.:Personal:.
Screen Name: Malak Akane.
Gender: Female
Age: 17
My three greatest loves are God, music, and writing. I try my hardest to keep God (And His Son, Jesus)the center of my life, and live to show others the fruit of the spirit; love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.
Music is something I can't quite explain. It is emotion, euphoria. Tears mingled with smiles, pain with pleasure, fear and peace, hatred and love. It is a language, it is a way of life. Music captures the heart in ways unimaginable. It can break you, uplift you, scare you... I turn to music when I am frustrated. I turn to music when I am joyful. When life goes wrong, I write music. When life is perfect, I write music. It is a word of opposites, yet it all means one thing to me. Music...music is my soul.
Writing is the chance to create worlds all your own. To take a situation, a place, a character, an emotion, and bend it to fit your will. When I write, I feel complete and total freedom. I do not control my world, it controls me. Words flow like water. You can fight the current, but you will innevitably follow it. If you let your words flow, the rest follows in suite. Writing is my passion. My heart. My everything I ever wanted to be, to do, to see and breath and experiance. It is in my writing where you find the true me.
Writing is my passion, but music is my soul.
I will definitely pursue a career in music. Writing will always be with me, but the language of songs will be my life. Whether I am famous, living the good life, or sitting on a street corner playing for food, I don't really care. If two paths are set before me - one of music, one of writing - I will follow music.
Favorite Jokes/Quotes/Poems:
"Opera is when a man gets stabbed in the back and, instead of bleeding, sings." - Ed Gardner
"I don't know whether to put this book under Fiction with 'Darwin's Theory of the Evolution of Man' and 'The Behavioral Patterns of the Female Species', or under Non-Fiction with 'The Bible' and 'Watership Down.'" - Stephen Colbert
"Words, once they are printed, have a life of their own." - Carol Burnett
"Writing gives you the illusion of control, and then you realize it's just an illusion, that people are going to bring their own stuff into it. " - David Sedaris
"Keep writing. Keep doing it and doing it. Even in the moments when it's so hurtful to think about writing." - Heather Armstrong
"A writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people. " - Thomas Mann
"We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to." - W. Somerset Maugham
"Every sweet has its sour; every evil its good." - Ralph Waldo Emerson
"Human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives." - William James
"I can't listen to that much Wagner. I start getting the urge to conquer Poland." - Woody Allen
"The whole problem can be stated quite simply by asking, 'Is there a meaning to music?' My answer would be, 'Yes.' And 'Can you state in so many words what the meaning is?' My answer to that would be, 'No.' " - Aaron Copland.
"A songwriter could easily be mistaken for insane. We hear the voices, they're just singing." - Kodukadvakch
Comes The Dawn
(Unknown)
"After awhile you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning,
And company doesn't mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts,
And presents are promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open,
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And learn to build all your roads
On today because tomorrow's ground
Is too uncertain for plans, and futures have
A way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn that even sunshine
Burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate
You own soul, instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
And you really are strong
And you really have worth.
And you learn and learn...
With every goodbye you learn."
Favorite Pairings:
(Naruto)
Gaara/Sakura
Kakashi/Sakura
Shikamaru/Ino
(Phantom of the Opera)
Erik/Meg
Erik/OC
(Avatar: The Last Airbender)
Zuko/Katara
(Da Vinci Code)
Silas/OC
Silas/Sophie
(Red Eye)
Jackson/Lisa
(Teen Titans)
Slade/Raven
Favorite Characters (1 being highest):
1. Gaara (Naruto)
2. Zuko (Avatar: The Last Airbender)
3. Kakashi (Naruto)
4. Shikamaru (Naruto)
5. Silas (Da Vinci Code)
6. Slade (Teen Titans)
7. Angel (X-Men)
...I just now realized they're all guys... stupid fangirl crushes...
.:Fictions:.
Her Curse
Currently Being Re-Written
A young girl is picked up off the streets and thrown into a completely new world: The Opera House. When a curious Phantom unlocks her talents, will he also be able to uncover her dark past? Their pasts are both filled with pain, their present worlds are completely different. Do they have the will to change their futures?
