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i-literally-cant-with-this · 1 year

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A/N= I had this idea 5 or so days ago, and I can't tell you how much Professor Geto stuff I've seen since. I guess we're all on the same wavelength, and that's awesome. There needs to be more Professor Geto in the world.

C/W= P->V. Oral (giving/receiving). Lap riding. Masturbation (tiny talk of toys). Adult movie. Some cutesy shit. Some humor. Maybe a few other things. MDNI NSFW 🔞

W/C: 7k+some

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For Science! 👊

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"The pattern of the effectual relationship is more obvious in the decline of overall satisfaction. Do you all see how this corroborates with the suggestion that love and sex don't have to go hand in hand?" He looked at you when he said this. It made you shift slightly in your warmed seat.

Professor Geto was trying not to lose his students' attention in this lecture. But they were all idiots who were run solely by their hormones.

"She can go hand my cock!" Someone yelled from the middle of the auditorium.

"Yes. What a very clever hypothesis," Geto said. "Why, uh, why don't you all just head out. Winter break starts in ... 39 minutes. Just go. Happy whatever. I'll see you in the new year when we're back in session."

The same asshole yelled out, "You mean SEX-SION!" Him and his dipshit friends laughed all the way to the courtyard.

Geto, unamused, shook his head and adjusted his glasses as the rest of his students filed out into the snow. He began putting a gross amount of paperwork into his worn leather bag, and then he looked around to make sure everyone was gone before he locked up.

His eyes landed on you. In your heavy sweatshirt and jeans. You sat in the very last seat in the front row, farthest from the exit.

"Were you asleep when I told everyone to go? Fucking kids these days –" You cut off his complaint and asked him if he could go over one thing with you before you left.

"Oh, a legitimate question. I apologize. What about ....?" He turned his left ear a little to you, hinting at you to say what your name was.

You put your hand to your chest, "Y/n. It's y/n."

"Ok, y/n. What's your question?" You gathered up your laptop and scattered papers and stuck them in your backpack. Then you stood and walked over to him.

He immediately saw how beautiful you are, even hidden away under the navy blue sweatshirt and bulky jeans you wore. You pulled your hood off and let your hair pool around your shoulders.

It surprised him, you staying behind. Most of his students made a run for it as quickly as possible.

Professor Geto was no fool. In fact, he was quite intuitive. He'd run his course based on several factors; how the audience was reacting to him, how he was being perceived at different parts of his lectures. He was always aware of his surroundings.

You got to his desk and leaned your curvy hips against the edge of the heavy, dark wood.

"You say that scientists have long supported the idea that love and sex don't have to go hand in hand?"

"Mmhm." He nodded. Feeling the slightest rush of heat throughout his body while discussing this with you. Surely, he shouldn't feel like he was crossing a line. He was the professor of a very valid and increasingly important course. Plus, you approached him. It's not as if he asked you to stay behind to discuss your grade so he could bend you over his desk and fuck an 'A' next to your name on his computer. These things were typical discussion topics.

"Have these "scientists" done any studies of the effects of dopamine levels in two people that fuck —"

Both of your eyes locked with the other's. Uncertain if you meant to say that to him as he was your teacher or if you intentionally left the word dangling between the two of you in the emptied room.

"If you fuck someone enough..." you continued like you were, for the most part, unphased by his pause. "...and they're good at what they do, and they make you cu– I mean, climax often, if not consistently, then on a semi-regular basis, won't some sort of feelings develop over time? Like, there would be some sort of attachment formed. I know it would be hard for me to be fucking someone, to be so intimate with them and not have feelings bubble up at some point. Especially with all the hormones and shit involved. Some people just make you feel better. You can feign physical attraction. But a chemical one? I don't know."

He stared at you with a blank face. You looked right back at him, waiting for his answer. Your e/c drawing him in. Shifting your backpack from your right shoulder to your left, you cleared your throat.

"Um, shit. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked YOU this. I'll go talk to my family priest or something."

Geto laughed, "You have a priest?" You sat your stuff down and scrunched up your nose, smiling back at him. "Well, no. The only time my family talks to God is when their asses are in the air gettin' – no. Not religious."

"Did you have any other ideas about sex and love? How can you have them both, none, or merely one or the other?"

You were a little taken aback as to why he wasn't offering you an answer. You did, after all, approach him about this.

"What are you doing right now?" He asked you, hoping to come across as cool and apathetic as he always was. But his cock was beginning to ache for your undivided attention. And though Professor Geto was a master at driving people's attention where he wanted it, he could not seem to alter your ability to maintain eye contact.

You suddenly straightened your body at his question. "W‐what am I doing right now? I mean," for some reason, you wanted to come off as if you were in really high demand.

That was anything but the truth: Your mother and step-dad went to his family's vacation home in the English countryside a week before you were out for the winter. They offered to pay for your ticket. But you really didn't like Christmas anyway and told them you had a lot of studying to do.

"Do you have plans over the holiday with your family? Friends?" He waited what he thought was a healthy amount of time before he asked you if you were doing anything special with your boyfriend.

Your outburst of laughter was embarrassing. You haven't had a boyfriend since your junior year of high school. The guys you knew made passes at you, sure. But they were so fucking childish. You hated it.

"Sor- hahaha -no, sorry. I don't have a boyfriend waiting for me under the mistletoe this year. I'm just going to be in my quiet dorm room. Waiting for this godforsaken stretch of time to end."

He didn't find that funny at all, which made you feel like an even larger tool. "So, you're just, going to be alone this Chrismas?"

You lifted your hood over your hair and answered him smoothly. "Yyyyep. I guess I'll see you when we're back in sex-sion? Eh?"

At long last, you got a laugh from him. "So wait. You're telling me that you're capable of laughter!?" You said sarcastically.

"I'm capable of more than you can imagine, little one."

That was it, your cunt fluttered at his suggestive admission. Grasping at anything to break that spell he cast over you. Those were the words that spurred on your attraction for your Human Sexuality professor.

"Well, if you're not doing anything this week, there's a French film playing at the old cinema on 11th and Craine. We don't have to go together. We don't even have to sit near each o-"

"YES. I mean, yeah. I'd love to go. What time?" You interrupted him so hard that he jumped a little at your shouting. He smiled. It was beautiful. He never smiled in class.

"There's a showing to- ah, damn it. Let me check my phone for the times again. Sorry. Hold on." He pulled his phone from his professor-y blazer, and scrolled through the listing. "Yeah. Ok, so there's showings tomorrow night at 7, 9:20, 11:40, and 2am."

Your heart sank to the floor. "Nothing tonight, huh?" He looked at you. So small and absolutely let down. He wanted to comfort you over this absurd disappointment. But that is a line he shouldn't cross. You were his student. It was against the school's code of conduct for him to do anything more than teach you. But this was a loophole. He was fairly certain he could talk himself out of any infraction.

Oh my god, how he wanted to reach his hand to your face. To lift your eyes to his with the pads of his fingers under your chin. It was such a stupid blunder. He almost wishes he hadn't said anything to you about it.

"I – no. I'm sorry, y/n. As it stands, the only showings are tomorrow. I prefer to go to the –"

"Earlier shows, right?" You asked, not even trying to shield him from your growing frustration at having to wait.

"Eh, no. No, actually, I prefer the later ones. The later, the better. Despite being a teacher, I really try to avoid people as much as possible. My friend group is pretty small. Anyway. Here's my card with my personal cell on the back. Let me know if I should expect you, hm? If I don't see you, please have a nice break."

You wanted to protest from the rooftop to keep him there talking with you. But there just wasn't a reason to say anything else. So you said goodbye and walked out into the freezing air. And head back to your 1/2 vacant dorm room.

The way back, you replayed the conversation between the two of you. It felt like a really long talk. But really, it took no longer than 10 minutes.

You felt a little stupid for getting upset about having to wait a whole day to see him. Well, if you decide to go, that is.

For now, you would find odd things to keep you busy to better pass the time.

* ● *● * ● * ●

You woke up feeling FANTASTIC. You slept for 9 hours. Your dreams were filled with Geto fucking you until you couldn't walk anymore so he had to carry you to his bed and fuck you to the point you couldn't talk. It was the best night in you've had in ages.

Today was the day you were supposed to meet him at the old theater for the French film. You picked up the jeans you were wearing yesterday and dug around for his phone number so you could let him know you would be joining him tonight.

"Whe– Where the fuck is that card! Shit! How am I supposed to call and let him ... oh goddamn it all to hell." You sat down on your bed and tossed your hands into your lap. "The later, the better. Ok. No one goes to an 11:40 movie over winter break. Right? Ok! So I'll just get there at 11:30 and go sit in the theater ... and, and wait. Where is that fucking card!?"

You ripped your desk apart. Shook out everything you wore when he gave it to you. It was nowhere to be found. But at least you knew roughly what time he would be there.

