#and bite

Hope you all have a happy and safe Halloween!! I wanna trick or treat so bad but I’m in so much pain today so I’m probably be stuck handing out candy T-T so go grab some candy for me too, yeah?

Loves Bites! (So Do I)

Simon's aggression is fear-based. Grace's aggression is rage-based.

Simon's life was spent fighting out of necessity. Any possessions (including of loved ones) were only kept protected if you could fight for it, and Simon had to adapt to that or sink. Perhaps in his youth he was more hot-blooded about it, but The Butcher was a role forced upon him, and we don't see such aggression until he's going toe-to-toe with the eel (and pretty much about to die). At every point I can recall, Simon's aggression in Iron Lung follows anxiety; any time he yelled at Ava or the C.O.I. was a result of them endangering his life, and him growing steadily more paranoid about his survival. Any acts of aggression (accidentally irradiating one of Ava's workers, slamming his hand on a desk that he proceeds to apologize to) is met with instant remorse from him, a telltale sign of someone who produces aggression as an involuntary trauma response. Simon is aggressive in the way of a wounded animal; you can practically smell the fear rolling off of them. Otherwise, Simon hasn't displayed any signs of being an aggressive person where allowing himself to be non-aggressive was an option.

Grace, on the other hand, has a past where he admits he once held a massive ego (and he still does have quite the ego in the books at times). We talk about the UNESCO moment from the books a lot, but I don't think everyone fully internalizes just what Grace did. He went to an official United Nations conference operated by multiple world governments, and brazenly insulted his field's leading scholar for the whole world to see. Grace got fired for it, because I know in this day and age politicians being batshit in conferences is the norm, but trust me when I say that in the past and even in certain sectors now, decorum is taken extremely seriously. Grace had the balls and the arrogance to get into a verbal spat at a peace conference because the guy dared to disagree with his scientific theories. People don't fully comprehend the weight of Grace explaining how he was shunned from the entire scientific community; him becoming a middle school teacher wasn't him choosing to live a more humble life, it was a fucking exile. Obviously he mellows out later in life, learning patience and humility working with middle schoolers, but Grace can still be quite the sassy bitch (/pos) throughout PHM. And he has moments, like when he's yelling at Eva to let him continue working on the astrophage once he comprehends the severity of the situation, where we see that Grace isn't always cowardly; in multiple events throughout the story, he throws himself headfirst into life-threatening situations to fix a problem.

What I'm getting at is, Simon's story is about him being forced to do all that he does, begging and desperate to live (not to say Simon isn't brave or selfless, he didn't have to pursue the SM-8 or retrieve the black box, but his story is about being forced into the situations that befall him and what he made of the cards he'd been dealt). Meanwhile, Grace's story is about becoming the guy who chose to do something in a situation where he did not have to, where there was no external pressure whatsoever once he was aboard the Hail Mary. What this indicates to me, in regards to how their dynamic would play out in a Bloodymary setting, is that while Simon might be the first to be on the defensive in a situation, he's also the first to want to avoid it, while Grace is far more likely to seek out danger and stubbornly refuse to run away (unless it was absolutely necessary of course). If Simon and Grace had the choice to, in the face of an unruly individual who won't stop spitting insults at them, either flee or square up, Simon's is high-tailing it out of there because the man has fought enough, while Grace needs to be held back by someone because he'll convince himself he could win a fight (and with those muscles... he might not be wrong.)

You can tell they’re feeling it.

Their belly is round, taut, packed full with the weight of their latest meal, and they’ve got a hazy, slow-blinking look that tells you digestion is taking up most of their focus.

they’re still aware of you—You test the waters, reaching a hand toward the crest of their belly, but as you make contact

—snap

Teeth graze your wrist, quick and sharp, not enough to break skin but enough to make you jerk back.

Their eyes flicker up to yours, dark amusement glittering behind the lazy veneer. They don’t apologise

they let out a low, playful growl, wriggling where they lie, the weight in their stomach sloshing with the movement.

You can hear the digestion working—deep, wet, contented noises, gurgles punctuated by occasional creaks as their body adjusts.

They’re smug. Spunky.

pleased with themselves.

“Brat,” you mutter.

They don’t argue, just give a slow sigh before sinking deeper into their spot, stretching luxuriously, one hand draped over their middle like a king lounging on their throne.

Eyes stay latched on you, in warning, as if to say try again, see what happens.

You do.

their teeth catch the side of your hand, a firmer bite, followed by a soft huff of air against your skin. A warning. A reminder.

Too full. Too stimulated. Any more touch and they might just sink their teeth in for real.

you, unable to resist provoking them after those little warning nips, get more than you bargained for.

The next time you reach out, their reaction is quicker. Instead of just snapping at your hand, they twist around you, quicker than you thought was possible

Torquing you forward and down with surprising strength. You barely have time to react before they’re on top of you, their heavy, full stomach pressing into your hips as they let out a playful, rumbling growl.

"You're feisty for someone so full," you tease, trying to wriggle free.

Their answer is a wordless noise—something between a grunt and a laugh—as they hold you fast, and they nuzzle against your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin.

They’re playing.

but they’re also winning. Their weight keeps you pinned, and every little movement makes their overstuffed gut shift and churn, gurgling audibly. You can feel it rumble against you.

You try to shove them off, but they double down, gripping your arms and wrestling with you, all slow, lazy strength.

Every time you move, they counter, twisting just enough to make you think your struggle is working, without ever giving you the upper hand.

Their belly presses against you, heavy against you, and undeniably dominant in its presence - it's presence is exactly why they’re feeling this way.

They usually aren't so mischevious--

Another growl rumbles out of their throat, low and playful.

They nose at your neck, then bite—a proper one this time, hard enough to make you yelp.

"Hey!"

They finally lift their head, meeting your eyes with a sleepy, pleased stare.

Smug. Cheeky.

Not a single trace of remorse. Their stomach groans loudly between you, working hard on its latest occupant.

"You're being wicked" you say

The pred grunts and flops over to your left, lying on their side, their belly settled heavily on the mattress.