I try not to fall into the "I never liked their work anyway" ditch when an artist/creator reveals themself to be a terrible person
BUT
a feeling I do have and will stand by is "While I enjoyed their work overall I did have some gripes that I overlooked out of affection and whimsy, but now that my loyalty is gone and my affection tainted there is nothing holding me back from enumerating my many grievances, to which the revelations of the creator's shittiness may or may not provide a new and infuriating context."
#such a good summation of this actually#because yeah there’s usually things that were always present#but which were easy to overlook or give the benefit of the doubt#that suddenly become relevant after a revelation about the creator#and it’s really not the same thing as the self-defensive “’I never liked it anyway’
I think a lot of people are completely skipping over how much Grace likes his space. I keep seeing, "oOoO it's been so long since another human has been around. Oh noooo~~~"
No. No no no.
I want more "could you give me a freakin' minute" snarky crashout Ryland vs. "if you leave I will start Experiencing The Horrors but I'm also going to crashout if you go too near me" complicated Simon.
I want more Ryland being boisterous, who's really good at taking charge. The guy FLAUNTS being "Doctor-Captain Ryland Grace" to Stratt. He WENT FISHING in a PLANET'S ATMOSPHERE WHILE EVERYTHING WAS ON FIRE. HE GOT HIMSELF FIRED BECAUSE HE POPPED OFF AT THE MOUTH. HE HAS AN EGO. GIVE IT TO HIM.
I want more Simon, who had his ego beat the fuck out of him, and is actively learning to try and gain that back again, because he used to be a prick on Eden, and now he's scared he'll turn back into that monster if he lets his self control go. Scared something Bad Will Happen either to him or because of him. [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]
WHERE IS SOFTSPOKEN POLITE SIMON WITH A TERRIBLE PAST AND ROWDY VODKA-SLAMMING-IN-SUNGLASSES USED-TO-BE-A-PRICK GRACE WITH A SOMEWHAT NORMAL BACKGROUND ??? The background-not-matching-the-personality trope is RIGHT THERE guys.
I want more Simon who thinks Ryland is a delusional liar vs. Ryland who can clearly see the signs of psychosis in Simon, and he might just be right. (I love you, Losing Streak by AO3 user rosysoleil)
I want Simon who has been trained to body pain and yet still fucking cries like a bitch (because he was, and he does). Simon is NOT stoic. HE IS NOT. Simon's got a pokerface and it's terrible.
I want more meet-ugly Punch Your Lights Out While Squealing Like A Bitch Ryland Grace vs. K.O.'d By A Whimpy White Guy Simon, who's more apologetic about the incident than Ryland is.
LOOK AT RYLAND'S ARM. LOOK. DUDE HAS A SLEEPER BUILD. It might be an accident (or totally justified self-defense) but, as stated by @anne-jordan in this post, Ryland "It's been a while since I've taken pills from strangers" Grace would be swinging back.
I want more BITCH FOR BITCH Simon and Rocky who think arguing with each other is fun, because Simon's sense of humor involves being mean (being rowdy with the boys on Eden was common) and Rocky is so with it.
I want more "sexuality crisis" Ryland Grace who thought he was straight vs. "dude labels went out of style like 230 years ago" True Neutral Future-Man Simon. SIMON'S THE CHILL ONE. SIMON DON'T GAF
I want more "forced proximity doesn't mean we have to fuck" stories!!! Turn that trope on its head!!!
I want more sexually complicated/aromantic-but-sex-positive Simon that ISN'T because of his trauma!!! Maybe he's just Like That, and that's okay!
Also, hey guys, guess what? Simon can just be a straight dude. These can just be straight dudes. Best buds. Guys. Healthy male friendships. HEALTHY MALE FRIENDSHIPS. It doesn't have to be yaoi all the time.
Give me variation. Give me underused dynamics. Challenge fandom with your writing. I dare you. I DARE YOU.
Does anyone hear me. Is this mic on??
All of this is /pos /crazy passionate writer tone btw I am NOT yelling at you guys in any form of anger.
