forgive that this is late, i have a copy that i'm not gonna read and would love to not go to waste. so if you're okay to cover postage i can just send it to you.
i'm in the uk, i do mail orders for my own zines so know how to send stuff <3
weird that this seems to be an action game and not a spreadsheet management sim where you have to file the proper paperwork to requisition the prefectural budget committee for a 5% increase in maintenance expenditures
I can't pretend to know why some stories get less engagement than others.
Do you think you need to have read the WMD girlfriend fic first? You don't. Don't even worry about it.
Nothing in the preview catches your attention? You're making a mistake.
Did you simply not like it? Wrong. Try again.
Screenshot of a microfic called "reuse. recycle." a flower blooms on the backside of a mech's torso. an exit wound; red-tinged neural-integrator fluid dripping off its petals. once an AM gun-team has pointblanked its joints into uselessness (in case, somehow, it wasn't dead--the mech, that is), you get to work. you peel back its layers, ceramic then gel then metal then at last dig into the cushioned cockpit. the pilot is dead too, obviously; the last of the neu-integ has been left to swill about in the hole where her guts should be. a faint cold wind blows in from the entry wound. there's a list of components to rip out of here, it's best to pull her out first. when you take her wrist you spot a bruise, and curiosity drags you up her arms and to peel back to find her grey-skinned collar. you leave it. cut out panels of padding and force-compensation metamaterials, the cockpit's rated to disspiate 26g (and the pilot to disspiate anything more). it's flexible enough to cut up into personal armour plates. it also means her bruises weren't combat wounds. on the thinly snow-wet ground there's a medic pulling open the pilot's suit. prepping to steal her implants. archivist can pull intel from her internal databox, and there's always more need to spinal nerve-integs. there's also bruises and more besides, the medic points out. scars where it'd be lethal to be shot or stabbed and... she has been. you're the one to point out her guts are there. a bundle of flesh knotted like roots scrambling for what passes for rain on this rock. the pilot chokes, and sits up. this isn't your department, you think.
reuse. recycle. mechsploy microfic about some gorey (cw), alienated salvage work i had sitting in my drafts.
Someone mentioned re-reading this one from the archives — my website assures me I posted both parts to Cohost in late 2024:
brain-implant.tech/writing/titl...
Part II in particular I'm still pleased with — sex, power, mech pilots, and emotional unsafety....
it's hard to keep showing yourself if people never let you know you've been seen <3
the targeting of any art that is "obscene" (terms of obscenity always to be decided at a whim) is fascistic yes but also how the only kinds of art that tends to be penalized is the individual/independent creators isn't lost on me. a patreon TOS would reject anything that can be streamed on netflix.
"Messy lesbians, toxic power dynamics, giant robots fighting eldritch horrors, oppression, and hard choices."
Impressions of Isabelle Ruebsaat's Girl Frame, with some insights from the designer herself.
A large single page comic illustration. We look down on a woman in a jumpsuit and work vest, sitting on the edge of a fountain, dipping a red glowing bottle into the dark water. An open red bag rests at by her feet. At the top of the fountain is a huge stone head, a sleeping face carved from the cliff behind the fountain, with water pouring from its mouth into one small pool before flowing into the larger base of the fountain.
A woman in a practical jumpsuit and vest sits in the foreground while behind her a crowd in similar gear move under a large stone tower with stained glass windows, built around a huge pipe rising off-panel. Beyond that rooftops recede to a distant dark wall under an iron sky of pipes
A four panel page, showcasing a tall long armed and long haired slender man with black artificial eyes as he crawls through the depths of an industrial super structure before emerging onto one of its walkways outside under a dark green sky pierced with light by a red sun. He walks to the edge of the structure's walkway and looks down into a distant sea.
Big IT EATS PLANETS drop today!
The complete Chapter Two PDF is now available to patrons and for individual purchase on Ko-Fi and Itch! That's 40+ high resolution, full colour pages.
www.patreon.com/c/sammgreer
ko-fi.com/samanthamack...
iteatsplanets.itch.io
the strategy the british state are using with trans care is the exact same as with disability benefits; overwhelm undesirables in bureaucracy then definitively remove any positive outcomes, leading to excess death statistics visible from space
New short story up on tumblr!
