yapping into the void

On Humanity, Cosmic Horrors and Staying Alive (Together) (ch. 18) Grace x Simon x Rocky, T “I died saving you, Convict. Wouldn’t it be fair if you saved us in return?” He drops into the pilot seat, grabbing the lever again and ignoring the light-headedness that comes with the lack of air. “You were the one who told me to just ‘ram it’,” he mutters, staring at the monster’s eyes — ignoring the guilt blooming inside his chest. The world is blurring slightly in front of him. “Let’s see if it works, shall we?” “Erratic maneuvers detected.” “Sorry, Mary!” He pushes the lever forward.

On Humanity, Cosmic Horrors and Staying Alive (Together) (ch. 17) Grace x Simon x Rocky, T “I’m— I’ll live.” I push myself up on my hands and knees. I’m nauseous and terrified, and everything seems to be spinning. There’s sticky wetness on my forehead, dripping unpleasantly down my nose and collecting into a small red puddle on the floor. “Are you okay? Rocky?” “Am well! Big fish can no bite through xenonite, am okay — you will be okay, question? You hit head, you lost consciousness, you are leaking, bad bad bad!” I wince. I know he is just scared, but it’s all so loud. “I’ll be fine. What’s— what’s going on?” I glance around, trying to get my bearings. “Simon?” He doesn’t answer. I find him in the corner — curled into a fetal position, chin tucked against his chest, the only arm protecting the back of his head. “Simon!” When I crawl closer to shake him by the shoulders, I see his eye — the same distant, vacant look. He stares at me for a second. Then lowers his head, pressing his forehead against his knees and curling in on himself a bit tighter. Okay. Still in denial of reality, then. Great.

On Humanity, Cosmic Horrors and Staying Alive (Together) (ch. 16) Grace x Simon x Rocky, T I’m too lost in thought to notice the sudden tension in Simon’s frame, but our connection pulls me out of the clouds soon enough. It’s like a punch in the gut, combined with a cold shower: a wave of panic that makes my breath hitch and my heart miss a beat. I grip the edge of my desk and close my eyes for a moment. “We see the light.” I flinch and look around. Where did that come from? Am I hearing his nightmares too now? Is it because of my little submarine adventure, maybe? I really need to figure out this telepathy thing. It’s getting too much. Rocky scatters through his tunnels, making that soothing purring noise already. I wait for the panic to go away — Rocky’s songs work most of the time well enough — but it doesn’t. “The light saw you.” Simon whimpers in his sleep.

It's so funny (it's not) how a depression in your teens/early twenties fucks up your perception of what "I'm not doing well" is, because it's like. I'm stressed and exhausted and hypervigilant all the time! I can barely sleep and I have nightmares when I do! I'm hitting that caregiver burnout face-first at full speed! BUT!! I'm not actively wanting to off myself!!! Therefore I'm doing well and things are good, right? Right??

(I know that the fandom's general vibe is making Grace more in touch with his emotions, but with how Simon is ready to admit that he is scared and to ask for help when he's losing it, I'd argue it's him. As opposed to Dr. Ryland "there's no harm in pretending for a little while" Grace. Something something Simon admitting that he was scared when he is apologizing and thinking his words over and Grace admitting that he is scared when he is actively panicking and isn't really thinking at all. I love these two's parallels normal amount. ANYWAY—)

On Humanity, Cosmic Horrors and Staying Alive (Together) (ch. 15) Grace x Simon x Rocky, T “We watched you sleep,” Rocky chirps, way too happily for the situation. “You feel better, question?” “You watched me— Yes, I feel better, but— How come I get a mandatory alien-enforced bedtime and he doesn’t?” I point at Simon, still groggy and a little upset with the unfairness. “He needs sleep too, you know! Just as often as I do, eight hours every twenty-four!” “He is more responsible. Gets an exception.” “Excuse you, I’m very responsible!.. Simon,” I turn to him, “you really should rest, you’re still recovering. I appreciate the sentiment, but—” “Are we running out of food?” he asks. I shut up mid-sentence.

