I posted a simplified version of this in a tiktok comment section earlier, but honestly it deserves a longer post because honestly Rocky and Grace are both shockingly young to be on death missions.
Rocky says that he is 291 years old. He also says that the average Eridian lifespan is 689. He's roughly 42.24% through his life. If we say that this is equal to the average human lifespan (I'm saying 80y bc I'm lazy) and that he's 42.24% of the way through 80 years; Rocky developmentally is basically some 33 year old who has just spent about 6.97% (5.5 human years) of his life alone in space.
Meanwhile, Grace is somewhere in his early 40's when he wakes and meets Rocky. Assuming he's like 42, that's 6.1%ish of the Eridian lifespan making him appear in Rocky's eyes as some 5 year old that just pulled up driving his own spaceship.
This is an insane comparison but I cannot stress enough that Rocky is a 33 year old highly trained astronaut tasked with teaming up with some hyper intelligent alien that's only been alive for 5 years because the alien's kind decided to throw that 5 year old on a one way space trip just to see what happens.
Obviously this is a gross simplification of their ages and how aging works for Eridians, for all we know Eridian maturity can happen at a rate similar to cats, where there's a rapid maturation with a certain period of time rather than a consistent maturation over a lifetime.
But even with that in mind, Rocky and Grace both seem to be at a similar level of maturity where they're old enough to understand the seriousness of their situation, but young enough to still show the side of themselves that's naturally inclined to be some goofy nerd that's just overly excited to discover (friendly and intelligent) alien life.
That being said, though, if anyone’s curious about Adrian, using this kind of math to see how long Rocky's been with his mate we get 27% of his life or 21 years which would mean if they were human that they would have met when they were 12 (Even if we say humans live an average lifespan of 100 and compare that number to 689, that would still make Rocky only 15 when he meets his mate—they're childhood sweethearts!!!)
“This means… of Rocky, possessive. Of the speaker.”
“My.”
“Correct. But only for names.”
“So you’re calling me…?”
Rocky repeats the word: “My Grace. Yes.”
“Are there other Graces? Why do you need to specify?”
Rocky considers this, tapping his xenonite-encased claws idly against the floor.
“No other Grace,” Rocky says. “We just do this.”
“Like an honorific,” Grace guesses. “It goes before everyone’s name? Everyone you know?”
Rocky whirs in surprise. “No, no, no. Not at all.”
“Okay, then who? What makes me qualify?”
Rocky is silent for a moment.
“...Does this offend Grace?” he asks, voice lower.
Grace blinks. “No! I don’t think so. Is there a reason to be offended?”
“Good,” Rocky says, relieved. Grace is starting to recognize what Eridian relief sounds like. “No, no reason.”
“Who else do you call that?”
“You don’t have this on Earth?”
Grace considers. What for, friends? He couldn’t call Marissa “my Marissa.” That would be weird.
“I still don’t know what it means,” he settles on. “So I couldn’t tell you.”
Rocky groans in frustration. He’s a very impatient tutor. “We just say it.”
“Are you my Rocky?” Grace asks. He hits the two keys to make the my note.
“I don’t know!” Rocky says. “You decide this.”
“I decide? Who do you use it for?”
“You. Adrian. I will use it for my pebbles.”
Grace blinks. “So few?”
Rocky shifts. “I am… you do not have the word yet. Eridian who works alone often, not close to many other Eridians.”
“What, mechanical engineer?”
Rocky chitters with amusement. “Acceptable.”
“Is Adrian your only friend?”
Rocky draws back, like he’s taken offense. “I have friends. Coworkers. But different.”
So just Adrian. And him.
“This worries you,” Rocky says.
“Adrian is your mate,” Grace points out. “I’m not your mate.”
“Correct. You are not. You do not like to be a mate.”
Grace isn’t sure how to respond to that, so he ignores it.
“I’m your friend,” Grace says.
Rocky hesitates, for a second. “...Correct.”
“Like your coworkers.”
“No.”
Grace sighs, rubbing his hand across his face. Okay, maybe that’s fair. It’s not like he felt about any of his coworkers like he feels about Rocky.
