Hey! If you're interested in the Post-Self cycle but aren't one for reading, no problem! It's being released as a podcast as well. All of Qoheleth is out, and we're edging up on halfway through Toledot!
Author, Beat Sabreuse, Skunks
- she/her
- makyo.ink/
Recovering techie with an MFA, working on like a kajillion writing projects at once. Check out the Post-Self cycle, Restless Town, A Wildness of the Heart, ally, and a whole lot of others.
Trans/nb, queer, polyam, median, constantly overwhelmed.
Current hyperfixation: SS14
⏳ Slow Hours | 🪔 Beholden
🫴 Hold My Name | ✨ Motes
🌾 Rye | ★ What Right Have I
🌱 Dry Grass | ⚖️ True Name
🌺 May Then My Name
Icon by Mot, header by @cupsofjade
I just need someone to anchor me...
Art by dumpstercryptid
Streaming some audiobook/podcast recording for Post-Self!
In the endless, rolling field of dandelions, five people gathered.
Two of them were shaped like a woman. Short. Dark, curly hair. Round of cheek and soft of eye.
Two of them were shaped like skunks. Thick, soft fur. Tails as long as their bodies, bristled as wide as their torsos as they kept them hiked out of the grass.
The two types were alike in so many ways. The softness evident between the two disparate species was the same softness. The roundness to the cheeks, despite the fur, was the same roundness. The eyes bore the same expressive empathy.
And before them sat one who was not like any of the others, and yet was exactly like all of them. When she focused, she was able to look like skunk or like human, and her eyes were able to share in some of that softness, but when she lost focus, waves of both crashed against her in a violent tempest, splashing fur up over cheeks, or skin down over paws.
“I am sorry,” she said through a dry throat, then laughed. “I am having a bad day.”
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