scallionion



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    He shuddered when Grace's fingers tapped the glass panes of xenonite that separated them one afternoon, or as afternoon as their journey home would ever allow. His tone was playful, and Rocky braced himself from where he was meshing two panes of xenonite together. They really did have more important things to focus on. “Hypothetical: When we get back to Erid-”

    “If Grace and Rocky ever get back to Erid-”

    “-you’re saying I’m basically gonna be a walking porno for your race?”

    Rocky placed down his soldering iron. “Doesn't Grace have taumoeba tanks to check temperatures for?”

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    18 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Grace is put on cleaning duty and gets a mysterious fourth bag of vodka for his troubles.

    Rocky begrudgingly takes on the role of Designated Driver slash Space Blob Supervisor, and receives a different kind of gift in return.


    “Grace. What are you doing?”

    Grace's mouth, still smushed against my xenonite, curves upward: Contentment, happiness, satisfaction. Interesting, that it should be prone to smiling when made stupid by ethanol, but not so much when it gets stupid because of a lack of sleep.

    “‘s called a kiss, buddy. I‘m givin’ you. A kiss. ‘cause you're my best friend annnnd I like you. And y’nno what, you're actually pretty nice. When you’re not goin’ outta your way to be mean to me, that is.”

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    18 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Eridians fall in love hard.

    Humanity's not ready for just how far they'd go to keep only one of them happy.

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    15 Jun 2026

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    Simon has a problem. If it’s left up to him, he’ll try to take it to his grave.
    Grace isn’t able to try the same, not for this.

    ——

    Simon can’t tell if Grace actually glances down to his lips as he puts his glasses back on his nose or if it’s just his own wishful thinking, as it happened in the blink of an eye, if it happened at all. “I, uh, was wondering, only if, well, I-,” Grace quickly averts his gaze, shaking his head with a nervous laugh, “You know what, never-”

    Still reeling too much from his debatably imagined glace, Simon reaches across Grace’s space, placing his hand down in the space between Grace’s thigh and his hand. “Use your words, Grace.” One of his brows twitch, not nearly as patient as Grace is. “I hate guessing games, so spit it out.”

    The nervous grin never leaves Grace’s lips and the bulb above the stove highlights the way blood rushes to his cheeks.

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    13 Jun 2026

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    A non-linear journey of learning how to grieve, of discovering that it's okay to heal, and remembering how to live.

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    12 Jun 2026