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Pairing ~ Ryland Grace x Transmasc!Medic!Reader [x Simon later]
Summary ~ Waking up alone on the Hail Mary with an iffy memory and a patch describing you the assigned medic was... not the most comforting thing. Still, you felt you owed it in some way to try to care for even what may just be bodies.
A/N ~ Another Bloodymary x Reader. Can you tell i like writing these. Casual transmasc reader❗️❗️Also Medic reader. Yay.
CW ~ i am NOT a doctor, just a boy who researches and pretends to know stuff. Reader is on t but hasn't had top/bottom surgery, reader wears a binder, mild dysphoria,
You had been waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. For how long, you couldn't say. Tried not to think too hard about it. Tried not to count by days that detailed just how long you had been alone, clueless and sent as an aid for astronauts who were no longer... well. Were possibly no longer able to wake up.
Was it cowardly, the way you didn't do or try much of anything? Maybe. You doubted yourself often over it, staring out through a large, circular bubble that separared you and the vastness of space. Why had they sent you, of all available options? Had you volunteered? Were you worth the space on this suicide trip? Should you try to turn back while you still could, as none of the other three- the actually useful components of the mission- seemed to show signs of waking up. Ever.
Still, you checked them each day, despite knowing if something were to really go wrong, there was limited you could do. Taking notes and reviewing the few medical textbooks that had been stored away in a medical bag you found. Starting patient charts and relearning medicine. With help of the lurking, robotic armature, of course.
Captain Yáo Li-Jie. Good resting heart rate, according to the armature, with a BP of 116/79. You couldn't tell if his breathing was fine, since most of the work was done for him, but you supposed whatever kept him alive was good. Scoring a low of E1V1M1 on the GCS. You pursued your lips at the final documentation, wondering if you had performed some part of it wrong. Trying to sooth yourself over, though, you considered it was a medically induced coma by... what was her name? Statt? It was fuzzy, but you remember a somewhat uptight feeling abiut her. It was a deep coma for good reason.
Engineer Olesya Ilyukhina. Looking at her too-peaceful body felt wrong in a way you couldn't yet place. A piece of your mind still seemed to remember her, though as soon as you tried to recall further than that, the memory dissipated.
Resting heart rate, fine, BP 110/76. Scoring just a bump above with E1V1M2, the back of your mind wondered if the Statt lady had used the same type of sedative on everyone and just hoping it worked out fine, or if there were some differences in what was administered. Then again, did it really matter? Would variations in the sedations impact anything? Was it even worth it to be wondering about?
Shaking your thoughts out of it and moving on to- checking with the armature- Scientist Ryland Grace. 'Fitting,' you mused quietly and moving to make a patient chart for him. Acting as if you knew what you were doing. 'A guy named Grace on the Hail Mary. Was that on purpose?'
Heart rate felt fainter than the other two, but otherwise alright, with a BP 119/72. GCS score of, surprise surprise, E1V1M1. Again.
Great. Awesome. Just have to do that everyday in this odd silence- with occasional beeping- and hope nothing goes wrong while you're not looking. So... what did that leave? If you were being brutally honest, there was a fighting chance none of them would even wake up. Where would that leave you? Letting your mind decay and pretending you'd be fine while struggling to recall your own name.
Obviously, you explored more. Not that there were a ton of other choices. Crawling up way too many ladders for your liking and discovering large rooms that would've felt welcoming if not for the disturbing blankness of it. A huge lab you're half tempted to operate. A tunnel bursting with buttons and radars and scanners with two seats centered. A dome covered in screens that startled you when it unwarningly flicked to a close-up of a spider monkey. It's only when you find a storage room and a thick bag with your name written in messy lettering that you finally let yourself pause. You had sort of pushed away the morally confusing questions of 'who am I?' and 'what am I like?', it only resurfacing now. You were so focused on trying to help the other astronauts in their almost mindless state that it hadn't even occurred to you that it's possible to have a middle name.
Your luggage was scratched at the corners, with a few sewn on patches that suggested this was your personal bag. Rather than the vaguely corporate matching cases the other three had. Unzipping it with only a bit of struggle, the top flipped open as if finally letting go a heavy breath of relief. The first thing you saw was a heavy, squished-in, earth coloured blanket.
Honestly? A little bit of a let down most of your huge suitcase consisted of a big, heavy blanket. But, you supposed, as you tugged it over yoru shoulders, it was really comfortable.
Moving past that, though, there were a lot of little trinkets beneath it. A small stack of various sized photos, held together by a faded blue rubber band. You allowed yourself a moment to brush against the smooth lamination of the pictures, rolling the rubber band down your wrist as you slowly whisked through the photographs. Many of them depicted you and what you could only guess to be your close friends. Grinning stupidly and often bunched together as if it physically pained any of you to be away. There were a good lot of them, but it was all the same faces, sorted so you could slowly notice the changes as the lot of you grew older. It was bittersweet, really, knowing you had- at some point- great friends you seemed to adore. Yet, you couldn't find it within yourself to remember any of their names. You found yourself lingering hard on their faces, as if staring would earn you the gift of recollection.
