Rabelaisian_Crow
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Cuddle Buddy by ChocolateSyrup
Fandoms: Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir, Project Hail Mary (2026)
04 May 2026
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Summary
"Hey...can I ask you something kind of weird?"
"Shoot," Rocky says, his voice sounding amused. "But not actually shoot."
Grace wants to laugh at the joke (he's been getting better at joking and sarcasm) but instead he swallows, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the blanket. The ache from earlier at the classroom, the beach, the constant invisible wall feels closer tonight.
"What does it feel like... to touch you?" he asks. "I mean, if we could. Your carapace. Your claws. What would it feel like to me?"
Rocky is quiet for a long beat. When he sings again, his melody is thoughtful and gentle.
"Hard. Rocky, like name. Like...strong stone that is alive. My claws are sharp but careful. My body pulses a little when I am happy. Like singing Grace can feel instead of hear." He pauses, then adds with a soft, almost shy trill, "What does human skin feel like, question? To me, I wonder."
He imagines it.
In his mind, the xenonite shell vanishes.
Or: Grace is touch starved and Rocky wants to make it better
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 37,741
- Chapters:
- 8/8
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- 414
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- 1,684
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Bookmarked by Rabelaisian_Crow
08 May 2026
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Speed had always loved racing. He was born racing, he’d probably die racing. He would raise his kids on a track, just like he’d been raised. Sat in the seat of the Mach 3, the Mach 4, and then the Mach 5 when it was all his. His kids would ride in all the future iterations, he knew it.
But it was…different, now, that he’d won the Grand Prix. He’d gone from a no-one racer to the man who had helped cause Royalton’s downfall, all at age eighteen. The WRL wasn’t sure how to handle him. Other people were either targeting him or leaving him widely alone, and he kept getting calls from the CIB about different cases. It wasn’t the same, simple racing he’d done before.
But when it came down to it…the Thunderhead start line was still the same as it’d always been.
Bookmarked by Rabelaisian_Crow
07 May 2026
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i have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night by aligningplanets
Fandoms: Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir, Project Hail Mary (2026)
21 Apr 2026
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'Rocky, do you remember the expected, average human lifespan?'
I ask it conversationally but Rocky freezes in place all the same.
'No,' he states.
'No?'
'Yes, Rocky remembers. No, do not want to talk about this.'
I lean back and fold my arms.
'Rock…'
'Grace. No. Bad bad bad.'
Dr Ryland Grace is an old man. Dr Ryland Grace knows what he wants to happen when the time comes. Rocky doesn't want to talk about it.
Bookmarked by Rabelaisian_Crow
05 May 2026
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"Welcome to the Velvet Room," the man says, gesturing with one of his too-long arms at the unstable space around them. His voice sounds surprisingly kind and wizened, and it should probably be reassuring, but it only serves to put Goro even more on edge. "I am Igor. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Wha—" Goro tries, but his voice is shaky and small in a way that makes him sound years younger than his actual age — which is unacceptable, and he has to swallow, hard, before he can try again. "What— where is this?
"This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter," the old man replies. As if that's actually an explanation.
Akechi wakes up in the Velvet Room after dealing with the ruler of Royal's final palace.
Series
- Part 1 of Stand Inside Your Love
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 128,586
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- 21/21
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- 2
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Bookmarked by Rabelaisian_Crow
11 Mar 2026
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“So why…why haven’t you consumed me?”
“You intrigued me,” it cooed directly into his ear.
No.
“Your fierce will to survive…”
No, that wasn’t right.
“To live.”
No, that was wrong…
Something in him was wrong.
“Stop it!” Simon screamed at last, desperate as he pushed himself back into Eden’s tree — but there was nowhere to go.
It was in his head.
In his body.
…In his mind.
His heart felt like it was going to explode as he held it in pain.
He thinks he’s begging. He has to be. He can feel his lips moving, but his ears are muted to the sound of his babbling. All he is — all that he can hear — is the voice of God in his ear.
“I could make you a god,” it continues, either unaware or uncaring of his distress as he watched, horrified, as tendrils of prismatic light drifted from its swirling iris. Nebulas gutted themselves before him and bled into his world so that they could curl around him.
. . .
Simon wakes after what should have been the end.
Bookmarked by Rabelaisian_Crow
05 Mar 2026