so I fucking ran with it.
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god damn it, eyebrows are so important to expressions but I can only talk about a man's brows or brow bone or eyebrows so many times in a paragraph and no one's gonna know what a fucking glabella is because i just also had to look it up (it's the skin between your eyebrows btw)
How I'm feeling writing the most touch-starved Ryland Grace angst on the planet right now
I'm writing it as the "extension" (extension in the sense I decided to make a whole fanfic that will include the one-shot, this part I'm writing is in fact before the other one) of my previous one-shot, but I'm considering dropping it as it's own one-shot for now while I keep writing.
BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!
but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?
genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.
LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.
Summary: Humans get stupid when they get tired, and you are no exception. Grace & Rocky have noted a tell of yours, and take it among themselves to ensure you get proper rest, taking advantage of your own habit of making sure that *Grace* gets proper rest. You and Grace sleep together as of late, attributing some of the most restful nights to the warmth of each other.
While there is no kiss and no smut, this whole thing is physical, non-sexual intimacy. It's about as intimate as you can get without kissing or sex.
Read here or on AO3 <3
“♩🎵♪♩♩🎵♪♩” Rocky’s speech was melodies, a tone you vaguely recognized as one of musing, though the meaning of his notes eluded you at the moment. As you try to replay the pattern in your mind, he rotates his dished face towards you, one side of his carapace dipping as if to cock his head.
“You need repeat, question?” His tone was soft, seeming careful as he gently tapped one of his legs twice. From across the lab table, Grace looked up to watch you from over his computer, a furrow in his brow.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I think I zoned out.” You shake the daze from your skull before smiling at Rocky, nodding for him to continue while you angle your own laptop screen down to focus your attention on him. Grace makes that difficult though, his gaze transfixed on you.
He notes the circles under your eyes, how loose your hair has become throughout the day, your weight resting heavily on both of your arms crossed in front of you on the table, and the crease between your eyebrows as you slightly squint to force your attention to remain on Rocky. Your eyes flicker to him when he tilts his head to the side with an endeared smile.
“Is ok. Repeat. You Grace observe window often. Is because light, question?” You raise your head, now recognizing the meaning of his words before, mouthing an “ah.”
“This window?” You point to the round porthole where Adrian currently takes up the majority of the view.
Rocky lets out a short low sound that can only be described as a buzz, “Yes. Only window.” He shifts his weight from side to side, lifting two of his legs as he leans from each side, setting them down together with pointed clicks.
You huff a laugh, “Just making sure we’re on the same page,” You hold your hands up in mock surrender. “But yes, Grace and I can see the light from Adrian through the window.” Your gaze turns to said window, your voice softening, “It’s beautiful. Stunning really.” A reverent smile tugs at your lips.
He hums a quiet note, “You can describe, question?” He has one arm in front of him, the claws tapping together.
“I could definitely try. How…uh, what should I use to describe it? Like is there a sense you imagine would be equivalent to perceiving color?” Your mind already begins to assign physical qualities to the colors of Adrian.
He taps his claws together with more fervor now, letting his carapace droop down a little. After a beat he tilts it back up to you, his claws coming to rest closed, “♩🎵♪♩♩🎵♪♩🎵🎵♩♩♩”
You cringe slightly at yourself as his notes fall on not-so-deaf ears, “What was that?” You turn back to the lab table, Rocky in his tunnel above it.
His carapace slumps and makes a noise similar to a grunt, before he seems to correct himself, instead shifting side to side gently and softly humming, “How long since last sleep, question?”
“I was just about to ask the same thing.” Your eyes jump to Grace’s as he clicks his laptop closed and stands up, the stool squeaking beneath his weight.
“I mean, I am getting tired, but what makes you ask?” You look between Grace and Rocky.
“Don’t have to repeat with you, usually. But now seem slow.” When you look at Rocky in order to feign offense, you find him sporting every Eridian mannerism you know to mean he’s speaking sincerely and with care.
“Yeah, you’re usually really good with Eridian, like impressively so. I only see you struggle when I know you haven’t slept in a while.” Grace’s face is soft, his brows raised slightly in the middle, his arms loosely crossed over his chest with his head tilted as he looks at you.
