"Will you come rescue me someday? Like, on a white horse, or something? All the while angsting?"
"No. You read too much fanfics, Aera."
-Astral and Aera; Twisted Fantasy
I am Aya, and I am seventeen.
That is all.
(No, not really. I like to think I talk too much for that.)
I rather like that age, though.
Well, if you simply must know, I am a city girl with nothing better to do with my life,
as proven by the stories (though un-updated as they may be) I have
below. I am seventeen, a bum, a HS graduate, a wannabe writer, a gamer, a
loser, a freak who lives in a country
that has a hotter climate than Marilyn Monroe. If any of you think she’s hot at
all, that is; or if she much less has a climate. Which, of course, I just said
for metaphorical purposes. Or something.
(I don’t even know if I spelled her name
right. Was it Marilyn? Manilyn? Madeline? Er. Anyway. I’m sure you know who I’m
talking about, anywho. And if you don’t, well, it’s the girl with the strangely
always-wind-affected red dress.)
But anyway. As for my writing—well, I like to say I like to write, but what
the hell, I didn’t say I was good at it. It’s a hobby (read: passion). I like to think up of little insignificant plots
everyday at the joyful (and actually edible) meadow at the back of my head,
where the Gingerbread man skips and my red (I’m not fond of pink) pony is
merry. Someday, I aspire to publish a book (or a game) which will make me so badass I’ll wear Paris-branded
underwear and buy all the Mango trenchcoats I want. (And I’ll have a real red
pony. My friend, sm16, says she pities the pony. Sadly, they don't exist red. I'd have to paint them, she says. Moohahaha.)
Anyway. I’m really a girl in my real life,
and I don’t think it’s that hard to believe with the way I fangirl in reviews
and in my LiveJournal. I don’t have a reason to pretend to be a guy,
anyway (though I wish I did). Like most girls (or not like most girls, I don’t really know), I’m an unashamed romance
reader (Yosh!); though I’m painfully het all the way (most of the time, that
is). I can’t read slash, but that doesn’t mean I don’t accept it. (With my
friends, I’d be dead long ago if I didn’t accept it.)
I love alternate pairings. Yes, it is because I am a
freak who likes things done strangely and oddly (aliens! espers! time travelers! shannaro!)—since isn’t it more fun that
way? (And no, I am not quoting Suzumiya Haruhi. Or maybe I am. Er.) I’m also
very fond of broken pairings, because they make the world go round and the
world does goes roundroundround lest broken pairings don’t happen that often (and lest time doesn't progress).
Period.
(You know, that didn’t make sense, even to
me.)
That doesn’t mean I don’t have my share of
canon pairings, though. Like any true fangirl, I do have painfully canon
couples. You know, occasionally. Especially when one of them dies or when
complications arise or when you find out they’re actually siblings (that doesn't stop me though--incest and so what?) or when one
turns bad or when something else happens—
—and
what the hell aren’t we talking about CANON here?
Anyway.
I have an original novel, but I’d prefer
if you didn’t read it here because it’ll only reflect a time I would rather not
remember (along with those other fics downdowndown there). Yes. Doing some math
would bring upon the conclusion that “WTHIWASELEVEN” at that time, and you can imagine
the difference in writing style six years can make. I prefer not to delete
those old fics, though, because I do need something to laugh at sometimes (when
I’m not laughing at my face, that is).
(I am rewriting that original novel,
though. Because remember: I want to be so badass to be able to publish a book
and sell enough of it so that I can wear Paris-labeled underwear. Huzzah.)
People don’t usually read biographies with
too much paragraphs (like this one is), and it’s a fact proven by the
unwritten-rules-of reading-FFdotnet-author-biographies. Which is, in fact, a
part of life, if you visit FFdotnet as much as I do. I mean, I don’t even like reading
long-paragraphed biographies. (Unless, of course, they’re totally incoherent
yet coherent at the same time, and is as cool as how I want my bio to be. Hm. Yes. I
like those kind of things.)
(Yes, I’m vain. I look at the mirror twice a day or more and think: I'm so badass I can kill myself while I'm wearing Paris-branded underwear! Or something. Yeah.)
And if you’re done reading this too bad,
because I’m not done writing it but the laziness has just kicked in and I’ll be
forced to post it now and maybe fix it and update it some other time. Maybe someday,
or today, or tomorrow, or next week, or on my eighteenth birthday (which, if
you think about it, isn’t so far away).
Fu fu fu.
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(The incoherency of this bio astounds me. I rather like it. Ho-hum.)
(And yes, I happen to be fond of parenthesis.)
If you wish to give Aya inspiration, please request a fic.
(Not kidding. Requests inspire me.)
ONGOING REQUESTS:
1. Naruto. ItachixShizune.
2. DNAngel. SatxRisa.
3. Ranma 1/2. RanmaxAkane.
AYA'S SHAMELESS SPAMMAGE:
LiveJournal!
DeviantART!
FanFiction.Net - unleash your imagination
Philippines