Eh, this is all new and what-not, so my decision was posting stories/other stuff I've been working on. What do y'all think?
Stories Currently Working On: Citizen Cain, Blood Wars, Maybe 16, The Past (finished & editing), Stranger Observation, No Fences, Time Guard.
DeviantArt: www.okamisunshine.deviantart.com
~Okami~
Today was our Day of Silence. Here was the note I gave to my teachers:
DAY OF SILENCE
Silent for Lawrence King
Please understand my reasons for not speaking today. I am participating in the Day of Silence (DOS), a national youth movement bringing attention to the silence faced by lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people and their allies. My deliberate silence echoes that silence, which is caused by anti-LGBT bullying, name-calling, and harrassment. This year's DOS is held in memory of Lawrence King, a 15-year-old student who was killed in school because of his sexual orientation and gender expression. I believe that ending the silence is the first step toward building awareness and making a commitment to address these injustices. Think about the voices you are not hearing today.
What are you going to do to end the Silence?
I walked through school today, keeping my mouth shut from the moment I woke to aproximately 4:30 in the afternoon, when my father called to say when he would be home. Many of my friends are gay/lesbian/bisexual, and I held my silence for them. My teachers respected my silence, asking only that I keep a pad of paper and pen around just in case of questions that need to be asked. I used my sketchbook to relay messages to others when it was needed.
I kept my silence for the ones I know, and the ones I don't.
A friend emailed this to me a few weeks ago, and I thought of sharing it:
I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.
I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.
I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.
We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.
I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.
I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.
We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.
I was the boy who skipped gym class because he was afraid of what people would do to him.
I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.
I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.
I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.
I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.
I am the boy who was forced to take his own life for coming out of the shadows.
I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didn't have to always deal with society hating me.
I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.
I am the boy who gave up on his dreams because he's bisexual.
I am the boy who closed himself in because his dad took away his right to privacy.
I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.
I am the boy who faked sick because I was scared to see what was written on my locker today.
I am the father who tried to kill his son because he was gay.
I am the boy who never knew what it was like to have his own life.
I am the boy who helped viciously attack his gay friend, because he didn't want his other friends to know that he had been seeing him.
I am the boy who's afraid to look another boy in the eyes, because of what he might think.
I am the boy who killed himself in the school bathroom because he lost all his friends.
I am the girl who became the school whore because I like girls too.
I am the girl who no one understands.
I am the boy who gave up on life because I never really knew what it was like to have one.
I am the boy who hid himself away, afraid of what others would do or say.
I am the boy who no one understands.
I am the girl whose father beat her half to death with a baseball bat because he wanted to “beat the gay out of me”
Homophobia pushed too far is discrimination.
~heart~
Okami
Hiya! It's Bunny. Ack. The site has really changed...Good think Oki knows what she's doin'. I'm forcing her to watch the last episodes of Loveless while I post stuff! Hooray! It's so fun laughing at Kio! But we love 'im! Although I'm more of a Soubi fan...What can I say, I'm a sucker for the hentai...
I finally got to borrow FF7 from my friend, and I got to the 2nd disk. Trying to get Vincent is a pain in the ass let me tell you! I know the combination to the lock, but I still can't get it! It sucks! But I shall not give up!!
Hmm, I think I should nag Oki to post some more of my stuff, I have tons of it. And I also have to get back to writing for fanfiction.net. My pen name is Mustang'sBunny. I haven't written much recently.
Talk later!
Bye-bye!
Oh, and my loves to all the J-rockers out there!
~Bunny
EASY LISTENING: Now (the first one, which I jumped for joy when I found it in our local library)
During one of our many discussions during Survey, I sat and thought about mortality (we were talking about death, had read three poems with varying views on death), and so this came about:
"When faced with our own mortality, we bring forth the beings of imagination and immortality."
Ta, and now we're on Transcendentalist writers. Oh do I love these boys! They mess with heads, let you think, make you think.
~Okami~
I posted twice...so oops...
Perched on the end of the rooftop like a peregrine falcon, I observed my city as Day’s light faded swiftly, running to the west, falling out of the sky, chased by the darkness of Night’s cloak. With her light’s evaporation, Day’s subjects also faded, letting the cobblestone streets to Night’s thieves, watchmen, drunkards, trollops, and tricksters.
