#moira don't look

[dyklopces]

tattoo(arms)

[jewishcissiekj]

wip (?) of my wife the worst woman alive Moira MacTaggert

main inspo (along with the rest of my Moira Rose Byrne pinterest board)

[fruitycasket]

Moira Saw The Truth (2 of 7)

In the present, Moira retrieves her son from the hospital after an incident at his school. Shortly after, he starts to sleepwalk, and he keeps trying to get into the shed in their backyard...

Word Count: 4,787

Notes: Read the prior chapter here, the next chapter here, or hop over to Ao3. If the pacing ever gets janky, it's going to happen here, I'm afraid. I did my best to line everything up with CTAL, though! I've also been experimenting with the artwork for these chapters, so they'll look inconsistent.

(Also tagging @the-pastel-kitsune so they can read later.)

“Trickster magic. It only looks this way, but it looks this way to everyone.”

Marvin wasn’t a bad kid by any means, just… talkative. He had a habit of mouthing off to anyone he disliked for whatever reason, either in the moment or in general, whether they were a student or a professor. It wasn’t constant, but it happened enough that Moira was used to getting letters and phone calls from school. They were much the same every time.

An irritated or bored sounding someone would call her work or home, give her a quick run-down of whatever that day’s mistake was, and she would promise to talk to him about it. And she did. Every time. But at the end of the day only Marvin could change his behavior.

This process was so routine that when she received yet another call from school, her first thought was, Marvin, not again…

She could already hear the excuses he would give for his behavior as she picked up the phone, “Hello? What did he do this time?”

“Your son got into a fight with another boy,” said the faceless voice on the other side of the phone. Its tone was the kind of calm that was perfectly constructed to hide another emotion beneath it. “He is in the hospital alongside another student whom he has seriously injured. He is suspended indefinitely as of right now.”

Moira’s heart sank to her stomach. “What? What do you mean? How did that happen?”

The full story according to the school was that a rumor had been going around about animal abuse where her son was the prime suspect. They figured the fight was a case of vigilante justice, and while Marvin was hauled into the hospital with a case of violent vertigo and nausea, the fight’s instigator was getting the skin of his arm sewn back on.

Degloved was the term they used.

The school staff was still in the throes of a heated discussion about whether Marvin was safe to let back in, a discussion made all the more complicated because he’d made some violent threats and lashed out at the professors who’d broken up the fight.

Until a conclusion was reached, he was to remain at home.

The phone call ended.

Moira left work early.

At the hospital the staff directed her to, she was given that day’s second round of horrible news.

The doctors were patient with her as they explained what felt like a thousand pieces of medical jargon in layman terms: Orbital floor fracture and muscle entrapment were translated into, “The bottom of his eye socket snapped in half, and a muscle was pinched between the two shards.” It had to be operated on immediately, or he’d risk permanent double-vision and severe pain, among other things.”

It was a rare occurrence in older children and adults, and yet…

Moira thanked them for the explanation and left, in part because she didn’t want to be seen breaking into anxious, angry tears in public, but also because Marvin was going to be operated on for six hours and then stay to be monitored for another two.

Needless to say, the day felt very, very long.

Eight hours later, Moira got as close to speeding as she dared on her way to pick up her son.

Upon being led to his room, she found Marvin sitting up in his hospital bed reading a comic book. When he turned to look at her, she jumped.

The right side of his face was swollen, the color of a rotting plum, the skin taut from the swell of the flesh beneath. Thin lines of sanguine crust stained the underside of his fingernails, and in some spots, his hair was still dark with blood. The cuts on his face had scabbed over while bruises turned his arms, shoulders, and back various shades of black, purple, and blue.

“Marvin!” she snatched him into a tight hug, too overcome with relief to give much notice to Marvin wincing.

“Mum, that hurts!” Still, he hugged her back, “I’m fine, honest. Do you want to hear how they fixed my eye?”

“No.”

“I think it’s kind of cool.” He brushed the pads of his fingers over his lower eyelid.

“I’ll faint. Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

Marvin grumbled under his breath, “Wasn’t me who did anything.”

Moira replied between peppering him with hugs and kisses, “I know.”

Once Marvin had been told about all the things he couldn’t do post-surgery and had all his medication ready, Moira treated him like he was made of glass the entire way to the car, where they both fell silent.

The question was on the tip of her tongue the whole drive home: It was the same person, wasn’t it?

The one who got that officer sent to our house?

He had searched it top to bottom for signs of kidnapped or abused pets and found nothing. Obviously. He also talked to Moira and Marvin separately, asking them both questions to glean whether the anonymously made claims were true and still found nothing. Obviously.

Marvin had refused to talk about why it had happened, and Moira had let it be. Maybe she shouldn’t have.

It made her skin crawl, feeling like she was making the same mistake twice, but she let it be again. She figured she knew the answer anyway, and Marvin had fallen asleep with his face against the window.

Moira took three days off from work to stay with Marvin in case anything went wrong in that early healing period, even though he insisted he was able to do things on his own. And honestly? He probably was, but it was Moira’s job to be overly anxious about it. (“It could be the difference between healing or a staph infection!” she said.)

Marvin spent most of his time in his room or on the couch, fitfully sleeping or watching soap operas, explosively gorey horror movies, and nature documentaries. It was no wonder why.

His medication helped immensely but his bruising was heavy. There were still plenty of times his movements were slow and labored, moments where raising his arm or rising off the couch caused him to flinch in pain.

It was difficult to believe the school’s words, that most of the damage below his head was self-inflicted.

How and why would he have done that to himself?

