Marissa Grave

@radioactivemoth.bsky.social

71 Followers 245 Following

🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈 (she/her) Physicist turned Toxicologist. Sapphic fantasy romance novelist. Werewolf/Vampire/Monster fic on AO3 (same name). D&D, Stellaris, 40k. My favorite soda is Dr. Pepper and I can taste my eyes when I get sick.

An illustrative botanical tattoo of a red clover on the left forearm, using shading and color to add depth and detail both to the trifoliate leaves and to the flower itself.

Excerpt from a draft novel that reads:

“Why is the tire watching her shower?”
“It’s a commentary on the male gaze,” Aria said, not looking up. She was on the floor, half under one of Valkyrie’s legs - her suggestion, for whatever reason, but Valkyrie kind of liked it. She could control whether Aria went anywhere. Not that she would. “Look at how she’s showering, that’s not how people shower.”
Valkyrie shrugged and grabbed a handful of popcorn. “Hot, though,” she said then shoved it in her mouth.
Aria nodded and squeezed Valkyrie’s leg. “Precisely. She’s not a character, she’s an actress performing for the audience. The tire doesn’t have a sexuality, it’s a tire.”
Valkyrie made a noise, then swallowed. “This movie doesn’t make any fucking sense, Ars.”
“I told you,” Aria started, looking up at Valkyrie, “it’s about the relationship between the audience and the film. The tire is just a vehicle.”
“A vehicle that can blow people up with its mind.”
Aria grinned. “Exactly.”
Such a fucking dork.

Screenshot of a castle siege from the game Bannerlord.

Bitter cold wind and sweating bodies under steel. Men shout. Warning. Hatred. Fear. A mass of Haelnlynd galloglaigh press against the Vladian palisades, the last hope of the castle’s defenders. The Vladian soldiers raise their shields against the rain of arrows and return a sporadic fire of their own. Dawn has just broken and the sun sits low over the walls.

But the palisades are already broken. Winter sun glints off of spears. Blood sprays steaming against ice and man alike. Snow falls and drifts against broken stones. There will be no tomorrow.

A painted model of the ‘Skulltaker’ from Warhammer 40K. He’s holding aloft a sword that, rimmed in black, has the Pride colors in it. Purple near the hilt up to red at the tip. In his other claw, the Skulltaker holds a skull which both burns bright in flame and drips bright red blood. It is pretty metal 🤘

A warning sign that reads “Warning! Hazardous voltage inside. Can shock, burn, or cause death. Keep out. If open or unlocked, immediately call electric power or light company.”

There is an icon of an angry looking spiked entity with eight arms of lightning reaching out to shock a person, who is falling backwards in distress.

Excerpt from WIP novel that reads:
“I was almost with a man, when I was younger.” She laid her head back against the rim of the couch, fingers still in the man’s hair. “Never kissed him, but got close enough to smell him. That’s when I knew.”

“Really?” He opened his eyes and looked up at her in disbelief. “Man-smell turned you off? That’s like half the fun – that and stubble.”

Wren laughed again and ran her fingers along the side of his neck, feeling at the scratchy hairs freshly growing there. The sensation made her skin crawl. She did it again, just to experience it. “No, thank you.”