“Oh,” your lips crack into a bright smile, “I hadn’t noticed that.” A beat of silence passes between the three of you. Grace smiles at your smile, while Rocky steps to his left and purposefully aims his dished face directly at yours before seeming to have reached a conclusion.
“Happy to be known, question?” He moves his legs closer together to stand a bit taller. Grace turns his head to him, surprised by how well the alien seems to have caught on to human mannerisms and emotions.
You laugh through an exhale, your head falling to look at the floor, “Yes, that’s exactly it.” Your smile only grows wider.
“It’s like we have a psychologist on board,” Grace jokes, pointing a thumb towards Rocky.
“What is word, question?”
“It’s a type of doctor. They study the brain and behavior.” Grace responds quickly. He trills in response, understanding.
Grace steps toward you, “Ok, come on. I should probably also sleep.” He nods toward the dormitory, but you don’t move. You wanted to finish the methods for the Taumoeba farms while you were in the oh-so-rare mood to, but—and you recognized that he was likely well-aware of this—Grace had said he needed sleep too and you felt responsible for making sure he got rest. Just as it seemed he felt responsible for making sure you got rest.
As your hesitation prolonged, Rocky interrupted the silence, “Yes, Grace sleep now too. Approaching 20 hours awake. Bad.”
You snap your head up, “20 hours?! So you didn’t take a nap when I told you to this morning.”
“Hey! I tried!” He defends himself weakly.
“Uh huh, and how quickly did you give up and just start doing work down there?”
“26 minutes and 34 seconds.” Rocky chimed in. You pursed your lips and shook your head at Grace, biting back the smile that pulled at your cheeks.
“Oh, it’s bedtime for sure.” You finally close your own laptop and start toward the hatch. Behind your back, Grace gives Rocky a thumbs up and you hear Rocky’s legs tap happily on the xenonite before they start to follow you.
“Humans go sleep. Rocky watch.” He scampers ahead of you down into the room below the lab. When you turn to climb down the ladder, you see that Ryland is not right behind you, instead gathering some of the clutter that’s accumulated around the lab table.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m just tidying a little, I’ll be right behind you.”
“You better, Rocky will come yell at you.”
“Yes, Rocky good at sleep enforcement,” he speaks louder for both of you to hear from the dorm.
“I promise!” Grace yells back down to him. You smile and climb down.
“Did you and Grace scheme to make me go to bed?”
Rocky wiggles his carapace and trills, “Yes, scheme work well. Very well. Rocky have own scheme. Make Grace go to sleep. Grace think scheme only for you, but scheme is also for him.” You laugh heartily at that, and Rocky’s warbling laugh joins the sound.
“What’s so funny?” Grace asks from halfway down the ladder.
“Nothing,” you and Rocky reply at the same time.
It had only been 3 days of you and Ryland sharing his tiny bed before Rocky suggested making a “nest” on the floor from the mattresses of both your beds. And it had only been a week after that that you guys finally took his advice, accepting that this was the new norm and that it wasn’t simply a special occurrence.
You get in first, making room for Ryland to lay down with you. You watch as he sets his glasses on the frame of his old bed before joining you. You face each other and as he reaches down to pull the covers up, you scooch closer to him. Your legs curl in front of you so they rest on his thighs and he automatically lifts his head when you stretch one arm out before he lays it on your bicep. He slithers an arm beneath your body, his other arm coming to rest over your waist beneath your own. Then he pulls you closer to him and rests his head on your shoulder, nestling into your neck. He retracts the arm over your waist so that his hand rests there instead, his arm bent at the elbow resting on his own waist now. His fingers massage your waist gently, tenderly, like they’re trying to engrain the feeling of you, of this, into his brain. Your arm rests over his, your hand on his forearm, softly rubbing your thumb along his skin. The arm he’s laying on curls around him, your hand finding purchase in the hair behind his temple, and you start scratching his scalp, your fingers slow and gentle. He lets out a deep sigh, a happy hum along with it. You tilt your head to press a lingering kiss to the top of his head, really just nuzzling into his hair before pulling away with a loud smooch to rest your head back on the pillow, your chin replacing your lips. Your hand finds the hem of his shirt, fingertips slipping under to find his skin.
