User:LunaDiviner7/Darth Luna's Writings

Just a little corner for me to show some flash fiction, vignettes, poems, ect.

Fading Hope;
'WARNING! Contains slurs that some people may find offensive, but I felt that they added to the meaning!'

They call out at

You, jeering as

You pass them

Every day.

“Homo! Fag! Queer!

Dyke! Tranny! Faggot!”

You try to ignore them,

Try not to let the comments

Get to you. But

They do. They don’t define

You, but you

Believe them.

You tell an adult.

They tell you, “Just

Ignore it. Show no

Response and they’ll

Leave you alone.”

You do that, but

The names don’t

Stop. They just keep

Coming, and you feel

Less and less safe

Until you decide there’s

No place you are safe.

Alive, that is.

LGBTQ+ Bullying: They Need Help;
NOTE: In light of some serious events, this is going under a lot of revising!

Elise "Darth Luna"

Advanced English III

Insert teacher name here

9 December 2014

LGBTQ+ Bullying: They Need Help

They call out at

You, jeering as

You pass them

Every day.

“Homo! Fag! Queer!

Dyke! Tranny! Faggot!”

You try to ignore them,

Try not to let the comments

Get to you. But

They do. They don’t define

You, but you

Believe them.

You tell an adult.

They tell you, “Just

Ignore it. Show no

Response and they’ll

Leave you alone.”

You do that, but

The names don’t

Stop. They just keep

Coming, and you feel

Less and less safe

Until you decide there’s

No place you are safe.

Alive, that is.

This is the sad truth about many students who are victim to bullying because of their sexuality and gender identity. About nine out of ten high school students who are members of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, questioning, and beyond (LGBTQ+) community are bullied in school because of their sexuality and/or gender identity, and nearly half of them are physically harassed. A quarter of these students were physically assaulted by others just for being LGBTQ+. These students are five times more likely to miss school because they don’t feel safe, and they are two or three times as likely to commit suicide. Roughly twenty-eight percent of these students drop out of school, and around thirty percent of completed suicides are due to sexuality. Even worse, when students report bullying due to their sexuality and/or gender identity, about one third of staff members did nothing to help (Gay Bullying Statistics, 2013). Fortunately, there is a way to lower these numbers. According to Lafayette’s Gay-Straight Alliance (GSA), which I am a member of; one of our missions is to educate the staff and students at Lafayette. Educating them is a simple way to make LGBTQ+ students who are dealing with bullying more comfortable with asking for help.

While in school, students need someone to rely on for support, often in the form of family and friends. But when it comes to their sexuality, many students remain in the closet due to their discomfort. To some students, especially those in a strongly religious family, talking about sexuality and gender identity may feel taboo, even though it’s a part of who they are. Educating school staff members and students can help out. A guide by the name of Teaching Tolerance is a resource for schools, and gives them advice regarding how to combat LGBTQ+ exclusion, creating GSAs, and how to modify dress codes to make students more comfortable (Teaching Tolerance Guide, 2013). It’s also important to note that students’ sexual orientations generally emerge “between middle childhood and early adolescence” and “may arise without any prior sexual experience” (Answers to Your Questions, 2008). It’s very similar with transgender, genderfluid, agender, or other nonbinary students, whose gender identity may appear in early childhood or wait until at least adolescence (Answers to Your Questions, 2011).

Though I was never bullied for my sexuality, I know just how damaging bullying can be to a person. I was teased almost constantly for seven years at two different Catholic schools. A major thing I’ve taken away from those years is that I would never wish anything similar or worse than what I endured on anyone. Bullying towards LGBTQ+ people is a leading factor for those students to developing depression, skipping classes, and even thinking about or committing suicide (Bullying of LGBT Youth). While it’s unlikely that it will be entirely prevented, we can lower these numbers. Students need to have someone to talk to about the treatment they’re enduring, but if the person or people they go to for support don’t know what they’re talking about, that support is practically useless.

