swwfo
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As a rule, Jake doesn't communicate over Snapchat, because he's an adult (sort of), and can text like a human being. But there's something about Bradley Bradshaw that has him continuing to open the messages when his phone gives him the notification.
Often, that something has him responding to Bradshaw, too.
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From Earth to Erid by coffindancers
Fandoms: Project Hail Mary (2026), Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir
05 Jun 2026
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“I will fucking kill you!” Rocky roared, squeezing where his claws dug into Grace’s own. “You desecrated Grace’s memorial site—Savior of Erid Grace—and then you come into his home, an imposter, and trash his mementos-"
“I am Grace!” Grace squeaked melodically.
Rocky sucker punched him straight in the radiator.
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it's mine, it's mine, it's mine, (whose world is this?) by piningtree
Fandoms: Whiplash (2014)
10 Oct 2025
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Andrew thinks of himself as one big scab, the scar tissue underneath growing tougher the more it's stripped away.
And if he strips away Fletcher's own scabs, which come in the form of hanged men named Sean Casey, well, he can build him back up into something better too.
His reputation amongst his peers becomes collateral damage in the process.
Bookmarked by swwfo
22 May 2026
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“Sean Casey was on anti-depressants when I met him.” Andrew didn’t know what to say to that, so he began playing with the duvet he’d pulled over himself as a sort of barrier. “When he killed himself, it was easy for me to excuse my own role in his death.” He kept fiddling with the duvet. He could feel Fletcher’s gaze burning into him, but he was too afraid of what he might find there to meet it.
“I’m not dead.” He mumbled, working off the implication that had been left to hang there like a forbidden fruit. Fletcher paused for a few, very long moments.
“No. You’re not.” Another pause. “I’ve made you sick.” The two thoughts came packaged individually, with a contemplative, disjointed quality, as if they’d just been realized.
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Andrew wonders if maybe he is going to kill him. Maybe he is going to finally end it. The humiliation didn’t work so it is time to progress to murder. He wonders about how he’ll do it—imagining Fletcher’s hands around his throat, strangling the life out of him with his muscled arms, elbows locked in place as he bears the brunt of his weight down on him.
Post Carnegie, Andrew figures out new ways to tolerate Fletcher.
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Bookmarked by swwfo
19 May 2026
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He hates Fletcher, deeply, at times, but another part of him can’t imagine not having him now. The most he ever does is bite him hard enough to bruise. He thinks Fletcher must hate him too. There is nothing salvageable in their relationship–that word again, a word Andrew isn’t sure is right–and yet he spends the night with the older man, warms his bed and finds himself talking late into the night with him about music and mistakes. The intersection of their lives and how they found one another.
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“I can still destroy you, don’t you forget that.”
"I'd like to see you try."