“Is this ok?” You ask, watching his body language closely. He merely nods into your neck and whines contentedly when your hand fully slips beneath his shirt. You keep every part of your hand in contact with his skin as you slide it along his hip, up his waist, along his ribcage, before rolling it around to his back. You press your hand against his shoulderblade to pull him closer, and his hand leaves your waist to wrap you in a hug, leaning more of his weight toward you. You slide your hand up to his shoulder, his shirt riding way up, and gently scratch back and forth, up and down. He shivers against you and pushes his face further into your neck, letting out a shaky breath against your skin.
You giggle softly at the tickle, “Does it feel good?” You squeeze his shoulder to punctuate your question.
“Yeah,” he practically squeaks through a heavy exhale.
“Good.” He slides his hands down to the hem of your own shirt, pressing a thumb against it before pausing. You nod against his head and his hands slip under. He sharply inhales when he feels your skin, blooming in warmth beneath his touch. He lets it out in another shaky breath before continuing. His hands are soft, his fingers flexing against your skin, gentle and searching, scratching patterns along your back and hip. The arm underneath you stays at the small of your back while his other hand works its way up your side, fingertips brushing your ribcage before they slide to your shoulder blade. You breathe a shuddering breath in before slowly exhaling as his fingers continue to work your skin. Your hand on his shoulder presses a bit harder in its own motions against his skin, earning a breathy whine and a tight squeeze as his muscles tense around you. The hand at the small of your back wraps tighter around you to the back of your waist, his fingers curling into the skin there to hold his place as he begins to knead. A quiet noise escapes your throat, vibrating against his forehead pressed there.
“D’s it fe’el g’d?” He mumbles against your neck. You laugh gently, the sound reverberating in your chest and he dips his forehead against your collarbone to feel the vibration when you respond.
“Yeah.” You sigh deeply, replacing it with an equally deep breath in. Equal and opposite reaction, you think to yourself, huffing a laugh at how science makes its way into your brain even at moments like these. Ryland gives you a final tight squeeze before his hands come to rest. Your body relaxes entirely in response, every muscle going limp against him. Tension in your neck dissipates, in your shoulders, your face. The hand in his hair scratches quickly twice in succession before you let your fingers relax, seeping into his scalp. Your breath becomes deep, slow inhales and even slower exhales that barely tousle his hair as they’re expelled. A puff of air escapes him at your neck.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: Humans get stupid when they get tired, and you are no exception. Grace & Rocky have noted a tell of yours, and take it among themselves to ensure you get proper rest, taking advantage of your own habit of making sure that *Grace* gets proper rest. You and Grace sleep together as of late, attributing some of the most restful nights to the warmth of each other.
While there is no kiss and no smut, this whole thing is physical, non-sexual intimacy. It's about as intimate as you can get without kissing or sex.
Read here or on AO3 <3
“♩🎵♪♩♩🎵♪♩” Rocky’s speech was melodies, a tone you vaguely recognized as one of musing, though the meaning of his notes eluded you at the moment. As you try to replay the pattern in your mind, he rotates his dished face towards you, one side of his carapace dipping as if to cock his head.
“You need repeat, question?” His tone was soft, seeming careful as he gently tapped one of his legs twice. From across the lab table, Grace looked up to watch you from over his computer, a furrow in his brow.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I think I zoned out.” You shake the daze from your skull before smiling at Rocky, nodding for him to continue while you angle your own laptop screen down to focus your attention on him. Grace makes that difficult though, his gaze transfixed on you.
He notes the circles under your eyes, how loose your hair has become throughout the day, your weight resting heavily on both of your arms crossed in front of you on the table, and the crease between your eyebrows as you slightly squint to force your attention to remain on Rocky. Your eyes flicker to him when he tilts his head to the side with an endeared smile.
“Is ok. Repeat. You Grace observe window often. Is because light, question?” You raise your head, now recognizing the meaning of his words before, mouthing an “ah.”
“This window?” You point to the round porthole where Adrian currently takes up the majority of the view.