Educating people at schools will also help encourage LGBTQ+ students to step up and be more confident about speaking out against the treatment they endure. Wells Fargo & Company joined Pride 2013 to do something similar, wanting to raise awareness for anti-bullying efforts for all students (Wells Fargo, 2013). Bringing forth education in schools may have the same effect on students, causing them to speak out against bullying towards LGBTQ+ students. Lafayette’s GSA has a similar mission. And if one student stands up, that may very well inspire another to do so, and the numbers keep on multiplying upward.

I’ll admit, it was hard for me to get to the point of wanting to speak out against this. I grew up in a Catholic family, went to numerous Catholic/Christian schools, and never knew about the LGBTQ+ community until I was nearly fourteen because of my friend Inias. It didn’t help that the bullying I endured in elementary and middle school—mostly name-calling—killed any self-confidence I had. But high school changed all of that for me. In the past year, I have become more extroverted, and much more comfortable about spreading my ideas. I’m actually in the process of running for GSA officer at this point, and would love to spread LGBTQ+ education around the school. Simply giving students information about how to prevent bullying isn’t enough. You have to educate them about what’s being targeted to get them to care. No one did anything when I was bullied, and I don’t want that to be the same for everyone. As the poem I read earlier states, even simple name-calling can be damaging to a person.

But there are people in the country, most notably Religious Right activists, who believe that LGBTQ+ students should continue being bullied. They see anti-bullying programs that include sexuality and gender identity as ways for the LGBTQ+ community to recruit new members and turn children gay. These groups also believe that these anti-bullying programs give LGBTQ+ students “special rights” that other students won’t get, and that promoting these programs will turn these students into bullies towards Christian students. Even worse, they feel LGBTQ+ students should be blamed for being bullied, as these students know that they’re doing something Religious Right activists see as immoral, and the tragedies of the community are ways for them to recruit as well (Big Bullies, PFAW). Religious Right activists are working towards making it unsafe for these students at their schools—something that no student should have to endure.

I speak from experience that anti-bullying programs that include sexual orientation and gender identity do not turn students gay, give LGBTQ+ students special rights, cause me or the GSA to bully Christian students, or cause us to be blamed for being bullied. In fact, quite the opposite is true. I didn’t realize my sexuality until high school, as I grew up in a Catholic family and went to Catholic schools throughout elementary and middle school, but I was never recruited into the LGBTQ+ community by someone speaking out against bullying these students. I simply became educated and realized this is who I am. I don’t have any special rights; I have the same rights as all students here. Sexuality and gender identity is irrelevant to a student’s rights. Though there are some people in the LGBTQ+ community, such as It Gets Better creator Dan Savage, who have harassed Christian students for their religion, I have yet to hear about an LGBTQ+ student here bullying a Christian student for being Christian, and the GSA is firmly against bullying of all forms (Bully has his abusive say, 2012). We are not to be blamed for being bullied because we have a different sexuality than “the norm”, or our gender doesn’t match our sex. No one should be blamed for being bullied.

Education in schools about LGBTQ+ people and the bullying they endure is a way for us to allow students to be more comfortable in school. They’d have someone who’ll support them in the building, even if they don’t receive that in their houses. Students will become leaders speaking out against bullying. And it’s not a method of recruiting new members in the LGBTQ+ community, but a way for students to realize that this is who they are, whether they’re an LGBTQ+ member or an ally of the group. And education starts with you. You can search a public library or the Internet for resources about this material. If you educate yourself, you’ll have a better understanding of these people and be able to support and stand up for them.

Works Cited

"Answers to Your Questions About Transgender People, Gender Identity, and Gender Expression." APA.org. American Psychological Association, 2011. Web. 20 Nov. 2014.

"Answers to Your Questions: For a Better Understanding of Sexual Orientation and Homosexuality." APA.org. American Psychological Association, 2008. Web. 20 Nov. 2014.

"Big Bullies: How the Religious Right Is Trying to Make Schools Safe for Bullies and Dangerous for Gay Kids." PFAW.org. People For the American Way, n.d. Web. 20 Nov. 2014.

“Bully has his abusive say at anti-bullying day.” Washington Times [Washington, DC] 7 May 2012: C08. Opposing Viewpoints in Context. Web. 20 Nov. 2014.