HEYYY SO I JUST FINISHED UR "MR GRACE HAS RIZZ?" FIC AND WHAT IF YOU MADE A PART TWO WITH READER COMING IN FOR CAREER DAY AND ON OF THE SINGLE PARENTS TRYING TO FLIRT WITH HER AND GRACE GETS JEALOUS???
DID THIS MAKE SENSE??? AND IM NOT SHOUTING I JUST LIKE TYPING IN ALL CAPS
BTW I RLLY LIKED THE FIC!!!
OKE BYEE🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷
HA okay this is less dialogue because I DON'T KNOW how to write it apparently. thanks for reading!!
Mr. Grace has rizz? pt. 2 ~ ryland grace x reader
1.5k words, fluff
summary: it's career day! ryland has his students trained on professionalism but it doesn't extend to their parents
Part 1
--------------------------------
Career day had been marked on your calendar for weeks, your manager was more than happy to give you a morning off for it, saying something about inspiring the next generation of workers. You didn’t love that phrasing, but the capitalist wheel turns no matter the willingness of the cog, you supposed. You had a short presentation ready, choosing to talk about the coolest parts of being an architectural engineer. The goal was to get the students excited about science, though whether that was for their benefit or Ryland’s, you weren’t totally sure.
Either way, you were standing in Ryland’s classroom, mingling with the handful of other professionals there to talk about their own work. An L&D nurse and a firefighter, both parents to students in the class, and a photographer who travels for a living. It was a good mix of the arts and sciences, Ryland did well finding such different perspectives to present to the kids.
The students were sitting close, the history class next door piled in for the period. The bell rang and Ryland clapped his hands, lifting one in the air. All eyes went straight to him, chatter dying down quickly. He perched on the corner of his desk, smile wide as he introduced each speaker. “They’ve graciously agreed to share their time and work with all of us this morning, which means we’re going to be what?”
A chorus of “respectful!” rings through the room. It was impressive, how in control he seemed to be of so many middle schoolers. The photographer went first, showing the kids their best, and silliest, animal photos. They ate it up, laughing at a photo of a bird pooping in midair. Ryland stood next to you off to the side, hiding his grin behind his hand. The presentation ended up being a great refresher on animal sciences, which the kids didn’t expect from the artist of the group.
The nurse was next, she gave a beautiful speech about getting to help people every day, how she loved supporting moms through the scary moments and the joyful ones. It brought tears to your eyes hearing how passionate she was about her patients. You caught the history teacher wiping her cheek, a small smile shared between you two. You figured she must have kids, you didn’t have that excuse though.
The firefighter decided to go the comedy route, laughing his way through a story about having to save someone who climbed a tree to save a cat. He got them both down safely, using it as a stepping stone to talk about how firefighters have to be brave for everyone around them. He let the kids pass around his helmet and showed them how quickly he has to be able to suit up. The helmet eventually landed on Ryland’s head, making the students giggle as he puffs out his chest and says, “you know what, I do feel brave in this!”
Then it was your turn. As an architectural engineer, you knew you wanted to get the kids excited about design, so you brought in a model of a new lab your team was working on. You talked about the importance of being able to blend beautiful structure with sound math and things like ventilation, because a pretty building is nothing if it’s not safe. The kids had really thoughtful questions about accessibility and standards of design. It surprised you, how attentive they were.
You expected some teasing from them considering that they knew you were dating their teacher, but they were nothing but respectful the whole period. When you finished, Ryland jumped in and raised his hand again, “what do we say to our guests?” A rousing “thank you!” followed, making you laugh. The bell rang and that was it.
A few students stayed after class to talk to you all individually, asking more in-depth questions that made you excited for their future prospects. These kids were smart, now you understand why Ryland loved science fair season at the school.
When the last student finally ran off, the firefighter approached you. He was flirting, you could tell immediately, but you didn’t want to be rude, so you smiled along until you could find an out. He told you about his son Mason, briefly mentioned being divorced, and finally asked about your life. You could feel eyes on you from across the room, you knew Ryland was watching. He wouldn’t intervene unless you asked for help, but that doesn’t mean he’s not acutely aware of the unwanted advances you’re currently facing.
