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Fundy didn't remember Wilbur having wings. Turns out there's a reason for that.
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Tommy was sitting on a bench, well, The Bench, as Cat played on the record player to his left. He looked ill, pallid skin and bags under his eyes that could pass for bruises. A white streak in matted blonde hair covering a wide, off-colored scar that spanned across his forehead. His blue eyes now dull and gray as he stared out at the sunrise. The green bandanna he now used as a bonnet hid his hair loss, the enchanted compass pinned to his lapel, and the tarnished and burnt trench coat that always smelt of gunpowder no matter how many times he washed it weighed heavily on his conscience.
When he couldn't sleep, he would come out to the familiar spot to think. He didn’t think anyone would be out this early, so he began talking aloud, something that had become normal to him since exile. He folded his hands together and hunched forward, staring at the horizon line, voice raspy, “Prime, what do I do now?”
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The Journals of Wilbur Soot, and Tommy Innes by actually_eli, mxlovey32
Fandoms: Video Blogging RPF, Dream SMP, Minecraft (Video Game)
18 Oct 2022
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Crime Bois take on America during the late 1800s. Terrible workplace conditions, old-timey slang, and terminal illnesses await!
AKA: My bestie and I accidentally wrote fanfiction as our history project and now you all get to witness it :)
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金継ぎ (Kintsugi), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum; the method is similar to the maki-e technique. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.
Or, Beeduo addresses their scars.
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L’manberg has won the election. Wilbur has his two sons by his side and the future is so bright. But after a unsettling dream Wilbur has about a black eyed man he’s not so sure anymore about all of their futures.
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BNHA Oneshots by mxlovey32
Fandom 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
21 Jul 2020
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- 938
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we never learn, we’ve been here before by idkimoutofideas
Fandoms: Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir, Project Hail Mary (2026)
02 Jul 2026
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When I first woke up, I couldn’t see anything. It took several long seconds to realize that the reason I couldn’t see wasn’t because I’d gone blind, but because there was a black bag on my head.
Which. Was not reassuring.
While starving to death on Erid, Grace remembers some things that he’d really rather forget.BTHB: captivity
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- Part 24 of bad things happen bingo
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Bookmarked by mxlovey32
03 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Chap 10. Grace suffering through the effects of starvation and scurvy, all while the memories of his time being kidnapped and tortured come back in bursts and start severing his tether to reality. Rocky knows he's having these flashbacks, that he was kidnapped, but not the specifics of his torture.
---
Bare concrete. Ice blue eyes. Flickering fluorescent bulbs. A puddle of water.
I caught brief glimpses of my surroundings, but I couldn’t focus long enough to put it together into one coherent picture.
Warm brown rock. A high, worried note. A brightly colored blanket.
Soft overhead lights give the barest hints of my surroundings, but it’s hard to focus on any one aspect long enough for it to sink in.
Tight hands wrapped around my biceps, dragging me along. The heels of my shoes scraped against the floor. My head lolled backwards, and when I next fought my eyes open, the world was upside down. The position put stress on my windpipe, each breath feeling like I was sipping air through a straw. My shirt was soaked, cold settling in, but I didn’t have the strength to shiver.
Warm, gentle hands slip under my back and knees, picking me up with ease. I don’t have the strength to move myself, but the hands carrying me are careful and don’t let me bump into anything. My head tilts sideways, my cheek resting against something warm, and I feel my glasses slip down the bridge of my nose. The air feels thick and heavy, and no matter how desperately I try to suck down a breath, I can’t get enough oxygen.
I heard people talking, but I couldn’t make out the words. Didn’t know if I should blame that on the tinny way everything echoed around me or if they weren’t speaking English.
Everything was slow and fuzzy. Staticky. My brain worked in fits and starts, barely able to form one coherent thought before it slipped away.
Someone’s playing music. It’s not a song I recognize, but it calms me down all the same. I feel like I’m playing connect the dots, only half the dots are missing. There’s more that I should be doing, something I should be saying, but I can’t think clearly.
The hands carrying me lifted me higher before dropping me unceremoniously on something soft. Well, soft in comparison to the concrete, so it wasn’t really that soft.
Someone props up my back, settles my head on a pillow, arranges my limbs into a comfortable position.
I rolled clumsily onto my side as I coughed. And coughed. And coughed.
And cough. And cough. And cough.
