#-writing to share stuff

[aureliobooks]

also it’s been ages since i’ve checked my notifs here so if you run a writing/art blog and you’re a newer follower or we haven’t interacted yet, please feel free to reply here so i can start to meet people and re-familiarize myself with writeblr :’) honestly even if we’ve interacted before but it’s just been a while please reach out !! i miss all of you and it’s been far too long

[strangebiology]

Success is Dependent on Secret Information

A lot of career success depends on you and the work you put into it, as well as luck beyond your control, but sadly, it also depends on secret information, magic words, and stupid little tricks.

That's not fair. I don't like it, but we can help by sharing that secret information--which is the antidote to gate-keeping. That's why I recently wrote this in my Authors of Nonfiction Books in Progress substack:

It can be really disheartening to realize that, when you thought you failed at something because you didn't do well enough, other people had the magic words. For instance, some injustices I've witnessed (that may or may not always be the case, or maybe not anymore!) include:

A good athletic score doesn't get you into a college sport--having a coach or parent talk to the college coach is mandatory

Many school-sponsored scholarships are often not tightly linked to grades, test scores, or financial need, but whether the student said the right words ("I can't afford that") to the right person (presumably some financial office person.)

Apparently, some aspects of some degrees are cheated on by most students (if that's the case, we should tell all students that it's ok to cheat on that so they don't waste their time on something that apparently wasn't important anyway, or worse, fail out just for being ethical.)

Especially related to books: Few people will mention that you can get grants! Not my agent, not my publisher, not the 1 zillion "pros and cons of trad publishing" articles out there mentioned grants (Grant eligibility is a HUGE benefit of trad publishing.) I got more money from grants than my entire book advance!

Let me know what magic words/secret knowledge you've learned, that you wish you knew sooner. Or: the widespread understanding of what information would make a field more fair?

And please share ANBIP with anyone writing, publishing, or seriously about to start writing, a nonfiction non-memoir book, especially if they're interested in the more practical side (I share more about resources and strategy than craft.)

[grumpy-triceratops]

🌸My Super Long Hopefully Fun Character Ask Game:

👕Appearance

What is your character's favorite physical trait they possess?

What would your character wear if they were told they had to gussy up?

Is there something about your character's appearance that they would change if possible?

Does your character have a favorite material they like to wear?

What are your character's opinion on scars?

How much interest does your character take in trends?

Is there someone your character tries to look similar to?

Does your character have a physical trait that they're known for?

What does your character smell like?

If your character could splurge on a particular garment, what would it be?

Is your character's favorite color a color they wear often?

Has your character gone through major stylistic or physical changes?

What is something your character would refuse to wear?

Is there a style your character is afraid they can’t pull off?

Would your character wear something someone else picked out for them?

Is your character's appearance more telling or deceiving?

What are your character's thoughts on wearing costumes?

Does your character have a favorite outfit?

If your character had to get a tattoo what would it be?

📦Objects

Is there an item your character doesn't like to leave without?

What gift would your character give to someone they didn't like but felt obligated to?

What type of object is likely to catch your character's attention?

Is there an item your character liked that they can’t get back? 

Would your character ever try to haggle?

What is something your character is proud to own?

Does your character ever spend more than they have?

What would it take for your character to give up an item they really like?

Does your character prefer to give or receive gifts?

Is there a type of object your character doesn’t like?

What might an acquaintance think is a good gift for your character?

Does your character personify objects?

What does your character most enjoy shopping for?

Is there an item your character is embarrassed they own or want?

Would your character prefer something bought or made personally?

Is your character willing to ask for things?

What is most important to your character when shopping?

🍽️Food and Drink

What flavor would your character say their personality is?

Would your character prefer baking, cooking or mixing drinks?

Is there a food or drink your character is unwilling to try?

How big is your character's appetite?

Does your character consider eating fun?

Would your character eat or drink something they didn't like to appease someone?

Is there food that has made your character sick?