"Bullying and LGBT Youth." Bullying of LGBT Youth and Those Perceived to Have Different Sexual Orientations Tip Sheet (n.d.): 1-3. Stop Bullying. StopBullying.gov. Web. 20 Nov. 2014.

"Gay Bullying Statistics." Bullying Statistics. N.p., 2013. Web. 20 Nov. 2014.

“Teaching Tolerance Guide Provides Educators with Steps for Creating Welcoming Schools for LGBT Students.” Mental Health Weekly Digest 25 Mar. 2013: 323. Opposing Viewpoints in Context. Web. 20 Nov. 2014.

“Wells Fargo Joins with LGTB Organizations for Pride 2013 to Amplify Anti-Bullying Efforts.” Mental Health Weekly Digest 17 June 2013:182. Opposing Viewpoints in Context. Web. 20 Nov. 2014.

Confession;
How am I going to do this?

This one question ran through my head as I entered the library--a square room with bookshelves packed with books on three of the four walls, with computers and tables filling its center—of Solitude’s End Academy. It's already the beginning of September, and I'm shocked that the year is going by so quickly. It felt like just yesterday the school year started up again. I’m here to finally confess my love to Mikaela after several months (I've already lost track, but I think it was eight) of silently crushing on her--because I feel that if I fail to do this now, I'll never be able to do it.

Just the thought of Mikaela made my face warm and my cheeks pink. I loved everything about her—her brown-blonde curls, her pale bottle-green eyes, her more balanced proportions (compared to mine), her being a ghost-human hybrid with one form (meaning that aside from a glow and transparency, she looked no different as a ghost than she does a human), and especially her personality--. She’s perfect in my eyes.

But how could a girl so perfect love me? My hair is a tangle of auburn waves if I forget to tie it back, my eyes are a bizarre shade of green-blue with a segment of dark chocolate brown in each eye, and I wear purple horn-rimmed glasses because my eyesight it absolutely abysmal. My face (particularly my nose and cheeks) and shoulders are covered in freckles. I tower over Mikaela by half a foot (remember, I’m 5’9”, while she’s 5’3”), so her floating up to me my height makes me feel awkward (not to mention that I feel awkwardly unbalanced due to my body, having D cup breasts paired with barely average-sized hips and my gawky height).

But I’m getting off topic here. I've come to the library to find Mikaela, and I soon locate her sitting at one of the tables reading a manga titled Pandora Hearts. As I look at her, I become uncomfortably warm—which is strange, because the school is freezing—and my long-sleeved light blue collared shirt, light blue-pinstriped crimson tie, crimson sweater vest, and long black skirt with twin light blue and crimson stripes at the base have become very uncomfortable.

Relax, Arwen, I tell myself, taking a deep breath as I walk towards Mikaela. She looks up at me and smiles cutely.

“Hi Arwen~!” she chirps, causing my face to heat up and my nose and cheeks to turn cherry-red. She notices this and asks, “Are you okay? Your face is turning red. You’re not running a fever, are you?”

I shake my head and sit down. “I’m fine, just dealing with a crush on someone.” Best friends told each other that sort of thing, right?

Mikaela tilts her head. “Who?” she asks, setting her Pandora Hearts manga down as she turns to face me fully.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Mikaela,” I answer, turning away as my face continues to turn red.

“You sure, Arwen?” she asks. I never remembered her being this persistent last year.

“Positive. It's a private matter.”

Mikaela gives me a suspicious look, obviously not believing me, but turns back to Pandora Hearts. My face turns redder and redder, growing hotter and hotter, until I couldn't take the pressure of holding my secret in.

“Mikaela, I love you!”

My short outburst causes her to freeze up, her manga slipping out of her hands and crashing on to the table.

“Arwen…” she starts, still trapped in shock.

I couldn't handle being around her any longer. I promptly run out of the library, then activate my pentagram so I can use my magic to fly away.

“Arwen!” I hear Mikaela yell behind me. Unable to face her, I fly away faster. My face had turned as scarlet as my tie and tears began to sting my eyes as I clutch my pendant. My wavy ponytail flies out behind me, leaving a trail of auburn.