I felt like I was going to hack up a lung, my body spasming violently as it tried to empty every ounce of fluid that made it into my lungs. Some water did come out, but not nearly enough to make up for the way my breaths rattled in my chest.
I feel someone carefully remove my glasses, and then pull a warm blanket up over my shoulders. I hum out a soft thanks, burying myself in the warm sheets, and get a low, sad note in response.
I fumbled blindly for anything to cover myself with, and only came up with a threadbare blanket that did nothing to stop the chill from settling into my bones. I knew I should take off my wet shirt, but I was too exhausted to even consider trying it.
“Grace sleep now. Rocky watch.” Something settles on the mattress next to me, my own personal space heater, and I curl around it on instinct. It hugs me back.
I would’ve shivered if I had the energy for it, my brain running on autopilot just trying to keep me alive. The only thing I heard was my own wheezing breaths as I slipped into unconsciousness.
The music continues, a soft, soothing melody that eases the ache in my lungs, and I drift off to sleep.
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the harvest left no food for you to eat (you cannibal, you meat-eater, you see) [stylized] by icallthismethod_hope
Fandoms: Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir, Project Hail Mary (2026)
28 Jun 2026
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the untold story of rocky & grace's trip back to erid. it does not go well.
Bookmarked by mxlovey32
01 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Chapter 22. Starvation has taken a severe toll on Grace. He has auditory, visual, and physical hallucinations. Unknown amount of time left until they reach Erid. Rocky has become Grace's full-time caretaker after he tried to kill himself and the Don't Go Crazy room while Rocky slept and has been catatonic since. To get Grace to sleep, they've been sedating him with a mask. The side effects are making him lose his memories again
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I can feel the dull ache of longing when I think about watching movies with Rocky, of returning to a simpler time. Rocky struggles to control my laptop in my atmosphere, and it’s too difficult to get me onto and off of the floor mattress for us to use his, so we haven’t watched anything in… well, however many days it's been. I’m not sure anymore.
Rocky’s gentle, constant hum has stopped, the vibrations no longer soothing through me. I’m able to move my eyes to get a vague look at him, where he’s pressed up against my side, but actually moving my head is more effort than I can ever manage, so he’s just a slight blur at the edge of my peripheral. He’s completely still, his camera fixated on the screen. A screen which, I discover upon shifting my gaze back, is no longer on the lock screen, no longer rotating through National Geographic style photography, but on the home screen, tabbed into the folder of movies I’d been compiling to show Rocky. Did I unlock it? When did I do that? Experimentally, I fixate on a title, an English voiceover of Solaris, and try to double-click it to open. Nothing. Maybe Rocky brought it to me already unlocked? I could’ve sworn I’d seen the pictures. A warm hand rubs gently over my back, and a quiet set of notes pours out. He sounds weird. I can never understand what he’s saying anymore, but I always recognize his voice. It’s always reminded me of something between a bird and whale song, very natural and organic. This isn’t that; it sounds too man-made, instrumental. It is instrumental. It takes me a long moment of frenzied blinking at the screen to recognize the opening credits of the movie beginning to play, the opening music playing softly through the computer's speakers. Now Rocky is speaking, trilling enthusiastically at me as he presses in closer. I feel disconnected from the actions; I’m fairly sure they’re mine, but I can’t remember actually doing them beyond the thought. But that’s something, right?
I have a hard time keeping up with the movie. I’ve seen it before and have a distant recognition of what happens, but I think I’m dozing because things are jumping around in ways I don’t recognize. It’s pretty hard not to, in my defense. Rocky tucked us both into my bed with a blanket and that, combined with his warmth, insulates us and is nearly intoxicating. The hands steadily rubbing at my back and over my scalp certainly don’t help either. So it’s with a sleepy haze that I recognize, much too late, that the movie has ended and I’m being led back to the medical platform. Things were so good, can’t I just have one night? I’m laid down, as always, and a dry, strangled cry rips from my throat, almost animalistic, as the mask is lowered towards my face. My throat feels shredded from disuse. I can see Rocky’s carapace shoot up from the bottom of the bed as I struggle to lift my arms to shove it away. I see my arms only barely lift into my field of vision, but unable to raise them to my face. He settles into his regular place at my side and chirps quietly at me for the few moments I remain awake before the sedation takes me.