That first night, Marvin sleepwalked.

It was an accident that Moira caught him. She would never have known if she hadn’t gotten up to use the bathroom.

As she finished washing her hands and turned the sink faucet off, she heard a floorboard near the kitchen creaking. When she came down to see what had made the sound, Marvin was ambling towards the backyard.

She asked him softly, “Marvin? What are you doing?”

Marvin muttered something unintelligible in response. He reached for the handle of the back door.

“Marvin,” she grabbed his arm, “Don’t ignore me.”

He turned to face her with dark, weary eyes. The poor boy was completely out of it. In a daze. “Huh?”

Before Moira could reprimand him, he blinked, rubbed his uninjured eye, and was alert. He looked a little startled that she was there, and spoke again in a clearer voice, “What?”

“What exactly did you plan on doing in the backyard?”

“I was goin’ out to the shed,” Marvin replied with a yawn.

“You’re in no condition to be practicing magic right now, young man. Were you even awake before I grabbed your arm?”

“I was!”

“Uh huh…” Moira was pretty sure he’d been two steps away from crashing face-first into the glass doors (or properly sleepwalking, at least).

She sent him back to bed, and spent the night worrying that the incident was a side effect of head trauma or his medicine. It unnerved her so badly that the next day, in the wee hours of the morning before Marvin woke up, she phoned the doctors’ office and asked them about it.

They told her neither head injury nor medication would cause what she described. Their theory was that it was either an unusual stress response, or he was just so tired from his operation that his conscious and subconscious brain were getting their wires crossed.

They told her to “Give it time, wait for the worst of the healing pains to end, give him melatonin as needed, and call back if it keeps up after that.”

By the end of that day, Moira knew this issue wasn’t going to go away.

She was able to study the strange phenomenon because Marvin so often napped, and so often got up, dazed and determined to get into the study hovel he’d made out of her shed. It took little effort to snap him out of it, which was good, but she feared what would happen when it came time for her to sleep. What if he went out there and did something stupid and hurt himself?

What if it was obviously magical in nature? How would she explain that to a doctor?

She decided it was more productive to tie a bell around his ankle so she could keep track of him.

Marvin wasn’t pleased but did as he was told.

Moira was fortunate to have done it. That night, she woke up to find him in the middle of crossing the backyard.

By morning, it was the third day since his surgery. That left four more days to go before she could say for certain this wasn’t a weird stress response. It seemed like eternity.

Before she went to bed that night, she made Marvin wear his bell, put an extra lock on the back doors, and hid the keys to both it and her car.

As she slept, she dreamed she was watching Marvin through the window of his room as he wandered around outside. Blood ran down from his right eye and mouth and forehead, leaving his clothes painted in dark streaks, and pools of red around his feet. A purring white cat sauntered out of the shed and brushed against his leg, staining itself with blood.

The sound of a tinkling bell woke her up.

The noise had been a part of the dream, Marvin was still fast asleep.

On the dawn of the fourth day, Moira left a list of Things To Do tacked on Marvin’s bedroom door. He complained that it was over-long, which she took as a sign it was about the right length.

It read:

Keep your head elevated. Don’t blow your nose. Take the plastic-y pills once a day, and the small ones twice. Don’t take any aspirin. Do your homework!

And, because Marvin’s sleepwalking had persisted:

Make sure all the doors and windows are locked. Hide the key to the back door.

It was nerve-wracking for Moira, but Marvin survived. The back door and shed were untampered with, and she let herself hope Marvin was making enough progress for his stress-related sleepwalking to go away.

His swelling was all but gone, his bruises were fading, and his cuts were becoming scars. He had dark circles under his eyes, though, like he wasn’t getting much sleep despite his condition improving.

Moira made steak and veggies for dinner. She and Marvin ate at opposite ends of the table, and she couldn’t help but stare at his exhausted face. The sight wove a restless knot of guilt in her stomach. With no one to be vented to and nothing it could be channeled towards, it clawed at her incessantly.

Marvin squirmed in his seat. “Mum. Can you stop that, please?”

“Sorry,” Moira looked down at her plate, “You just look… tired.”

“I don’t like sleeping with my head up. I should sleep better soon now that I can lay down.”

“If you say so.”

The silence turned sour, awkward. Marvin pushed his food around his plate. “You look tired, too,” he muttered after a while.

She suspected she didn’t look as haggard as Marvin, but still conceded, “I am.”

“You don’t have to stay up for me. I think I’ve been walking less when I’m asleep.”

“I’m fine, Marvin, really. I won’t have to stay up much longer if you’re right, anyhow,” she watched as Marvin scooped up the last of his broccoli and ate it, “Do you think you still need melatonin to sleep?”

“Yeah.”

With dinner done, she gave Marvin a melatonin pill before they went to bed.

It was the fifth day since Marvin’s surgery.

Today, Marvin’s doctor was supposed to make sure his stitches (which, to Moira’s purposefully limited knowledge, were inside his lower eyelid) had dissolved.

Moira got home from work and Marvin was on the couch like he usually was.

“You have a good day, Marvin?” she asked as she slipped off her shoes.

“It was alright,” Marvin let out an exaggerated sigh, “There’s nothing good on, though.”

“We can get some movies for you when we leave for the doctors’ later, if you’d like.”

“Please. I’m dying in here.”

“Sure you are.” Moira gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Seriously, though. You are okay?”

“I’m okay. Just tired.”

“Aw. I’m sorry to hear it, maybe you can tell the doctor about it?” Moira moved past him to put the teakettle on. “You had breakfast? Lunch?”

“Yes.”