What is your character's favorite food group?

Does your character like to try new foods?

What is a childhood meal your character cherishes?

Is your character food motivated?

Which mealtime is your character's favorite?

How much does your character care about wasting food?

Does your character prefer restaurant food or home cooked food?

What food or drink does your character consider a treat?

Is there a food texture your character doesn't like?

What kind of drinks does your character prefer?

🌤️Weather and Nature

What would your character do if they were suddenly caught in the rain?

Has your character had a meaningful encounter with an animal?

What season would your character say they're most similar to?

Is there a natural phenomenon that scares your character?

Has your character ever had an animal phase?

Would your character enjoy sky gazing?

Does your character have a good sense of direction?

What type of environment does your character like best?

Is your character good with animals?

How would your character react to snow?

What part of nature would your character most resonate with?

Could your character survive in the wilderness on their own for a week or more?

What element best represents your character?

Does your character prefer hot or cold weather?

Is there a creature that scares your character?

What celestial body would interest your character the most?

Is your character good with plants?

How willing would your character be to nap outside?

What animal would your character say best represents them?

🤝Community and Relationships

Does your character prefer company or solitude when sick?

What is your character's favorite kind of social event?

How comfortable would your character be singing and dancing in front of others?

Is your character upfront about their feelings?

Who would your character first seek if they needed medical help?

How willing would your character be to go to a party with people they don't know?

Who is your character most honest with?

How likely is it for your character to initiate a friendship?

Where is your character's comfort place?

Is there a habit your character has that they learned from someone else?

Does your character have people they think would worry about them if they got injured?

How would your character react to being put in a position of leadership?

Would your character be good at providing medical assistance?

Who would your character say knows them best?

Is there a person your character would turn to for backup in a fight?

Who would your character most want to sign their cast if they got one?

How well does your character work with others?

What is your character's favorite form of affection?

Does your character enjoy celebrating holidays?

What would it take for your character to get into a fight?

💓Mind, Body and Soul

What is a habit your character has that others might find cute?

Are there particular sounds your character is fond of?

Is your character more prone to fight or flight?

Does your character believe in myths and fairy tales?

What words could tear your character down?

How well does your character act under pressure?

Is your character good at practicing self-care?

What scents does your character find comforting?

Does your character have any allergies?

Is your character a light, medium or heavy sleeper?

Does your character have strong willpower?

Is your character more likely to give advice or seek it?

How does your character relax?

Is there a secret thing your character longs to hear?

Does your character have a sleep routine?

Would your character feel confident in a fight?

Is your character more energized in the morning, afternoon or at night?

How often does your character have nightmares?

Are there scents your character dislikes?

Is there a fear your character wants to learn to overcome?

If your character had to act in a play what role would they think they’d best perform?

Does your character have a high pain tolerance?

🎲 Hobbies and Activities

What kind of games does your character most enjoy playing?

Does your character have a secret hobby?

What is a talent your character wishes they had?

Is there an activity your character used to enjoy that they now dislike?

Which does your character try to prioritize more, work or hobbies?

Does your character work better with creative or technical endeavors?

What is a talent that your character is proud of?

Is your character more outdoorsy or indoorsy?

What is a topic your character would be excited to talk about? 

Is there a skill your character doesn’t know they’re bad at?

Does your character have any injury stories?

What kind of music does your character enjoy?

Has your character ever made something for themselves or someone else?

What is your character’s opinion on cheating in games?

How good is your character at following through on projects?

What’s an activity that reminds your character of someone else?

Does your character prefer music or silence?

What is a topic your character wouldn't want to talk about?

[zephyrchama]

Simeon had his back against your chest and his hands neatly folded together. They were so tense that you could spy his fingertips pale with strain as they dug into his knuckles.

On the contrary, you were relaxed. You leaned against the couch arm, an angel in your lap, busy running your fingers through his hair. Hair that was as thick and fluffy as down feathers. Each individual strand would hover in the air for a second after your hand combed through it before gravity took over and it fell back against his scalp.