But I was too slow for Mikaela, whose cold hand soon grasps my wrist and pulls me down into the floor. She fazes the two of us down into the basement, and I get a good look at her. She was now transparent and glowing, both signs that she was a ghost at the moment. Her curls are disheveled from her fast flying, and her green eyes are filled with concern.

“When you ran out of the library in a rush like that,” she starts, “I was worried, and I never managed to finish what I wanted to tell you.”

I blink, confused, as Mikaela floats towards me, soon embracing me in a tight hug.

“Arwen, I love you.”

My face turns redder every second she hugs me, but I manage to hug Mikaela. I know that I won’t be speaking anytime soon (too much shock), but I can't be happier. That moment is when I became the luckiest girl in the school. ♥

Homecoming Kiss;
I hate dances. Personally, I find the music terrible, the people are everywhere, I can't dance at all, and when you're a lesbian witch with malfunctioning powers, it seems nothing can end well.

This year is different.

A couple weeks ago, I had confessed my feelings and gotten together with Mikaela, and it didn't take long for word to spread around the school. Our friend, resident werecat Mackenzie "Kenzie" Morris, wasn't too surprised.

But back to what I'm talking about. Mikaela asked me to come with her to homecoming earlier this week.

I can't say no to her.

So here I stand at the edge of the dance floor, my usually-tangled, wavy auburn hair partially tied back. My green-blue eyes with their chocolate-brown segments are framed with eyeliner and light lavender eye shadow along with my requisite purple glasses. My cheeks are tinted with pink, though my freckles are still clear as day. My lips are painted pink as well. Mikaela insisted on doing my makeup.

Here I stand, my strapless purple dress with a slightly A-line style skirt to my mid-calves (which is actually shorter than it was supposed to be because I was so tall) showing off the freckles on my shoulders as well as my unevenly-growing body, particularly my D cup breasts paired with barely average hips. My long, skinny feet are forced into silver flats that were way too wide.

The annoying Dubstep that had been playing fades away, and as the soft, slow song begins, Mikaela (who was in a little bit further than I was, dancing a bit) drags me onto the dance floor. Her light brown curls are twisted into a loose bun, a few strands left framing her thin face. Her soft bottle-green eyes are accented with eyeliner and honeydew eye shadow. Her blush and lips are just barely rose-colored. Her light green dress is short-sleeved and also features an A-line style skirt to her mid-calves (which meant her dress was a bit too long for her). Her small feet are gently surrounded by white flats.

"Let's dance, Arwen," she insists, floating up to me, as she's a tangible demon (to make things easier for her due to our height difference).

I can't say no to her.

Her hands rest on my shoulders. My left hand is on her right shoulder, while my right hand gently holds her waist.

When the song is in its last few bars, our lips connect. The moment is drawn out, and it feels magical.

My first kiss. My first girlfriend.

The only dance I've enjoyed thus far.

Buzz Lightyear and the Humanoid Bee;
Back around fourth grade, I had what could be considered one of my strangest dreams. In it, I had become a large, humanoid bee flying through a field of white daisies. The day was bright and sunny, with a few cottony white clouds drifting through the blue sky. I soon landed on a daisy and began sipping some nectar from it when a white figure became visible in the sky. As I squinted to get a better look at it, I noticed it was a spaceman.

That’s odd, I think, still sipping some nectar. The figure flew closer and closer, eventually landing in front of me. I jumped backwards in surprise, letting out a faint squeak of surprise. After I got over my initial shock, I slowly flew to the other side of the daisy and peered over the edge. My eyes scanned the figure, settling on the yellow nametag reading “Lightyear.” I gasped. This was the Buzz Lightyear, a character whom I look up to.

After a moment, he got up, put his helmet down (but didn’t retract his wings), and breathed out, “Elise, we need your help.” Though I was shocked he knew my name despite never meeting me before, I remained silent. “Emperor Zurg is going to take over this world, and only you can stop him!”

And this is where I became too confused to keep silent. “What would a bee do to help someone as great as you?” I asked.

“Trust me,” was his reply, “I’ll explain later, but there’s no time.” He put his helmet back up and beckoned me to follow him. As I tend to blindly follow others, I poised myself for liftoff, and the two of us gave a shout of, “To infinity… and beyond!” before we took off flying into the sky.