* ● *● * ● * ●

It was 8 pm, and you were beside yourself with anticipation. You'd already gotten yourself off twice and considering a third orgasm to dull your nervous edge just a bit more.

Instead of trying to ease your anxieties a 3rd time that way, you tried a shower with your favorite aromatic oils. You hated how well this shit worked. "It's so cliché, mom." You told her when she brought you back a box of oils from India.

That all changed when you made your own sandlewood and vanilla blend. You never gave her any shit again. And when they travel, she will oftentimes pick up some new oils for you to test. There's literally an oil for whatever is ailing you.

You were lucky to be one of the on-campus residents to have a newer dorm with a shower in the room. You were fine showering in a more public space, but there were time restrictions in the shared bathing areas.

Turning the water on, you took off your clothes and stepped into the steam. There was a part of you that wanted to take a leisurely shower. To exfoliate and shave and deep condition your hair.

But you were too nervous to hold a razor to your body. The looks Professor Geto had been giving you all semester had finally amounted to something. Was this a date? "I need to stop this hyperfocus shit. Gotta cum again."

You cracked open the shower door and stepped carefully out onto the mat on the floor to dry your feet. You've fallen too many times to not take shower safety seriously. And if you fell tonight you'd never forgive yourself for fucking up this chance.

Your new vibrator was still in its box in your nightstand drawer. You opened the packaging like a child on Christmas morning and started button mashing the 3 at the base of it to figure out which button did what.

"Let's see just what this baby can do. Ok. This button – oh! Oh ... damn." You raised your eyebrows. "I ... may never ... be stressed about anything again."

You figured out the most basic settings; the bunny ears got you off really quickly. Truthfully, it was the in-your-head Geto who did the heavy lifting. But you felt a little better.

You shaved everything you wanted to shave and exfoliated everything that was safe to exfoliate.

The outfit you chose was simple, but seen by the right eyes, it could be considered sexy. It was a long, large floral-print pattern over a solid green background and a white tight-fitting t-shirt. You wore boots with thigh-high socks. This provided you with some warmth from the cold. The socks were thick and connected to a garter belt around your waist so they wouldn't slouch down. You made the conscious decision to forgo panties for the night.

"Ok," you said. "You smell delicious. You're soft and silky. You. Are. Ready. Ready to sit with him for 2 hours and 20 minutes."

"S'do this, y/n."

* ● *● * ● * ●

Friday 11:30pm

11th and Craine @ The Faux Devant Theater

Film: Ton sexe. Mon sexe. Notre sexe.

Translation: Your sex, My sex, Our sex

* ● *● * ● * ●

"There's just the one movie playing here tonight?" You asked, embarrassed that you were alone and buying a ticket for a movie that had the word sex in it 3 times, and you didn't know what the other 3 words translated to.

"Yeah, this is here until the end of the week, and then we dig up another one. Blah blah blah."

You laughed at their apparent boredom with the job. "Ok, uh, 1 adult for," you pointed at the poster of the naked people in a lovers embrace. "For this one, I guess." They gave you your ticket, smirked, and told you to enjoy the show.

You went into the dark room, and you were surprised to see how it was set up. There was no traditional theater seating. But there were couches and loveseats spread smartly across the floor.

You looked around for anyone else who might be in there tonight. It was totally empty. Even the projection room lights were off.

The movie was going to start in about 5 minutes. Where was he? "Oh god. Ohhh nooo. Fuck. He's standing me up. And not in a good way, either. God, to think that he would sit through some stupid French flick with me."

You sank down into the loveseat in the middle of the room as your heart sank deeper into your heavy chest. Settling in to watch a movie that you wouldn't have chosen on your own. You were hoping for the best and expecting the worst.

The opening credits started to roll, and the story began to unfold. And quickly, to your surprise. There were subtitles, but you wanted to watch the story rather than read about it.

You're fairly certain that it was about a couple of people who knew nothing of each other or about sex. They experienced all the feelings that come with arousal and wanting another's touch. But they'd never *experienced* it themselves. Not under their own hand or someone else's. It was a sheltered existence they had before moving to the city.

There was one scene that will always stand out to you: They met by chance at a café.They reached for the sugared cinnamon to sprinkle on the foam of their cappuccino, and when their hands touched, neither one of them recoiled. They knew they had to be together come hell or high water. It was cheesy. But beautiful.

It was like because of touching the other person's hand, they finally belonged to this life. They were grounded by this single brush of skin. They were meant to be together.

They explored, touched, tasted their partner's body, and came to find that the only thing they'd been missing from their lives was the other person.

In the scene where they fully dive into their sexual awakening, you thought you heard someone stepping into the room. But you couldn't see anyone when you looked around, so you just turned your focus back to the film and watched these people devour one another.

They both gave of themselves and received everything physically possible. Some things you took note of. If nothing else, you could walk away from this with a few new tricks.

It left you in a frustrated state. Your hands dug into the soft fabric of the couch, and you shifted your weight often. You wondered for just a second what would happen if you spread your legs and slipped your fingers up under the long skirt you wore.

The movie and your feelings were bordering on pornographic. But you've always been a curious soul, so it didn't bother to see this. You were surprised that your professor had invited you to such a thing, though. How was that not crossing into misconduct?

You really didn't give a damn and pushed the thought to the back of your mind. The whole thing was quite beautiful, actually. Despite your growing frustration at Geto for not fulfilling his commitment to you. But no matter. You were no worse for the wear. What could have possibly happened with you two anyway.

Once the end credits came on the screen, you were sure there would be a wet spot on your skirt. You felt yourself filling with that familiar hot tension. Again. As if 3 orgasms just weren't enough for you to chase off the burning need.

You stood from your seat and put on your jacket before you walked out into the freezing night. As you turned around, your eyes zeroed in on a shadowed figure in the corner of the big room.

"Oh shhh–! Oh my god! You fucking scared me, professor! What the hell are you doing here ... now? The movie just ended." He stood up and seemed to glide across the floor to you. Like a vampire or something. He looked dark.

His hair was down; hanging over his shoulders and just a little in his face. But all he saw was you, standing there, trying to explain away your flushed skin as merely the frozen air that had slapped against your face.

Even though that was nearly 2 1/2 hours ago. It was not a good excuse. Nor were you very proud of it. "I'm glad you stayed to watch this," he said in a low tone. "I knew you'd watch it whether I was here or not."

"You mean, you ... you were here? The whole time, too? Why didn't you sit by me? Or, oh gosh, I dunno, at the very least say something to me?" He could see you were getting pissed at him.

Geto knew it was a little dirty to play with you this way. But he couldn't help himself. You are an adult. A big girl, even though you weren't wearing your big girl panties tonight.

"I wanted to study your reaction to the film. And from the looks of your rosy cheeks and dampened spot on your skir– well, imagine my surprise when I saw you enjoying this.

"My skirt and how wet it is OR isn't, isn't really any of your business. Is it? Pro– Geto?" You stopped yourself from calling him professor and called him by his name. It made you two closer to equals that way. Not teacher and student. Just horny woman and sexpot man.

"Oh. I see. So you're saying it's possible that your little cunt was squirming throughout these last 2 hours? And tell me, pretty girl, just what was it you imagined could tame the burning between your legs? Hm? Was it the toy you fucked yourself with earlier but imagined they were me? How many times did thinking of me make you cum? 3? 4?"

He snapped a black band from his wrist and threw his hair up in a careless bun. "Oh. Fuck," you thought. "This man is obsessed with me and stalking me and, and ..." Your thoughts trickled off as you realized how stupid you sounded thinking this garbage. He wasn't interested in you.

As relieved as you felt at that conclusion, you were also hit with a brief sadness that you were just another student to him. He's probably invited all kinds of people to cinema. You were no more special than the last.

"Relax, sweetheart. I don't have cameras set up in your bathroom watching you or anything. That would be tacky. I just know your type. You're easily scared."

You laughed at this.

"You get off to relieve tension and stress."

"Yeah? So? Who doesn't?" You shot back at him.

"Fair enough, fair enough." He looked amused by your argument. "Mm. Well, this is all very interesting. But it's time, once again, to watch, so sit down." He pointed to the place next to him.

You openly mocked him for ordering you around. "'Sit down? Sit," your laughter was spiteful. "Sit down. Oh-kay professor." There was that word again. "I've already seen the movie, thanks."

Geto reached up to take your hand and place it against his soft lips. He held it there for a moment and said, "Yes, but you haven't seen it with me." He rooted his dark eyes to yours and stuck the tip of his tongue between where your index and middle finger met. And licked you.

"Sit." And you did.

Wet pussy and all.

The movie has started, and all you want to watch is Geto. The man is beautiful. It made you almost angry about how beautiful he was.

30 minutes into it. He has kept to himself.