(Excerpt)
Music, the one thing in that deadly, unforgiving world to have filled the void in his heart, had become a void itself. What had once evoked passions and emotions deprived of him was now emotionless. The outlet for his anger was now a source of frustration. Music, his love, had become his mortal enemy. For, every time he touched bow to violin string, he thought of her. Every time he hummed a measure from Faust, he heard her voice. Each caress of a piano's ivories had become a caress to her delicate cheek.
"...Oh...Christine..."
The name sounded like a prayer on his lips; so reverent and holy one could not help but have the urge to bow one's head or kneel.
Christine.
Music.
Both were one and the same.
And both had broken him.
The first, for the love of another man. The other just seemed to follow in suite. When Christine left, it seemed only appropriate for music to flee as well.
Abandoned, betrayed, and alone in the darkness, Erik had suffered the consequences of tearing his carefully constructed walls down. His icy heart had melted and, being left without protection, was shattered into millions of tiny pieces by the hands of the very woman he had loved.
Had loved?
Did he still love Christine?
Love signified complete devotion, complete trust. Love surrendered a person's body, mind, and spirit to the one who claimed their heart. Love was absolute; the most pure emotion to ever show its face on this earth, in this lifetime. One would die for love, one would kill for love, and one would live for love.
And yet, love was too weak of an emotion to express what he felt for his angel.
Love was not enough.
He felt more.
He needed more.
(End)
This is my first shot at a Phantom phanfic. Honostly, after reading the chapters of this book and the chapters from my other books, I can tell my writing has changed a lot. I've started to add more detail, and more advanced storylines. Though this is one of my better pieces, I've come far from where I began.
Harem
What if Christine never came to the Opera House? What if the mistakes of the past never happened? The Phantom has yet to know the two great emotions on the brink of consuming his mind: love...and obsession. When the corps de ballet find themselves face-to-face with the Phantom of the Opera, will they be able to pull themselves out of the mind-consuming darkness they have fallen into? Does the Opera Ghost have the heart to follow? And who's to say one of them won't lose themselves in that inky blackness in the process?
(Excerpt)
A predatory grin spread slowly across the Ghost's features, sending an ominous shiver down his prey's spine.
Deftly he snatched up his famous Punjab Lasso from a hidden pocket in his cloak and wrapped his hands around the deadly weapon. The girls behind him gasped, having heard stories of the terrible noose from which many dead men have hung. And, having told those stories herself, the most startled, frightened gasp came from La Sorelli.
The strip of catgut lay lazily in the Phantom's hands, like a coiled up, sleeping snake - dangerous, of course, but not threatening as of yet.
With a flick of his wrist, the whistling sound of the rope flying through the air, and a small gasp that was cut off abruptly, the Ghost had caught his prey.
Sorelli reached up and helplessly began clawing at the rope, missing at times and ripping into her own neck with those long nails of hers. She didn't seem to notice, however, as she kept going, struggling helplessly for her life.
The girls in the dormitory screamed shrilly, their eyes wide with shock.
The lust for blood rose, a flame igniting in his eyes as the drums of death pounded out their rhythm. Funny, the Phantom absentmindedly thought, that the drums always seemed to grow slower and slower, fainter and fainter, just like the victims heartbeat. Ah, but what a beautiful sound they made, even just for a few moments of morbid glory! Kill, kill, kill, they seemed to chant. And who was he to disobey such compelling words?
The dancer's eyes were bulging, her face turning slightly blue from lack of oxygen.
She had never looked so beautiful, the Phantom noticed with a sneer.
(End)
My second attempts at a phanfic. I'm actually very pleased with this one. The chapters are shorter, but have began to gradually grow in length. And I have even started to form a plot for the story! Yes, when I started out, I was pretty much winging it. This story has gotten a lot of great reviews, and I'm REALLY thankful for that. I'm pretty proud of "Harem."
The Angel's Lair
Raven has mysteriously been transported to another place...and another time. Her rescuer - a strange, black-garbed recluse living in the bowels of the Paris Opera House - is trying to solve the puzzle of the strange, pale woman. Raven's powers have all but vanished, and when she discovers Slade has also teleported to her time - free to wreak havoc on the unsuspecting Parisian people -, she must seek out the help of her strange masked friend and stop the villian's plans for good.
