My return...

Again, I disappeared for a few months. My only excuse is school, as I am currently failing in Biology, but my Math is getting better (thank God) and my Sociology is, to my surprise, improving, even though I didn't really think that I did anything different. It was a nice surprise.

Sadly, I don't have any writing pieces to post this time. I'll try—keyword being try—to post something tomorrow. Ciao!

Pada Suatu Hari, Ada Ibu dan Radian

Ahah, so what is this? The blogger disappeared for two months? Without any warning? How dare she!

Well, I'm here now. Sorry for the prolonged absence. You know, the usual, life, school, etc, blah. And I got sidetracked by Pseudonymous Bosch's Secret series, which is really good. On a more positive note, I brought something to read. See, my class analyzed a short story (which is actually not so short) during Indonesian lesson, and it was a very intriguing, somewhat spine-chilling read. The title is Pada Suatu Hari, Ada Ibu dan Radian by Avianti Armand. Me, being the person I am, was intrigued with the author's writing style and wanted to try it in English. So, came my very logical decision to translate the whole thing into English. Yay.

Though I don't know if I missed correcting any grammatical mistakes of sort, I think I managed to do it pretty nicely. I tried to keep the sentences exactly the same with the Indonesian, but some ended up being weird or confusing, so I tweaked it a bit. I kept Radian the same though, since it is a name, though I'm quite sure it's actually Radiance if it's English...or is it the mathematical Radian? Hmm...

And, disclaimer!

Disclaimer: Pada Suatu Hari, Ada Ibu dan Radian is Avianti Armand's. It is not mine. I'm just translating it on a whim.

random drabble

Hiya guys! So, just a quick, very short drabble my mind literally conjured 5 mins ago when I'm supposed to think about writing an essay... I said this before, but I'll say it again: school sucks.

xxxxx

Everything the universe has to offer wouldn't matter to him. Not anymore.

A whisper of a benign sigh from the person behind him made him pause in his tracks. "You're leaving now?"

"Yeah," he nodded, even if the other couldn't see him.

A short pause. "Take care then."

"I will," he simply said, and left for good.

Byakuran x Evan yaoi fic (M)

Heya guys! Sucky weekends lotsa hw...did I mention that I like yaoi?

Yeap. So, I made a fic for my senpai between Byakuran and her OC, His name's Evan. Here he is, she drew him:

Cute, ain't he? Here's the official summary thingy and the title I just made... It has M-rated stuff in it so... 

*gets slapped*

Oh, and I made all this in my phone, with no italic font and whatnot, so I used brackets, and I'm too lazy to edit it, so yeah.

Of Marshmallows and Skateboard

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn

Pairing: Byakuran x Male OC (Evan)

Genre: Humor, Romance, Hurt, Comfort, Crime

Rating: M to MA (I think...)

Warning: language, sex (mutual masturbation), gore, blood, usual Byakuran creepiness.

Angeal Hewley's Next Best Adv

As much as I hate it, I have to admit that as brilliant as my mind is, it's filled with rampant plot bunnies. Many, many rampant plot bunnies. And I just can't resist...ugh.

So this, is one of them. Another reincarnation fic--see a pattern here? You must've realized by now that I'm kinda obsessed with the concept of reincarnation--featuring one Angeal Hewley from FF7 who is...I'm spoiling dis fic...reincarnated as a puppy in our world.

Yay. Karma at its finest.

I call it: Angeal Hewley's Next Great Adventure. Totally ripped it off from Dumbledore.

This is only the prologue tho. Or a short teaser. Not sure if I'll post it in FF.

I think I'm just gonna post that one fic so far...

And yea, I know haven't updated in months. I'm a lousy author. *hangs head*

Reasons for that being mostly school and maybe a bit of procrastination but we all do that at some point, right? and some mid-life crisis. Apparently, puberty is--pardon my language--a bitch and constant depressive-aggressive mood swings are normal. Yeap.

Sigh. C'est la vie, as the French said.

Reflected In Those Mismatched Eyes 3

Harry knows that he has experienced (and done) some strange things in his relatively short five years of life, but this one takes the cake.

A particularly bizarre, loopy fruitcake.

"I was you?" He echoes, puzzled beyond measure. What is he getting at?

"What do you mean by that?" He questions the strange, black haired young man who is strangely familiar to him.

He is captivating, carrying himself in a gait that seems too elegant to be human. His style of clothing is interesting as well, reminding him of the 18th century style of clothing he once read about in a classical novel in the school library, where he usually hides from Dudley and his gang.

But those aren't the reasons why he is intrigued at him.

It is his eyes, those twin, ever-changing dark-colored orbs that looks identical with his own left eye.

He has a feeling that this person is much more than he seems.

"I know I have just said something absurd, but please stop staring at my face, young Harry. It's considered impolite." The black-haired young man's chiding voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he flushes, ducking to hide his face in his embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, "I didn't mean to."

The young man sighs, but he seems a tad uncomfortable with Harry staring so intently at his face just moments before, particularly his eyes. Harry can guess why. He ducks his head even more with the realisation, a twinge of guilt seeping into him. He knows how it feels to be stared by people as if he was not something human.

It is a horrible feeling (—cold, cold uncaring—hating—eyes boring into him—the jeers, the mocking laughter thrown at his face—).

The young man interrupts his thoughts once again. "Raise your head, Harry. Your reaction is understandable, and it is not good to submerge yourself in guilt, especially with things that you did not mean to do." Harry's eyes widens, amazed by how easily the man read his thoughts.

The young man steps closer to him, his coat swaying lightly with every step he takes. Harry slowly raises his head upwards, meeting the young man's dark-colored eyes, solemn face seemingly evaluating him. A hand clasps his lithe, bony shoulder firmly.

"My name is Leo Baskerville. We have much to talk about, Harry."

xxxxx

Leo. So that's his name.

Harry tentatively tests the young man's name on his lips. Looking at the captivating, regally dressed Baskerville, he decides that the name suits him.

A royal lion, that's what he is.

The emptiness he saw in his gaze worries him though. Even with the golden flecks in his multicolored eyes, it feels like a part of him is missing, leaving a deep hole in its place.

It is saddening (—maddening—slowly driving him insane bit by bit and he's not altogether aware of it—).

He shakes his head, dispelling his train of thoughts.

"So," he starts tentatively, a bit conflicted on what he should call him. "Mr Baskerville, what do you mean by you were me before I was me?" His question ends up becoming more of a question to himself, his confusion clearly apparent in his tone, brows furrowing in a manner that is considered cute for a child his age.

"Call me Leo, please. To explain that... Harry, are you familiar with the concept of rebirth or reincarnation?"

"Rebirth? Reincarnation?" Harry parrots and tilts his head in confusion, his unruly hair draping over his face with the movement. He has found the word in a few books, but he never truly understood what it means.

Leo purses his lips, wondering how he can explain the concept to Harry correctly.