Actually, I just finished the first chapter, so I could probably put that up early on patreon??
The answer, of course, is to write a respectable book that just so happens to feature a giant spider lady— which is what I'm currently doing.
As I crawl kicking and screaming into my mid-twenties I have to make the extremely important decision of whether I write respectable books that can be published through real publishers, or if I am to descend into the pit of horny sapphics who exclusively want me to write books about giant spider ladies
Every one-third-of-the-way-through-september I enter a sort of anti-imperialist crystal cocoon where I cannot be accessed on public forms of social media, and then I emerge slightly more supple than before
Amngy politics, extreme negativity
I hate this place. Never in my life have I hated this place more. Imagine being born in a puddle of other people's blood and then sitting in it for 20 years. That's what our lives are. Raised off of unspoken bloodsport, coddled by the fetishization of the dead. Not a day goes by where I don't want to extract every speck of white American essence from my body and destroy it with the rest of this godforsaken hellhole. Fuck me. Fuck you. Fuck everything.
~ They/Them [plural] or She/Her [singular], please. ~
Nope