45 minutes into it, and his breathing hasn't even changed. But you're feeling the slick between your legs becoming more and more prevalent. Your skirt is getting the worst of it. You're not sure why you do this, but you uncross your legs. Hoping against hope that the way they were pressed together, the way they forced your pussy to rub on itself, would stop.

You were going crazy from this man's indifference.

1 hour into it, and you feel him turn and look at you. He readjusts himself on the plush seat and puts his hand on your knee.

You looked at him, thinking again of how the sharp tip of his wet tongue felt between your fingers. Your breath hitched for just a moment, and he took notice of the change in your demeanor.

Your body is no longer languid on the wide cushion beneath you. Geto wants you to relax while under his watchful eye. He wants to see you come apart at his fingertips. He wants to put you back together, too.

"Is this ok, pretty girl?" Geto asks in an almost too-quiet voice. He looks at you as shadows dance around the room. The couple in the movie has just discovered going down on one another. You watch them with an unwavering focus because if you don't, you're afraid you'll climb on your companions' face and suffocate him between your thighs.

"Mm. You're not comfortable with this. That's fine." He started to pull his hand back from your knee, and you turned your attention to him. Ready to protest his withdrawal, you stumble for your words. "I, I neh–" You clear your throat and try again. "Fuck! I never said that I wasn't comfortable with your hand on my knee. We're not in middle school, Geto. Put your hand on my fuckin' knee if you want to. It doesn't make any difference to me."

He cocked an eyebrow. "No? No difference at all. You're a bigger pain in the ass than I gave you credit for." He shook his head. "I think it's best if I just go. Would you like a ride home?"

"A ride home? Are you fucking kidding me?" You pulled his hand over and sat it on your lap. About 5 or 6 inches above where he'd originally positioned it before. "It ... does ..." You nearly choked on your words this time. "It does make a difference. Ok? OK? Happy now?"

Geto scooched a little closer to you so he could relax, and his hand would stay where you put it. He smiled. "I am. Thank you."

His hand was a double entendre. It made you wonder how something so presumably light could feel so heavy. Such a calming gesture, making you feel so wild.

Geto's right index finger began to draw small but deep 8's over your skirt into your skin. He could feel how warm your body was getting.

You're breathing heavily now. He leaned up and got much closer to you and reached up to brush one of your stray hairs aside like it was the whole reason for the sudden lack of oxygen to your brain.

1 1/2 hours, and his hand is the only thing holding you to this earth. You could sprout wings and fly away. You feel lighter, somehow. Even though he's tethered you here. Tied you to this couch that's seen god knows what. Will it get a new viewing of its own tonight, perhaps?

A particularly graphic scene comes up as you sit there next to Geto. You try to look away, but his grip on your leg tightens. You feel a wave of dizziness as his piercing eyes lock onto yours. "I didn't ask you to the movies with me so you could stare at the wall. Watch this. Learn. Listen. Why do you think that it's impossible to keep love and sex separate during the course of a relationship? And I'm not referring only committed ones.

"A sexual relationship doesn't have to be anything more than the expression of appreciation for someone's physical beauty." He continued. "Love usually runs deeper. To a person's soul. I mean, if you believe that people have souls."

You rolled your eyes. "I hate to play the sexist card. But leave it to a man – a really fucking attractive man, no less, to downplay the closeness that can resonate during sex. Lovemaking. Fucking. Call it what you want. But that's about as intimate as you can get with another person. And I think it's a really vulnerable posit–"

Geto started belly laughing. He lifted his hand from you to hold his flat stomach as he cracked up at your expense. "Listen to you. You sound like a virgin who's grown up watching only movies where there's a happy ending. A true happy ending with a knight in shining armor riding in on his unicorn steed carrying a single white rose because only the best for his untouched bride." He laughed another hard chuckle and looked back at your unamused face.

"You can be a real asshole, you know that." You said. "Just because I think that love AND sex go hand in hand doesn't mean I live for Disney movies. I'm well aware of the harsh realities surrounding love and sex. The way that people are lulled into a false sense of security. They give themselves fully over only to be kicked in the teeth and left on a curb holding a sign that says, 'I'm broken, but give me a chance. PS I'm a good cook, b‐t‐dubs.' And furthermore, it's no secret that the more invested a person becomes in their S/O, the more they turn themselves over to th—"

Geto leaned in and kissed you so lightly on your lips that were moving a thousand words a minute . "Who hurt you." He asked after pulling back. His smile was like a corrosive gel that you could slather on the most tarnished surface to get the ugly off.

You were surprised at how gentle his lips were against yours. You always imagined your time with him would be, well, not that tender. "W–what was that for?" Goddamn it. Why were you always suspicious of people who showed you any interest?

He was silent. After a long pause, he finally spoke, "I wanted to see what it would feel like." You scrunched up your face without even realizing it and asked him if he's ever kissed anyone.

"Are you fucking dumb? Of course I've kissed people. Many people. Men. Women. Any adult on the 'human' spectrum." He rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. "Ahh. I wanted to see what it was like to kiss you. Ok?"

You thought about that for a moment before leaning over and kissing him again. Softly. Timidly. Sparingly. You were afraid to give too much of yourself to this man. Through kiss or otherwise. It would be too easy to become all consumed with him. You could see yourself vanishing in his wake.

"And that? What was that for?" He asked, staring at you through lustful eyes. You shrugged playfully.

You're not even watching the movie anymore. Really, there was not much point for both of you to sit through it again. You wouldn't forget about the story for a long while to come.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him. "Prof–professor Geto ... I ... I ..." Your words were desperate. They almost came across as whines. You hoped he'd only note the neediness in your voice and not the pathetic way you're so touch starved.

"Yes, y/n? Tell me. Just ... just tell me." You ran your fingers down the back of his head, eliciting a heavy shiver as you sat down, straddling him. You could feel the bulge grow beneath your spread cunt. He reached to cup your breasts in his slow hands.

You dropped your forehead to his, and for a moment, you wondered if he knew you were bare under your skirt, save for the belt and your socks. You pooled your skirt up around your waist, exposing your thighs and ass. He does now, you thought.

Geto's hands fell to your legs, and he rubbed the soft skin heartily. He leaned forward and grabbed up the most round part of your ass cheeks, and pulled you closer to him. You could feel the slick gathering on his pants. The fabric covering his zipper began to feel tacky.

"Wha– do you wa–want, y/n? Tell me what you want ... from me." You let out a moan as he massaged and held your breasts. He licked around your nipples and nibbled at the mounds of hot flesh.

Your movements on top of him were becoming more and more focused. It was all you could do to not reach between your balanced bodies and denude his cock from its cloth prison. He let out a low moan as you started stroking your pussy against him harder. Your body quivered with pleasure as he tipped forward, putting his mouth on the outside of your ear.

"Do you want ... this?" He sat you down on the couch again and got down on his knees on the floor before you. Geto kissed from where your garter belt stopped on your right leg all the way around. He stopped to lick at your slick opening a few times before turning his attention back to your other thigh, continuing to kiss you there until he was met with the clasps on the opposite leg.

His hands slid easily under your twitching legs as he pulled you to the edge of your seat. "Watch me, not the movie. Understand, pretty?"

You brushed rogue bangs aside to see his face better. "Mmm .... mmhmm." You nodded almost maniacally as he began licking your clit with the focused tip of his tongue. It was all you could do to not slam your head back. It felt so good.

There was a gradually growing wet spot underneath you on the loveseat (now you see that it was ironically named). Geto started to taunt your opening with the tip of his finger. Your body jolted whenever he retreated despite him not really even entering you.

"What do you want, y/n?" You wished that you could talk. That you weren't such a fucking blubbering mess after he'd been going down on you for less than 5 minutes.

"Ah, I wan' – fffuck." You can't hold your head up any longer, so you lay it against the back, still eyeing him. "I want you ..." You manage to say the words clumsily. If your eyes were daggers, he'd have bled out by now.

"You got it." He knelt in front of you and spread your legs and pushed his hands under the long skirt.

He passes the clips on your thighs with his roaming hand. You feel a mix of excitement and nervousness as you try to concentrate. Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself of the hours of preparation. You'd be damned if you weren't going to be rewarded for all of it.

"Do ... do you think anyone will come in?" You asked, suddenly aware you're on display right now."

Geto didn't answer. "Muhh." He was too focused on you. Whatever kind of answer that was. It made you wonder if he was just being agreeable or actually listening.

"Get‐Oh shiiiittt. Oh my god, y-yes. Hmmm..." You didn't remember there were other people on the planet right now. His face was completely buried between your thighs. You see now that he couldn't answer if he wanted to. And from the way he was devouring you, you knew assuring you wasn't at the top of his to-do list.

He went at you like you were an iceblock in the most stark desert. Licking you and sucking you into his mouth. His tongue swirling around your clit had you squirming out of his grasp.

