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Marissa Grave

@radioactivemoth.bsky.social

81 followers 254 following 224 posts

🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈 (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.

Posts Replies Media

Marissa Grave @radioactivemoth.bsky.social · 08/08/2026

To sum the whole thing up based on a dream I had:

Kissing where wiring meets ports, soft fingers across embedded chips
Anxious, repetitive grounding
Digital texture sensors pressed unshielded deep into the undercoat as algorithms run and rerun and fail to predict the motions of her lover.
Fur matted with grease. Metal joints grinding on hair and feathers. A gasp as her claw stops the gyro and the room spins.
Clutching, desperate, aching against the gap of their bodies.

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Marissa Grave @radioactivemoth.bsky.social · 06/08/2026

My werewolf novel’s setting is contemporary and mostly serves as a way to push on systemic discrimination through the lens of a fantasy monster. Sometimes comically - Aria is asked by HR to hold a silver rod to prove she’s not a werewolf for insurance reasons.

“W-w-wh-wha- Wha-“ Aria paused. Rowan reached out and briefly touched Aria’s arm with his fingertips. It felt like an electrical discharge, a sudden awareness he was on her side. Of the desk at least. Her shoulders dropped and she took a breath. “What’s the complaint?” She managed.
Isaac opened a drawer and pulled out a long wooden box, set it on his desk, and opened it. Inside was a metal rod, maybe eight inches long, and a stop watch. “There has been a complaint that you are a werewolf,” he said, matter-of-fact.
“What? Is this because I took off the full moon a few days ago?”
“You have been absent, sick, or working from home for every full moon for six months.” Isaac didn’t look at her when he spoke, carefully picking up the stop watch then the rod. “All I need you to do is hold this pure silver rod for 60 seconds. Then you can get back to work.”
Aria stared at him for a moment. Six months? She had only met Valkyrie 4 months ago. “I’m not a werewolf.”
“We know,” Rowan said, his voice forced gentle. “I told them. You don’t have the temperament of a werewolf. But corporate policy is to check.”
The temperament of a werewolf? An urgency rose in Aria’s throat. “So what if I am? What is the problem?”
“Ms. Wellen,” Isaac started but Rowan held up a hand.
“It’s okay, Isaac,” he said, then looked at Aria. “Our insurance policy doesn’t allow werewolves to be in the office for the same reason we ban firearms and other weapons. Too much liability if someone is hurt.”

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Marissa Grave @radioactivemoth.bsky.social · 04/08/2026

Alt prompt: Aria is there because her therapist sent her out to find safe fun. An unusual therapeutic method but Dr. Mothersbaugh gets results. Valkyrie is hunting. “Father, I beseech you for a bountiful hunt. May the chase feed my heart, and may your flesh nourish my body… sexually.” 😏

Valkyrie’s arm brushed the bones hanging from the ceiling and they clattered with a dull noise. She steadied them with a hand, then bowed her head in apology to the deer-head altar in the corner of her room, next to the window.
Turning her attention back to the mirror, she pulled her leather vest straight and smiled, satisfied, at her reflection. Her curly hair bordered on cute - unfortunately, a product of her mother’s genes - but the rest of her told a different story: confident, dominant. Tonight was about looking the part. Tonight was about persistence. The chances of success were low but, oh, when she was successful.
She looked back at the Father’s altar and a mischievous thought crossed her mind. Grinning to herself, she stepped closer, considering the six-point buck for a moment. It hadn’t been her greatest kill, certainly, but she’d come to revere it as it absorbed a thousand of her prayers.
“Father, I beseech you for a bountiful hunt. May the chase feed my heart, and may your flesh nourish my body.” She touched her fingertips to her lips, then pressed them gently to the side of the buck’s face. Then she added: “sexually,” and grinned at her own sacrilege.

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Marissa Grave @radioactivemoth.bsky.social · 04/08/2026

#SumLuv It is fairytale love, in so far as werewolves are fairytale 🤔 The first time they meet, Aria is terrified of Valkyrie. Still tries to kiss her. Dork. Valkyrie is delighted! A good hunt! By the next day, she is already terrorizing Aria to get over the death of a friend. So much for safe…

The hand on Aria’s shoulder squeezed and let go. “Mostly that you are new and nervous as hell. So tell me, why did your therapist send you here, of all places?”
Pressing her lips together, Aria risked another glance at Valkyrie. She was still looking at her, eyes wide and intense. Aria swallowed and looked down again, but could still feel the eyes on her. “So, you know about proprioceptive input. I’ve found that in addition to deep pressure, certain other sensations can…”
Valkyrie was still staring unmoving. “Go on.”
“I, um.” Oh god, oh god. “I’m a masochist?”
A wide smile broke across Valkyrie’s face, her eyes squinting at the size of it. “You’re in the right place. Among your people.”
Aria’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh! Are you a masochist, too?”
The woman laughed again, loud and bright, then put her hand on the side of Aria’s neck. “No, I’m here because I like to hurt pretty women wearing video game t-shirts.”
Aria’s heart stopped, and a small cough escaped her. Valkyrie’s thumb brushed back and forth across the corner of her jaw. Aria dared not move. Her mouth was so dry. And those teeth. And the curls. And the leather vest. Oh god.
It seemed like Valkyrie was getting closer. Maybe Valkyrie was moving. Or maybe the room was getting smaller. Oh god. Or maybe Aria was leaning forward. “This place is so overwhelming.”
“It is, but I’ll keep you safe.” Aria watched the woman’s lips as she spoke. “I’ll protect you.”