The man asked for your number, a charming smile on his face. You held in a sigh and kept your face neutral, “oh, I actually have a boyfriend.” You kept it simple, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “You do?” He asks, brows raising. Before you have a chance to say anything, though, you feel an arm slide around your shoulder. You turn your head and see Ryland, other hand on his hip and a big smile on his face.
“Thank you for coming today, the kids were so engaged,” he says it to you, then turns to the firefighter. “Seriously, they loved getting to meet you.”
The man covers his surprise quickly, reaching out to shake his hand. “It was my pleasure, Mr. Grace,” and he exchanges a few pleasantries before excusing himself.
You turn to Ryland with your brows raised, a smirk playing on your lips. “Ryland,” you start, “was that a little jealousy I heard?” He meets your eye and shrugs, “Mason’s dad is freshly divorced and maybe too eager to find a new wife.” You laugh softly, shaking your head and stepping away. “I was in the middle of turning him down, but thank you for saving me the trouble,” and you kiss his cheek.
~
It’s not until the next evening that Ryland has stories for you. He comes home with a huge grin plastered on his face, barely even getting his coat off before he’s calling for you. “You’ll never guess what Mason told me this morning,” he corners you on the couch. “Apparently, his dad asked him about you yesterday.” Your eyes go wide, not knowing what to expect when the story was coming from a 13 year old.
“Mason said, and I quote, ‘don’t worry, Mr. Grace, I shut that shit down so fast. My dad isn’t going anywhere near Mrs. Grace.’” A laugh rumbles out of him, shaking the couch cushion. You gasp, “he said that?!”
“Yeah! And then he had to put his name in the swear jar because what the fuck, Mason!” It always makes you laugh when Ryland swears, it sounds so unnatural coming from his mouth. You had rubbed off on him a little, but he really tries to keep it to the confines of the apartment.
“He’s a good kid,” you throw your legs over his, “he had great questions yesterday.”
He nods, “oh! One of the girls sent me an email with questions for you, said she was interested in how what she’s learning in her electronics class might roll over into what you do.” He pulls out his phone, forwarding you the email.
“Aw, a little engineer in the making,” you smile. “She’s like, insanely smart. Her last paper was on hydroponics, she brought a basil plant in for the window, it’s growing like crazy! No soil!” He gestures wildly, like he can’t believe she’s keeping it alive in his classroom.
You can’t help the soft look on your face, eyes shining as he brags about his students. When he finally looks at you he freezes, “what?” It’s a gentle question, timid, even. “Nothing, just - thank you for including me yesterday, it was nice seeing you in your element,” you smile, reaching for his hand.
He plants a kiss to the back of your hand and you feel the heat radiating off his cheeks. “A couple of the girls cornered me this morning,” he looks away bashfully, “they said I needed to buy you a ring today because I’d be crazy to let you go.”
“Yeah?” Your voice is quiet, “I’m not going anywhere, Ry.”
He finally turns to look at you, “Would you… would you want to get married?” He’s nervous, it’s sweet, you think.
You can’t help the wide smile that breaks across your face, it eases his nerves instantly. “Mm, I think I would.”
He nods, lips stretching into the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen on him. “I’ll do it properly, the ring, one knee, nice dinner somewhere pretty.”
“I don’t need anything grand, you know. Just you, whatever feels right to you.”
He shifts to pull you in by the back of your neck, lips landing on yours in a soft, sweet kiss. “I love you,” he says your name like a prayer, holding eye contact like it’ll express everything he feels. “I love you too, Ryland,” you whisper against his lips, feeling his smile against your skin.
He’s quiet for a moment, just enjoying the closeness. Then he shifts again, “okay, so the girls were showing me different rings, they made it sound so complicated.” You laugh, nodding, “I’ll show you what I like, but I want you to pick it out.”