Rocky lets out a short low sound that can only be described as a buzz, “Yes. Only window.” He shifts his weight from side to side, lifting two of his legs as he leans from each side, setting them down together with pointed clicks.
You huff a laugh, “Just making sure we’re on the same page,” You hold your hands up in mock surrender. “But yes, Grace and I can see the light from Adrian through the window.” Your gaze turns to said window, your voice softening, “It’s beautiful. Stunning really.” A reverent smile tugs at your lips.
He hums a quiet note, “You can describe, question?” He has one arm in front of him, the claws tapping together.
“I could definitely try. How…uh, what should I use to describe it? Like is there a sense you imagine would be equivalent to perceiving color?” Your mind already begins to assign physical qualities to the colors of Adrian.
He taps his claws together with more fervor now, letting his carapace droop down a little. After a beat he tilts it back up to you, his claws coming to rest closed, “♩🎵♪♩♩🎵♪♩🎵🎵♩♩♩”
You cringe slightly at yourself as his notes fall on not-so-deaf ears, “What was that?” You turn back to the lab table, Rocky in his tunnel above it.
His carapace slumps and makes a noise similar to a grunt, before he seems to correct himself, instead shifting side to side gently and softly humming, “How long since last sleep, question?”
“I was just about to ask the same thing.” Your eyes jump to Grace’s as he clicks his laptop closed and stands up, the stool squeaking beneath his weight.
“I mean, I am getting tired, but what makes you ask?” You look between Grace and Rocky.
“Don’t have to repeat with you, usually. But now seem slow.” When you look at Rocky in order to feign offense, you find him sporting every Eridian mannerism you know to mean he’s speaking sincerely and with care.
“Yeah, you’re usually really good with Eridian, like impressively so. I only see you struggle when I know you haven’t slept in a while.” Grace’s face is soft, his brows raised slightly in the middle, his arms loosely crossed over his chest with his head tilted as he looks at you.
“Oh,” your lips crack into a bright smile, “I hadn’t noticed that.” A beat of silence passes between the three of you. Grace smiles at your smile, while Rocky steps to his left and purposefully aims his dished face directly at yours before seeming to have reached a conclusion.
“Happy to be known, question?” He moves his legs closer together to stand a bit taller. Grace turns his head to him, surprised by how well the alien seems to have caught on to human mannerisms and emotions.
You laugh through an exhale, your head falling to look at the floor, “Yes, that’s exactly it.” Your smile only grows wider.
“It’s like we have a psychologist on board,” Grace jokes, pointing a thumb towards Rocky.
“What is word, question?”
“It’s a type of doctor. They study the brain and behavior.” Grace responds quickly. He trills in response, understanding.
Grace steps toward you, “Ok, come on. I should probably also sleep.” He nods toward the dormitory, but you don’t move. You wanted to finish the methods for the Taumoeba farms while you were in the oh-so-rare mood to, but—and you recognized that he was likely well-aware of this—Grace had said he needed sleep too and you felt responsible for making sure he got rest. Just as it seemed he felt responsible for making sure you got rest.
As your hesitation prolonged, Rocky interrupted the silence, “Yes, Grace sleep now too. Approaching 20 hours awake. Bad.”
You snap your head up, “20 hours?! So you didn’t take a nap when I told you to this morning.”
“Hey! I tried!” He defends himself weakly.
“Uh huh, and how quickly did you give up and just start doing work down there?”
“26 minutes and 34 seconds.” Rocky chimed in. You pursed your lips and shook your head at Grace, biting back the smile that pulled at your cheeks.
“Oh, it’s bedtime for sure.” You finally close your own laptop and start toward the hatch. Behind your back, Grace gives Rocky a thumbs up and you hear Rocky’s legs tap happily on the xenonite before they start to follow you.
“Humans go sleep. Rocky watch.” He scampers ahead of you down into the room below the lab. When you turn to climb down the ladder, you see that Ryland is not right behind you, instead gathering some of the clutter that’s accumulated around the lab table.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m just tidying a little, I’ll be right behind you.”
“You better, Rocky will come yell at you.”
“Yes, Rocky good at sleep enforcement,” he speaks louder for both of you to hear from the dorm.