(Excerpt)
(End)
A simple one-shot, just an idea I had while sleeping one night. It's a crossover between Teen Titans and The Phantom of the Opera. I'll probably continue with this once I've finished "Her Curse" and "Harem", since those are my most important stories.
Betrothed
The sacred ring was destroyed, yet the war rages on. Blood stains the dirt of every planet, but neither species is winning. Every option has been used, and both races are crumbling because of it. Only one thing can save them now. A betrothal. When a spunky soldier with a hateful passion towards the Covenant is forced into a betrothal, her world crumbles. The Elite becoming her mate feels no better. Will their sacrafice finally end the war? Or will their personalities cause even bigger problems...?
(Excerpt)
Slitting his eyes, the Arbiter studied the girl’s back carefully, watching the tiny trembling movements her hands made, the tense shoulders, how her strange-colored light brown hair waved gently with ever step she took; how her shoulders slumped forwards slightly and her head hung in the most pitiful manner.
He watched as she stopped, turning around so slowly he wondered if she ever meant to face him; looked at the shocking amber eyes and was stunned by their depth for a moment; held her gaze for a moment longer and saw the endless grief, pain, and sorrow buried in those magnificent orbs.
Sonya, in turn, studied him with a guarded gaze, shuddering ever so slightly at the imposing form. Oh, how her fingers itched for a gun - any gun! - at that moment. She had only stood this close to a Covenant Elite once in the war, and had blown it’s head off two seconds afterwards. To be so close to danger with no weapon, no armor, no shield, and no means of protection or self defense made the soldier even more afraid of the monster than she should have been.
He was tall, easily three feet above her, but his neck was curved downward, making him a little less imposing.
Looking into it’s eyes, Sonya could tell it was brimming with questions and aching for answers.
But, Lord knew, she wasn’t going to be the first to talk!
So a few moments awkward silence settled upon the human and alien. The commanders of both human and alien ships could be heard droning on about something or other.
Letting out a large breath, the Arbiter flicked his gaze around War Monger, studying the hanger with a frightening intensity.
“Planning for an ambush?” she mumbled incoherently under her breath, her own strange eyes watching the beast before her carefully.
“If I wanted you dead, you would be dead already,” replied the Elite with a smirk, watching as the human girl’s eyes widened in shock and her brows creased in frustration.
“B-but how did you - ?”
“I do have ears, you know,” he answered, his voice laced with sarcasm. “They’re just not jutting out of my head like those flabby pieces of flesh on your face.”
“I’d rather have flesh than your slimy, scaly hide.” Her nose wrinkled at the thought and she shuddered visibly, shaking her head.
Slitting his eyes, the Arbiter took a step forward and let out a deep chuckle as the soldier stumbled backwards.
“Scared, human?”
Gripping the railing she had backed into so hard her fist turned white, Sonya shook her head.
“Never, monster.”
In one quick movement, the Elite latched onto the girl’s arms with both his slender claws - the pressure hard enough to hurt, but not strong enough to break the skin - and pulled her about a foot away from his tall, lanky chest. His head was arched above her, and he inhaled deeply, ruffling the hair atop her head.
Sonya shook, her eyes forced closed and her jaw clenched to prevent her teeth from chattering.
The Arbiter felt her shake.
“I can smell your fear.”
(End)
My first Halo fic. I'm actually very proud of the reviews I've gotten. Apparently this story is quite original for this particular subject(Halo was never a topic for romance stories.). So far, so good. I'm taking my time with this fanfic. I want everything to be perfect, with long chapters that are well-written, thought out, and that make sense. This story needs to flow, and I'll MAKE it happen.
Pale White Specter
He was broken, cast out by the world and used by his saviors. She had everything to live for, until he came into her life. Forced together for religious purposes, he must protect her from the underlying darkness, and she must protect him from himself.