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Marissa Grave @radioactivemoth.bsky.social · 03/08/2026

I’m a big fan, apparently, of staging the meetcute at queer events. Stitchbriar opens on a mysterious queer gathering in a pocket space that Wren wanders into by accident. My werewolf WIP opens in a gay bar on an LGBTQ+ kink night. It’s electric. Here is Aria and Valkyrie’s meetcute:

Excerpt of the werewolf wip that reads:

Aria glanced up at him again, then looked back at the crowd. “So, uh, you play any video ga-“ The words died in her throat as Aria locked eyes with her across the room. The woman grinned, and strode towards them, her curls and leather vest and Oh God. Teeth white and bright and Oh God. Oh God.
“Hey, you two are new, huh?” The woman’s voice was warm and smooth.
“Uh, yeah,” Billy replied, forcing a smile. Aria just swallowed. Curls and teeth and leather vest.
“Welcome. I’m Valkyrie.”
“Billy.” He offered a hand and she shook it.
Aria swallowed again, and realized she was staring at Valkyrie’s teeth. “Uh. Uh!” The words felt stuck in her mouth, like her tongue had gone suddenly numb. “Aria,” she finally forced out.
Valkyrie put her hand on the side of Aria’s shoulder. “Aria,” she repeated. “Can I buy you two a drink?”
Billy shrugged. “Sure. Thanks.”
“I, uh.” Aria looked down at her own drink, still mostly full. “I actually don’t need a drink.”
“May I?” Valkyrie asked, pointing at it.
Aria looked up and startled, her eyes suddenly locked with the pale blue of Valkyrie’s. “Uh,” she said again, and gave it to her. She stared, dumbfounded, as Valkyrie drank it, still not sure why she’d given it to her.
Glass empty, Valkyrie handed it back to her. “You seem ready for a second round.” She gestured for them to follow, finally letting go of Aria’s shoulder, and spun, walking towards the bar. Billy raised his eyebrows at her and followed. Aria just stood. Holding her empty glass.

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Marissa Grave @radioactivemoth.bsky.social · 03/07/2026

Got my first tattoo yesterday! Maybe not surprisingly, a red clover.

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.

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Marissa Grave @radioactivemoth.bsky.social · 26/06/2026

An unexpectedly fun part of contemporary romance is putting my own Easter eggs in. The werewolf doesn’t *get* Rubber, but then again, who does?

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.

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Marissa Grave @radioactivemoth.bsky.social · 06/06/2026

Vicariously playing Bannerlord through a friend of mine. Beside the complex roleplay narrative he’s sharing, he’s also a skilled artist, which means I keep getting these incredible screenshots.

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.

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Marissa Grave @radioactivemoth.bsky.social · 04/06/2026

The thing that separates fire from Pride is green. This was originally supposed to be a flaming sword but when I got done with the color blocking… anyway, now he’s the gayest Skulltaker in Khorne’s bloody service.

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 🤘

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Marissa Grave @radioactivemoth.bsky.social · 31/05/2026

The iconography of a warning sign must immediately convey the hazard to the reader with specificity, in case there is a language barrier. This warning sign is my favorite because it clearly warns of malignant ghosts.

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.

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Marissa Grave @radioactivemoth.bsky.social · 12/05/2026

Poem I wrote titled “Hunting in Reverse”

Text image of a poem titled “Hunting in Reverse”

I met Lily
By accident, in Denver
Where I attended a wedding
I was at a hotel desk
Writing
Watching the beast hunt
Ravenous and wanting and
Realizing, as I wrote her
the shape of
a woman
Who could save me

The first time
I drank clean water
Was on an electrolysis bed in Rockville
Pain so bright hot I could not
Think.
I fought
And hated it
Until I learned
Surrender. I
Sunk deeper and
Drank and
Was healing
Underneath the burning.
I did not understand
Floating
Until she laughed
And handed me,
Over my rusty nail,
A single word:
Masochist.

(Continues in next image)

(Continued from previous image)

I met Lily again
In my office
As I was trying to explain
Without words
What separates
Hurting myself from
Hurting myself.
She loomed over me
Fangs bared
And taught me the difference
Between self-harm and
Self-hurt
And the ways my brain would
Run cleaner
In her eager
Hands.

Knowing
Of my desire
She came howling out of me
I spilled
Blood red
On my pages.
My fingers ached for her
Fur and teeth
But she was still out of reach
And I was still
Gibbous.
My nails sharp
Against the skin
Of my nape and arms
And other,
More rewarding places

(Poem continues in next image)

(Poem continues from previous image)

I met Lily,
At a signing
And almost do not recognize
You
So out of context.
Nervous, outstretched
Book in both hands,
I answer your question
With one of my own
Which you answer, fangs bared
Over coffee.
Now I slake my thirst
Greedily from rivers
And my skin
Becomes canvas
Marked by your nature.

060

Marissa Grave @radioactivemoth.bsky.social · 09/05/2026

I recently discovered the Espresso Sunrise - literally espresso plus orange juice. It’s disgusting. I cannot stop drinking it.

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.”

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Marissa Grave @radioactivemoth.bsky.social · 21/02/2025

Finished up a renewal/growth themed Nurgle-marked chaos rhino. First time freehanding and I think it turned out very well!

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