“I promise!” Grace yells back down to him. You smile and climb down.
“Did you and Grace scheme to make me go to bed?”
Rocky wiggles his carapace and trills, “Yes, scheme work well. Very well. Rocky have own scheme. Make Grace go to sleep. Grace think scheme only for you, but scheme is also for him.” You laugh heartily at that, and Rocky’s warbling laugh joins the sound.
“What’s so funny?” Grace asks from halfway down the ladder.
“Nothing,” you and Rocky reply at the same time.
It had only been 3 days of you and Ryland sharing his tiny bed before Rocky suggested making a “nest” on the floor from the mattresses of both your beds. And it had only been a week after that that you guys finally took his advice, accepting that this was the new norm and that it wasn’t simply a special occurrence.
You get in first, making room for Ryland to lay down with you. You watch as he sets his glasses on the frame of his old bed before joining you. You face each other and as he reaches down to pull the covers up, you scooch closer to him. Your legs curl in front of you so they rest on his thighs and he automatically lifts his head when you stretch one arm out before he lays it on your bicep. He slithers an arm beneath your body, his other arm coming to rest over your waist beneath your own. Then he pulls you closer to him and rests his head on your shoulder, nestling into your neck. He retracts the arm over your waist so that his hand rests there instead, his arm bent at the elbow resting on his own waist now. His fingers massage your waist gently, tenderly, like they’re trying to engrain the feeling of you, of this, into his brain. Your arm rests over his, your hand on his forearm, softly rubbing your thumb along his skin. The arm he’s laying on curls around him, your hand finding purchase in the hair behind his temple, and you start scratching his scalp, your fingers slow and gentle. He lets out a deep sigh, a happy hum along with it. You tilt your head to press a lingering kiss to the top of his head, really just nuzzling into his hair before pulling away with a loud smooch to rest your head back on the pillow, your chin replacing your lips. Your hand finds the hem of his shirt, fingertips slipping under to find his skin.
“Is this ok?” You ask, watching his body language closely. He merely nods into your neck and whines contentedly when your hand fully slips beneath his shirt. You keep every part of your hand in contact with his skin as you slide it along his hip, up his waist, along his ribcage, before rolling it around to his back. You press your hand against his shoulderblade to pull him closer, and his hand leaves your waist to wrap you in a hug, leaning more of his weight toward you. You slide your hand up to his shoulder, his shirt riding way up, and gently scratch back and forth, up and down. He shivers against you and pushes his face further into your neck, letting out a shaky breath against your skin.
You giggle softly at the tickle, “Does it feel good?” You squeeze his shoulder to punctuate your question.
“Yeah,” he practically squeaks through a heavy exhale.
“Good.” He slides his hands down to the hem of your own shirt, pressing a thumb against it before pausing. You nod against his head and his hands slip under. He sharply inhales when he feels your skin, blooming in warmth beneath his touch. He lets it out in another shaky breath before continuing. His hands are soft, his fingers flexing against your skin, gentle and searching, scratching patterns along your back and hip. The arm underneath you stays at the small of your back while his other hand works its way up your side, fingertips brushing your ribcage before they slide to your shoulder blade. You breathe a shuddering breath in before slowly exhaling as his fingers continue to work your skin. Your hand on his shoulder presses a bit harder in its own motions against his skin, earning a breathy whine and a tight squeeze as his muscles tense around you. The hand at the small of your back wraps tighter around you to the back of your waist, his fingers curling into the skin there to hold his place as he begins to knead. A quiet noise escapes your throat, vibrating against his forehead pressed there.
“D’s it fe’el g’d?” He mumbles against your neck. You laugh gently, the sound reverberating in your chest and he dips his forehead against your collarbone to feel the vibration when you respond.