Simeon clawed at his tie, loosened the knot, and pulled it half-open. The tie slid over his shirt and draped down the side of the couch. He glanced up at you with pure blue eyes for an instant, only to squeeze them shut right after. "I don't think I can hold myself back if you keep doing that."

The crown of Simeon's head was especially sensitive. You'd go slow, caressing it back and forth. Tamping his hair down then scooping it up again. Repeating this over and over to feel Simeon tense up against your legs.

"There, there," you comforted him with a series of small pats. "Why are you holding back?"

Face fully flushed, Simeon reopened his eyes and lifted his chin to meet your eyes once more. You felt his taut shoulders soften. You swept aside his bangs with your pinky and traced the contour of his face down past his ear.

"...good point," Simeon relented. "I'm not used to being spoiled."

Gently, he rolled over, burying his face into your upper stomach. Washing himself in your scent while you enveloped your hands in his. Simeon curled his arms around your waist and grabbed hold of your lower back.

Upon planting a row of kisses along the part in his hair, you could feel his smile and a light, breathy laugh.

"I'm happy, but don't you think you're spoiling me too much?" he asked. Simeon's fingers stroked your back. Each time you passed over a certain sweet spot on his head, he gave your shirt a little tug.

"Did you want me to stop?" You had no real intention of stopping. As long as Simeon was on top of you, you were staying rooted to the couch.

He rubbed his forehead against you. "No, but I did hope you would ruffle my hair again."

A rare request from Simeon himself couldn't possibly be ignored. You gladly tousled his hair into a messy state, all to be gradually combed out over the next few minutes. "That's all you want? You know, you can be more greedy."

[zorangezest]

Hi hi!!!! I’m sooo sorry to bother you, but since I first found your personality swap comics, I’ve been completely obsessed!!!!

So, I was wondering if you’d be ok with me writing a short fic based on it? Specifically Starscream and Thundercracker in part 3!!! Following this, I was wondering if it would be ok if I used the dialogue from it in the fic?

Feel absolutely free to refuse both of these!!!! Have an amazing day!!!! <3

[caspercryptid]

Hello everyone I am so unbelievably pissed about the NaNoWriMo situation that i'm going to take my massive stack of writing and craft books and my English degree and channel all my rage into making an email newsletter to send craft-oriented writing prompts and tips during the month of November. Say No to NaNoWriMo, but yes to WriMo. You get it.

I'm not going to make this have the same goals as Nanowrimo-- I'm not reskinning it but less ableist, I just really think having a whole month where people focused on their work is pretty cool and I want to keep up that spirit. This is going to be informal and run by Just Me, though I'll make a discord server if it's clear there's interest. Direct questions to @nowrimomo , which I literally just made and so will look like a skeleton currently.

I'm going to include prompts from various professional sources with options for Fiction, Nonfiction, Poetry, and Fanfic, so everybody can get in on this. It doesn't matter what you write, but we should all Write More.

[come-what-may-challenge]

Everyone can be a creator! We'll post a "Maybe This or Maybe That" prompt every other day. Create anything inspired by either of the prompts (or both!) Who can join? Any creator of any kind that doesn't use AI! What fandoms? Any and all fandoms are welcome to join us! (Including original works!) More info can be found on our blog and the FAQ post.

[thewordsarestuckinmyhead]

how it feels as a writer to refrain yourself from sharing anything about a WIP until it’s fully done.