And you know that he will absolutely be showing those middle school girls the rings he’s considering for their opinions. You trust their judgement, it’s gotten you two this far, anyway.
Ryland Grace's new students catch a look at reader and freak out
This was fun!! I'm practicing dialogue because it does not come naturally to me, but I think it turned out cute!
Mr. Grace has rizz? ~ ryland grace x reader
1.4k words, fluff, lots of gen z slang
summary: you run by the school for ryland, his students can't believe you're real
Part 2, career day!
-----------------
He hadn’t done it on purpose, the rush of the morning caught up to him and he left a stack of graded worksheets on the table. He was halfway to the school when he remembered, shooting a quick text to you asking if you could drop them off on your way to work. It was no problem, of course, you loved seeing your Mr. Grace in his element anyway.
The drive was easy, you parked in a guest spot and strolled in, hoping to catch Ryland at a good time. A quick peek through the window of his classroom confirmed your hopes, the students had their heads down, working quietly on an assignment. Ryland caught sight of you and stood from his desk, moving quickly to the door. You opened it to greet him with a wave, holding the stack of papers out.
“Thank you so much,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a chaste peck to your cheek.
A chorus of “ew,” “aw,” and gasps rumble through the class. Ryland closes his eyes for a moment before turning around to face the excited middle schoolers. Before he could say anything, though, one of the girls points forcefully in your direction, “that’s your girlfriend?!”
“No way Mr. Grace pulled her,” another joined in.
“There’s a Mrs. Grace?!”
“There really is hope for all of us,” a boy laughs.
“Wait, she’s hot!” They were all talking over each other, a mix of compliments to you and barely concealed insults toward their teacher.
“Hey!” Ryland starts, clinging to what was left of his dignity. You wave to the room, introducing yourself with a grin. You were absolutely going to make fun of him tonight, and he knew it too. He was bright red but he fixed the students with a serious look, “back to your work, everyone.”
They didn’t even pretend to look at their papers, too interested in this new side of their silly science teacher that they never got to see. Ryland turns back to you, stepping through the doorway and leading you away from the windows with a hand on your lower back. “This is all they’re going to talk about today,” he sighs. You stifle a laugh and point behind him.
The kids were lined up against the window, pressing their faces close to the glass to try to get a glimpse of you two. He doesn’t even turn around, “I owe you dinner for these,” he shakes the papers still in his hand. “You’re not cooking in my kitchen,” you giggle.
“Takeout it is,” he smiles, landing one more quick kiss to your lips before he steps backwards, steeling himself for the torment he was about to walk back into. You whisper your goodbyes and laugh to yourself when you hear his voice carry through the hallway, “don’t think I won’t lower your grades on these papers!”
~
He beats you home that evening, an array of Chinese food already set up on the table when you slink through the door. Ryland is in the kitchen fighting with that one drawer that just doesn’t open right. Loose sweatpants sit low on his hips, a big difference from his work clothes you last saw him in. “Hey! How was your day?” He’s chipper, the day must not have been so bad.
“Same old, I’m more interested in your day, Mr. Grace.” You step beside him, opening the drawer and kissing his cheek. He fishes out the chopsticks you always use and ushers you to the table, he pulls out your chair and can’t help but drop a kiss to the top of your head. “My day,” he starts with a sigh, “was exactly what you expect with a bunch of middle schoolers who just found out that I have a beautiful girlfriend.”
You giggle softly, opening the boxes in front of you and assessing just how much food he ordered. “Come on, I want details! If anyone is going to have good jokes it’s your students.”
“First it was the lingo, they called me unc and said something about pulling a baddie,” he laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Then they said you were way out of my league, asked how I convinced you to give a nerd like me a chance.” You let out a belly laugh at that, knowing full well you were head over heels for him the first time you met. “Did you tell them that I’m a nerd too?”
“In so many words, but they wouldn’t have it. They decided that you’re the breadwinner of the relationship, something about being a CEO or owning a business,” he’s giggling now, too. “I told them you’re an engineer and Abby asked if you work for Lockheed Martin.” You gasped, choking out a laugh. “How does she know about them?”