You pulled yourself away, eventually, sifting through a few books of more medical jargon. Lifting out a small, folded up though oddly lumpy cloth, wondering whatever could be held in such a thing. Just about the size of your palm. Unrolling it, though, revealed a few wraps of different coloured string, as well as a couple of safety tucked needles. Ah. A sewing repair kit. Right. Why would you pack that?
Even as you, admittedly, ignored them out of mild boredom, you were grateful to find you had packed a few sets of clothes. Your own style [as deemed appropriate by Statt- oh! Stratt. Not Statt], as the stars would grant mercy on you. Wonderful. Because the astronaut jumpsuit you and the other three folk were put it was cute, in terms of matching, but it was starting to smell. You didn't linger on how long you had possibly worn it, much less the trio still in coma.
Changing, as you had expected, felt really nice. Fresh. Yet, nervous at the same time. Even when you knew there was no one else even conscious on the ship, not to mention near you, you had limited yourself to a small corner. Taking off the jumpsuit felt incriminating in some odd way, yet- as you momentarily struggled to fit it on- everything felt much more alright after you put on this tight half-top you'd found. You couldn't really describe it, it was just... right. More you.
It was unnerving to let yourself settle on feelings like that, though- discomfort for a reason you drew blanks on. Why would you feel like a fraudful man? Questions for another day, because your fog of thought was cut short by a high beeping that some still-trained part of you had embedded to hear with dread.
another teacher grace moment i love is when rocky gives him the oxygen model he goes 'i dont have one of these thank you!' like that is THE most teacher response ever when a child gives them something utterly incomprehensible but made with love
pairing: Ryland Grace x Gn!reader
words: 900 words
warnings: none baby this is pure fluff from fluff land blessed by lord fluffsworth. fuh-lufffffffff. context tho: you're in space with him
a/n: This was small as heck and i wrote it on my phone but I HAD TO GET IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM. THIS MAN. OH MY GOD
Contrary to what someone who has never been to space might believe, being stranded light-years away from home with nothing to do except wait for an extended period of time gets boring after a while. Sure, the wonders never cease; it is space, after all, but at some point, you go into the "this might as well happen" zone. And there's no coming back from that one.
Which is how you were currently in the projection deck, eating a delicious tube of 'Day 294 - Meal 3', watching your third cheesy romcom of the day with one Dr Ryland Grace.
Ever the gentleman, Ryland didn't bat an eye when you slowly leaned into him sometime around romcom 2. Sure, he was freaking out on the inside, but he chalked it up to the fact that you were the only other person in a 12 light-year radius; of course, he would be thrown off by a little contact.
He had to test the waters, though. After all, he was a scientist. Yeah. It was for science. Eventually, he moved his arm to rest around you, ever so carefully. So gentle, and very obviously nervous and unsure, and in all honesty, so adorable you wanted to laugh. You eased his nerves by leaning into him more, and Ryland could swear that if you were silent enough, you could hear his soul leaving his body.
As time went on, you got more and more comfortable with each other, and by romcom 3 (i.e., the present), you were lying down on his lap, and he was haphazardly leaning on the makeshift "couch" you had made around week 6 with whatever bags and other junk were lying around.
This was uncharted territory. Literally, you were in space, that's as uncharted as it gets. But yes, in the figurative sense as well. Both your eyes were glued to the screens, but your focus on whatever was playing was long gone.
Ryland was hyperaware of the fact that your head was on his lap, and he was practising insane levels of self-control by not reaching out and running his fingers through your hair. It was right there. He could if he wanted to. It wouldn't even be much of an effort. No, no, he can't. He shouldn't. Should he? He could, right? I mean, friends stroke each other's hair all the time. Maybe. Do they? They probably do. God knows what's normal on Earth right now.
The movie was long forgotten at this point. To Ryland, it was white noise and the occasional laugh from you that made him feel something he doesn't even want to define. He did what any rational, normal person would do in such a predicament: Pros and Cons list of stroking your friend's hair.
Pros:
Pros: ...
Okay.
So, seemingly, there are no pros to this other than the fact that he really, reallllllly wants to.
Cons: This would make things really weird between the two of you if only one person were into it. You could have a thing about your hair where you don't like it if someone touches it. You could genuinely be disgusted with him at the fact that he so catastrophically misread the signs to the extent that he may have to jettison his ass into outer space.
Well.
It's a good thing Ryland Grace is anything but rational when it comes to you.