[bamsara]

thinking about a one-shot series of snippets of pre-trod narilamb and post-trod narilamb, and I don't have the name for the pre-story yet but im bouncing ideas for the post one. "Married Life (With Death)" being one of them but im. Thinking

[scribesynnox]

Apocalyptic Ponyo: Escape From The Poachers

@keferon for the apocalyptic ponyo au and @sightseertrespasser cuz the poachers idea was so big brained and I just ended up writing this whole thing in my notes app cuz of it and it was so good that I had to share it:

OOOOOOOO, SSTP WAS SO BIG BRAINED FOR INCLUDING THE POACHERS IN HERE!! Another point of drama! Having to avoid them! Trying to release the humans back to the biggest group of humans except those humans are actually poachers and the humans are hesitating but the mers are trying to encourage them to go back, and then suddenly the humans are making loud noises and-

OOOOOOO, Blurr and Swerve should like, they DEFINITELY have a system of communication, simple noises or hand signs to convey meaning given how much they had to depend on each other as they navigated the washed up ruins of the island.

So Swerve and the other humans are all wary and making their barks and chirps at the big group of human, and then Blurr registers the wide eyed look of fear and anger on Orange’s face. Orange immediately books it back towards him and barks the noise that means HELP! DANGER! And jumps down to Blurr’s who had automatically outstretched his hands at the noise. Upon landing, Swerve points in a direction and Blurr immediately starts swimming away, having enough time to process what just happened and shout back at the others, “GET AWAY, THEY’RE NOT SAFE!!”

Shockwave is already swarmed with his guppies and swimming away, while Ratchet and Hot Rod make their escape.

Now it’s a chase as the mers try to get away and-

Oh my god, that would make SUCH a good chase scene video game wise, all the different characters with their different mechanics trying to escape the poachers.

With Swerve and Blurr, you’d have a punch of sonic style fast speed running away with Swerve occasionally having to heave Blurr up and dead sprint on dry land to escape the poachers.

With Shockwave and his kids, it would be Shockwave trying to get away as fast as he can, using his size and strenght to break apart buildings in the way and occassionally lob debris at the poachers while the kids shoot at the poachers trying to give Shockwave enough time and space to do all that.

With Ratchet and HotRod and Drift… well we don’t have a lot for them yet, they’re very new, so I’ll just come up with whatever, hmmm. Dratchet is not a speedster. He’s not giant like Shockwave is with a gaggle of guppies who are more than willing to draw blood.

But he DOES have Drift who knows poachers, and Hot Rod who is more spry.

This may be more of a hide and seek sort of escape for them, Hot Rod peeking around corners to look for them, Drift using his knowledge as a former poacher to know their tricks, and- oooooo, what if Ratchet had weapons stocked in his fins. He has to get new fins, might as well ALSO make them tasers.

So their escape is less of a runaway, and less of a smash and run, and more of sneak and ambush.

Ooooooo hehehehe yesssss, I LOVE that. This is so fun, I’m having a great time.

So we have three different escape sequences. I don't know if Jazz and Prowl should be there too because if they are, I feel like everyone would get the danger they were in much faster and also this would quickly go from "run run get away" to "we have two apex predators here and two giant fuck off mers (Shockwave and Ratchet) who definitely know how to fight and the apex predators are on their side and also there's Drift who is ABSOLUTELY going to fight when he realizes there is no running away and CAN fight and also an entire swarm of children who have a lot of pent up stress and zero issues with taking it out on a bunch of adults who were going to hurt their father figure that they're very attached to". Like I can't imagine Jazz and Prowl being there and it NOT ending up into a boss fight. Oooooo except if Jazz got injured, badly. That would make running away a priority, and THEN! Ratchet could help Jazz after they get away! In this situation though, I can't imagine everyone accidentally getting separated like in the situation above so this chase scene would probably play a little different. Instead of three separate chase scenes, it would be EVERYONE swimming away, and at different points of the chase, you'd control a different character, using different game mechanics based on who you're controlling at the time to help get away- oooooo, to be even harder, maybe you'd have to pick and chose who to control based on the environment around you, deciding if you need to be fast so that Blurr can speed ahead and clear the path for the others, or if you need to be the kids and distract the poachers, keeping them off of you, or if you need to be Ratchet and and do some field medicine while swimming so that Jazz can stay stable, doing some quicktime events at some parts, and puzzles at others and shit. That could be fun too, hehehehe.