It wasn't that you wanted to break his grip on you. But the feelings were so intense. All focused on one ... tiny ... spot.

"Oh god, Geto, I need ... fffuck. I haf'ta ... " Your words were failing you.

He sat up, licking his lips, smiling at you. His hair disheveled from your fingers, finding their way onto his head. "S' sweet, pretty."

He helped sit you up and sat down next to you. His eyes drunk on your body as he looked at your lips for a minute. The corners of your mouth turned upward slightly as you inched your way over to him.

"Scoot back," you told Geto. You got on your knees on the small couch and leaned over, resting on your elbows. He was so hard. You just wanted him inside of you so badly.

You rested just above his lap as you undid his belt, button, and zipper. He muttered something and moved to help you. "Uh-uh. It's my turn now." You said, and Geto laughed a little. "Who am I to argue."

You pushed his pants down to his knees and then gently, like you were holding a priceless artifact, pulled his thick cock out from his boxers.

You couldn't help but gasp a little as you held it. The way he watched you look it over made you feel nervous. Like you had never seen something like this before. His gaze remained on you as you closely inspected each vein and all the characteristics of it.

You brought the head to your lips and kissed it, immediately dragging a moan from Geto's throat. You've never been with someone who so easily gave themselves over to the sounds. If it were at all possible, you were turned on even more at his vocalizations.

There was no hurry here on your part, so you took things slowly. You were also hoping he had nowhere to be at 2 am.

Adjusting your position so you could rest on his thighs and still utilize your hands, you slipped and felt him hit the back of your throat. "F.U.C.K." You thought. "Does he know I slipped or does he think I'm just amazing?!"

You remembered your roommate telling you the crazy shit her and her boyfriend do. "Yeah, it's really simple once you get your breathing under control. When you master that, you could choke back an actual eggplant." She told you one night after she stumbled in half naked. You promised to take her to coffee as a thank you for her invaluable advice on the subject.

"Ho– holy shit, y/n. That, that's – oh fuck." Geto was restraining himself from thrusting upwards anymore. You were doing well enough on your own.

Bringing your right hand up, you wrap it around his length and begin to stroke him. Your mouth still holding the tip, you lick him with a flat tongue.

"Y/n y/n y/n, fuck ..." He sounds and feels like he's close. You can detect the slight contracting in your mouth when you touch him a certain way or roll him around in your hot, wet mouth.

Geto reached down and cupped your face in his hands. "S-s- M'gonna, hah, ." You sat up, your skirt still somehow held in place at your waist. Your upper legs are shiny from sweat and your juices mixing around.

Geto was lifting his hips off of the couch, and the hand he had on the back of your head was becoming more firm and careless in its grip.

You started breathing heavily through your nose, preparing yourself for what you were about to do.

You took him so far deep, so suddenly, that he let out a noise you were sure was a staple in his infancy.

He leaned forward a bit and grabbed your shoulder with his right hand, and softly put his left on your ear.

"Fuck, y/n. Fucking h– oh, mmhhm, ffffuckkk!" You felt the heat hit the back of your throat and you instinctually swallowed.

You sat up and wiped your face with your forearm. It took him a moment for him to regain his composure, but he was smiling at you like you'd told him the secret to a happy life.

"Y/n. Why are you just sitting there?" The question caught you off guard. "Was – was I supposed to go?" Geto extended his arm to you, and you took it.

He pulled you up onto his lap, and you let out a little squeak at how easily he hauled you over. "Geto ... what'cha, what'cha doin'?"

"Calm down." He chuckled before he settled back into his spot on the couch. He sat you down, straddling him again, but this time, his pants were down.

"C'mere, sweetheart." He pulled you close into him, and he kissed you. Geto's arms wrapped around your waist, and his large hands kneaded the muscles on your back.

You kissed each other so deeply and slowly that you never wanted to stop. Your tongues twist around, leaving you both breathless but unwilling to be the first to pull away.

His bottom lip trailed from your neck to your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine. You let out a soft moan as his hands slid down your back.

You couldn't take the teasing you anymore. His cock was pressing into your wetness, practically begging to be swallowed up into you. "Geto ..." You tried to plead with his reasonable side. But he had no reasonable intentions right now.

Geto whispered in your ear, "You can have it all if you want." The temptation lingers to see how long you can dance over him like this. But ultimately, you sit down on him, taking his cock all the way inside of you.

Both of you throw your heads back, wildly different sounds erupting from your throats. Geto moaned deeply as you enveloped him. His skin was so hot to the touch. "Fuck Geto, ya feel s'good."

He raised your shirt above your chest and ran his thumbs over your nipples. "You're so fucking tight, y/n. Shit, I could – ah, fuck. I could cum right now."

You hastened your movements on him. The way his cock drags against your hot walls was clouding out the reality around you. "Mm–me t-to. Oh god, mmhmm. G'na cum!"

Geto slid his hand between your legs to rub your clit but he wasn't halfway with his reach when the two of you came together.

"Fuck, pretty girl." He lifted you up just enough to see him still inside of you. You looked down to see your body already letting go of the combined juices.

"Now, y/n. I have to ask. Do you love me? Or was that just sex?"

You laughed as your face turned a bright red. "I dunno. I think it's you who loves me."

Geto hooked his arms under your legs and flipped you onto your back on the couch. "Whoo! What're you doing!" You giggled and brushed his hair from his face.

"From a scientific perspective, I think this is going to require a lot of research."

You rolled your eyes, smirking. Geto lined himself up with you and eased his way in.

"For ... mm, ah ... for science!"

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bullshit-tqia · 2 days

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The other day I made a few posts about the post-hoc fallacy.

For example, it is odd to say an intersex person was oppressed for being intersex prior to anyone knowing they were intersex. How can they be perceived differently for being intersex if nobody saw them as intersex? Is being intersex some magical force that forces people to think of intersex people differently? Can we smell intersex? How do we “pick up on” someone being intersex? Why can we “just tell” if there are no clues? Why would they subconsciously know but not consciously know? If interphobia presented itself as people being horrified of intersex people and wanting to run away…why would they subconsciously be terrified? Wouldn’t it make the most sense if that subconscious feeling became conscious so someone could avoid danger?

Well…obviously what I said is true. Because being intersex isn’t a deterministic force that guides who how you’re treated even outside of people knowing you are intersex. So obviously, interphobia comes from what is done in the past, the “correction” of genitalia done on infants without the consent of the child. But that ultimately led me down into a rabbit hole of other thoughts.

Both infants and teenagers are children, they’re at different stages. Why can a trans toddler consent to social transitioning but an intersex infant can’t consent to a “corrective” surgery? Both are to “fix” something, right? For the trans toddler it’s to fix gender dysphoria. So…if it’s wrong for a toddler to consent socially…how come it is ok for that toddler to be put on puberty blockers when they’re a child, at 5 years old? It’s to fix dysphoria…right? Or at least give the child some time to think it over to see if they actually have dysphoria or not…

…Despite that puberty blockers are only given to children who are diagnosed as gender dysphoric…

They are already diagnosed, it’s determined that they need “fixing.” That’s why for all the “trans kids” who are put on puberty blockers, they are put on hormones and given surgery later. Their identity has already been determined. They are already on the path. The decision has already been made for them. The same way the infant is “fixed” for being intersex, the child is “fixed” for being gender dysphoric.

So that got me to thinking…in the same way that corrective surgery is wrong for intersex infants, then surely puberty blockers is wrong for gender dysphoric children, right? It should be up to the intersex adult or the dysphoric adults to decide whether to get surgery.

But why should there be a notion in getting it fixed in the first place?

Why is the automatic solution to give cross-sex hormones and surgery? Why was hormones the first option given to gender dysphoric individuals in 1930? Why was “corrective” surgery the first option when being faced with the existence of intersex children? Was it to prevent insecurity? Societal mistreatment?

Then from here the puzzle pieces clicked together.

It’s the exact same logic.

You must be “fixed” because accepting being “wrong” is bad.

You must be “fixed” because it is better for all of us to see you as the same from the outside while you still struggle on the inside.

No matter what, your chromosomes will not flip from XX to XY no matter what surgery you have. Your brain will not forget this. You cannot forget the memories of your past. And this constant reminder that you have so and so chromosomes will always give you dysphoria. Your own memories will give you dysphoria.

Why do they act like you’ll just forget you were born with XX/XY chromosomes?

Why do they act like you’ll just forget your secret?

There is no point in trying to run from the reality of your sex. Your past can’t be changed.

You cannot get rid of it. It will always be there. You can only look at the faux organs that have been created. You can only accept being trans.

But why can’t you accept your birth sex?

Why do any of it when you can just learn to accept your sex?

Why was anyone acting as if transition is the absolute only way to do anything??? Wouldn’t the suicide rate be 100% if that was the case???

They advertised and sold transgenderism to me, and I spent thousands of dollars on it.