His hand trembled as he slowly lowered it towards your head. He was having a million second thoughts, his conscience already ready to berate him about this later. He hoped he wasn't breathing as loud as he thought, and he prayed to all the gods he knew that you couldn't hear his heartbeat, because he could hear it loud and clear from inside his head. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, despite the centralised air conditioning. This was it. T-minus 3 seconds.
3...
2...
1—
"What Grace doing, question?"
"Gah—"
You both pulled away from each other like you had been caught in the middle of something unspeakable. You sat up so fast, one would think Ryland's legs were on fire. He retreated his hand, near Mach 15 speed, and nonchalantly pointed at the "night sky" on the projection deck, as though he were counting stars.
"Oh, hey buddy, didn't see you there," he tried to manage.
"What Grace and (Y/n) doing, question?" he inquired again, ever the curious.
"We were just watching a movie. Nothing much. Just... there was a movie, and we were watching it. That's it. Movie was being watched. By us. Just a couple... Movie watchers." Real smooth, Ryland Grace.
Silence. Unbearable, lethal silence. Ryland's eyes were closed in deep contemplation, running through what he just said. His face scrunched in regret. Rocky stayed still, which was worse than if he were moving, because this stance meant he was judging. Hard. And you? You didn't even know what to make of all of this. Jesus Christ.
"I'm gonna go check on the—" you started.
"Yeah, yeah. Absolutely. Of course," he interrupted.
"...Right. So I'll just—"
"Yeah, no, yeah. Go save the... world," He called after you as you left the projection deck, his voice trailing as he regretted every single thing that left his mouth in real time.
In my vampiric alien au I have it that the reader’s planet just happens to have sources of blood that come from the planet itself. Sort of like a hydrothermal vent and the animals that feed off of them situation where it’s not blood coming from a body or organism but just something that the planet can make and your kinds’ evolved to make that your main food source.
But imagine if it wasn’t and your planet actually has prey animals that you feed off of simply for the blood and you guys still actively have a drive to hunt for your meals? And you explain that the only reason it hasn’t kicked in when meeting Grace was because you saw that he was shaped like your kind and that made you not likely to eat him.
All this to say what if Grace wanted you to hunt him just a little?? In a freaky way.
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Thinking about a scenario with a chubby reader where Rocky says something like “(Name) wider and heavier than Grace and human diagrams, statement.”. Which you have to agree with because you are.
But when Grace scolds him Rocky just fully goes “Rocky not being rude. On Erid, bigger and heavier mate is ideal because can defend and insulate clutch better. Very sought after. Many Eridians fight with others to mate with. Rocky giving compliment, statement.”.
And then Grace gets even more pissed because he’s been trying to compliment you and say that he likes your body type this whole time but couldn’t work up the courage only for Rocky to basically start hitting on you first.
“Grace is coward. Rocky will take mate if don’t make move first. Rocky take adequate care of instead. Rocky do better.”
Like just fully telling Grace that if he doesn’t go for it he’s gonna take his bitch. Like they aren’t all about to become a polycule with Adrian once they get to Erid. He just likes to piss Grace off. He doesn’t have a face but I just know he’d have the most smug look when Grace sees him and reader cuddling together.
“(Name) Rocky keep each other warm. Very nice. Grace miss out, statement.”
I love your Simon I want to gently smooch his forehead he always looks so overwhelmed and like he needs someone(Grace) to be patient and soft with him
Thank god he has Grace there 😭😭😭
I just feel like Simon would spend the first several months on Erid withdrawn as hell and jumpy.
He is just stuck WAITING for the shoe to drop for MONTHS dude.
But Grace keeps being nice to him even if he freaks out or yells or has a particularly bad nightmare and he gets to sit on a beach and drink clean water and eat food that isn't ration bars cut in half and then he meets Grace's students and gets to know Rocky and his partner Adrian and no one is expecting ANYTHING out of him even though he's been SO USLESS and LAZY and taking resources and space.
And the calm drags on and on and I think it starts to drive him CRAZY!!! Like okay!!! Jokes over right??? This next mistake I make will finally get me kicked out of this place (it doesn't) Tell me the C.O.I have found us (they never will) or this is all a really long death hallucination fever dream(He's alive).
I think eventually he might start intentionally acting out. He might purposely break something Grace cares about or say something really mean to Grace and they get into a fight because what the hell Simon why are you acting like that don't be a jerk??? So Simon storms off and locks himself up in his room WAITING. Whatever is going to happen is going to be terrible but at least that shoe won't be hanging over his head anymore.
And then nothing happens. Like there's no big consequence he doesn't get kicked out or sent away or denied food or put in eridian jail or anything. he just makes Grace upset and that's his breaking point.
He's like apologizing PROFUSELY and crying because he can't help it and he didn't mean it he's sorry he doesn't deserve this but he's so glad he's here and Grace is like OH!!! LORD!!!! Because this is a lot of emotion all at once that Simon has clearly been bottling up and Grace was expecting another fight. Grace tries his best to comfort Simon and they make up because Grace does believe him when Simon explains himself.