“Best friend,” Grace amends. “You’re my best friend, too.”
Rocky hums. “Acceptable.”
“Just acceptable? Now you are offending me. Can you just explain?”
This makes Rocky fall silent for a minute longer than usual. Grace is half-ready to apologize and to say let’s move on and to retype his own name without the superfluous my.
“The Earth ‘best friend’ is not strong enough,” Rocky says finally. “It does not translate this way.”
Grace runs his fingers through his hair, a little nervous, for some reason. “Okay.”
“It is…” Rocky pauses. He has to pause more often, now that they’re not using the translator, to simplify his language. “It means that I am not Rocky without my Grace. You are part of… of the whole. When I wake up, I think of you. When I work. When I eat. When I think I am going to die.”
Rocky speaks slowly, but it’s still a lot of Eridian for Grace to grasp all at once. Even as he works out the sentences in his head, he can feel hot tears rising in his eyes.
“It means that when you are sick, I am sick,” Rocky continues. “And it means I will take care of you, because taking care of you is taking care of myself.”
Grace bunches up his sleeve, wiping it across his face, blinking furiously.
Rocky’s voice is soft. “So Grace is part of Rocky. Grace is like a cell. You see? My Grace.”
Grace is quiet, for a moment, trying to get himself together. When he speaks, his voice is shaky.
“...Oh.”
Rocky hums, pressing his carapace gently against Grace’s arm. “You are leaking. Does this make you sad?”
Grace shakes his head, sniffing, crossing his arms across his knees and resting his chin on his sleeves. “Not at all.”
“Good, good.”
“I feel like that,” Grace mumbles. “Just like that. Just exactly—exactly like that.”
“About your old mate?”
“Don’t act stupid. You know I’m talking about you.”
Rocky hums, burrowing closer. Grace curls one arm around his carapace. That’s not enough, so he leans over, dropping his head down so his forehead presses against the xenonite.
“My Rocky,” Grace whispers in English.
“My Grace,” Rocky echoes in Eridian. Grace can recognize the note at the start. He will add it when he plays Rocky’s name.
“How long have you called me that?” Grace asks. “Must’ve been a while. I didn’t notice it change.”
farcille isn't "toxic yuri." nothing remotely toxic about them, they both treat each other with a great deal of care and affection and respect. just because marcille is willing to do forbidden necromancy and arguably cannibalism for her wife doesn't make her toxic that's just what you do for a woman with broad shoulders
I miss nadja of antipaxos. you used to be able to turn the tv on once a week and see an insane greek woman ripping people apart and killing and biting and screaming
HEY SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE GIRLIES, ITS OUR TURN TO ENDURE THE DARK DAYS NOW, BUT STAY STRONG. THE WORLD IS NOT ENDING; THE SUN IS JUST SETTING AT 5-to-6 PM. BUT SHE WILL COME BACK TO US SOON. TAKE A VITAMIN D AND HANG IN THERE.
in conversation about white people who go to Japan and expect their knowledge of anime to culturally carry them, I was once posed with “it’s like if there was a Japanese guy who was obsessed with spongebob and came over here and thought he could get by just communicating in spongebob quotes.” This is a false equivalence because if such a man existed we would crown him king. We’d love him. Americans would fucking love that. sometimes I get sad that this isn’t a real guy I can invite to a party.
watched three girls who reblogged its new blog mutual aidpost (made literally 15 minutes ago) already disappear from its notifs. transfems are not included in their pride :/
In 2026, the chicest thing a gay actor can do is never explicitly come out as gay but also make it abundantly clear that he is. Coming out is too modern. Staying closeted is too old fashioned. But this method merges contemporary freedom with Old Hollywood glamour and allure, and it weeds out the dumbest people who truly don’t get it. I call it the Pascal Method.
You clearly don't go here or to queer history and signaling, or both, enough to have this conversation and I'm not going to explain it to you. You could have asked questions, you could have done even a modicum of research. You didn't and you made yourself look ignorant. Goodbye.
#I'm fucking crying#this is an instant classic#this is the next meme#i can't believe I'm here to see a baby copypasta nary two hours old#I can't#lol#i laughed way too hard#iconic
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