“You take all your medic”—

“Yes mum, you only told me to do it a million times and left a note on my door about it.”

“Relax, I’m just making sure,” Moira chided him, “I’ve never had to leave you alone in a state like this before.”

Marvin rolled his eyes, yawned, and went back to watching some cheaply made horror show. “Do I have time for another nap before we go?”

“You should. And if not, I’ll wake you up before it gets too late.”

“Good.” Within the hour he was fast asleep.

Moira checked the clock. The appointment was at eight in the afternoon, it was six now. He’d have plenty of time to sleep, and she’d have plenty of time to tidy up the living room.

Marvin was leaving the place a mess, albeit a small one. Most of it consisted of wrappers from things she’d left him to snack on, dirty dinner plates, and cups with rings of congealed juice at the bottom.

As she tidied up and loaded the dishwasher, she saw Marvin stand up in the corner of her eye.

“Oh, sit down. I’ll get whatever you need,” Moira told him.

He mumbled something incoherent in response, but Moira was pretty sure it amounted to, “No, it’s fine.”

He wandered towards the doors leading to the backyard and Moira huffed.

“Not again.”

As she put a hand on his shoulder, he turned to face her, and that’s when Moira realized something had changed about his eyes.

It was faint, but when the kitchen lights hit them just right, a green, oily film on their surfaces revealed itself. It shimmered like dragonfly wings and pigeon feathers, danced and bobbed as his eyes moved.

“Marvin?” she gently shook him, and Marvin blinked, causing the iridescence to disappear so fast she might have imagined it.

“What?” Marvin asked, “I was just going to head out to the shed for a little.”

“The shed? Marvin, I told you, you’re in no condition to be doing anything in there!”

“But I feel”—

“No buts about it, young man. If it’s got anything to do with magic, and it isn’t your written homework, it’s off limits.”

Marvin scoffed. “How would you know that magic is bad for me, you’re not a magician! The doctor only said I”—

“I don’t care what the doctor said, Marvin. I’m your mother.”

Moira emerged from the argument victorious.

Marvin spent the car ride to the doctors’ pouting, but Moira didn’t budge.

Time went on. It was now a week and some change since Marvin’s surgery and his healing was going well.

With his bruises ceding and his orbital bone no longer obviously broken, he threw himself into practicing magic in his room despite Moira’s insistence he focus on worksheets until he was in the clear. It took some serious badgering to get him to agree to keep his studies theoretical, but even then, he couldn’t help but pull little tricks when her back was turned.

Now that magic was at the forefront of his mind, it seemed the question of whether he could return to school loomed over him. Moira suspected it was why he had suddenly become so obsessed with casting spells where he’d been able to resist the temptation before.

Moira hoped the school took mercy on him. Magic was his passion. He loved it more than anything else in the world, and it’d tear him to shreds to be forced to put it down.

She felt her son’s malaise was rubbing off on her. Her nights were restless or plagued with strange dreams. Dreams where a bloodied Marvin wandered around the house like a ghost, irritating old men banged on her door and asked to be let in, and cats peered up at her from the windows of her shed with impossibly bright eyes. Dreams she could never fully remember, no matter how hard she tried, that always seemed to end with the sound of ringing bells.

Their jangling melodies had started to feel like taunts. It felt like they only belonged to Marvin’s leg bell half the time.

The end result of this was that Moira was tired more often than not. She chased her sleepiness away with coffee and tea as best she could, but it was like putting a band-aid on a breaking dam.

When she got home that afternoon, she found she could only bring herself to make soup. She was nodding off as she watched the pot boil.

“I’m going to bed,” Marvin announced from the top of the stairs, startling her awake.

“Why?” Moira called up to him, “It’s early.”

“I know. I’m just”—

“Tired?” Moira paused. “Marvin, maybe we need to go back to the doctor and see if they can do something about your insomnia.”

“It’s not—but I’m getting better.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not letting you sleep, is it?”

Marvin opened his mouth to say something else, then hesitated. “I guess so. Can you make me a bowl?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He disappeared into his room.

Moira had already made up her mind on the issue. If this didn’t end by tonight, she was making an appointment with whatever kind of specialist could help make it stop. She was only willing to wait another day for this to disappear and suspected holding off any longer would drive her mad.

She tidied up the living room and kitchen, made sure all the doors and windows were locked, hid any important keys, and went to bed to have more unsettling dreams.

Moira woke up in time to hear the sound of a ringing bell go from faint to silent.

Oh no.

She threw on a robe and ran through the entire house searching for Marvin, but found not hide nor hair of him.

Oh no.

People could perform complex tasks in their sleep, couldn’t they? What if Marvin had gotten through the lock on the back door, or cast a spell, or…?

Moira ran to the back doors to find them wide open, the lock lying defeated on the floor while a cool draft from outside blew in.

He was out there in the shed. She felt it in her bones.

Without stopping to put on shoes, she stormed out after him and threw the shed doors open to find him hunched over the back table, looking at something cradled in his hands.

“Marvin?” she whispered.

“Mum?” he turned back to look at her, and the strange film over his eyes that had been difficult to see before was now strong in color and texture, undeniably real. “Why are you here?”

“This is my shed, I can go in and out as I please, Marvin,” Moira said.

Her skin became pocked by goosebumps. Something was horribly wrong.

The air was heavy. When she breathed it in, it tickled her lungs like static on the way down and settled heavily at the bottom of each bronchiole.

When Marvin didn’t answer her right away, she repeated herself in a sterner tone, “It’s late, what are you doing in here?”