“Yeah.” You sigh deeply, replacing it with an equally deep breath in. Equal and opposite reaction, you think to yourself, huffing a laugh at how science makes its way into your brain even at moments like these. Ryland gives you a final tight squeeze before his hands come to rest. Your body relaxes entirely in response, every muscle going limp against him. Tension in your neck dissipates, in your shoulders, your face. The hand in his hair scratches quickly twice in succession before you let your fingers relax, seeping into his scalp. Your breath becomes deep, slow inhales and even slower exhales that barely tousle his hair as they’re expelled. A puff of air escapes him at your neck.
ahhhhh i keep rereading this !! high as hell, kicking my feet, blushing, giggling, getting genuine butterflies with the cuddling. omg i NEED this to happen to me pls
Summary: Humans get stupid when they get tired, and you are no exception. Grace & Rocky have noted a tell of yours, and take it among themselves to ensure you get proper rest, taking advantage of your own habit of making sure that *Grace* gets proper rest. You and Grace sleep together as of late, attributing some of the most restful nights to the warmth of each other.
While there is no kiss and no smut, this whole thing is physical, non-sexual intimacy. It's about as intimate as you can get without kissing or sex.
Read here or on AO3 <3
“♩🎵♪♩♩🎵♪♩” Rocky’s speech was melodies, a tone you vaguely recognized as one of musing, though the meaning of his notes eluded you at the moment. As you try to replay the pattern in your mind, he rotates his dished face towards you, one side of his carapace dipping as if to cock his head.
“You need repeat, question?” His tone was soft, seeming careful as he gently tapped one of his legs twice. From across the lab table, Grace looked up to watch you from over his computer, a furrow in his brow.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I think I zoned out.” You shake the daze from your skull before smiling at Rocky, nodding for him to continue while you angle your own laptop screen down to focus your attention on him. Grace makes that difficult though, his gaze transfixed on you.
He notes the circles under your eyes, how loose your hair has become throughout the day, your weight resting heavily on both of your arms crossed in front of you on the table, and the crease between your eyebrows as you slightly squint to force your attention to remain on Rocky. Your eyes flicker to him when he tilts his head to the side with an endeared smile.
“Is ok. Repeat. You Grace observe window often. Is because light, question?” You raise your head, now recognizing the meaning of his words before, mouthing an “ah.”
“This window?” You point to the round porthole where Adrian currently takes up the majority of the view.
Rocky lets out a short low sound that can only be described as a buzz, “Yes. Only window.” He shifts his weight from side to side, lifting two of his legs as he leans from each side, setting them down together with pointed clicks.
You huff a laugh, “Just making sure we’re on the same page,” You hold your hands up in mock surrender. “But yes, Grace and I can see the light from Adrian through the window.” Your gaze turns to said window, your voice softening, “It’s beautiful. Stunning really.” A reverent smile tugs at your lips.
He hums a quiet note, “You can describe, question?” He has one arm in front of him, the claws tapping together.
“I could definitely try. How…uh, what should I use to describe it? Like is there a sense you imagine would be equivalent to perceiving color?” Your mind already begins to assign physical qualities to the colors of Adrian.
He taps his claws together with more fervor now, letting his carapace droop down a little. After a beat he tilts it back up to you, his claws coming to rest closed, “♩🎵♪♩♩🎵♪♩🎵🎵♩♩♩”
You cringe slightly at yourself as his notes fall on not-so-deaf ears, “What was that?” You turn back to the lab table, Rocky in his tunnel above it.
His carapace slumps and makes a noise similar to a grunt, before he seems to correct himself, instead shifting side to side gently and softly humming, “How long since last sleep, question?”
“I was just about to ask the same thing.” Your eyes jump to Grace’s as he clicks his laptop closed and stands up, the stool squeaking beneath his weight.
“I mean, I am getting tired, but what makes you ask?” You look between Grace and Rocky.
“Don’t have to repeat with you, usually. But now seem slow.” When you look at Rocky in order to feign offense, you find him sporting every Eridian mannerism you know to mean he’s speaking sincerely and with care.
“Yeah, you’re usually really good with Eridian, like impressively so. I only see you struggle when I know you haven’t slept in a while.” Grace’s face is soft, his brows raised slightly in the middle, his arms loosely crossed over his chest with his head tilted as he looks at you.
“Oh,” your lips crack into a bright smile, “I hadn’t noticed that.” A beat of silence passes between the three of you. Grace smiles at your smile, while Rocky steps to his left and purposefully aims his dished face directly at yours before seeming to have reached a conclusion.