I'm having a great time, this is great, I'm loving it here, this is so fun to imagine.

[hansoeii]

I have a PATREON now! ✨

I will make a more official announcement about this later on when I have time, but I just launched my Patreon!

On there you will find OC content and Chapters, High-res images of my Illustrations, Timelapses, WIPs and more.

I've been a freelance illustrator for about 4 months now and Patreon can be a way for me to make some secure income while also sharing some new and inclusive content with you!

It's a bit empty now, but I will be adding more throughout the month! ⭐

JOIN MY PATREON HERE!

I'm super excited to start this new journey, hope to see some of you over there! 🌈✨

[the-orange-solace]

When I was a child, I watched an episode of Criminal Minds where a man had a split personality. A woman who killed other women who threatened the man she formed to protect. I remember her sitting in the dark on a couch, a cigarette in hand beside a lamp, as she spoke to an Agent about why she had to kill them, that it was to protect him. It was her entire purpose for existing.

As a child, I used to pace empty halls in the middle of the night and lay in bed, repeating in my mind that I would be the only being in my body. I will not break into multiple people. I will be in control. I have to be because, at the time, I believed I could break into those monstrous plurals you see on TV. The ones that killed their family after years of neglect, abuse, and wrongdoing. The ones you should be afraid of ever becoming, no matter who you are or your situation.

So I became terrified.

And yet, nearly every night, I'd look up at the sky or the ceiling and beg for something to change—to not be alone. I was stuck pretending I was a different character, a type of escapism that sometimes got out of hand, lost in an identity that wasn't my own. Looking up and imagining being taken away, every character I adored was by my side, caring for me in return. I had to keep going, be them, and exist in a world with them.

I'd made up stories, different realities, and places in my mind to escape to, as well as explanations for things my underdeveloped brain couldn't comprehend in the place I found myself within. I clung to concepts, characters, and situations that reflected my own, and soon, I no longer felt alone—not with all the escapism I conjured up, not with the different identities to help me face what was happening.

But I was in control. I was one being. No matter what. I had to be a single being because that was good. I had to be good.

I would never hurt anyone, and being many meant being bad. I couldn't be bad.

When I was a teenager, I started researching and getting involved in minority and disabled spaces. I loved being informed, the stories, the many perspectives, and the complexity of humanity. So it was no surprise when I shared a plural headcanon with a friend, and they felt safe coming out to me. They were many. They took my hand and guided me through a community I was fascinated with and wanted to aid and represent like so many others.

I spent years learning, staying silent as others spoke, just listening to everything I could. But then, one day, like so many others, I spoke through a different facet, a different identity I had created as a child. The many faces of me represented things I could not be, I could not hold, nor could I handle. I was struggling; some of me wanted to lash out. So she did. She lashed out.

As always, I was faced with kindness, listening ears, and aid that then pushed me more to the surface from drowning. But I never left; just another part of me was lost, right? Of course. People are complex. I deal with my emotions in a complex way. Of course.

My plurally disabled friend watched as I became more comfortable speaking through the identities I had, whether they were facets of myself or characters that helped me. Soon enough, the continuous "role-play" and "emotional processing" developed into normal conversation, a comfort, a relief.

They kindly approached me and asked if I was a system, too. They had never met anyone who spoke to themselves like I do, definitely not any singlets. None of our other friends did, in person or not, not even people in our families. It was just us.

The fear from my childhood arose. I couldn't be multiple; I couldn't be more than one. It was bad. But hadn't I learned about Plurality? All its ups and downs? Its complexities and nuances? I accepted it wholeheartedly; I learned and evolved from the demonized perception I was given as a child. So, why was it still bad?

Because I must be lying; I must be a fake, a poser. It was the only reason, wasn't it? I had seen so many conversations and arguments about fakes, those who wished to be special. Had I somehow become the harm they spoke of? How could I do this to a community I swore to listen to and fight for?