Marvin’s eyes darted sideways. His pupils were huge. The swirling liquid patterns on the surface hurt to look at too deeply. “Working on something important. Magic stuff, you wouldn’t get it.”

“And what are you holding?”

“A bird.”

Moira hoped he was referring to a live bird.

“It’s really pretty, so I decided to keep it.” Marvin held out his hands showing what was cupped between them.

He was not.

The pigeon, speckled with splotches of white, hung limp in his hands, its milky eyes staring blankly into nothing. There were no signs of trauma to the bird—in fact, its body was so smooth and clean Moira suspected Marvin had preened it—but the cause of death seemed clear to her. Four sets of wings and two extra legs stuck out at awkward angles from the back and belly. The bird had likely been unable to feed itself or fly properly.

It was fine for Marvin to have sympathy for the creature, but that didn’t mean she had to be comfortable with him sitting in the dark, caressing it like was alive. Or a pet. “Marvin, I don’t want you to do whatever this is, anymore. It’s unsanitary.”

“I think it’s good to get some fresh air.” Without turning away from her, he set the pigeon on the table behind him. And then it disappeared. Not metaphorically into the shadows, literally. Its feathers became translucent, then transparent, and it was gone.

“This isn’t fresh air,” Moira snapped, “And you—I’m not blind, Marvin. I know you’re doing some magical nonsense in here. You may as well tell me what it is now.”

Marvin looked back at the table. His voice was light and airy, like he was entranced by some impossible object only he could see. “I’ve been working really hard,” he murmured.

“On what, Marvin?”

Marvin didn’t reply. He pressed his palms flat on the table. Threads of green magic swirled out from his fingertips and into the wood grain before jumping to the walls and climbing upwards.

Wherever the magic touched, the invisibility spell that had concealed the pigeon came undone, unveiling…

“Marvin what—what is this?”

A table of dead animals lay before her. The corpses ranged from fresh to skeletal and were arranged in neat, tight patterns that left almost none of the wood below them visible. The back wall was plastered in pencil and pen pictures of cats, and the smell—

Near-overripe fruit, cooking beef, cold winter air, organ meat, old paper.

She turned away as a whirlwind of scents hit her nose.

It wasn’t sickening. It was certainly better than normal, rotting animal stench, but it was still intense and disorienting.

Forcing herself to look again, her gaze tore across the table for pointed ears, soft paws, and whiskers, but there was nothing. She looked to the back wall again. The collage of art wouldn’t have bothered her if it wasn’t paired with the grotesque table, and the subject matter didn’t seem so familiar. Maybe the drawings were based on a cat a friend owned or something similar, but she didn’t get a good enough look to confirm.

Moira didn’t realize she’d backpedaled into the yard until Marvin gave her a confused look. “What are you doing?” he asked.

From this distance, the shed’s interior was a blur of darkness.

Was that stuff on his eyes his own doing? Or had someone or something done that to him? Which option was worse?

Should she still go to someone for help? What if they took all this the wrong way? She didn’t think Marvin was dangerous to anyone, but it was hard not to look at this and draw grim conclusions, and if people knew magic was involved…

Oh, who was she kidding? It was a risk she had to take. She had no idea what to do or what she was dealing with.

“Marvin,” she said, “get out of there.”

“What?”

“Get out right now and go to your room.”

Hurt flashed across Marvin’s features. Genuine hurt, followed by confusion, like he was waking up from his trance.

Moira’s skin crawled. “Marvin, please”—she started, but Marvin cut her off.

“Why?” he asked, “What’s wrong with it?”

“Don’t act stupid with me, you wouldn’t have hidden it if you thought I wouldn’t get upset!”

“Night’s the best time to do it! It’s not my fault that happens to be when you go to bed.”

“Don’t you dare talk to me that way.”

“You’re the one who started it!”

Marvin winced as soon as he said it. The film over his eyes disappeared, perhaps because of his emotional outburst, perhaps because he’d followed her out of the shed while they argued and the spell was broken. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell…”

Moira knew he was getting ready to run, but her attempt to stop him was easily foiled.

In a puff of green-tinted, sparkling smoke, he was gone.

She threw the shed doors shut and looked up at the window to Marvin’s room just in time to see him duck out of sight.

“Marvin!” she shouted at him, “Come down here right now!”

No answer, save for rustling leaves and the sound of someone on a late-night stroll walking a little faster.

She stormed through the house, up to his room, and what was she greeted with? A locked door.

Fuming, she demanded that Marvin come out right this instant or else. But she had no idea what “else” would be and Marvin knew it.

Grounding him was off the table, and even if Moira could get inside, she didn’t want to risk Marvin disappearing from the house or worse in response. He still had antibiotics to take, and bruises and bones that needed healing.

Marvin’s voice was muffled through the door, “I don’t want to talk about it, can’t you just forget it happened?”

“No,” she snapped, “You want to hide from me? Be that way! You have to come out eventually, and then we talk.”

As she whirled back towards her own bedroom, she wondered how true that was.

Marvin was stubborn. He wouldn’t starve himself to death, of course, but she’d have a hard time keeping him from weaseling out of any attempts at earnest conversation, given he was a magic prodigy and she was the exact opposite.

Once in her room, she phoned the doctors’ again to tell them her son’s “sleepwalking” had gotten worse. Of course, no one was there, so she left a message. She did her best to stress the situation’s severity without revealing any details she felt were damning.

Her story ended up being that Marvin been unlocking doors, getting outside, and poking around in a shed full of dangerous tools. Leaving it at that, she went on to say she was terrified of what might happen to him if his sleepwalking couldn’t be brought under control. There was nothing stopping him from stepping into a road and being snapped out of his daze by a car running him over.

