meli-writes

[meli-writes]

>text that trans gal first

technically i messaged first, but like asking me out? they did and i still cry thinking about it sometimes. i spent months telling everyone how much of a dream it was even to be invited out for a little date (not counting how fun & thoughtful the idea was too). it's hard to describe how much it meant.

such a simple but powerful move. such a way to bypass so much of the anxiety that comes with meeting people seeing if you connect. such a way to get to their heart and see if beats alongside yours.

imagine being forced to do all of the courting in your relationships. now imagine having gendered expectations around doing that courting. now imagine having dysphoria that is triggered by those gendered expectations but still being put in a position where if you do not do the courting you will not have a dating life. text that trans gal first.

[meli-writes]

never going to financially recover from buying a piece of furniture one letter grade up from IKEA.

[meli-writes]

“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”

The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and the kind of question she tried to avoid.

Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.

“You a cop?”

The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”

A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.

Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”

A nod.

“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”

A nod.

“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”

A tiny, miserable nod.

“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’

“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”

Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.

The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.

“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”

The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.

“I can work with that,” said the witch.

[meli-writes]

bitches love me for the way i bring a chilling sense of realism to the fucked up kink scenarios i write

[meli-writes]

worth it tho.

not taking my socks off, even for sexy couch pics, it's that cold. and you bet the sweatpants and cardigan were immediately reapplied after these pics lol.

gotta figure out all the good angles on this thing.

never going to financially recover from buying a piece of furniture one letter grade up from IKEA.

[meli-writes]

never going to financially recover from buying a piece of furniture one letter grade up from IKEA.

[meli-writes]

avoiding a civil war by marrying the two princesses of the rival factions together, to merge their dynasties w/o the issue of a male ruler taking precedence, and encountering the slight issue of them still fucking hating each other and both refusing to take the potion that'll let the other one sire an heir in them.

at last finding a solution in you, a minor duchess powerful enough to be considered of good breeding, but far from able to protest yourself or draw any meaningful sympathy when you're offered up to the princesses as a mutual toy.

spending your days pressed between the furious two of them, working out their equal lusts and hates for each other on all of your wet, ennobled, requisitioned holes. both of them making sure to leave enough loads in you that the parentage is decidedly unresolvable.

[meli-writes]

Bloodsuckers

Katie stirs under her crinkly, military issue thermal blanket.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Says a lilting voice, drifting in through her open cockpit.

"We get so bored, waiting for you to wake up." Says another.

Katie grumbles and turns over in her seat, trying to ignore her tormentors.

"Aww, don't be like that~" Teases the final voice she's become familiar with over the past week. "C'mon soldier, up and at em!"

She begrudgingly opens her eyes. It's still dark out, save for the three pairs of eyes shining back at her in the way that human eyes don't. It will, according to astrological estimates, be dark out for another seventeen or so years.

Vampires swarm these types of planets like flies on shit, which means vampire hunters must follow; which means Katie is here, stuck, painfully aware of the distinct lack of her quarry's main weakness forcing them to fuck off for half the day. She kicks off the dashboard of her Mechanized Mobile Housing Unit and lets her chair glide backward into the kitchen compartment, where she grabs a ration bar and starts a cup of coffee.

"She's ignoring us."

"How mean!"

"When we were so excited to play with her some more…"

It is a mobile home, and not- despite what it may look like- a military vehicle, for this exact eventuality. She may be out of fuel and ammo, but the bloodsuckers are bound by their curse not to enter uninvited. They can shoot her and ruin their meal, or they can sit out there and whine.

The three that clipped her wings have chosen unanimously to whine, and it is perhaps worse than the bullet.

"Is she making breakfast?"

"She is! She is and she won't share!"

"Even though she knows we're starving."

Her coffeemaker chimes, and she rolls her chair back to the dashboard. "You don't want what I'm eating, girls." She says, as she gnaws on the nutrient dense piece of cardboard that the higher ups, delighted to try out new linguistic cleverness after the success of the mobile-home trick, are calling 'food'.

"We dooon't." One of the vampires agrees. "We want you, pilot."

"Lil' ol' me?" Katie asks, in mock disbelief.

"Just a bite, hunter."

"Just a little taste, for your new friends?"

"Are we friends?" She asks.

"We're good friends!"

"Best friends, pilot."

"It's strange, but I don't think I believe you."

Katie picks up her coffee and makes a show of tilting her head back and drinking in slow, indulgent gulps. She can hear the vampires gasp at the sight of it, eager to tear into her throat.

"She's mean."

"She's so mean to us, when we're so thirsty…"

"When she knows we want her, hot and wet and pulsing."

"See, how are we supposed to be friends when you say things like that?" Katie asks, resting her chin in her hands.

"We can be better than friends."

"Let us in, pilot."

"It'll feel so good, to let us slake our thirst."

"For you, maybe. I have a hunch that once you get your hands on me I won't feel anything ever again."

The vampires gasp, offended.

"No, pilot!"

"No! Just a little taste for each of us, to start. Just to take the edge off."

"Just a little taste, and we'll take you home to be ours forever."

"Take all the time in the world to savor your taste."

"We're very sweet to our girls, when they don't try to fight."

"Sweet as kittens! It's so much easier, not having to hunt."

Katie steals a glance at her dashboard calendar. If rescue was coming, it should have been here yesterday. The dread pooling in her stomach swirls and mixes with curious heat from the vampires' honeyed words.