I obsessed over it, forcing the panic, dissociation, habit, and ease of speaking in multiple identities and beings of myself away. I buried it as deep as I could for the betterment of everyone else. The community didn't deserve such harm, and I wouldn't bring it to their doorstep if I claimed it to be something I'm not.

The loathing became so present it formed into tics that caused aches and disruptions in my life. Multiple stressors--along with an identity crisis--will do that to someone. So my shoulder and neck muscles ached from shrugging, flexing, and all the repetitive movements I couldn't stop without crying from the suppression. So I didn't. I let it disrupt and hurt.

Then, one day, someone, some random, unknown system to me out in the world, spoke about how it didn't matter what was real or not; it didn't hurt anyone. Plurality and the belief of it didn't hurt anyone. It hurt no one to discover themselves, to test the waters, to simply pry into yourself and learn. There was no shame in figuring yourself, or yourselves, out. There was no right or wrong, nothing to be ashamed of or fearful of. Just another part of living.

So I did. I poked and prodded. I gave my parts names, spoke to them in the middle of the night, asked questions, got to know them, and learned we couldn't talk through words at first but could emotions and sensations. I realized I couldn't find where my Plurality started or where it ended, that we—oh god, we—the idea was so surreal but...comforting—were so combined, living without specific individuality outside of me that there was no separation in sight. Not that I could figure out. For so long, I believed everything was just me. Only me.

But now it was someone else, too. These things that made no sense, these things that felt out of place or special, unique, and ever-changing could be someone else.

Someone else.

The more I reflected, learned, applied, and prodded, the more things made sense. Until one day, I looked at my friends, held my breath, and spoke. Stated that it like it was a sin for me of all people to say.

I was plural.

No one blinked an eye. No one questioned it outside of boundaries and clarification. It wasn't surprising that their childhood friend was many. How surprising could it be when they used so many different names for different parts of themselves to express hard things?

It was astonishing.

And here we are, years and years later, grown and still learning, living, fighting, but more in touch with ourselves than ever before with so many more sys friends and aquatints. More experiences, a better understanding.

It's not shameful to learn, apply, and reflect. You take nothing from anyone but your time and open-minded exploration of the world and yourself(ves). There is no evil in being human, living life, phase or not. There is nothing wrong with you, any of you, for existing or living. You just are. I embrace you, I embrace us, and I embrace everything that comes with a life of many.

So, if you're struggling, just know you're not alone outside the body. We know, and so do many others. It's going to be okay; you'll find yourself in time. Don't rush it. There will always be time.

[bonus-links]

I don't think I've shared this here before, but I've got a work on ao3 where I've been posting some little bonus links fics! mostly with links who haven't entered the comic yet lol, for anyone interested

chapter count:

Loft's Good Day

Feeling

Fallen

Insomnia

Destiny

borrowing grief from the future

Storms

[sky-scribbles]

So there were some things I had to cut out of my book on aro & ace -ness for various reasons. Mostly, I had to trim it so it'd fit into a lower price range, but sometimes... I had to sigh heavily and admit that something was just too self-indulgent and it had to go.

These included:

A study of some historical figures whom I think might have been ace or aro (not to 'claim' anyone as aspec - we have no idea how people from the past might identify today - but I think it's important for us to remember that historical figures should not be considered straight by default, and that their lives shouldn't be painted as tragic if they didn't have a partner.)

In particular I got very annoyed with adaptations of certain historical figures' lives that write in romances that never existed, as if their lives are uninteresting unless you shove romantic love in there

A couple of thousand words yelling about how groundbreaking Critical Role's ace and aro characters are (this one PAINED me to remove)

A rambling diversion into animals that breed cooperatively and how they disprove the dumbass narrative that 'the sex drive trumps everything so being ace is obviously ~unnatural~'

A bunch of other stuff where I had to look myself in the eye and say 'Sky. I know this is fun. But is this relevant. Is this necessary.' Alas it was not.