That done, she returned to wallowing in her anxieties.

What was she going to do? How was she going to figure out what the hell was going on? If Marvin wasn’t going to listen to her, he was unlikely to listen to anyone else.

Anyone else, except…

Moira sighed. Of course it’d be him. If it was magical and out of her depth, that old bag of bones always came back to haunt her.

The thought snapped her nightmares into sharp perspective. An old memory resurfaced. She knew why she recognized the pictures on the shed wall.

Marvin dreamed of a white cat once, didn’t he?

Before he’d run off in the middle of the night and scared her half to death, he’d gone on about a dream with a white cat in it. Could he still be obsessed with it all these years later? Was that what was wrong with him?

The old man was no psychologist, but Marvin had seemed convinced the two were connected then, so why couldn’t they be connected now?

Incredulous at what she was about to do, she pulled on some warm clothes, got in her car, and drove off into the night.

[deadrlngers]

OC TAG GAME.

i was tagged by @aragorngf and @devilbrakers to categorize some ocs and use this picrew, thank you so much ily both <3

i'm tagging: @uldwynsovs @nuclearstorms @morvaris @reaperkiller @risingsh0t @florbelles @nuwanders @nokstella @faarkas @indorilnerevarine @malefiicarum @katsigian @swanfey @necroticpetals @saintjudegf @denerims @shadowglens and all the ppl i probably forgot or that want to do this!!

-- FAVORITE OC.

vesper moxley + fenix hayes — cp2077

just started and already cheating sorry. listen. i said this multiple times already but in my mind they're literally a package deal, buy one take two. if you ever spent 5 minutes talking to me or looking at my blog you know they literally live in my mind jdfnkds i've gave them infinite amounts of love, care and attention. i'll be honest, i was going to put only fenix here at first (which is crazy that an oc that was supposed to be just a backstory plot point came this far, i've poured into him too much of what's home to me that now he took the shape of my walls, my bad). but. look at that picrew of vesper..SHE'S SO CUTE I'M SO IN LOVE WITH HER <3

-- NEWEST OC.

maverick de soto — infamous if

maverick maeve mav rick eve, i gave them so many nicknames already and we're still are like, at the start of the whole if. they are a cunt, they would rather jump off a cliff than admit when they're wrong, she loves fights and antagonizing whoever falls in their trap..and they love their friends more than anything. i can't wait to see the if unfold because i love maeve SO much already!!

-- OLDEST OC.

selene — oblivion

not counting my characters from original works, selene is the oldest oc i have. i've played oblivion lots of times and she (for the most part) always been there with changes through the years. i went off with the moon as a concept for her, "she's a dreamer from the moon" is a line that always makes me think of her. selene is the unwilling hero, the one that got dragged into smth bigger than herself and slowly, since she had no choice, took the shape of the role they imposed on her. she found a mirage of a home for a little while, only for that to be taken away from her. it's truly not worth it to be a hero, huh?

-- MEANEST OC.

violante waesphine — baldur's gate 3

a difficult battle between vio, akira & zefyr but in the end i went for vio. saying "mean" is an understatement. 'a rose born among thorns'..well she's a thorn born among thorns. it's difficult for me to speak of vio at times, she's more of a concept than a person, more of a numb soldier than the one in charge of her own life. an assasin and a pawn in the hands of a patron, melancholy and remambrance, her life is like a long walk to the gallows and while she's walking that path she has full intention of making it everyone's problem

-- SOFTEST OC.

joelle knight — fallout 4

this one made me realise how i barely have 'soft' ocs jklfds. easy sweep for joelle!! she had her whole life ahead of her with her wife & the son they just adopted, she looked at the future with exctiment until everything was taken away from her. joelle could've let the pain harden her heart but she didn't let that happen. joelle strives to help the people and what's left of the world she knew, she's a cutie who will listen to you talk for hours and crack stupid jokes to see you smile. her 'soft' nature doesn't make her naive so caution is still advised if you try to fool her!!

-- MOST ALOOF/STANDOFFISH OC.

zefyr — baldur's gate 3/d&d

i love zefyr madly. MADLY i say. they are a powerful draconic bloodline sorcerer that values their privacy AND peace more than anything else. zefyr lives as a hermit in a forest where they can fully concentrate on their studies of the arcane & such. they do not trust easily (or at all) and their guard is always up. you probably won't get more than a few words from them (unless you ask them about magic and power and such), they just want to be left alone u know? they are known as the ashen terror and not only for their hair color: ashes and fire are the only things they leave behind if you dare anger them!! also they are pink. if pink why evil, they're probably just misunderstood..

-- DUMBEST (AFFECTIONATE) OC.

hiraeth one-eye — skyrim

hate to do this to hiraeth so much fkjdsfnk..i wouldn't say they are dumb, but they surely prefer a good swing of their greatsword as a solution to any other more complicated response. they're super friendly, they love music, reading, chickens and dragons and they would risk it all for the people they love!! also they're extremely dangerous so don't let the big smile fool you. they value honor over anything else and they just can't let go of their father's death ://

-- SMARTEST OC.