When I realized this, I spent the whole day and the next, crying. I still knew my chromosomes and I still knew my past.

I never once considered gender dysphoria could be fixed any other way. I never once considered that all of it was a post-hoc fallacy.

How can I say that me hating wearing a dress was gender dysphoria before I even knew that someone can change their gender, or even before there was a substantial difference between boys and girls? I wasn’t raised by parents who strictly adhered to gender roles.

Why did I automatically assume that my discomfort with puberty and growing breasts was gender dysphoria? Is it literally impossible for it to have been me just being a child who was overwhelmed and uncomfortable with the fact that my body was changing?

I kept asking why again and again, asking questions on whether my transition was just me also trying to escape my disabilities too.

I can say it was because of gender dysphoria but there is no way to definitively prove it, so there’s no point in believing such things in full confidence. Maybe it was gender dysphoria, or maybe it was me being insecure.

I hated being trans, I hated it because I felt so lonely. Whenever I went outside I felt publicly humiliated and alone. I was just waiting for me to “blossom” into something greater. But even during the process of “blossoming” I still knew the reality of my chromosomes and my past. I was just trying to ignore it. But you can’t.

I stopped taking testosterone. It’s day 4 of my detransition. I’ve realized all of it is bullshit.

Transitioning felt like it was the only way to happiness because I wasn’t aware of any alternatives. But there are alternative paths.

So in reality, being transgender is quite literally a choice.

But why choose to make your life harder for yourself on purpose? Only for a wish? What’s the point?

I couldn’t defend my original arguments for transitioning. So I’ve dumped it entirely. I was born a girl and I am now a woman.

It is strange because I haven’t identified as a woman since I was 13. Almost a decade ago. It’s almost like a birthday. One second ago you were 20, now you’re 21, and you don’t feel a difference. It’s just that now you can go buy alcohol.

Now I can love more people and have an easier life.

#gender critical #gc feminism #gc #terfsafe #terfblr #gender confusion #transgender #lgb without the t #trans guy #transandrophobia #anti transmasculinity #transmisandry #liberal feminism #radical feminism #intersex #intersectional feminism

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laundryandtaxes · 2 years

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There are many things that are too complicated for kids to understand the science behind that kid’s can still make informed decisions on. Many of those things involve health care. Do you believe that teen and preteen girls cannot understand the ramifications of hormonal birth control and shouldn’t be allowed on it until they are adults? Or is that one ok because it suits your pre-established position?

My position was not pre-established. In fact like most people I assumed that nobody was medicalizing children in the name of the gender identities they were being taught that they have or should have via classroom instruction. Turns out I was wrong, and my position now is informed whereas my previous position was uninformed. I recall hearing that of course, transition in children never involved medicalization. I recall hearing that of course, transition in children certainly never involved surgery. And then I saw with my own two eyes doctors advocating for twelve year olds to be able to cut their breasts off. I found out that a drug regime that results in sterilization (puberty suppression before an individual establishes the ability to reproduce let alone the ability to make decisions about that ability, followed by cross sex hormones) was being offered to prepubescent children as a treatment for their psychological distress, and being a regular person who thinks children should have the chance to become adults without having trusted physicians intentionally pause their brain development in a moment of severe psychological crisis, of course I objected. But yes, there are actually all kinds of perfectly socially accepted and institutionally accepted ways of drugging children to which I object on the grounds that it is not sufficiently studied in children, on the grounds that psychiatrists in particular often allow patients to believe their emotional problems are physical problems and that telling a child this necessarily impacts their concepts of what their life can look like, and on the grounds that while we have "success" stories for all of the treatments I object to in children, we have plenty of stories of these treatments causing significant problems, and I do broadly object to the practice of treating emotional distress (whether at one's healthy developing body or at one's inability to make friends or at one's difficulties with emotional regulation) with drugs in children. One such example is that I object to the use of amphetamines to get children to, psychiatrists would say treat ADHD, and I would say, get children to sit still. In order for me to be on board with pediatric transition I would likely also need to be on board with the routine use of antidepressants and amphetamines in children. I'm not on board with those practices, so this is actually nothing more than an extention of my general position on drug use in children. No matter how much you attempt to twist my objection to this practice as being about hating transgender people or about not caring about children, you can't actually make it true that my objection comes from either of those places. And people who are not too instinctively afraid of seeing Bad Words or Bad Ideas that they shut their eyes the second they see them, fully understand that the many reasons I oppose this use of medication (I don't even want to call it medical treatment because there is physically nothing wrong with these children or with their bodies or with puberty, that these drugs could possibly themselves be fixing or acting on) cannot possibly be boiled down to not like gender nonconforming children.

However, feel free to keep comparing the use of drugs studied specifically for this purpose to prevent pregnancy during an adolescent's developmentally expected and, while gross for adults to consider, sometimes perfectly healthy development of sexual relationships with same age peers, to intentionally pausing a child's brain development in a moment of crisis with off label use of drugs that are otherwise only used for physical, medical problems and the chemical castration of sex offenders (I didn't make that up btw, you can Google the approved and other uses of GnRH agonists) and having doctors who are willing to tell them such lies as that their body is about to undergo the wrong puberty and who will let ideological conceptions like gender identity factor into clinical decisions and who think amputation of body parts of minors is no big deal guide the whole process. It genuinely reveals that you have no sense of the stakes here and no sense of what is actually fully normal child safeguarding practice. I really don't mean this to be individually rude to you, but this comparison makes it very clear that people who advocate for the ability of children to medically transition have wholly lost the plot.

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rjshepherd · 3 years

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I need more submissive karl in heat 👀 with the same partner from before. Maybe their first time being exposed to karl in such a state? Let The Service Top Shine And Praise The Good Boy

ok its spicy under the read more as usual lads

- so im not a HUGE fan of making people, particularly abused men with agency into little UWU helpless baby subs when it comes to sex.

but that being said

karl is a little helpless when it comes to heats. They come on so strong and he is still a human, unlike the lycans. he’s just not equipped to deal with so many hormones flooding his body at once, even after having heats by years. he sort of just. malfunctions. Can't do things that yesterday he could do with ease, struggles with basic tasks because he's out of his mind with fever and horny. i don't know if id say "he needs an adult" but he def needs someone sober and not lust drunk to keep him out of trouble and remind him to eat.

- this submissiveness is absolutely not by choice. were it up to him he'd keep the bravado even when bottoming. He forces himself to keep going, pretend hes not having this kind of heat until he literally collapses with either fever or exhaustion and is usually just stuck lying where he fell until a lycan comes across him or the heat wears off. its a little different with you around but either way, hes not happy about this situation and he's sure as hell going to let you know about it.

- He cant take care of this himself so he's dependent on you. but that doesn't mean he's a patient man. i always say he's a bottom but he's not the most submissive person alive. there's a lot of "hurry up and fuck me already" or " get moving i cant wait any longer". its a cross between demanding and begging. if he can move without too much pain, he likes to top from the bottom if you know what i mean.

- i think the first time you came across him like this was different. You had NO IDEA what to expect and probably didn't even realise he was in such pain because he was so adept at hiding. now days you can tell, maybe even have a calendar so you can prep a few days before. but the first time was an absolute shit show. i can see it happening in a few different scenarios, you can choose which one you like best:

1. Karl wanders into the lycans den, desperate for some relief from his heat. the hormones have him almost floating towards the other infected like a loonytoons character smelling food, hes powerless to stop its pull on him. after a few hours of searching you finally find him in the lycans den, looking bloodied, like he's been in a fight. You dont know it until later, but that's just how lycans mate. there's no difference between fighting and fucking for them and this is how karl as been dealing with things for years. You freak out, dragging his semi-conscious ass from the bottom of the lycan pile and back to the factory to patch him up. When he finally comes to he's almost feral; he's having trouble making coherent sentences, body freaking out because he's not surrounded by the scent of the lycans. Feverish and painfully aroused in seconds he tries to shy away, get up and go back to the lycans but he's just too weak. He tries to hide his embarrassment from you as he spreads his legs, making a space for you between them. i see a smile creep onto your face as you realise what he's asking you to do for him. Imagine his surprise when you do actually clamber onto his bed whispering sweet nothings "dont worry darling, im here now. ill take care of you."

2. after a few days of just avoiding you, snapping at you and generally being a grumpy unlikeable fuck you both crack. You get upset first and that sets off karl. Hes shouting and shaking and finally he just slides down the wall, too tired to put up a fight anymore. before you know it he's angry crying from the stress of it all and finally just tells you whats wrong: he's harder than a slab of concrete and needs you, just you, to fuck him so he can finally get some peace. sitting on the floor of the bathroom or something it's hard not to see the tenting in his jeans " that looks painful." you mutter " want your alpha to take care of you?" you offer.