Anyway it makes me very sad that I couldn't include this stuff, and the upshot is: I'm starting a free Medium blog (EDIT: formerly on substack but moved for Reasons) so I have a place where I can yell about everything I couldn't fit in the book. I'll probably use it to yell about general aspec & pop culture things in general!

I'd love to to have you if you're interested in my aspec gushings <3

(Book available for pre-order here & here)

[morethanmemory]

Cold on during a night?

Crawl into Phosphorus' bed without anyone noticing so the guards can have a little freakout in the morning <3

Pairing: Doctor Phosphorus/Reader

Warnings: None; Some suggestive touching

Notes: Thank you for the request, anon! Just some short Phosphorus fluff for y'all (: Reader has draconic heritage so Phosphorus's radioactive flames don't burn because uhhh I said so ! Y'all will not believe the amount of research I did on underground temperatures and sewer lines just to see if it made sense for the non-human wing to be cold, and yes, Belle Reve (according to wiki) is in Louisiana!

---

Winter at Belle Reve is, by far, the worst season. This deep underground, the Non-Human Internment Division should be marginally warmer than the world above, but fifty years of deteriorating, shitty-to-begin-with insulation has left the entire wing about as toasty as the North Pole. The old concrete does little to ward off the night chill, especially when it rains. Nestled within a web of storm drains and sewer lines, coupled with crappy plumbing, the Non-Human wing is the unfortunate victim of leaky pipes and dank cells every Louisiana winter.

Phosphorus's personal hellhole is no exception.

Plink. A drop lands on his brow, evaporating the moment it touches his radioactive skin. Hiss. He turns with a grumble, tugging the threadbare, itchy blanket over his head. Plink. Another droplet hits his foot. Hiss.

Cold. Wet. Miserable. Winter at Belle Reve is, by far, the worst season.

But, there is one bright side.

The air vent in the center of his room shudders, filling the cell with the groan of rusty metal. A second later, you're unceremoniously tumbling from his ceiling like a baby bird tossed from its nest. You land by his bed in a crumpled heap, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from bursting into laughter.

With a pained moan, you get to your feet, dusting off the cobwebs that cling to your uniform.

"You really stuck the landing this time," he snickers softly as he props himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you.

"Fuck off," you hiss under your breath. You pick a dead spider from between the silver scales running up your forearm and flick it at him with a scoff. It burns to a crisp as he yelps in disgust.

Still, he lifts his blanket as you pad nearer.

"You're a terrible house guest."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you apologize dramatically, placing a hand over your heart as you hover above him. "You must forgive me. I believe I forgot my fucks in the air ducts about three cells back."

You can hear him rolling his eyes even as he reaches up to place his hand on your hip.

"You're a real comedian tonight, aren't you?" he murmurs playfully. His hand slides to the small of your back, gently pulling you down beside him. The old mattress springs shriek in squeaky horror beneath your combined weight, squealing as you both shuffle under the single sheet.

You stifle a laugh as his head hits the concrete wall behind him in his haste to make space for you, and Phosphorus pinches your hip in retaliation.

"Shut it, Smaug the Terrible," he mutters, drawing you closer. "I'm trying to be a gentleman."

A soft chuckle slips past your lips, and you fix him with an amused look. "You? A gentleman?"

"Is it that unbelievable?"

Your silence answers him loud and clear.

"Asshole," he huffs, pulling the blanket over you, and you can't help but giggle.

His warmth, radioactive and sickly as it is, is a welcome reprieve from the biting cold of the cell. The phosphorescent glow of his skin illuminates your features, glinting off your silver scales like the Northern Lights dancing over a dark lake. Soft shadows stretch themselves over the rough scutes along your brow and cheeks, and you let out a quiet, happy hum as he gently traces the jagged trail of scales with his thumb.

He doesn't tell you that you're hogging the blanket or that you've yanked it high enough to leave his feet bared to the seemingly endless drip of freezing water from the pipes above. Instead, Phosphorus lazily drapes his arm around your waist and tugs you closer.