—
My head hurts when I wake this time, a throbbing, blinding sensation that has me squinting pathetically into the lights above me. I can feel someone gently pry me from the medical platform, coaxing me back into bed like they always do, but that trip feels endlessly long. I’m not sure how far I make it before I double over and lose my dinner, gagging and dry heaving pathetically on the floor. It’s only once I stop that I’m pushed and tugged back to my feet, and I’m glad to feel my legs meeting the bed before the need to puke can bubble over again. I crumple into it, shoving my face into the pillow to try and block out the light, even though it makes it kind of hard to breathe. A warm weight settles against me, carefully splayed over my back with a grounding pressure. I’m overwhelmed with a longing to just go home, but I’m not quite sure where that is. Somewhere where they stop hurting me. I don’t know what they’re doing, or why, but I know they are hurting me when they put me out. They? Who? I don’t know. I don’t know if I ever knew. I curl away from the source of the heat, curling arms tight around the pillow to hold it so firmly against my face that my lungs begin to burn. Someone is going to come save me. There’s gotta be someone out there who loves me, misses me. Someone will bring me home. I just can’t, for the life of me, remember their face.
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Grace say Grace is Sad. Rocky Fix. by neoRainbow
Fandoms: Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir, Project Hail Mary (2026)
26 Jun 2026
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Summary
Grace is having a very difficult time on the Journey to Erid. When Rocky finds out exactly how bad of a time Grace is having, he will do everything in his power to help.
“Grace try treatment. Try try try. Please.”
How can someone without any eyes at all still give such strong puppy dog eyes? I just want to stop hurting my best friend. “Sure Rock.”
“Rocky Grace try treatment. If treatment not work, then.” Rocky shudders one more time. “Then Grace do dangerous sleep.”
Bookmarked by mxlovey32
01 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Chap 7. Narrative Slice of Life where Rocky helps Grace manage his depression. They now exercise daily (races around the ship), have a sleep routine, and have plans for the future once they land on Erid. Rocky just built a bathtub for Grace after he mentioned really wanting a hot bath after years of simply sponge bathing.
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"Still bumpy, years later. How long until heal question?” Asks Rocky as he perches over my bathtub.
“Uh, scar tissue like this is healed. It likely won’t ever go back to its normal texture.” Hmm… actually that may not be true in my case. It’s a dark subject, but it’s better to warn him now. “I told you that I was worried about Scurvy right?”
Rocky responds in a lower octave. “Yes. Grace lack essential acid. Is why we reserve coma food. Body does not hold onto long time, so periodic dosage delay scurvy onset.”
“Yep. If we ever run out fully, this arm is the thing I’m most worried about. Vitamin C is really important for collagen production. Scar tissue is mostly collagen. If scurvy gets really bad, all of my old wounds are going to re-open, including my arm.”Rocky moves as if he’s going to touch my arm, but he holds off before doing so.
“But! There is an upside. If that happens, as long as we keep it clean, bandaged, and sterile, there is a good chance it can heal better once we do get some vitamin C in me.” I pat the top of his suit with my scarred hand. “It’s gonna suck, and it’s gonna hurt, but I can heal. Isn’t that wonderful?” Rocky lets out a deep drone. I don’t think that made him feel better.I use the washcloth to clean my chest and legs. I scrub hard until my skin is pink and fresh from the heat and the washcloth working together. I consider asking Rocky to turn around before I clean between my legs, before I remember he doesn’t have a front for him to turn away from me. Instead I make conversation to try to make things less awkward.
“Any hygiene that you haven’t been able to get to bud? I’m sure we could get a good polish going before we get back to Erid, make sure you look nice and shiny for all your award ceremonies.”I look over to see Rocky giggle at my joke, but instead he goes stock still. He crouches, and walks slightly away from my bathtub. Oh no, I didn’t mean to shame him or anything.
“Oh, hey hey hey, I’m sorry Rock, you look great! I wasn’t saying it to be mean, just curious.”
Rocky taps two of his claws together. “Eridians have… brush. Use similar to exfoliate. Remove surface dirt and old carapace. Helps encourage molt. Eridans brush each other. Rocky can not reach top of own head. Have not been brush in long long time.”
Oh man. I feel awful. He’s been so focused on me, and I haven’t done nearly enough to help him. “Bud, why did you never say?”
“Is Impossible. Grace can not reach in bubble or suit without injury.”