We began to approach a large, gray cargo plane with Zurg’s symbol, an orange circle with a maroon interior and a jagged yellow Z overtop of it, on the side. Somehow, the two of us slipped inside the plane and hid behind one of the large cardboard boxes being carried.

Unfortunately, this is the point where I woke up, so I was left on a cliffhanger.

The Krebs Cycle;
Pyruvate loses their carboxyl group and

Has Coenzyme A attached in place.

Acetyl-CoA is now ready to

Be attached to oxaloacetate by an enzyme

And become citrate with six carbons.

Now to create isocitrate by water removal

And addition. Isocitrate becomes oxalosuccinate by removal

of electrons and hydrogen, and

Oxalosuccinate soon becomes made of five carbons

And is known as α-ketoglutarate at this place.

Bring in another enzyme

That turns α-ketoglutarate to

Succinyl-CoA. The enzyme turned NAD+ to

NADH, and a carbon went through removal.

And with another enzyme,

Succinyl-CoA becomes succinate and

Forms GTP and removes Coenzyme A from its place

that it had taken from one of the carbons.

With no more carbons

To lose, succinate loses electrons to

FAD, becoming fumarate in its place.

The electron removal

Creates FADH2, and

This all required an enzyme.

Still another enzyme

Adds water to fumarate, made of four carbons.

Fumarate becomes malate, and

The cycle is almost ready to

Return to the start after carbon removal,

But there’s still a step in this place.

Yes, we’re still in this convoluted place

Of confusing steps. One last enzyme

Causes more electron removal.

Oxaloacetate, made of four carbons,

Is created, and now it’s ready to

Go through from the beginning, and

I’m relieved, too, as the enzyme

Number is higher than the amount of carbons in this place.

If we have to memorize and repeat this, I’ll go to the door for my removal.

"I'm Not Your Daughter, I'm Your Son";
'''NOTE: This takes place in a very weird AU where Obi-Wan is with Darth Maul and Elsa, Jedi are allowed to have relationships/kids, kids live with their families at times (but at the Temple most of the time), and probably way too many other things. Also, Anakin and Padmé have a third kid.'''

“Do I have to do this now, Papa?” a small, auburn-haired human child asks as he shuffles his feet, ice-blue eyes staring down at them. He’s standing in front of the living room doorway, where two human adults, one auburn-haired with a noticeable beard forming, the other with braided platinum-blonde hair and a startlingly pale complexion, sit on the couch reading. “I… I’m not ready to tell them.”

His ‘Papa’, a burly, tall Zabrak with a circle of horns on his bald head, red skin, black tattoos swirling around his body, and the name Maul, nods at his child. “It’s the last opportunity you’ll have to tell Elsa for a while, Stellan. You and Obi-Wan have to head back to the Temple tomorrow, and you said you wanted to tell everyone here.” He could see just how scared Stellan was, noticing his child’s tensed shoulders and increase in breathing, and added, “Helge, Linnéa, Ansa, and I will be with you.”

Stellan’s older sibling, a tall, thin human with somewhat wavy platinum-blonde hair, nods. His younger siblings, a small, brown-haired human with long hair; and a small, tan-skinned Zabrak with tiny horns starting to grow on her bald head, also nod.

“All of us love you for being you, Stellan,” his older sibling, Helge, tells him, “and Mom and Dad will love you just as much as they loved you before.”

Stellan bites his lip for a moment before asking, “But what if they can’t see me as their son—as Stellan? What if they only see me as their daughter? What if they never see me as anyone but Stella?”

“They won’t,” his younger human sibling, Linnéa, answers.

“It’ll probably take a bit of getting used to,” adds his younger Zabrak sibling, Ansa, “but that’s only because they’ve been calling you their daughter for thirteen years.”

But his siblings’ words fail to soothe Stellan, whose anxiety only grows worse. His breathing begins to pick up as his hands start shaking. Feeling dizzy and nauseous, he grips the doorway with sweaty hands, trying to remain on his feet. He swallows hard, feeling tears prick the corners of his eyes as his trembling becomes more violent.