Karl whimpers, hand flying to his mouth to stifle the sound. EVENTUALLY he nods, letting you know he's game "good boy" you murmur crouching down in front of him . just your words had such an effect on him? he must be really suffering. so why didn't he just ask? pride probably. maybe he was embarrassed that you or your scent affected him so much. you're just a tiny uninfected human how can you have such influence over the most powerful lord in the village?

having you crouch there, gazing right through his tough facade is doing things to him. He's a little hesitant at first, spreading his legs or bending over to present himself to you. but it's such a sweet gesture, who are you to deny him? you literally fuck him into the floor where he fell, in the middle of the factory where anyone could see. maybe he uses his powers to help you lift him up so you can fuck him against the wall. he's taking most of his weight but he's acting like its all you, clinging to you for dear life as you rock his world. don't forget to praise him as you go, he is your good boy after all.

3. karl wakes up besides you with the worst heat he's ever had. His scent doesn't actually affect you but yours is REALLY affecting him. you can definitely smell his, regardless. If this is how strong it is for you, it must be absolutely MADDENING for poor karl. it's like a fog that's filled the whole room. Karl is almost incoherent with lust, able to do little more than whimper and beg for you to help him out. how you've come around to becoming the alpha's alpha is beyond you, but you aren't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

His hands are already down the front of his shorts, desperately trying to find some relief for himself but he just cant . He's dropped all pretense of shyness or embarrassment; he just doesnt care at all right now. you have a little chuckle to yourself "so shameless." you laugh , leaning over him. you inhale deeply running your tongue along the shell of his ear. Karl shudders "a-are you going to help me or not?" he huffs, eyes clenched shut . You answer his question by clamping your teeth down on his neck. Karl keens, back arching in pleasure but its not enough to push him over the edge. you slap his hands away to take care of him yourself. He's hopeless when he's like this. "you keep forgetting darling." you say as you sooth the bite with a kiss " no one can touch you like i can." i think this is one of the few times Karl ever submits to you completely : He needs you but he doesn't just want you to bred him, no, he wants to be yours, wants you to mark him for the whole pack to see. you have a blank cheque for mayhem. Make as much of a mess of Karl as you want, cover him in bites and kisses from head to toe, fuck him so hard he can't sit down for days or love him so gently he clings to you and cries in joy when he finally finds relief from this heat. He's yours now, you can do whatever you want with him ~

in the days after , karl is walking around with a love drunk expression, black and blue from bites and hickeys but happier than he's been in weeks. The other lords might raise a few eyebrows but as long as you two are together ,who cares what they think?

there you go nonnie, i enjoyed this IMMENSELY. in fact i genuinely might take all 3 of these scenarios and write some ftm or pegging specific reader x karl stuff. its good shit and since ive fleshed it out here half the work is done already lmao. theres a lot of karl fics out there rn but theyre all top, macho karl taking care of the reader ( which is great dont get me wrong) but i like to cater to a different audience ~

#karl heisenberg #resident evil heisenberg #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #re8 #my stuff #my writing #spicy #asks #karl x reader #karl heisenberg x reader

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thecloserkin · 5 years

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book review: Carolyn Slaughter, Relations (1976)

Genre: Gothic psychological suspense

Is it the main pairing: yes

Is it canon: yes

Is it explicit: yes

Is it endgame: no

Is it shippable: yes

Bottom line: I read this concurrently with Wuthering Heights and allow me to play sommelier—10/10 recommend this wine pairing for maximum gothic extraness. tw: suicide

There’s boatloads of sex but this is not a horny story. It’s a lyrical story—in the sense of expressing direct, spontaneous feeling. Not that a story couldn’t be both (Wuthering Heights is both horny and lyrical) but I actually want to spend a minute defending this book to my past self. The first time I read it, I was unimpressed because Relations wasn’t much of a Love Story. You know the kind I’m talking about, you know the beats you’d expect it to hit: here is a pair of siblings tOrMeNtEd by their iLLiCiT pAsSiOn!!! I mean, the mode isn’t always tragic or dark but even the cream-puff versions of this arc entail some sort of line being crossed or feelings being caught. We are used to characters who begin in initial-state, a journey brings them to end-state and a clear delta separates the two conditions. This book says: fuck that. Fuck change. Fuck growth. My best days are behind me and I’m ok with that because now my brother is lost to me and I give zero fucks about anything else. We have a novel steeped in the symbolism of winter (the season of loss & deadness that is impermeable to change). Our pregnant heroine dreads her impending due date, in part because the child is not her beloved brother’s; but mostly because having a baby is just about the biggest change a body can be subjected to, and she’s actively averse to change. All she wants is her brother back. If you’re looking for characters to fall in love, as in transition from feeling one way to feeling another way, this is most likely not the book for you. But I enjoyed it a whole helluva lot and let me tell you why.

The predominant note of this story is MELANCHOLY. It’s backwards-looking rather than forward-looking, things just keep getting worse and worse for our protagonist and yet she’s unapologetic about what she did: she loved her brother, loves him still and always will. What I admire is that she is steadfast in the face of remorseless despair. Compare these quotes, this one from near the beginning: “I feel listless, often close to tears. I am beset by fiendish pangs.” This is from near the end: “I am hollow, clanging with emptiness; there is no solution.” Do you see what I mean by no delta between initial-state and end-state? I think there is an important distinction between this book and Forbidden, which holds out the promise of a happy ending only to snatch it away at the last minute, in that Relations puts its cards on the table & promises no such thing. It’s melancholy all the way down (well, three-quarters of the way down it transpires this book is in fact a high-concept Folgercest prequel I SHIT YOU NOT friends read it yourself).

In the novel’s present, our girl Catherine is entombed in a emotionally sterile marriage; in the past she grows up warmed by the sun of her brother Christopher’s regard & affection. Slaughter chooses to locate these strands at two crucial points in Cathy’s development—age ten (prepubescent) and age thirty (the age at which women’s “biological clocks” start ticking—this is relevant because Slaughter is writing in the 1970s even if Cathy is living in the late Victorian Era). We should note here that Christopher is older than Catherine by two years, aka the universally acknowledged INCEST SWEET SPOT (I know some of you favor twincest but you are WRONG and I will prove it in my forthcoming monograph on the topic). At age ten, Cathy and Christopher have intercourse for the first time after stumbling on their father’s secret porn stash. The sex is more mechanical than enjoyable, and that’s the point: they start banging out of curiosity, keep banging out of habit, and only later do hormones and feelings kick in. Ten- and twelve-year-olds just don’t get horny the way older kids do, and that is, again, the entire point. Slaughter structures it so the sex happens first (in the very first flashback chapter). The feelings don’t follow, the feelings don’t emerge, the feelings were there all along. What the sex does is seal a secret between the two of them, the secret of their father’s porn stash (hidden in an abandoned wing of the house).

If we turn back to the present, we find Catherine yoked to a man who excites zero feelings in her. By her own admission she married him because “I found him pleasant to listen to and he never made any demands upon me.”These are the qualities that recommend a husband to her—that he impose no psychic demands whatsoever! All her energies are already absorbed in reminiscence lol. We find out he proposed to her with a speech worthy of Pride & Prejudice’s Mr. Collins, and that he possesses not a particle of passion. Which is exactly how Cathy wanted it:

I entered the marriage in a state of apathy; simply undergoing it because of Mamma’s pressure, and because there seemed no other real alternative apart from marriage open to me.

We were married in the winter of my thirtieth year.

I walked down the aisle in a state of complete inertia, my sense muffled by the laudanum … I wished with all my heart he could have been my brother.

File away that glancing reference to winter; more on that later. For now please focus on how numb she is—not discontent, just apathetic. Cathy insists the present brings her nothing but pain and insists she doesn’t regret the choices that brought her here. She’s unrepentant about loving Chris, and explicitly rejects the conventional moral framing that would view her past self as “sinning” and her present self as “redeemed”:

I could not rid myself of the old and over-riding passion of my childhood. I decided eventually that no one would ever, could ever, be what my brother had been to me.

If I could have felt then, and now, that there was some evil in what we did, then I could have borne it. But I could find no evil in it.

I would not be so oppressed if I could but feel my past was wicked and scandalous. If I believed that, i could gladly submit to the institution or the grave. But some buoyant spirit within me keeps insisting that what I had was fine, and contained elements of true beauty.

“The institution or the grave,” she says. Those are the choices. If you want to have Thoughts and Feelings and not just a Body, then your lot as a woman is to end up either in a sanitarium or dead in childbed. Only when she looks back at her childhood does Cathy perceive a time when it was different, when Christopher, at least, saw her as a whole-ass person. Yes, this is another entry in dr. thecloserkin’s ongoing “Incest vs. the Patriarchy” series; if you guys thought I was going to stay off my bullshit for more than ten minutes then joke’s on you hahaha. Here are some quotes that show she was getting her emotional needs met as a child (she’s borderline suicidal as an adult):

leaves me with only the memory of such complete intimacy. It is beyond my reach now, and perhaps I shall never agin recapture it though I live to be ninety.

there was no discord in our interests and desires.