sibylla — skyrim

you had a dumbest dovahkiin, now have a smartest ex-dragon priest!! a tie between her and joelle but since joy had her shot already, it's sibylla's turn. formely known as vennesetiid (=the winds of time/destiny), sibylla was a breton born during the middle of the merethic era that joined the ranks of the dragon priests for the simple desire of power, and knowledge. she later betrayed her dragon lords and joined forces to defeated them but lost her life during the battle. but it's not over for her!! a silly little situation makes her come back to walk Tamriel's land, this time as a vampire. sibylla has been alive for centuries and centuries and spent all that time studying the arcane and magic and science as well and working to become the most powerful mage that ever lived (lived..kind of). she saw most of the world's history & legends say she had the power to see the future & she's the proud achiver of the first ever gender transition in tamriel, if you don't love her already you better start

-- OC I WOULD BE BEST FRIENDS WITH.

moira velez — fallout new vegas

beside the fact that i love her beyond human comprehension, moira is funny, adventurous, stupid in a good sense as in you can do whatever crazy thing you think of with her, she's an enabler and i think we would have lots of fun together, she's the positive kind of friend that can lift you up from anything when you need it. plus her and my best friend's nv oc are besties so it's like we're all besties to each other!! hehe <3

[lepusrufus]

whenever I play ashe I have to spend a couple minutes in the shooting range to warm up or else I'll miss every single shot

If I'm feeling particularly serious I hop into this one custom game my friend recommended for training to hit headshots (which is honestly pretty helpful even if I feel mocked by the bots for sucking lmao), but I usually just chill with her in AI games lol

[dynamos-games]

me: fucking hell the monetization in this game is horrid

also me: heehee hoohoo $40 dollar skin go brrrr

[rescuefield-arch1]

thinking about the parallels between RC and sejm and how claire is always the one who leaves, never by her choice

[barrysbaby]

How are we feeling?

[lovecanbesostrange]

Here's a tip on how to read and enjoy neverending superhero comics. My credentials for this is being a lifelong X-Men reader, so ~35 years of ups and downs with the mutant soap opera.

Initially you have to find something that speaks to you. Gods, mighty powers, more of a solo book with an expanded cast, a team to follow - nobody can help you with that. With all the comic book adaptations from cartoons to live action movies, you might already have your preferences, go with that.

Now, this is about the big two mostly. Those run on cycles. The writers will come and go (as do the artists), they will try new things, they will broaden the story, they will retcon things, they will go for a big change - and in the end, every book has a core status quo it will return to. Always slightly different, going with the times, but the deep down core is there, trust that.

Many people will pick up your fav characters and write for them. And if you've talked to other people you might have noticed by now that two people can like the same character and still view them a bit differently. This will happen. Some writers will align with what you value most, some really won't. In the worst moments your fav character feels so OOC, you will question how you could ever go back to loving them. But don't worry:

This too shall pass!

A single issue can give you the best scene your little blorbos have been in that you want to rub your face all over the page to absorb it all. And suddenly there is one throwaway line of dialogue in there that is the most disgusting shit you've ever read. Sometimes the idea is super intriguing, but the execution is lacking. Sometimes the art is perfect, but you can't even explain the plot. Sometimes it's overall a meh-story, but the little details with the interactions are just right.

And here's the thing - a few years later nothing of that really matters. You can cling to all the cherished moments. Funny domestic hilarity, a big twist that really captured your emotions, the perfect heartbreak, some cool action that lives rent free in your head. And then you run with that. And you can forget about the rest.

Any in-depth analysis of a character that has been around the publishing block for a few years (but really decades upon decades by now with the well known names) will come with a huge bag of inconsistencies. Please keep that in mind. Also that goes both ways. Your fav will have had a shitty period. So don't take this whole thing too seriously, especially when interacting with other fans (or just writing/reading meta).

Focus on the things that bring you joy and time will help to soften out the edges. Loving superheroes is either a very short sprint - where you care about one specific moment in time only - or the longest marathon through a lot of uncanny valleys.

Also don't believe the always looming "this is the worst they've ever done". Go read some fan mail in older issues (and I mean old, read fan letters from the 70s or 80s, read letters in now acclaimed classic storylines) - people have been saying that since forever. But even the worst stories have some wonderful moments worth remembering. Worth loving.

It's also okay to not have big opinions on everything going on. Sometimes you have to shrug your shoulders and browse through some back issues for a while. That's allowed. Or to take a break entirely until the creative team changes once again.

[reinemichele]

Translation here

Turning round and round, The revolving scarlet windmill 《Moulin Rouge》 Makes beautiful flowers bloom. Swinging up and falling down, The dancing bloodstained windmill 《Moulin Rouge》 Makes beautiful flowers scatter... At the utter mercy of destiny, The boy who laments his helpless role Will eventually desire 『power』... Is what he seeks...   A 『shield』 that defends against the powerful? Or is it... a 『sword』 that attacks to quell the mighty? I don't really understand what happened... The howling melody of lunacy 《lune harmonie》...  Nor the scorching Taste of dead flesh 《Saveur》 of meat... I don't really understand what attacked...  But I figured... just one thing...  That it's not safe here... I'll take my most important treasure 《thing》 And make a run for it →  And so, I grabbed your hand... Ah... Without understanding why, The two of us made our escape, Running until out of breath As they chased after us, a deluge of raging desire...  As if following a trail of stardust… Leading into a forest Submerged in darkness... The two of us were shaking,  Gasping for breath, not understanding why.  Fearing the flood of despair,  We held onto each other tightly— Suddenly your body and limbs are flung into the air → Your eyes, frozen in terror ←  Searing into my back as I ran away... Passing through a season 《time》 of lunacy...  The boy's 《time》 is thrust into a state of flux. Turning round and round,  The revolving scarlet windmill 《Moulin Rouge》 Releases a scorching instant 《time》. Swinging up and falling down, The dancing bloodstained windmill 《Moulin Rouge》  Captures a frozen moment 《time》. Ah... if we are to be born again… Let us make a small flower bloom. Forgive me... next time, I won't run away...  I'll scatter with dignity by your side... 《Moulin Rouge...!》

"Could there be a Roman here...?"