“Happy to be known, question?” He moves his legs closer together to stand a bit taller. Grace turns his head to him, surprised by how well the alien seems to have caught on to human mannerisms and emotions.
You laugh through an exhale, your head falling to look at the floor, “Yes, that’s exactly it.” Your smile only grows wider.
“It’s like we have a psychologist on board,” Grace jokes, pointing a thumb towards Rocky.
“What is word, question?”
“It’s a type of doctor. They study the brain and behavior.” Grace responds quickly. He trills in response, understanding.
Grace steps toward you, “Ok, come on. I should probably also sleep.” He nods toward the dormitory, but you don’t move. You wanted to finish the methods for the Taumoeba farms while you were in the oh-so-rare mood to, but—and you recognized that he was likely well-aware of this—Grace had said he needed sleep too and you felt responsible for making sure he got rest. Just as it seemed he felt responsible for making sure you got rest.
As your hesitation prolonged, Rocky interrupted the silence, “Yes, Grace sleep now too. Approaching 20 hours awake. Bad.”
You snap your head up, “20 hours?! So you didn’t take a nap when I told you to this morning.”
“Hey! I tried!” He defends himself weakly.
“Uh huh, and how quickly did you give up and just start doing work down there?”
“26 minutes and 34 seconds.” Rocky chimed in. You pursed your lips and shook your head at Grace, biting back the smile that pulled at your cheeks.
“Oh, it’s bedtime for sure.” You finally close your own laptop and start toward the hatch. Behind your back, Grace gives Rocky a thumbs up and you hear Rocky’s legs tap happily on the xenonite before they start to follow you.
“Humans go sleep. Rocky watch.” He scampers ahead of you down into the room below the lab. When you turn to climb down the ladder, you see that Ryland is not right behind you, instead gathering some of the clutter that’s accumulated around the lab table.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m just tidying a little, I’ll be right behind you.”
“You better, Rocky will come yell at you.”
“Yes, Rocky good at sleep enforcement,” he speaks louder for both of you to hear from the dorm.
“I promise!” Grace yells back down to him. You smile and climb down.
“Did you and Grace scheme to make me go to bed?”
Rocky wiggles his carapace and trills, “Yes, scheme work well. Very well. Rocky have own scheme. Make Grace go to sleep. Grace think scheme only for you, but scheme is also for him.” You laugh heartily at that, and Rocky’s warbling laugh joins the sound.
“What’s so funny?” Grace asks from halfway down the ladder.
“Nothing,” you and Rocky reply at the same time.
It had only been 3 days of you and Ryland sharing his tiny bed before Rocky suggested making a “nest” on the floor from the mattresses of both your beds. And it had only been a week after that that you guys finally took his advice, accepting that this was the new norm and that it wasn’t simply a special occurrence.
You get in first, making room for Ryland to lay down with you. You watch as he sets his glasses on the frame of his old bed before joining you. You face each other and as he reaches down to pull the covers up, you scooch closer to him. Your legs curl in front of you so they rest on his thighs and he automatically lifts his head when you stretch one arm out before he lays it on your bicep. He slithers an arm beneath your body, his other arm coming to rest over your waist beneath your own. Then he pulls you closer to him and rests his head on your shoulder, nestling into your neck. He retracts the arm over your waist so that his hand rests there instead, his arm bent at the elbow resting on his own waist now. His fingers massage your waist gently, tenderly, like they’re trying to engrain the feeling of you, of this, into his brain. Your arm rests over his, your hand on his forearm, softly rubbing your thumb along his skin. The arm he’s laying on curls around him, your hand finding purchase in the hair behind his temple, and you start scratching his scalp, your fingers slow and gentle. He lets out a deep sigh, a happy hum along with it. You tilt your head to press a lingering kiss to the top of his head, really just nuzzling into his hair before pulling away with a loud smooch to rest your head back on the pillow, your chin replacing your lips. Your hand finds the hem of his shirt, fingertips slipping under to find his skin.