In the Darkness Grace x Simon, G “Simon?” The answer comes a little bit to the side from where I expected. I was sure I was facing the little desk he's been using when sitting in on my lessons, but I guess I turned a little bit too far right. “Grace?..” Oh. Oh fudge, he sounds terrified. I forget my own nyctophobia in an instant. “Simon? Simon, can you— can you keep talking to me? I’ll come find you. Or you can follow my voice and come to me instead? Uh— where are you?” He is silent. Fudge.

On Humanity, Cosmic Horrors and Staying Alive (Together) (ch. 14) Grace x Simon x Rocky, T There’s silence for a few moments; even the strange humming stops. Simon closes his eyes again, listening to the noises of the Hail Mary: the thin buzz of the electricity, the steady hum of the air conditioning, the distant roar of the engines. Grace’s quiet breathing. It seems even, normal — that’s good, right? Rocky says something again, even quieter than before. Simon glances at the screen. “Is Eridian self-soothing sound.” Simon blinks. “Oh?” “I thought humans can not hear. Grace can not hear. Apology.” “No— no, don’t apologize. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” Silence again. “Wanna, uh, talk ‘bout it?..”

(Also, it's his turn to experience some eldrich horrors, but that's fine. Don't worry about that.)

On Humanity, Cosmic Horrors and Staying Alive (Together) (ch. 13) Grace x Simon x Rocky, T A part of me keeps thinking about the way his body felt against mine while I held him. A part of me keeps wishing that he’d actually hugged me back instead of just latching onto my shirt and crying into my shoulder. A part of me keeps going back to that moment, over and over and over again, and that’s — come on, Ryland, get it together. I feel a little pathetic. I haven’t really thought about this stuff for — well, for a long time now. Any human contact was out of reach, and if I had occasional dreams about someone just holding me while I cried, it was between me and God. Now, though… It’s not even sexual. That would have been understandable, probably. Human physiology, natural biological reactions to close proximity, all that. That would have been easier to rationalize. Nope. I just want a darn hug. Pathetic.

On Humanity, Cosmic Horrors and Staying Alive (Together) (ch. 12) Grace x Simon x Rocky, T He looks at the telescope screen again. “Those stars. They are real, alive… existing stars. Right? Not— not ghostlight?” “Of course not. They’re real. We’re heading to save one of them right now — Rocky and I told you that, right?” He takes a deep, shaky breath. Slides from the pilot’s chair on the floor, facing me and mimicking my posture with the crossed legs and hunched shoulders. And then he tells me. About the stars disappearing, the planets being gone overnight; the space stations scattered in the nothingness and fighting for their life. The ghostlight slowly fading away, leaving the sky dark and empty. The moons filled with blood — the last chance of the dying humanity. It is horrifying.

On Humanity, Cosmic Horrors and Staying Alive (Together) (ch. 11) Grace x Simon x Rocky, T Grace turns on the water. Simon expects to freak out. When he attempted to do this on his own last time, he did freak out; the hot water getting on his face almost sent him into blind panic. Now — the fear is still there, but… A part of him feels relief. Just… something instinctive. Close to what he felt when he got out of that submarine and was able to breathe in fresh air for the first time in — days, weeks, months? The water splashes a little, getting on the gills on his neck — and then he understands. …He hates this. A human would have been scared, right? He (almost?) drowned; he should hate water now, this is how it works. And he hates it, he really does, but… “You’ll never get away from us, Butcher.”

On Humanity, Cosmic Horrors and Staying Alive (Together) (ch. 10) Grace x Simon x Rocky, T “‘Grace’ also means ‘kindness’,” Simon offers. “Or mercy.” Rocky turns to me, leaning forward inside his ball. He does it when he pays full attention to something and wants to make sure that I’m aware of it. Well, he is paying full attention to me now. Can’t say I’m happy about that. “Why you not tell me, question?” “We barely had any shared words back then! I wasn’t going to explain any complex concepts.” “Kindness not complex!” “Yeah?” I scoff. “How do you explain it with a pantomime?” “Watching someone sleep when you do not know them!” “Giving your blanket to a guy who threatened you with a wrench,” Simon adds, so quietly that I almost miss it.