“Her parents talk about a lot in front of her,” it’s said wistfully, like he wishes they would stop. “Then, they started using words I didn’t know. I wrote them down, hold on.” He grabs his phone, opening his notes app. “They said I’m ‘high-key a simp,’” a snort from you, “Tyler said, ‘Mr. Grace been hiding his rizz,’ which felt inappropiate coming out of a child’s mouth.” His turn to snort.
“Oh! Jenny called me the Beaker to your Dr. Bunsen, that’s a crazy reference for a 13 year old!” That one bowled you over, you threw your head back with a loud laugh. “I still don’t know what this one means,” he holds his phone far from his face, pretending to struggle to read, “‘Mr. Grace lowkey ohio, but his girlfriend has goddess energy.’” He looks at you exasperatedly, “I’ve gotta ask their English teacher to translate all of this.”
“I don’t mind ‘goddess energy,’” you wink at him. “The girls all agreed on that one, so I think it’s universally accepted,” he smiled softly at you, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. “My favorite one, though, was someone said we’re like fix-it Felix and that soldier lady Jane Lynch voiced in Wreck It Ralph.”
“Stop! They did not say that!” Your cheeks hurt from laughing so much at this point. “They did! I think it was a disguised way to say that you’re out of my league again,” he’s so enamored with the way you’re laughing, he almost wishes he had more quips to read out. “I told them that one doesn’t work because Felix is shorter than the soldier, then they said I give short aura and that insecurity about being a ‘short king’ is a bad look. I’m six feet tall!” You’re struggling to catch your breath, you loved these kids so much and you’d only just met them.
“That was a lot for one class period,” you wipe your eyes, food totally forgotten on the table. “Yeah, we didn’t get much work done,” he sighs dramatically.
He hesitates a little to tell you the next part, his ears burning when you notice the look on his face. “They- uh, they exclusively referred to you as Mrs. Grace, despite how many times I told them that we’re not married.” Your cheeks heat up at that, “that’s sweet of them.” The moment stretches, longing in his eyes that you recognize. He’s never brought marriage up before, but he often talks about spending the rest of your lives together. One thing about Ryland is that he’s a loverboy, it’s one of your favorite parts of him. You lay your hand on top of his, a gentle comfort after a long day of torment.
“Anyways, now that they know you exist, they’re going to ask to see you again. Maybe you could come in for career day? Tell them about the importance of paying attention when their teacher is talking,” he looks a little shy, it reminds you of how he looked when he first asked you out.
“I’d love to do that, Ry, you just let me know when it is and I’ll make sure my schedule is clear.” Your smile is bright, excitement shining through at being included. “Yeah?” His expression is hopeful. “Yeah, I’ve gotta prove that they’re right, I am the breadwinner in this relationship,” you don’t even have time to laugh before he’s pulling you out of your chair and over his shoulder. He lands a hand against your thighs, ignoring your squeals.
“You’re right, I’ve gotta earn my keep,” and he carries you all the way to the bedroom, “happy wife, happy life and all that.”
sorry to be a broken record every month but christ menstruation is a stupid concept. oooooh excuse me for not getting pregnant, why the fuck is there goo falling out of me about it? grow the fuck up and reabsorb that shit for nutrients.
Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.
At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.
At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.
“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.
The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.
I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.
I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.
I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht.
i wrote this while i was working at orlando’s walt disney world parks.
i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.
as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.
disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.
at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.
i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.
i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.
I have received all manner of threat, up to and beyond “I will play a flute carved from your femur,” and yet this is the first time I’ve felt truly threatened
[ID: A Project Hail Mary comic. Grace kneels before a cave-like entrance behind which a very small Eridian hides and makes a questioning musical sound. With a gentle smile, he says, "Hi, I’m Grace. (Oops, too loud.) It’s alright, you don’t have to be scared."
The child Eridian pauses, then throws up two hands and exclaims, "You are not scary at all! You are squishy!" Grace laughs, "Haha Rocky tells me that all the time!" End ID]