(Excerpt)
Stepping lightly towards the bathroom door, the girl placed her ear on the wood and closed her eyes, trying to focus on the sounds coming from inside. A light crunch sound was followed by a sharp intake of breath, then a string of words in another language. Damaris winced at the noises, and before she could allow her logical mind to convince her otherwise, she burst through the door.
What she saw would burn in her mind for all eternity.
There kneeled her captor, stark naked and white as the pale moon, lashing out at his own back with a weapon that left gaping wounds. On his right thigh was a metal device that dug into his flesh. Her eyes were glued to it, and she watched in a haze as blood dripped lazily over the purple and black bruises mangling his skin. Long, thin scars stretched in every direction across his spine and sides, and she could see where his most recent wounds were beginning to ooze with yellow puss. She was amazed he hadn’t already died from blood poisoning with all the infections littering his body. As she scanned over his form, she failed to realize his bright blue eyes were burning into her until she glanced towards his face. Damaris gasped and stumbled backwards as the albino slowly rose from his kneeling position - deftly whipping on his robe - and stalked over towards her.
“I told you not to disturb me,” he growled, the words rumbling deep in his throat, though his voice was still monotone.
The girl tripped over her own feet, landing roughly on the floor, but began scrambling backwards despite the pain. She closed her eyes against the image before her. The image of a pale white specter stalking closer to her helpless form, a trail of crimson staining the legs of his robe and pooling at the tops of his feet. Bloody footprints marked his path as he seemingly glided nearer to her trembling form.
“P-please...” she whimpered, bringing her hands up to block her face as if on impulse. “I-I didn’t m-mean to...”
Damaris looked up to find her kidnapper hovering over her like the ominous presence he was. He stared into her teary golden eyes, not making any moves to strike her, though his blue orbs seemed to burn.The albino's towering form filled her vision, and his wide shoulders blocked any chance of escape.The girl huddled up into a ball, rocking her body back and forth, and began to weep.
For once in her life, Damaris felt small, and it scared her to death.
Silas looked at her in a mixture of disgust and regret. The bruises he had caused stood out in ugly splotches scattered along her cheeks and neck. Her tears turned her naturally pale skin an angry red. Those bright golden eyes of hers had closed, and he had the odd suspicion that, even if they were open, he wouldn’t be able to find the fire that had once burned in them.
The next time Damaris looked up, her captor had vanished, but she did not dare move from her spot on the floor. That empty corner of the room had become the safest place she could find. Still weeping from fear and shock, the girl continued to rock herself to sleep.
As her eyelids closed and darkness overtook her, she could hear the faint sound of self-induced torture ringing in the background.
And as she began to lose consciousness, the last thing to cross her mind was disgust, while at the same time the last thing to cross her heart was pity.
(End)
Uh, oh. One day, you guys are going to kill me. Here's yet another fic I've started. Once again, I'm quite proud of this one. The idea intrigues me. Though in no ways do I agree with the theory of The Da Vinci Code (Jesus does not have a wife, and He does not have children), I was utterly captivated by the character Silas. He reminds me so much of the Phantom of the Opera, only Silas is actually religious! Of course, he abuses his body in the name of God (shudders), but that only makes it all the more dramatically tragic. So far, I actually have a plot pre-developed for this story, and have really thought about my characters and what their next steps in the fiction will be.
Midnight Tears
“You can only hate someone whom you have the capacity to love, because if you are really indifferent, you cannot even get up enough energy to hate him."
-Sri Chinmoy
(Excerpt)
“I-it hurts…” I whispered, shaking because of the deep-rooted fear I felt. This emotion…this ache…I had never experienced such agony in my entire life. It was like someone had taken a kunai to my chest and ripped out my heart.
“I’m not bleeding,” I continued, mumbling in misery. “But it hurts…so much.”
Suddenly, the sand shifted downward, bringing me nose-to-nose with my adversary…again. I gasped at the intensity of his eyes. They seemed to glow with emotion, and flitted about, staring into my own, searching for something hidden even to myself.
“What did you say?” The red-head gasped out, his voice as hoarse and shaky as my own.
I didn’t have the will to fight anymore, so I answered him in a tear-filled voice, “My heart…I’m not bleeding, but it hurts.”