"You'd think we'd at least get upgraded to bigger beds for saving the world," he grouses, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt in search of soft skin and sharp scales.

"What, the ping-pong table wasn't thanks enough?"

Phosphorus snorts out a light laugh and catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I would've preferred they approved my other request."

"The cafeteria soda fountain?" you grin as the tip of his thumb drags along your bottom lip. He leans closer, close enough that you can feel his breath dance down the bridge of your nose. Slowly, Phosphorus tips your head back until your warm eyes meet his hollow sockets.

"Yeah, sure," he whispers, lips brushing your own. "The soda fountain."

You can't see it, but you know he's smiling, can feel the curve of it as his lips press against yours. And then, he's kissing you. Slow, soft, sweet. He cradles your face in the same hand that's melted through the flesh and bone of countless men. His touch, though, is anything but deadly.

The hand under your shirt travels higher, mapping out the arch of your spine and the ridge of razor-sharp spikes running up it, and you whine for more. More of this tenderness neither of you have known in so, so long. The tip of his tongue drags over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a fight. Sharp words fail you both in the face of this soft sweetness. The warmth that rolls off his tongue is still unfamiliar but not unwelcome. It seeps into every fiber of your being, liquid hot in your veins, molten metal down your throat. You should burn beneath his hands, crumble to ash and dust like everything else he's ever known, but you don't.

Your hands swiftly find their way to his jaw with a clumsy desperation, and sparks shoot across his skin as your scales scrape against it. He moans into your open mouth, fighting down a hungry growl, but his body betrays him. His hand hikes your shirt up; his hips roll against your own. He's kissing you a little faster, a little harder.

Plink.

The splatter of one, two, three droplets of ice-cold water against your forehead cuts through the building heat between the two of you, and you pull away with a quiet giggle. Phosphorus groans, a low rumble caught between irritation and amusement, chasing after your lips.

Plink. Plink. He sneezes as a few drops of water tickle his nose. Hiss.

With a defeated sigh and a final nip at your bottom lip, Phosphorus relents, surrendering to the battalion of leaking pipes. At least, he thinks, you're still here, laughing in his arms. As your laughter fades, you bury your face in his chest and breathe him in deep. He smells like the world after a thunderstorm, and your eyes drift shut as you commit the scent to memory.

"Don't let me fall asleep," you yawn, nestling yourself against him despite how his prison-issued shirt scratches your cheeks. "The guards—"

"I know," he shushes you, kissing your forehead. "I won't."

He tries his best. Really, he does. He talks to you about everything under the sun. Nuclear physics, his favorite composer, the time he watched Weasel spend five minutes trying to hack up a fork. You tell him about ancient runes, your favorite authors, the time you ate a police officer (completely in self-defense) and nearly choked on his femur.

Leaving before sun-up, sneaking out before the guards catch you, making sure you don't fall asleep so the scales you've grown above the tracker in your neck can stay up and disrupt the location transmission—they're all an excuse. Because, truth be told, all either of you really want are a few more stolen moments. Another story shared in hushed whispers beneath his fraying bedsheet. Another teasing touch that leaves you both wanting more. Another hour, minute, second. You don't remember falling asleep.

When you wake, it's to angry shouts and rough hands. One moment, you're wrapped up in Phosphorus's sturdy arms; the next, you're face down in a puddle of dirty water on the floor of his cell, pinned down by a guard that smells of nacho cheese. You feel the unmistakable burn of blazing radiation fill the tiny room, see the bright glare of his skin flaring like wildfire before your eyes, hear a shrill shriek of a horrified guard echo against the concrete walls. For a split second, you think it might actually work this time, that your fight for a few more moments won't be futile, but a skull-splitting pain rips through your body. You know Phosphorus feels it too when he limply lands beside you with a dull thud.

Your eyes meet, and with the little strength he has left after the shock, Phosphorus reaches out to brush his hand against yours.

Solitary confinement for the week is worth it. Every time.