“Is this ok?” You ask, watching his body language closely. He merely nods into your neck and whines contentedly when your hand fully slips beneath his shirt. You keep every part of your hand in contact with his skin as you slide it along his hip, up his waist, along his ribcage, before rolling it around to his back. You press your hand against his shoulderblade to pull him closer, and his hand leaves your waist to wrap you in a hug, leaning more of his weight toward you. You slide your hand up to his shoulder, his shirt riding way up, and gently scratch back and forth, up and down. He shivers against you and pushes his face further into your neck, letting out a shaky breath against your skin.
You giggle softly at the tickle, “Does it feel good?” You squeeze his shoulder to punctuate your question.
“Yeah,” he practically squeaks through a heavy exhale.
“Good.” He slides his hands down to the hem of your own shirt, pressing a thumb against it before pausing. You nod against his head and his hands slip under. He sharply inhales when he feels your skin, blooming in warmth beneath his touch. He lets it out in another shaky breath before continuing. His hands are soft, his fingers flexing against your skin, gentle and searching, scratching patterns along your back and hip. The arm underneath you stays at the small of your back while his other hand works its way up your side, fingertips brushing your ribcage before they slide to your shoulder blade. You breathe a shuddering breath in before slowly exhaling as his fingers continue to work your skin. Your hand on his shoulder presses a bit harder in its own motions against his skin, earning a breathy whine and a tight squeeze as his muscles tense around you. The hand at the small of your back wraps tighter around you to the back of your waist, his fingers curling into the skin there to hold his place as he begins to knead. A quiet noise escapes your throat, vibrating against his forehead pressed there.
“D’s it fe’el g’d?” He mumbles against your neck. You laugh gently, the sound reverberating in your chest and he dips his forehead against your collarbone to feel the vibration when you respond.
“Yeah.” You sigh deeply, replacing it with an equally deep breath in. Equal and opposite reaction, you think to yourself, huffing a laugh at how science makes its way into your brain even at moments like these. Ryland gives you a final tight squeeze before his hands come to rest. Your body relaxes entirely in response, every muscle going limp against him. Tension in your neck dissipates, in your shoulders, your face. The hand in his hair scratches quickly twice in succession before you let your fingers relax, seeping into his scalp. Your breath becomes deep, slow inhales and even slower exhales that barely tousle his hair as they’re expelled. A puff of air escapes him at your neck.
I've read a lot of fics and posts about Rocky imitating some of Grace's body language or phrases, but I haven't seen nearly ENOUGH about Grace being the one to copy Rocky.
Grace tapping or stomping twice to signal a question.
Grace doing the jazz hands.
Grace doing that thing when Rocky is counting that he uses his fingers (even if Grace isn't actually counting with them, he picks up the gesture)
Give me Grace being a weirdo and walking on all fours like Rocky. Rocky thinks it's hilarious how slow he is like that.
Give me Grace subconsciously copying random noises Rocky makes (not the words, but his equivalents to "ooohhh"s and "ahhhh"s and "hmmmm"s) because if there's something I've noticed about humans, it's that if we spend long enough with someone, we start mimicking each other. Hell, even with animals it happens! You've ever noticed that cat owners have entire meow-ing conversations with their cats? With dogs it happens too. Or that when parrots do their bobbing dances, a lot of us start copying that? And their chirping too. I like that a lot. I'd like to see Grace doing that.
Don't rewatch The Great, because you have to watch the beauty of Catherine and Leo's relationship unfold, all the while knowing how it ends for them, and it hurts.
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Thinking of revealing deeply personal information I very much do not want known, just for the bit. There’s a joke so immensely funny, but the joke itself is that information. 💔
My mom just found out that Dean dies at the end of Supernatural. Then she said, “Well I hope him and Castiel are at least having sex in heaven” and I replied “Heuuuuuugh 😬, I got some more bad news for you”
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Bro I cannot believe Brennan is leaving Dropout. He got me into Dropout and I'm so happy to have discovered it, everyone there is so cool and funny and such genuinely nice and good people. Brennan deserves every happiness in the world, and everyone, at Dropout and fans of Dropout, are going to deeply miss him. I hope he feels proud of what he's accomplished, and I hope his future is just as rewarding.
I'm also absolutely flabbergasted that Jordan guessed everyone's breast milk correctly, that's insane.
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