Inhaling sharply - was that a gasp? -, the sand-controller leaned in towards me and reached out with a shaky hand. Part of the sand dispersed, though it still covered my arms. Instead, the front of my being was now exposed to the monster before me.
I struggled slightly before his whispered words stopped all movement.
“You’re wounded.”
For a moment, I stood frozen in place. I didn’t feel hurt, but then again, adrenaline had a funny way of numbing your senses. Was I bleeding? Was it terminal?
“Here…” he continued, and I gasped when I felt a warm hand cover my heart. His fingers just barely grazed the skin of my collarbone, and I found myself shivering at the anticipation of such contact.
Wait…anticipation? Since when did I start to tolerate this monster’s touch?
“It’s internal,” he kept on, stroking the area lightly, causing gooseflesh to rise on my arms. I stared at him, wondering why he would incite this bold touch, and found his gaze distant, as if he were trapped in a memory.
“And it hurts…” Slowly, he lowered his head until his ear was pressed against my racing heart. I flinched back at first, not out of disgust - though I would have liked to blame it on that emotion -, but out of shock.
His hair was so soft, and his body - just a breath away from mine - was so warm. I was speechless, not only from the contact, but from my reaction to his touch. With all my mind I wanted to say I was disgusted, but instead I found myself enjoying his proximity.
How twisted could this world get!
“I can hear your pain…” he mumbled, pulling his head away to look into my eyes. A single tear dripped from my nose, and he caught it in his hand before it hit the ground. Locking his piercing blue gaze onto my green one, his placed the salty liquid on his lips and licked the evidence of my pain away.
This single act made me shudder - though from disgust or pleasure, I could not tell you.
“…I can taste your anguish…” His eyes held that distant look again, and I found myself wondering what he was thinking about. For a brief second, a flash of pain flew across his features. He instantly replaced it with a cold mask, but it was already too late. I had seen that emotion, and I finally understood.
This monster - this demented sand-controller -, was hurt. He may not have been bleeding, but his wounds ran much deeper than what could be seen. His heart was in pain; he was in anguish…
…Just like me.
(End)
This fiction marks my leap into the Naruto universe. It also shows my maturity in writing, in character development, in higher thinking...oh, and in first-person view! Actually, I switch between Gaara and Sakura's views throughout this fiction, the above excerpt being from Sakura. I find the hardest thing to do is develop the other characters whose views we don't get to see. Take Sasuke, for example. In this fiction, it's VERY hard to describe him for who he really is because Gaara doesn't care, and Sakura is completely biased. But I find ways to work around it. I'm enjoying this fanfic greatly, I only hope my readers are as well!
.:NEW:.
I'm currently working on a website to house information for all my fanfics. There you'll be able to find things like character bio's, ideas, and other spoilers. You can find the site at:
www.geocities.com/kodukadvakch
Keep in mind, the site is still under construction, so most of the pages aren't up yet!
3/10/07
Here's a pic I made of my OC, Damaris, from "Pale White Specter." This is a general idea of what I want her to look like. Picture taken from some random actor on IMDB, and tweaked in Photoshop for the eyes, hair, and lip color.
http://www.sendspace.com/file/rjtpcs/
3/20/07
Here are some extremely well-written Gaasaku fics I have had the privelage to stumble upon. I felt they deserved more publicity than they were getting, so go check them out if you're up for a good read!
A Marriage of Convenience by archchic
Shukaku Love by paws-bells
In Stone by randomsomeone
Save Me by Channah Crux (This one's just starting, but I feel it has potential.)
4/7/07
I've recently discovered that, in my family, sound affects are a part of everyday speech. 0_o
Oh, and I've created a livejournal account (under the same name, "Kodukadvakch.") where I'll be posting up random thoughts on my life/stories, and different ideas I may have. You can find that HERE.
4/26/07
Here's some other places you can find me:
Deviant Art: http://kodukadvakch.deviantart.com/
Livejournal: http://kodukadvakch.livejournal.com/
YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=Kodukadvakch
And, for all you Gaasaku fans out there, check out the LJ community, Lethal Empathy.
Put this in your profile if you actually read other people's profiles.
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