Entangled in a multitude of fiction, he has too many plans and never enough time. With a fistful of energy drinks and a clicking watch he attempts to work on and eventually complete one of many. Many are of the darker variety of fiction; dark fantasy, horror, and monster fiction. With spots of light sprinkled throughout; taking persons through turmoil and into the light.

Or spends too much time working on things he doesn't need to spend so much time on.

Thus why I am made of bad decisions.

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            Links
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AO3 profile [archiveofourown.org]
Writing update blog [scatteredpassages.wordpress.com]

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      Written Sample
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Eyes open to an obscured sky; an ancient oak stands overhead, its overhanging branches dampening tinted sunlight. A metallic grinding can be felt and heard, muted and felt in the pit of their stomach - a stream trickles nearby. They're unable to move - a weight holds them down at the waist - their hands laid flat on a fabric napkin, fingers touching the floral tablecloth. The plastic plaza table is empty save for them, and they take in their surroundings.

The ground beneath them is made of cobblestone and black sand, the edges are cut in shape with shaped stone. And around them, densely packed foliage hides the path leading into the clearing. Down the path, slowly, patiently, echoes claws tapping on stone - a gentle humming follows along. The being is clouded with dense fog; a clawed hand lays a plate before them - a bowl with gelatinous substance put before them.

"I hope you enjoy it! It's honey mixed with blood."

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