~A former Swordswoman whose lover's soul is inside her sword looks for ever more targets to sate her bloodlust~
it is the catalogue of someone very fucking cool tho 🥰
anything to not admit blame, because to be held accountable means a failure to be held accountable for. so long as you have the will--you can still triumph.
long before any trapped and starving rat of man considers it, the fascists will have already eaten themselves.
a sinking ship. you keep falling behind one bulkhead after another to stem the (red) tide. there's less room each time. you'll shoot someone before you let them stay behind. there's less air, and there must be a couple not worthy of breathing it. which girl is crying--you always knew they were weak.
not until you've killed at least a couple of those dirty reds for me, dog /s
i have cited catching strays to people IRL a dozen times over and you can't stop me. it's both a gateway and a fucking arc de triomphe all on its own.
there is no revolution that will wash away all the old world's mistakes. all our forms of resistance to it will inherit our flaws too. immaculate vibes.
i adore it, so so much. bc the world in catching strays *is* better, just not for the PoS war criminal chaser POV.
read it when ao3 is back.
it's doubtless inspiration on my last piece (conversion rate). on loving its side-stories that're reports and interview of our ex-pilot. and centrally on seeing a better world but only through the eyes of people who just fucking hate it.
every time someone asks for me recommendations. whether it's mechsploy, or transfeminist, or about pieces that've inspired me, or that it's from my friends, or just *anything*
catching strays will *always* be topping my lists.
a screenshot of one of my itch.io pages.
i'm now stocking digital copies of my zines on itch! this is just an alt way to support me, or if you want 'em as PDFs & EPUBs.
meli-writes.itch.io/long-time-no...
meli-writes.itch.io/boar-and-the...
Yeah, for me the message in being able to be loved no matter how guilty or broken you feel was *essential.* The world is out to make someone like me feel like the villain, so it's hard not to find myself in one like Catra. And *fuck* if I had this stuff as a kid.
So she’s stuck here. Stuck with her. This girl. This beast. This Princess. One stuck herself. Perhaps that is how Esme loves her—they are both as misbegotten as the other.
Truth to be Dared - Ch. 06 (2.1K)
Whoever catches the faun earns the princess, so what happens when the Princess catches it?
new and extremely overdue chapter. is a bit messy but i'm riding the wave of energy i'm on and is still hopefully fun <3
archiveofourown.org/works/593401...
I'm not sure I'd even be *here* without it. Needed my heart broken to realise there was one so need in of loving.
Conversion Rate - 1.8K
There's nowhere that Ran seems to fit in. Until he sees the most beautiful mech in the world, and wants to *eat her.*
first original story in too long. w/ some light body horror & messy systemic abuses. written for SLUGFEST, a local zine.
archiveofourown.org/works/79934546
The whole "Writer's Thinly Disguised Fetish" thing makes me laugh a little because — although some people absolutely *have* accurately characterised me from my work — some of my best-received smut has been about things which I personally find libidinously inert.
What I *am* is a listener, you know?
that being said, wittigian influenced lesbian science fiction is just begging to exist. i think the signs of it pop up whenever lesbians (often trans women but by no means exclusively so) write about romance, sex, and desire in ways where sexing the body is not fixed and bodies are not cis'd
to me the most useful insight of wittig is the attempt to develop a Universal that is not Male, and in doing so does an early break with both liberal and radical currents that often do that. but her quest for a Universal is also her limitation, as in her blind spots on race, desire, & scale
We Who Are Chosen December 27, 2025 content tags: pain, memory loss, magical girls, reality/unreality
Published a new piece today. An early draft of this was submitted to the second Empty Spaces anthology. This version has been significantly edited.
It contains themes of memory loss, paranoia, and disability.
we're allowed a little lesbocentrism. the one draft where i worked up to having a guy only has him so he can get shot before the story even starts lol.