Remind me to write a book about a Mary Sue Hipster with no personality and her obsession with shitty Instagram filters, who falls in love with a mysterious man who’s secretly actually an irresistibly attractive color-changing were-squid. Light tentacle bondage ensues but it’s mostly romantic fluff because the were-squid in question really only wants a cuttle.
I’ll call it Fifty Shades of Sepia. »;
(The sequel would be called Fifty Shades of Metasepia and will be all about the were-squid’s very flamboyant german cousin, Pfeffer.)