“I don’t… feel good…” he mumbles, swaying slightly. His grip on the doorway begins to loosen, and spots appear in his vision. As his breathing quickens and becomes shallower, his hands fall from the doorway, and begins to fall forward, alerting Obi-Wan and Elsa about what’s going on. As Maul catches Stellan, they set down their books and leap off the couch. The last thing Stellan sees before falling unconscious are Obi-Wan and Elsa’s concerned faces as they run towards him.

While I’m unconscious, my recurring nightmare traps me in its grasp.

It starts with Papa being reprimanded rather harshly by Mommy and Daddy. I can’t hear much of what they’re saying, but I manage to pick up some sentences like, “You’re turning our daughter to the Dark Side!” or, “Stop corrupting our little girl!” Papa is doing his best to defend himself, but Mommy and Daddy rarely give him a chance to speak.

I decide that I’ve had enough of them tearing apart Papa verbally, and decide to speak up. It’s time they learn that I realized I’m a boy without anyone pushing me there. But I never got to tell them.

As I open my mouth, Mommy and Daddy turn their heads away from Papa and towards me. Their eyes are blazing with what I can only assume is hate, and it scares me into silence. They start to walk towards me, spewing slurs at me—ones that I don’t want to repeat.

I am never given a chance to talk as they stare down at me, calling me all sorts of awful slurs. On top of that, they state loud and clear that I am an abomination and a disgrace to my family, the Jedi Order, and even the entire universe. Beings such as myself are assigned a gender for a reason, and it’s not something we can just change.

But that’s not even the scariest part of all this. Daddy steps in front of me, the hilt of his lightsaber in his right hand. My eyes widen in fear as I see him ignite the bright blue blade and positions it next to my head—right by my thin Padawan braid. With one slash, the braid is removed, singed and lightly smoking at the cut end. He tells me that, simply because my gender doesn’t agree with my sex, I have been cast out of the Jedi Order at the age of thirteen—right after I became a Padawan.

Mommy then steps forward, pointing at my developing chest. Noticing where her finger is pointing, I cover it up, trying to press my breasts flat. She tells me that my efforts are in vain, and that only girls have breasts, and that they’re part of what make me a girl. As long as I have them and my vagina, I will never be a boy.

The dream fades into nothingness after she tells me this, and it’s not very long before I wake up.

Stellan awakens with a jolt on the living room couch. He finds his legs propped up with pillows, and notices very quickly that his clothes are damp with sweat. Unsure of how long he was out, he looks around the room, soon locking eyes with his family members: first, the piercing yellow gaze of Maul, then the soft ice-blue of Elsa and Linnéa, the deep sapphire of Obi-Wan and Helge, and finally the intense violet of Ansa.

“Stella,” Elsa asks, her voice gentle as she rests a hand on her child’s shoulder, “Maul told Obi-Wan and myself that something’s bothering you. According to him, you were going to tell us earlier, but worked yourself into a panic attack and fainted.”

His ice-blue eyes widen, realizing that they don’t know yet. Stellan gulps, his hands immediately going for his Padawan braid to make sure it’s still there. Though he’s relieved to find it still attached, he doesn’t relax.

“It’s going to be okay, Stella,” Obi-Wan tells him. “Just tell us what’s wrong.”

“I… I…” Stellan stammers, twirling his braid as he begins chewing at his lip again. After a moment, though, he shouts at everyone, “I’m not your daughter! I’m not your little girl!”

Obi-Wan and Elsa are both surprised by this outburst, but before they can say anything about it, Stellan continues, “I’m not a girl at all! It’s… it’s all wrong!”

After a moment of silence, Elsa asks, “If… if you’re not our daughter, then what do you want us to call you?”

Shaking from his earlier outburst, he replies, “I’m a boy. My name is Stellan Kenobi; I’m thirteen years old; my pronouns are he, him, and himself; and I’m your son.”

While it takes Elsa and Obi-Wan a moment to process what he said, both of them smile at Stellan and embrace him in a hug. While somewhat surprised at just how accepting they are, he smiles and begins to tear up. “Thank you,” he whispers in their ears.

“No matter your gender,” Obi-Wan tells him, “we will always love you, Stellan.”

Elsa adds, “Never again will you be our daughter. From now on, you will always be our son.”