[dyklopces]

t horniness is so real im sorry for doubting

[jewishcissiekj]

fun fact they actually did Age of Apocalypse not because of money or character development and exploration but rather because a few months earlier Betsy cut her hair and they were too cowardly to give us short-haired Psylocke for more than two issues so they created this entire 4 months long relaunch for all the X-Titles just so everyone will forget short hair Psylcke is a possibility and may potentially be better than long hair Psylocke

[metamorphiisis]

moira o'deorain as a child was just draco ma.lfoy tbh; she's been looking down on everybody down her nose all her life, especially w that height. girl definitely wore those school uniforms w the sweatervests over the button up n tie; wore trousers instead of the skirts.

she absolutely got into genetics due to her own anomalies; thought they made her unique and special.

[animentality]

So Captain America and Bucky Barnes were so gay in the Winter Soldier that Disney had to backpedal so hard they left skid marks on pride avenue, and throw in a generic hot blonde who makes out with Cap the next movie, while Bucky gives him the thumbs up and high fives Sam Wilson like a dude bro at a frat party.

A hot blonde who never shows up ever again and isn't mentioned and is totally irrelevant.

And it's really funny because X Men did the same thing, where Charles and Erik were so fucking gay in Days of Future Past, that in Apocalypse they literally threw in Moira who does absolutely NOTHING for that entire movie, except be hot so that Charles can ogle at her like a drooling pitbull.

Keep in mind that she barely did anything in First Class either, and she might as well be a non character.

But then you look at fucking Venom.

A movie that did the full fucking reverse.

Where they had the subtext... and then they said fuck it.

And ramped it the hell up.

And to me?

That's peak comedy.

Venom might not be as well written as Winter Soldier or Days of Future Past, but it's the fucking spirit of the thing that counts.

Maybe it's because the Russos are terrified of gays and Chad Tom Hardy is having gay sex, I don't know.

all I know is venom is mending the wounds left by the other movies. good job, venom, and thank you, tom.

[grison-in-space]

wondering about whether you could rec some "romance is a social construct" texts? ofc it is, but i like having books and articles to reference/learn specifics from/see how these ideas have developed.

Sure! Here's a quick reading list. Bear in mind that I am not a professional historian and my reading on this subject is a little diffuse. I'm not tackling the behavioral ecology stuff right now because a) I don't have a more direct book rec off the top of my head than Evolution's Rainbow, which is not technically focused on social monogamy, and also b) I approach that whole field with my eyes wide open for people letting their own perspectives and cultural views get in the way of their observations of animals, and I do not have the energy to go deal with it right now.

If you're going to read two books, read these two:

Stephanie Coontz, Marriage, A History: how love conquered marriage. 2006. All of Coontz' work, having to do with the social construction of the family, is relevant reading to this question (and I'd also recommend The Nostalgia Trap, because the historical context of how we conceptualize families is a major part of the construction of romantic love), but this one is most focused on the social construction of romantic love specifically and what it has replaced. Coontz is, I will disclose cheerfully, a major formative influence on my thinking.

Moira Wegel, Labor of Love: The Invention of Dating. 2016. Exactly what it says on the tin; focuses more closely on the modern invention of dating and romance.

Other useful readings to help inform your understanding of different ways that various people have conceptualized sex, sexuality, society and long-term connection include:

George Chauncey, Why Marriage? 2015. Chauncey is best known for Gay New York, which also offers a useful history of the way that relationship models and social constructs for understanding homosexuality changed among men having sex with men c. 1900 to 1950. This book, published just before Obergefell v. Hodges, is a discussion of why contemporary queer rights organizations focused on same-sex marriage as an activism plank in the wake of AIDS organizing. I find it really useful to read queer history when I'm thinking about how we understand and construct the concept of romantic relationships, because queers complicate the mainstream, heteronormative concepts of what marriage and romantic relationships actually are. More importantly, queer activist organizing around marriage has played a major role in shaping our collective understanding of romance and marriage in the past twenty years.

Elizabeth Abbott, A History of Celibacy, 2000. In order to understand how various cultures construct understandings of marriage and spousal relationships, it can be illustrative to consider what the people who are explicitly not participating in the institution are doing and why not. I found this an interesting pass over historical and social institutions that forbid (or forbade) marriage with a discussion about general trends driving these institutions, individuals, and movements towards celibacy.

Eleanor Janega, The Once and Future Sex, 2023. This is a very pointed historical look at gender roles, concepts of beauty, and concepts of sex, attraction, and marriage among medieval Europeans with an extended meditation on what ideas have and have not changed between that time and today. I include this work because I think a deep dive into medieval notions of courtly romance is useful, partly because it is an important origin of our modern notion of romantic love and partly because it is so usefully and starkly different from that modern notion! Sometimes the best way to understand the cultural construction of ideas in your own society is to go look at someone else's and see where things are the same versus different.

It's a mish-mash of recommendations, and I'm reaching more for books that have stuck with me over the years than a clean scholarly approach to the subject. I hope other folks will chime in for you with their own recommendations!

[astrologydayz]

ASTRO SEXOLOGY NOTES🔞 - NATAL CHART2

VENUS/EROS IN PISCES/AT 12, 24° = Pisces degree points 2 someone being sexually attracted 2 "lost souls", they want someone who's willing 2 let them be their saviour✨. They could also hold deep thoughts about being saved by a lover themselves, and the idea of "escaping" 2 their "happily ever after". Sex them up with how artistic/poetic u can be. That shit always works. They need someone who's willing 2 show them a kind heart, while also fulfilling their deepest desires/sexual urges.

