I write mostly fantastical fiction, horror, and dark fantasy.
At the moment I am writing, The Girl Who Exists in the Mirror, an original dark fantasy set in American Pacific Northwest about a little girl named Eve, who realizes she may have to become the villain. I occasionally talk about it on the twitter account: @veleswitch
I’m also working on book three of my Only A Boy series, The Depths of Hell, a re-write fanfiction of Harry Potter where Merlin—yes, The Merlin—takes the place of the title character. You can read it on Fanfiction.net, Archive of Our Own, and Wattpad.
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I wrote this piece a while ago, experimenting with poetic prose. I focused on the feelings of being a millennial during the housing crash. A spindled figure with skeletal hands and white skin stretched like elastic rubber bands. This is what she has become. — A...
Enticed by words that sung a song of worship and destruction, she promised herself to a deity—or at least, that was how Mom spoke of love. Had spoken.
I always get weird looks when I say that Severus Snape is my favorite character. I mean, let’s face it — he is kind of a terrible person. So let’s not confuse my appreciation for his character with condoning his flaws. In fact, I’d say that it’s because of those flaws that I gravitate toward reading or writing fanfiction where he is a major character. But this isn’t supposed to be a defense of Severus Snape, no — this is how to write him.
He parades her mother around like a goddamn show dog—give us a little twirl, won’t you dear? Ivory and lace floats and dances, embroidered pearls glimmer in the candlelight, and Wanda averts her gaze. Their guests are enamored, commenting on her mother’s gentle beauty, the braids threaded through a traditional Kislevian headdress.
That’s Venezia St. Lucia in a nutshell. But it doesn’t do justice to the network of twisting canals and tangled alleyways, blending into each other and suggesting twenty different routes towards the same destination. It’s so much more than that.
She heard their words drift aimless and unfocused, echoing off bamboo screen doors to settle like knives at her throat. Marriage. It’s the one thing Hatajinko Ai never imagined for herself—her parents, on the other hand, thought differently.