On Humanity, Cosmic Horrors and Staying Alive (Together) (ch. 9) Grace x Simon x Rocky, T His eye slips shut. His head falls back on the pillow. His hand stays on my wrist. His grip is loose now, I can probably wiggle out of it no problem. I have so many things to do; I can’t afford to just sit here with him. I stare at the fingers clutching my arm. Webbed or not, it’s— the touch feels human. I’ve touched him plenty, of course, while helping him with his wounds. I know that logically. But — that was clinical and through the gloves. I thought I made peace with the fact that I’m not going to have any skin-to-skin contact with anyone for the rest of my life. I thought I was okay with it. I have Rocky, after all, and I can trick myself into believing that there’s no xenonite separating me from my only friend. If the tears blurring my vision now are any indication, I wasn’t able to trick myself well enough.

He is not lonely. He has friends. (The friends have families of their own and will never truly see him as a priority.)

He is not lonely. He has his kids. (The kids will grow up and leave his class and probably forget him in a few years.)

He is not lonely. He has relatives: some aunts and uncles and cousins scattered across the world. (The relatives live a long way away and/or have people closer to them than he; he is not listed as anyone's emergency contact.)

He is not lonely. He has people in his life: good people, people whose company he enjoys, people he loves. The comfort of living alone and not performing the social dances that are romance and marriage — this comfort outweighs the depressing mental image of his body rotting in a locked apartment.

At least he doesn't have any pets that will starve to death if he isn't found fast enough.

He has made peace with it. He is ready. He thinks he is ready.

...it's only when he wakes up on the Hail Mary and realizes that this is a suicide mission, the possibility of it hits him full force for the first time.

And, god, he is not ready.

On Humanity, Cosmic Horrors and Staying Alive (Together) (ch. 8) Grace x Simon x Rocky, T “Can you look up? I need to, uh. Clean it up a little. Is that okay?” He hums again. I think it was affirmative. I’m not 100% sure he has heard me, though. He is not moving. He tilts his head up before I can ask him again. Somehow now, when he is staring at me at a bit of an upward angle, he looks even more tired; the exhausted expression of his one good eye is haunting. Something about is just— It screams that he is past even the point of distrust right now. Just… accepting. It is uncomfortable to see. I know exhaustion and lack of sleep, I know the feeling of looking in the mirror and seeing absolutely dead eyes in the reflection, but this — this looks like something no one should be pushed to. What happened to him? …This is probably not the best moment to ask.

It is going so well. Trust me.

On Humanity, Cosmic Horrors and Staying Alive (Together) (ch. 7) Grace x Simon x Rocky, T “…Please don't freak out,” the voice says.  I promptly freak out.  I yelp, and I flail, and I almost fall off the bed. Armando’s arms catch me right before I can collide with the floor and scramble as far away from the voice as I possibly can in the tiny space that is my dormitory. I scream again; the sensation of being held down is not helping, I’m properly panicking now. I’m about to be murdered, aren’t I?!  The person sighs. I can feel how exhausted he is.  I can… feel how exhausted he is.  It is similar to what I experienced with my alien friend from the submarine, but much more subtle. That one — the desperate plea for me to stay — felt like someone hit my brain with a hammer while loudly yelling in my ear; now it feels more like… a presence on the edge of my mind. Not invasive, but noticeably not-mine. Okay, now I’m curious. 

...the adopting might involve yelling at him for some reckless driving, but that's beyond the matter.

On Humanity, Cosmic Horrors and Staying Alive (Together) (ch. 6) Grace x Simon x Rocky, T The monster’s face is getting bigger on the screen. It opens its maw; the endless rows of teeth are getting closer and closer and closer. The panicked chirping returns. He ignores it. The thin, bloodied canines, growing at all the wrong angles, fill the telescope view entirely. Simon glances at the radar; at the screen again. The new alarm turns on: the proximity alert is yelling at him to disengage. He ignores it too. “Join us. Become us. See the light.” A few teeth in the center of the monster’s mouth are chipped off — a couple of them broken, the jagged shards sticking out like shattered blades. He laughs; he can’t help it. “Bet you didn’t like the fire extinguisher, huh?” “Butcher!”