We talked all the time. We never ran out of conversation; I never grew tired of his speech.

It never occurred to me…that we would not always be together. There seemed no need for anyone else—he filled out my present and my past.

Ok so if everything was so idyllic back then what the heck happened? How did it all fall apart? Slaughter withholds the crucial revelatory scene until close to the end, but the story up till then is permeated by a very Gothic sense of creeping dread. The elephant on the horizon is change. Cathy and Chris are on the precipice of puberty, which portends seismic changes in their bodies, and the accompanying changes in their roles as they inch toward adulthood. Cathy doesn’t handle it well:

the old fear. A fear of things changing; of his face looking at me in an unfamiliar way; of our world altering and growing cold about me.

There seemed no question why it should not always continue in this way, and no reason why our bodies or our minds should change or suddenly not fit.

Our life became a little cloister: and I never wanted to leave it. The idea of change haunted me.

I was insisting, always, like a child, the nothing must change; nothing must happen to destroy our life together.

And here is where I connect her fear of change with her favorite season, winter:

I was afraid of change. It seemed menacing. I realized the sadness and bleakness of the winter really suited my nature best. It made me feel more real; sadness now seemed more real than happiness; more permanent, and therefore easier to bear.

the seasons change and find me the same. Nothing touches me, nothing makes me laugh or weep. I have no real substance.

OMG SHE’S A FUCKING REVENANT

”You are so thin. Your limbs are slim as these winter branches.”

I have touched my roots, my beginnings, the things that have formed me.

This book is an anti-change pro-winter manifesto. Winter is the season of desolation, where nothing grows, and if there is one change she adjures above all others it’s the life presently taking root within her womb:

If I am a seed about to burst, if I am to flower, the old seed, my Self, must die. Some new thing will grow out of me; but I must perish. I cannot have it; I cannot allow it to happen. I must protect myself from this that would devour me.

My body continued to change according to its own will, nothing could shift the determined embryo within me … I cannot bear the thought of this thing growing within me, living off my blood … I feel nothing but doom, and a great fear if this shall finally come to pass.

The progress of her pregnancy is literally making her mentally ill. I want to link this horror imagery to child!Cathy’s musings on the decomposition of her father’s corpse:

I wondered if all the flesh had fallen off by this time. I imagined his bones growing into the wood of the coffin, and the trees growing into his skull, the roots twisting around his rotting limbs.

People who read this passage and think “this is a really tight horror aesthetic but what is it doing in the middle of my luscious love story” are missing the point. This is a horror story. But instead of framing the incest as the impure act that violates and threatens our accepted categories, we are invited to view the pregnancy as a gross & unnatural hijacking of Cathy’s body. Her body’s fecundity defeats and puzzles her. She actually tells us about her nightmare wedding before she tells us about her real wedding; in her nightmare she looks at her bridegroom and:

transfixed with horror because he is without the male member — all that resides in the space between his thighs is a burnt-out stub—like the hacked branch of a tree deadened and blacked by many winters.

So far we’ve had body horror associated with (1) her father (2) her husband (3) her unborn baby. Notice who’s not on this list? Notice who she always thinks of with tenderness? Notice who doesn’t ever evoke an iota of fear or horror in Cathy? That’s right! Her brother. The whole incestuous affair is really an own-goal on patriarchy’s part, because the same doctor who warns Cathy’s mother against Cathy’s “wild and unnatural attachment to her brother” goes on to say:

Little girls, Madam, are the scourge of the earth. They have no future, but to grow into that unhealthy state of womanhood, with its unclean festerings and grotesque swellings of the abdomen. I would that little girls could always stay the pure young things they are before the age of eight.

This is some next-level IT WAS EVE’S FAULT SHE ATE THE APPLE spin. Can you blame Cathy for taking this venerable authority figure at his word, and staying “pure” by staying a child, by warding off womanhood and childbearing altogether? goodforher.jpg

Real quick here are some lighthearted episodes from their childhood since it’s not all doom and gloom: Christopher marches next door to confront the Frenchman who is maybe sleeping with their mom and is definitely perving on Cathy. Christopher returns the Frenchman’s gift of silk stockings with a grand declaration of “My sister Catherine has no need for these.” That’s right shut him down Chris!!! Also: Cathy falls into a frozen pond and Christopher rescues her. Their negligent mother blames Christopher. Cathy is shaking with pneumonia and all she wants to do is “make the sad look leave my brother’s sweet face.” Christopher refuses to leave her side until she rallies from the fever. He is thirteen:

I think that Christopher and I half-died together in that terrible week, and afterward, when the terror had passed, we were never quite the children we had been before.

Congrats kids you have undertaken a symbolic journey to the underworld!!!! Good job.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

It wouldn’t be a real incest story without a third sibling, an odd-man-out who helps us triangulate our main pairing’s relationship. Edward is a sociopath and a bully. Parents playing favorites always wreaks havoc with children’s sense of self-worth, but I think in this case it’s 90% down to Edward just being a bad egg (fwiw their father, when he was alive, did favor Christopher). Edward is a peripheral figure for most of their childhood; he appears only to “bang on our door to tell us to be silent for our giggling kept him awake.” That’s right, our door—teenage Catherine and Christopher share not just a room but a bed (!). Edward resurfaces as an adult to beg for Catherine’s intercession with his wife. He married an heiress, and now he seems to have soured on her. He talks about her “malady” and her “hysterical nonsense.” She has “phantom confinements.” They are “phantom” because she is barren. Sir you are literally a Victorian dude named Edward who keeps his mad wife locked up in the attic, you can sit allllll the way down. A heavily pregnant Catherine rolls up to Edward’s house just in time to witness his wife’s suicide: ”I had to make sure there was nothing inside me,” explains the poor woman, lying in a pool of blood after cutting her abdomen open with a knife. This seems fine. This whole society seems fine, right? Catherine reflects: “Ill-health or madness was her only solution, married as she was to a man who so complacently felt himself her superior” and “We are sepulchered alive in this close world, and want more room.” If this applies to her sister-in-law’s tragic fate it applies with equal force to her own situation. Cathy may not be physically barren but her inner life is empty af.

I’m going to talk about the breakup now. The climax of this book is the last time Cathy and Chris have sex. Contrast the arc of many slow-burn stories where the climax is the first time the main pairing has sex. Cathy’s menses doesn’t even arrive until after the incestuous affair is over! And what precipitates the breakup? Well, their mother decides to take the family on a seaside vacation. This is the summer when everything changes (Cathy’s favorite season is winter, and she abhors change). As for what changes, exactly, it’s kind of unclear? Wasn’t like they got caught having beach sex (which they had a ton of). The forces of change are wholly internal. They’re growing up. They’re waking up to the existence of social taboos that will brand their love “unnatural” & worse. As readers we can see that Catherine and Christopher’s attachment is as natural as breathing, and it’s actually the Incest Is Icky crowd that’s drawing harmful artificial boundaries. What happens is there’s a local girl who has obvious designs on Chris. She’s a nonentity but the mere existence of someone outside of Catherine and Christopher, someone who views one of them as an object of sexual desire, sort of punctures the bubble they’ve hitherto been living in. They can’t pretend society doesn’t exist or that what they’re doing isn’t immoral by its lights:

”We have never felt bad before. It just happened and there was no harm in it. I see no harm in it now—I cannot feel suddenly that it is wrong … but even if it is, why does it signify? Nobody knows.” ”Yes, but why does nobody know? It must be because we have deliberately tried to hide it?”

Christopher is the one who unilaterally decides that incest is wrongdirtybad and it has to end. Christopher is the one who seeks out Rando Local Girl and fucks her just to prove how serious he is about ending it with Cathy, which imo was inflicting a pointlessly cruel injury for no reason?? Wtf Chris I thought you were one of the good ones. What I love about Cathy is the steadfastness of her conviction—she accepts Christopher’s decision but she is far from convinced by his reasoning, his deference to social norms. Here’s Cathy’s take: “it seems to me that to live in a way that is contrary to one’s own nature, to live in a way that is false, that is the evil. The discontent grows like a cancer.” Authenticity ought to count for something, no? But these kids and their beautiful love are ultimately outmatched by, and broken by, the weight of social mores:

I could not bear to think of anything changing. I wanted it to stay the same dear way it had always been; ever since I could remember … but the spell was broken; we could not pretend any more. We had to stop being children. “Please. Once more.”

