Remington Wulf
— Remington Wülf
“Some writers chase plot. Remington Wülf chases ghosts.”
Her work blends poetic ruin with punk heartache, creating dark fantasy for the soft-hearted and sharp-tongued.
Through stories of survival, addiction, queer rage, and feral devotion, she gives voice to the ones who’ve been left behind.
Remi began writing the House of Teeth Saga in 2011 as a safe space to explore trauma, addiction, queer identity, and healing through brutal magic and impossible love.
Every book is a little haunted—because she is, too.
When not writing, Remi can usually be found hunting down cryptid lore, curled up with her iPad and drawing, listening to stormy soundtracks at 3AM, or playing some RPG.
She believes monsters deserve love too—and sometimes, they love us better than anyone else ever did.
How House of Teeth Was Born in the Dark—and Refused to Stay There
Some stories come from lightning. Others come from smoke. House of Teeth came from both.
I grew up on the edges—of towns, of friend groups, of belonging. Raised in Northern California by my great-grandmother, I learned resilience early, but not the easy kind. I learned what it meant to survive people who were supposed to love you, and how to disappear without ever leaving a room. By high school, I had a list of diagnoses longer than my attention span—depression, anxiety, borderline personality disorder, ADHD, insomnia, and later, high-functioning autism.
But more than that, I had a feeling:
That I was always standing outside of something. Looking in. Waiting to be enough. That’s where writing started. And that’s where House of Teeth found me.
In 2011, I met my best friend Kezzi. Together, we created Remi and Levi—the first scars on the map that would become Hiraeth. Their chaos and fragile love became the language we used to speak our own pain. Years later, as our character family grew past 26, the story demanded more than late-night messages. It needed pages. Blood. Everything.
And so we wrote.
In 2023, my husband and I lost our apartment. The same day, our car broke down. We lived in that car—with four dogs and three cats—outside a Taco Bell, then a garage. We grieved the sudden death of one of our dogs in that garage. We got betrayed by people we loved. We learned that survival isn’t always pretty—but it’s holy.
That’s when No Kingdom For A Fang was born. Not from a dream, but from devastation. From the kind of heartbreak you write your way through, just to keep breathing.
House of Teeth is about loyalty so fierce it scares you. It’s about being seen in your mess, your grief, your rage—and still being chosen. It’s about surviving when the world burns down around you, and dragging someone out of the fire with you.
It’s my story. But more than that, it’s our story— For every reader who has ever screamed into the void and hoped someone heard.
If that’s you, then welcome home.
Welcome to the House.
Let ’em see your fangs.
You don’t have to do this alone.