VENUS/EROS IN SCORPIO/AT 8, 20° = Scorpio degree points 2 someone wanting a lover that's more sexually charged in private, and someone who's willing 2 give up their "thought patterns", as they can be a little "obsessive" with wanting to know everything, or them investigating when they feel the other persons sexual attraction "dying down a little bit"🧯🔥. These people can easily find your weak spots, so they won't disappoint. They need someone who's willing2 give them their soul, as they do the same💀😍.

VENUS/EROS IN LEO/AT 5, 17, 29° = Leo degree points 2 wanting 2 be praised all the time, and a need 2 praise, if the other person does good🐕. They want someone who worships them, puts them on a pedestal👑. They need someone who knows that they're not 2nd place, but always 1st place. They put passion, & sexual attraction/admiration at the top of the list, of things they NEED, 2want to get sexual with somebody. They need platonic, romantic, &sexual flirting from people all around, 2 get that "confidence in", people telling them how fine they look/how sexy they are🌟🌟.

Moira asteroid (638) conjunct 5th house can show fated romances/affairs throughout life, or with one special person💜.

A MAN’S Venus in Leo/1st house is mostly all about themselves in bed, they want 2 get off first and then maybe, if you're lucky, they'll finish u off2. No hate, I just don't fuck with it 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨.

Black Moon Lilith conjunct Vertex in a MAN’S chart shows that he's meant 2 have fated experiences, that puts him out of the "conventional". Like him dating/seeing younger women&getting shit4it, or him being "thrown" into situations where he has 2 "defend himself", because of the women he's in a sexual relationship/romantic relationship with🙄. These fated connections/experiences is what turns him into who he's supposed 2 be - someone who doesn't give a fuck about anyone else's opinion - BML energy🖕🖕💜.

Medusa asteroid (149) conjunct ASC in a WOMAN’S chart will make herself look "tempting", or "available" in front of a man, but as soon as he looks or tries 2 hit on her, she'll degrade him. "U disgusting man, or "u pig"!! "I didn't look at u, or made any attempt 2 flirt with u, whatsoever"😂.

A MAN WITH Venus, Mars and Saturn in Capricorn = Ultimate dom. They'll make you scream their name over, and over again, & won't stop until he made you cum multiple times. He's REALLY sexually experienced, when he reach his older years, like from 30&up.

Lust asteroid : 4386 conjunct Jupiter = crazy sexual needs. Even if they've had crazy sex all night = they can go again the next day, all day😵‍💫😲🤣🤣 Mars in Virgo/8th house in Virgo in a MAN'S chart typically finds "younger people" 2 be way more sexual attractive, than people at their own age. They're attracted 2 the feeling of "feeling young", while being with a young woman/man❤️. They want someone they can have an insane sexual attraction2, while also being able 2 "teach" the other person a lot in the sexual department. Them wanting young/inexperienced women.

Neptune conjunct Black moon Lilith can make you so damn ethereal. Especially if you got Mars or Venus aspecting it 2. people want 2 rip your clothes off but r afraid 2 even say hi 2 u😭😭😭. Afraid you'll reject/embarrass them.

💜💜💜💜 Look at aspects from Venus (the planet of love&attraction), & Mars (the planet of sex), 2c what u like, & what u need sexually💋.

👅👅👅 Mars in Gemini changes their mind a lot when it comes 2 sex. One day they like 2 dominate, & the next they like 2 be submissive. It really comes down to how they feel on that particular day. &it makes sense. Mars (planet of sex&) in Gemini - Duality. A MAN’S Venus/Mars in Leo wants praises from u. They want 2 hear how good they are, and amazing they are in bed. If u don't, they can get bored of u, and seek somebody else - get their "needs" taken care of by another person👀 👀.

If your 8th house ruler is in your 8th house = sex can be so transformative for u but you'll probably only hookup with a few people throughout your life tho. Only having sex with people you feel a deep soul connection with.

🍆🍆 A MAN'S Mars/Venus/in 11th house in Aquarius is FREAKYYYYY, they'll try anything with their partner. MOSTLY ON VIDEO/cam🙃🙃🙃 PERIOD.

A WOMAN'S Venus in Pisces/8th/12th house is the "I'll do anything I can 2 satisfy your needs, before my own". I love these placements, they want their partner 2 feel all the pleasure and doesn't even think about their own.

Taurus Mercury/Mars LOVES 2 be neck kissed, damn. Just go wild there and they'll go crazy 4 u, I promise 👄👅. MEN with Mars in Taurus/Taurus in 8th house = attracted 2 women that always looks "beautiful", "sexy, but classy", "ocd around looks", "model looking". They want a gorgeous woman, that can "cater" 2 their most sensual needs 🫦💦. Find some whipped cream/ice cream + your tongue&his body = go loca. If he doesn't go crazy, (u probably have the wrong chart😂🤡). Webb asteroid (3041) conjunct/trine/sextile/quintile BML can indicate doing "Web porn", "only fans", "showing yourself off, in a "sexual, provocative way online"🧯💨🔥.

Mars/Venus in Gemini/3rd house loves using toys! But they especially love2 use their hands&fingers!! They can also love oral👅.

REPOST OF SOME OF MY POSTS FROM MY OLD BLOG/SOME NEW COMMENTS

THANKS4READING💘 Appreciate u, always!