Im an aspiring artist with a love for anything spooky trying to make a career out of it.
But This blog isnt for my art, it’s my unprofessional blog where I share random thoughts I have! If you wanna see me yap about things I’m into and on rare occasions, vent about my unresolved trauma (well, the parts I don’t mind putting on the internet) this blog is for you
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We see it in the movie that he's dancing with the mop, so, maybe he's really actually quite good at it. And when they're listening to some music together, Grace smiles and says, "Want me to teach you how to dance?"
Simon wants to say no.
He shakes his head.
When Grace offers a hand, he takes it and stands, anyway.
Simon looks wildly uncomfortable as he settles his hands where Grace tells him to: one on Grace's shoulder, the other in Grace's hand clasped aside from their bodies. He's flustered but doesn't show it. Grace, himself, is quite clumsy as a lead, too, not that Simon would know the difference.
And then Grace moves them. "One, two, three, one, two, three," he says as he keeps count for them.
He twirls Simon slowly under his arm because Simon doesn't get it at first. "No, no, you spin. Spin! Trust me!" When he does, Grace lights up. "There we go!"
Grace then tightens his grip on Simon's hip and lowers him backwards. Just barely. It's a struggle for Grace to pull him upright again. "Sorry," Grace giggles. "I'm not strong enough to do a full dip. You're supposed to go all the way down like--" He demonstrates with himself, body tilting halfway back as he uses Simon as a counterweight.
"Switch with me," Simon says.
With an air of surprise, Grace does.
And Simon dips him low. Really low. It leaves Grace squealing and squeaky as he clings to Simon and cries out, "Wait! Don't drop me! Don't drop me oh my God!"
This draws a laugh from Simon. "I won't. I promise."
From the sidelines, Rocky cheers them on, mirroring their movements as they continue their dance with Simon in the lead.
If this is up your alley, this is a future scene for my fic, We Three Amongst the Stars! Come check it out!
Pouting like a child ((please note this is not serious. I am exaggerating for the sake of the bit)) -- everyone is writing BloodyMary "Simon touching grass" fics WRONG!!
He's not rolling in the grass like Rapunzel in Tangled!!!!!!
Simon reacts to touching grass like dogs that were kept in research facilities their whole lives or babies touching it for the first time!!
He's nervous! He's not used to it!!! He doesn't recognize the sensation of grass!!
Simon hasn't touched grass since he was little! If he's touched it at all!
Simon touches grass and cries the first time and NOT in a good way! He is overwhelmed and scared and he thinks he's killing the grass by stepping on it!
He wants to like the grass and then feels BAD when he doesn't like it! And it makes him feel worse!! He's supposed to like it! Why doesn't he like it!?! He wants to like the grass SO BADLY, why doesn't he Ike the grass?!!!?
Grace finds him sobbing with a fistful of grass in his hand and tears streaking down his face.
Perchance this is a diabolically unpopular take but
I honestly don't think Simon would be that big of a fan of trees. Esp not after the whole gestures vaguely at roots growing up his arm, puppeting him, and then ripping said arm off. Like idk maybe it's crazy but I think that event May have traumatized him and forever altered his perception of trees.
But hear me out bc this could be such a fun character study. Something he has devoted himself to for practically his whole life, something that has always been a symbol of hope against an otherwise very dark universe- for it to suddenly become an intense PTSD trigger would be fascinating. Suddenly, he can't look at the pendant hanging around his wrist without feeling creeping tendrils wrapping themselves up an arm he no longer has. The illusion of trees in the Don't Go Crazy Room are compelling, and instinctually soothing, but he can't look at them for too long without fear making his heart pound as he remembers his body moving at the whim of another organism.