Simon finally realizes that he's SAFE and then he starts opening up more showing his personality making jokes and laughing and smiling 😮💨 and it's all uphill from there.
I will never forgive Project Hail Mary for indoctrinating me into the cult of finding Ryan Gosling attractive. All my life I heard the word of how hot and desirable Ryan Gosling is. All my life I didn’t see it, denied it. All my life I had the assurance I was not prey to mass delusion. There just, wasn’t anything remarkable there. And then they just fucking throw some glasses and cardigans on this man and make him sad and cowardly and I fold. All I think about now is Ryan Gosling bouncing and crying on it. It being? Whatever have you. A rock dildo. Markiplier. Any penile like object this pathetic little man is in the vicinity of. I should be killed.
The bloodymary fandom: Haha yeah I know crossover ships aren't that popular anymore but I ship Simon and Grace anyway, hopefully that's not too weird haha.
Me, holding my Eva Stratt x Philomena Cunk fic drafts and sweating profusely: Haha yeah you guys are crazy!
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ANOTHER Bloodymary x Reader insert ideas! Mouthwashing edition!!
CW~ speaks of each mouthwashing character death, mentions a possible crushed body,
Reader takes the part of the Inventory Contractor on the Tulpar. A tired, overworked guy who spends most of his time sorting through files and ensuring trades go right. He's the one who actually does the talking and sorting once at their destination. Also an easy head for the higher-ups to blame if something goes wrong with the product or they get a complaint. When the ship crashes, he gets super anxious and can't even bring himself to use any of the mouthwash in fears of the 'what if's of the company. They end up locking themselves in their filing room, soon falling unconscious from starvation/dehydration.
Anyways, fast forward to where the Hail Mary finds a highly damaged ship simply drifting. Despite Simon's [and Mary's] insistence it would be useless, Rocky and Grace find themselves too curious at the prospect that something- or someone- might be in there.
What they find inside, though... it's not exactly promising. Pretty gruesome, considering their hopes of finding what next to nothing. A boy too young to be in space found with a long, deep scar across his face, laid in a makeshift bed of sorts. A medic, presumably overdosed based on the position and empty pill bottle strewn besides them. A man even tied up and shot, the scene making Grace quickly turn away and steal a few extra breaths. Then, pushing open a half-assed attempt of a barricaded door, a man's body laid next to an empty shell- likely another cryropod. One that actually managed to escape. A spent revolver managed its way just a few feet across the floor, though it wasn't too hard to piece together what had happened to this one.
The scene was certainly something, Simon pulling the other man into him before he stared too long at the mess of dried blood and madness. For once, Rocky kept his remarks of how 'squishy' humans were to himself. That didn't stop the trio from continuing to explore, though. Slowly finding what little remains there were of the desacrsted ship and learning bits of the inhabitants. A sugar packet or two, a scattered sticky note, many broken pieces of glass and machinery, an... unsettling looking cartoon horse that seemed to be the mascot of the space shuttle. A hell of a lot of mouthwashing. Like, to the point you wonder if you're seeing things- lot.
There was a remarkable amount of ashes and some too-solid foam scattered about the spacecraft, and the front control panel appeared crushed in on itself, hinting at the idea it may have crashed. An odd thing, to crash in space, but the most likely guess based on the destruction. That gave reason for why the ship couldn't travel any further on its own, but definetly not for what had happened inside.
At the farthest end of the hall, Rocky chimed for the two humans to help him. One door remained locked, a faint, red light burned into where a handle would be, a stubborn refusal that it would not be opened. The power obviously wasn't coming back on any time soon, and they'd be lying if they said they weren't a tiiiiiny bit interested at what could be hiding within the only locked door. It took some tracing, but they managed to find an axe- Simon armed with it as Grace wanted nothing less than to see any of the corpses again.
The noise of metal on steel was a bit jarring, but they managed to crack it open enough they could slip through. Inside was, admittedly, a bit disappointing. A scratched-up desk, papers and documents and pencils thrown about the room, and- ohmygosh there was someone under one of the filing cabinets. The two men hesitated, in all fairness not wanting to lift such an annoying thing just to be greeted with the nauseating sight of another body deformed and... well, you could likely imagine.
Rocky snapped at them in a partially panicked tone, though, an off-key note claiming of a faint pulse. A shared, tense glance later and Simon heaved the- thankfully, half empty- metal cabinet off the body. Taking in the person they saw, you were... not the best of shape, obviously, but it seems like you had tried to protect yourself when the ship had tilted and thrown a brick at you. This was hope, though.
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the reason usa birth rates going down is because we have a whole generation of women whose sexual awakening was Sans undertale and none of the men want to wear jorts and drink ketchup and go Er er er
