16blocks
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Healy didn’t know if March was aware. They had never done anniversaries. But it was something about ten years that just felt so significant. Maybe the fact that he didn’t forget this time, or the fact that Healy felt so lucky that every day for the past decade, March had woken up beside him, a greying, overweight man over ten years his senior, and decided to stay.
So… what do you do for your partner when you want to celebrate but you don’t know how? Healy doesn’t know the answer.
Bookmarked by 16blocks
30 Sep 2026
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Healy is shirtless.
His brain short-circuits.
Jackson Healy is standing before him in nothing but his shorts, a vast expanse of bare skin and broad shoulders and chest hair and–
Holland is staring. He forces his gaze away. They’re at the beach, for Christ’s sake. Of course Healy’s going to take his shirt off. That’s what normal people do.
OR
4 reasons why Holland March regrets going to the beach, +1 reason he does not.
Bookmarked by 16blocks
29 Sep 2026
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In the early afternoon, he finally hears the bedroom door click open, and footsteps padding down the hall.
"Thank God you're finally awake," Holland says, still hunched over the paper. "Jack, baby, they got me fucking stumped, they're making up new words. What's an eight-letter synonym for life, starting with a V?"
There's no reply. Healy can usually think of at least one thing to throw out, even if it doesn't fit. The silence goes on for a beat too long, and Holland didn't hear him move to the kitchen. He turns around —
— and it's Healy, standing there, it's definitely Healy, but it's a Healy who looks like he's in his fucking twenties.
His face is completely unlined — his hair is dark, not a speck of gray — and he's staring right back at Holland.
"Um." Holland's at a complete loss. "Hi."
Bookmarked by 16blocks
28 Sep 2026
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March says please so much during sex it's created a pavlovian response in Healy.
Bookmarked by 16blocks
24 Sep 2026
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you're always looking at a different beach by thingswithwings
Fandoms: Project Hail Mary (2026)
30 Aug 2026
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Grace had joked, occasionally, that they were a liquid and I was a solid, two completely different states of matter; it was a joke because it was an exaggeration, an overstatement. In reality, Grace had bones and teeth, and I had blood and steam, but we both enjoyed the pretense that we were more different than we were. It reminded us that our new friendship was something rare, something strange and special. Grace called themself a blob and called me a hunk of granite (a great insult that I was saving to use again on Erid), or they called themself a water balloon and called me a little mountain, or themself a puddle and me a pile of rocks: and they tilted at me, the human mouth tilt they called a smile, and that tilt always made me think again, lovingly, about the enormous odds against us ever having met.
Stone and water, water and stone. That comparison, even as a joke, never failed to ring a bell deep inside of me. Because I would think about erosion, about the long slow beat of water against rock, and I would think about how the rock was always, in the end, consumed.
Bookmarked by 16blocks
21 Sep 2026