"Not today, ladies." She says, and she isn't as sure as she'd like that she'll say the same tomorrow.

[meli-writes]

Commission Info

Commissions are currently: OPEN

Would you like some short fiction written about your favorite characters? How about your original characters?

I write stories across a variety of genres, and I'd be happy to write some for you!

Things I like to write:

F/F Pairings

Elves

Demons

Monstergirls

Princess/Knight pairings

Mech pilots

I primarily write smutty stories about lesbians in fantasy and sci-fi settings, both short one-shots such as this mermay fic and this fic about if spaceships ran on sexual energy; as well as longform stories such as my novellas Better Off Alone and Vandalize My Heart.

Commissions start at 1000 words for 65 euros, with every additional 1000 words costing 35 euros. There is a 15 euro discount for works involving my own characters.

If you're interested, please fill out this form and I'll get in touch to give more information and discuss your request.

[meli-writes]

Can we get some info about this niche porn? Y know for uh yeah you know research.

i'll be sure to post some pics when i get them <3

[meli-writes]

so every year my girlfriend goes to a little art convention and gets to see a ton of people they know, and each year buys cute porn from mutuals and now -- because they talk about me so much friends tell them to stop lol -- people have been coming up to *them* to recommend porn for *me.*

these people who have never met me and don't know what I look like, but now thanks to them I've got a small bundle of niche vampire and mech lesbian porn on the way to me lmao. I look forward to it.

[meli-writes]

You know that story I've been yammering on about? It's here! Right here! You can read it right now! Featuring:

🦷 Fangs! Teeth! Biting!

💔 A dyke crushing on a straight girl!

✨ Magic gone wrong!

🤭 A fun ending.

[meli-writes]

Start Reading :: Latest Update :: Become A Supporter To Read The Rest Of CH1 Now! :: Join the discord!

Happy friday btw! HoTS updated earlier if you missed it :)

[meli-writes]

also dear god i need to switch to firefox tomorrow. the 'hide youtube shorts' extension got nuked and tiktok/shorts mind control me in a way that is not hot or cool. plus i know there's a firefox extension that's helpful when using multiple tumblr accounts.

[meli-writes]

only a week till i can take slutty pics on my new red velvet couch and ask my gf to help me break it in (her suggestion).

[meli-writes]

Pilot To Instructor Pipeline

Look, I’m not ungrateful. I’d be dead by now if I hadn’t enlisted. There’s nowhere else in Sol I’d have been able to take this shape. But the UGS isn’t a fucking charity; we wouldn’t get to exist if we weren’t useful, and only for as long as we’re useful. There’s a reason every single one of us…sorry, every one of them is terrified to ETS out.

What’s waiting out in the world for them? Best case scenario, their Handler takes them - if they want to, if they can, and if they’re actually at the end of their own contract. Otherwise? The Pilot Transition Program has always been a bad fucking joke. You get hacked up even worse to go work, I don’t know, at some hydrotherm farm down at crush depths or some flash-freeze deep space rig. Most are just too fried in the head to keep a "real person job" for more than six months. And that's being charitable.

Then comes the Instructor program. Finally - a path to a normal life for Pilots who qualify. Just agree to another minimum 4 year contract with “voluntary” renewal, then get ready for Reflash. It’ll be like you never let them put holes in your brain! Just sign right here on the dotted line.

Your average Pilot is too desperate and scared to want to look at the fine print. Yeah, I’m…y’know, I’m okay, right? I get by. I pass for something kinda like a normal human person, whatever that means. How many people didn’t make it? They won’t publish the fucking data, it’s all classified to the gills. I’d say maybe two-thirds of my cadre came out the other side, one way or another, to varying levels of functionality. The other third? Basically fucking vegetables, catatonic in some care home.

Even the best adjusted of us are…y’know, kinda buggy? We’re really cooked, neurologically speaking. Higher rates of psych issues, seizure disorders, acute onset dementia. I'm pretty lucky as far as that goes, for now, but sometimes I’ll be doing something and…just lose time. Minutes, sometimes hours. It’s weird.

The hardest thing, I think, is just that it’s…lonely, I guess. We have a lot more freedom, sure, but we don’t belong anywhere. We’re something separate. Apart. I miss belonging sometimes. Clear orders, no ambiguity, our only responsibility is to the mission, our siblings, and our Handlers. Things were simpler back then.

Moreover, like, I’ve never actually met a former Instructor. We’re all lifers. What the hell would I do after this? Go get a normal job? Get knocked up by some baseliner, raise some kids? Whatever. It’s bullshit. At least the Pilots get a chance to be something else, the ones brave enough to try. We’re more scared than any of them.

But hey. Thanks for the taxpayer funded tits and pussy. That’s pretty cool.

Interview with an Instructor, speaking on the condition of anonymity.

[meli-writes]

"If Miss is looking to create another doll, a sister for This One, would it not benefit Miss to maximise the amount of broken people in inescapable situations of despair for Miss to choose from?

This One would like to make Miss aware that perhaps it would then be in Miss's interests to vote for the Conservative and Unionist Party."

"Ugh. I told you already, dear. I vote for the Lib Dems."

"Ahh, so Miss is aware -- Miss just feels bad about it."

"Alright. That's it. Come here and give me your voicebox, dear."

"Ah ha ha h--"