“Oh, nothings impossible for my best Eridian engineer. Can you make a version of your ball with little uh, arm slots for me? Like my quarantine box in the lab. Then I could brush you as much as you like! “
Rocky tilts himself up at me. He does a very muted jazz hands motion. “Would like.”
I beam down at him. “Great! That can be my next reward. “
“How is brush me reward?”
I slip my head back, close my eyes and enjoy the heat of the water. “I like when Rocky is happy. I think Rocky will like like like reward. Grace is excited that Rocky will be excited. “
“Use own words against me. Is cheating.“
“I think Rocky’s just a sore loser.”
“No. Rocky is winner.”
“Yeah bud.”
We both are. -
The Griever's Almanac by dirtymakeupbrushes
Fandoms: Project Hail Mary (2026), Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir, Iron Lung (2026), Iron Lung (Video Game)
01 Jul 2026
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Summary
The Hail Mary has been housing three for some time. The dinner situation is not going very well.
Rocky can get along fine on Eridian food, and due to his mutations, Simon can too.
It's Grace's lack of Earth rations that are the problem.
OR
Simon and Rocky have to watch as their saving Grace starves in front of them.
Bookmarked by mxlovey32
30 Jun 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Chapter 5
Grace is starving. He's working on making the taumoeba edible, but it's slow progress and the effects of starvation make that progress even slower. Simon (who is mutated and can eat eridian food just fine) has been working on helping the plants grow in hopes the edible ones will produce enough to help Grace survive a little longer. Rocky is struggling to keep everyone together. Simon and Grace just had their first real argument.---
It’s a quiet realization, the idea that nothing he’s been doing for the past few months has actually accomplished anything. That everything was for waste, that he hasn’t been valuable at all. Hasn’t had a life worth saving, hasn’t been proving his worth. It creeps up all too slowly and then pounces on him all at once and while lately he’s been filtering out the worst of his thoughts they all come pouring in, all at once, in the time of Grace’s ragged breathing, like a stupid, stupid song.
(Deformed)
(should’ve died with the ee)l
(should’ve stayed in the sub)
(waste of resources—)
—and so much, too many, and his claws (disgusting, deformed) curl and make a shrill noise against the floor because he can’t seem to do anything right. It’s all the movement he can make, though, he feels completely frozen otherwise, staring ahead at the floor. His face is blank, he can tell, but there are tears running down regardless.
Deformed, his brain helpfully reminds him. Again and again. Tried to help and you made everything worse. Stupid.
“It’s too late for that, though,” Grace says, because he’s still talking for some reason, and then he’s shifting his stance so that he’s upright on his feet, no longer leaning against the wall. “Now I’m stuck with all of this, with barely enough to make it to Erid. And it’s— it’s not even worth it anymore, I don’t. I don’t know.”
Simon also doesn’t know what Grace means by that, but it can’t be anything good. Words like that are never good. Normally he’d do something, anything, but he finds himself rooted to the floor, with the knowledge weighing down that if he moves, if he says anything, something horrible will happen. He doesn’t know what, but it will.
Maybe they’ll finally toss him out the airlock.
Let him and his (deformed) gills suffocate in the void.
He can hear Grace’s footsteps again, Grace saying something else before he moves, slow and disjointed and sickly, but soon enough the sound is far enough for him to drown them out, for him to pretend like he’s alone. He wishes. (Of course you’d want to be alone after everything they’d done for you, you sick fuck).
Alone until he withers, just like Grace, and rots into the floor. At least then his (deformed) flesh would be feeding the plants. Could be feeding Grace. It wouldn’t be going entirely to waste.
It’s what he deserves, anyway.
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We're as Blind as Each Other by Brokenpitchpipe
Fandoms: Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir, Project Hail Mary (2026)
27 Jun 2026
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The egg is the same bright copper color as the rest of Rocky’s body, but smooth where his carapace is bumpy and brittle, the first Eridian-made object I've ever seen with curved edges rather than flat panels and sharp corners. It has a slight taper as well, narrowing upwards from its widest point.
Rocky’s words echo in the back of my mind: “Grace would be perfect at take many ♪♪♫.”
I jam the dissection probe through the shell.
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Bookmarked by mxlovey32
29 Jun 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Delightfully erotic and chock-full of actual science meets sci-fi theoretical biology. I actually learned a decent amount about hormones and molecular biology through this fic, and still got my rocks off in the process.
10/10 would read again.