Night-market smells tickled my nose, tempting me from my roost. Roasting meat, bakery goods, and sugary delights drifted through the air. Surrendering, I strode across the roof in grace, sliding down the ladder with a practiced flair. The watch kept a weary eye on me, as they should. If they ever seemed anything less than attentive, someone might pick them off to teach them a lesson. Walking past them, I totted into the Night-market, greeted instantly with sights, sounds, and smells. Children of vendors played in the streets, their laughter adding warmth to Night’s chill. Chatter of people melded together, becoming background noise. Brightly colored stalls lined the street, selling craftsman’s treasures, trader’s goods, and baker’s fares. Tang of copper and iron metals mixed gently with exotic spices and foods, creating a scent all its own.
“Fair maiden!” A voice called to me, rough and menacing.
“A fair maiden I am not, trickster,” I growled back, knowing their manner, for having seen it many nights over. Instead I ambled on, weaving through the stalls for a destination only my feet knew. As faces passed, I remembered a time where I was Day’s patron. A time that I had left behind many moons before. Weak and oblivious I had been, to think that Day was better than Night. Day, with its false promises and two-faced liars. At least Night opens your eyes to such things, evaporating the innocence which makes us blind.
“Kita!” Another voice, this one with knowledge of my name. Turning, I faced a man a head taller than myself. Tilting back my own head, I stared directly into his deep blue eyes.
“You know of me?” Trapping confidence in my voice out of routine, I let my own light green eyes pass over him, taking in his smith’s garb of worn brown breaches with a white shirt and his sweet smile
“You are playing me, Kita. I used to be a Day-market man, remember?” His smooth tone and tanned skin brought back what I had hidden inside myself.
“Ansel, you dog,” I whispered, his own appearance surfacing some unwanted emotions within.
His grin widened wildly, he continued, “So you do remember me! I thought I would have to jog your memory.”
Giving him a polite smile, I forced down all I felt of this man. He was out of my life when I left Day’s realm! In my ignorance I had fallen for this smith’s apprentice, fancying myself in love. When I became a Night-walker, I saw how silly I had been.
“What are you doing in Night-market?” Waving my hand to the extent of which I came, trying to explain that this was not a place for Day-walkers to roam.
“When I finished my training, I bought a forge of my own. Instead of selling in Day-market and competing with my teacher, I thought Night-market would be a better time for my workings,” he gestured to the stall behind him, filled to its brim with workings made of an array of metals. “There are other reasons, though.”
His comment brought my eyes back to his face, where I read sorrow in his eyes. “What of them, these other reasons?”
Ansel motioned to the stall next to his, a baker selling goods and refreshments, “Are you not busy for a few minutes? Could we talk?”
Staring straight into his eyes, I seemed to have lost any thought but the truth, “I have nothing else to bother my time at this moment.”
The charming smile was back. He bought food and drink, pulling out two worn stools from behind his counter. Sipping the cider he had handed me, I found myself spilling events past. Ansel himself shared a few things, but most of them mundane compared to the workings of Night.
“So what of the reasons?” I brought us full circle, wanting to stop with this mild chatter. Friends I had some, but never a love.
“You disappeared, and I wished to find you,” he replied, staring into his hands as if they held truth. “I had thought to look everywhere. When the opportunity arose that I could work a stall in the Night-market, I jumped for the chance, hoping to see you again.”
“Why?” Such a foolish question, one that tricksters and thieves loved to hear, as to sink sweetened words into your ear, poisoning your mind into giving them anything.
“Of that I cannot speak of,” he whispered carefully. “Of that I cannot speak for my heart, as it has stolen away my head.”
Pretty words from a pretty fellow, I thought, but hidden inside I knew that his words held truth. No actor of any kind would have been able to pull off a perfect control of hand, eye, and voice emotion.
“Oh,” I murmured, knowing full well he could hear. “Oh.”
Not knowing what had become of me, I leapt to my feet and threw my arms around his neck with the knowledge that it was all still here, hidden well below, all my Day-self, mixed with Night. Night trained me to open my eyes, but in the end I shut them from who I was, forgetting it all.