And that’s the breakup scene. It’s devastating. Cathy keeps staring at this one beauty mark on Christopher’s familiar well-loved face and she’s crying and I’m crying too. Recall that they’re still sharing a room/a bed up to this point? “The first night alone was the worst,” says Cathy. Imagine losing the person who is your whole world….overnight. Oof. There’s a time-jump of a few years, and Chris announces he’s off to—I think South Africa? I think this is around the time of the Boer War? I didn’t make any detailed notes and I’ll be damned if I’m going to fish for my copy of the book just to confirm what we already know, that it’s the 1800’s and the sun never set on the British Empire:

”I must get away from here and see something different; begin again…I cannot imagine a day without your face, or your sweet companionship. I do love you. But this must be for the best.”

Christopher goes off to doing colonial-settler stuff, initially. Here’s his first letter home:

I want you to be happy and grow up straight without me.

As opposed to growing up crooked, or growing up gay?? Here are subsequent letters where he seems to have done a complete 180:

thought it would be simpler to be away from you, from the constant temptation. It is not. My nightmares terrify me, they are eating my brain. I don’t know how long this can last.

AND THEN he writes he’ll be coming home for Christmas! I must’ve missed the memo where this story turns into a straight-up Folgers fic but that’s about where we are. It’s literally Folgercest. He goes to Africa explicitly to get away from her. Time and distance cannot suppress their feelings. He comes home to find her still waiting for him:

”Why have you clung to me, or rather the memory of me. For surely the memory is better than this twisted, pathetic creature before you?” “I have found no one better,” I said simply.

Asdfdfkdfjd this reunion scene is heartbreaking bc Christopher and Catherine are barely five minutes in each other’s company before Edward intrudes, claims to have found them in a compromising position, claims to have suspected all along about the incest, almost comes to blows with Christopher, tells him to get out. And Chris does. Cathy doesn’t even get to say goodbye. Edward’s presence is so clearly a case of entrapment—he was expecting Chris to come to her, he was expecting to catch them doing something “inappropriate” even though it sounds like they were only embracing—that there is no doubt in my mind Edward’s intent was to hurt Cathy and Chris, rather than to protect Cathy’s reputation or whatever bullshit he was spouting. We have seen from Edward’s abuse of his wife that he is no kind of moral authority. He does, however, succeed in “making me feel unclean, and dirt was attaching itself to me with every foul word he said.” In this scene Edward is handy synecdoche for patriarchy, which berates Cathy with accusations of sinfulness while actively stifling her every creative impulse and intellectual endeavor. If this book has a villain (and I don’t think it does; it’s not that kind of book) Edward is it. I find that edifying. It’s not Cathy’s husband who’s the primary antagonist standing in the way of her self-actualization—the husband is no more than an empty suit—it’s her other brother. One brother saves her and the other damns her.

After Edward runs Chris off and Chris goes back to Africa there are a few more letters, including this one: “that nothing has changed in my heart. That I love you with the passion of our youth, with the strength of all these long, long years.” Thank you for the affirmation Chris! I needed it even if Cathy didn’t. But the war is ramping up and Chris is headed into a combat zone and the odds of his survival do not look good. Cathy is already preparing to grieve him. She’s also preparing to go into labor any day now. These two threads, her brother’s impending death and her child’s impending birth, merge in the final pages of the book where Cathy is just clearly SO OVER IT:

I have nothing to fight, yet the waiting is most terrible … I have nothing to do but wait. I have nothing to leave.

It is hard to go on. How can I escape this life, this round of boredom and other births? O, that I could be ten and happy!

That’s the end but come on. Raise your hand if you don’t think this girl will 100% yeet herself into the sea and they’ll rule it “postpartum depression”? Anybody? No?

#book review #carolyn slaughter

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whoishisaribi · 5 years

Text

Summer

Work Title: Summer

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Slash

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Relationships: Theo Raeken & Stiles Stilinski; Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Stiles Stilinski; Theo Raeken

Additional Tags: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Asexual Stiles Stilinski, Asexual Theo Raeken, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Getting Together, Self-Acceptance, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Tara Raeken Lives, Everyone Is Alive, Theo Raeken Has Issues, Mentioned Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Past Relationship(s), mentioned Theo Raeken/Tracy Stewart, Alcohol, Family Drama, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Human Theo Raeken

Language: English

Words: 4915

Summary: Theo felt like a failure for his whole life. With Stiles, he feels like less of a failure.

Theo was handsome and he knew it perfectly well. He worked hard to get this body, such a look and was not ashamed to use it.

And why should he? Manipulation was amusing, much funnier, than just outright asking people to give him what he wanted. It was kind of a challenge, to make people think they decided something themselves.

Maybe he was emotionally constipated because of all the shit that happened in the 'picture-perfect' family of his, like possible parents divorce, sister's depression and his own inability to see himself as something but a failure. Though, one cannot prove anything.

So Theo threw himself in parties, manipulating people and using his body. Unhealthy? Sure. Didn't provide needed relief? Yes. Made him angry that he was a failure because of not feeling anything? Absolutely.

Maybe everything would be easier if he at least found sex appealing the way his classmates did. But other than 'yeah, it was sex, we fucked, now I have fewer hormones in my body to ruin my mood' he felt nothing. Neither with girls nor with guys.

But he didn't. He knew what attracted others and decided to roll with it. The worst thing about sex, though, was that people wanted something more, like, relationships or whatever. Theo didn't want one. Not now, and not with someone, who would probably turn their back at him, if they get even a glimpse of all the shit that's happening in his life and mind.

And the only person who really didn't buy his whole look and attitude so far was Stiles. Theo wondered about him sometimes. Beacon Hills was a small town, and Beacon Hills High was tiny. Everybody knew each other. And also there was no one who didn't know Stiles.

The guy had a very weird idea about networking, and he also seemed to know everything about everyone. If one wanted information and help, they should seek Stiles, or whatever. At the same time he had a strange price, and also his help was sometimes worse than doing it themselves.

It kind of intrigued Theo in a way, that this description suited a trickster entity more than some teenage guy who flailed too much and was sheriff's son. Theo didn't want to ask around, not because he really believed Stiles knew everything in this school, but because he didn't want to attract attention to this little interest of his.

Though, some irrational part of his mind thought that Stiles could get him. He always looked at the one he talked to with this weird intensity, that made a lot of people uncomfortable. Theo had a misfortune to feel it on his own skin. Stiles' eyes almost turned black, and it felt like he could read one's mind, or change it.

And maybe some small part of Theo hoped Stiles saw real him. Just to have someone, who he could just relax with, without a thought in his head. Without this overwhelming feeling like the world was falling apart around him and he was not enough to do anything about it.

But that was just a delusion, one of a few he allowed himself to have.

***

Theo kept screwing around just for the fun of it, maybe to feel something, to test the boundaries he can or cannot cross. He wasn't stupid enough to try any drugs or even cigarettes, but he was reckless enough to try any extreme sport he could find. Nothing really matched his beloved skateboard. Though, climbing was almost fun.

He was driving back to Beacon Hills after the ride to the next town. There was a piece of better climbing equipment, and also Tara's therapist because their mother was too ashamed she even needed therapy to let her visit the local mental facility. Theo called it bullshit, and always rode her there.

When they were riding through preserve road, he noticed something unusual, a broken car with someone bent over the bumper. There was only one person in their town to ride such godawful baby-blue jeep: Stiles.

Tara flinched when the car stopped. "What, did you decide to finally get rid of me?" she asked with a weak smile.

Theo looked at her for a few seconds, because he never really gave her even the idea that he would like to not have her. Well, at least, he thought so. "No," he finally answered and undid the safety belt. "My classmate's car seems to be broken, gonna ask what's up".

"And when did you become so nice?" Tara huffed and leaned back at the seat.

"You're breaking my heart," Theo added theatrically.

"That's the only thing I can do," came the bitter answer. Theo clenched his chin and left the car. That's mental illness talking in her, and, honestly, Theo had no strength to really deal with it right now. It was almost pointless.

"Hey," Theo said when came close enough to the car.

Stiles flinched and raised duct tape like he was going to hit Theo with it. It looked almost comical, but of one image, that he would have some kind of stepper– well, better not think about it. Stiles really looked startled for a few seconds, probably, before he registered who was next to him. Eyes almost comically open, and mouth as well.

"Oh, Theo, hey, man," Stiles sighed and put his hand down. "Isn't it too late for you to drive this road?"

"I can say the same about you," Theo smirked and flexed his shoulders.

Stiles didn't even look down from his face. "Well, then let's not ask this question," he huffed and looked back at his jeep.

"Need a hand?" Theo leaned on the bumper, looking at the insides of the jeep, and, honestly, that sight would follow him in nightmares. So many duct tape should be illegal, Theo wondered how did Stiles even make this thing move.

"Well, you already here, so yeah," Stiles chuckled. "Try to start it."

Theo nodded and went to the driver seat. Well, Stiles didn't really react, maybe, he didn't like guys. Though, no, Theo certainly saw how he was making out with Isaac just a few weeks ago. He was pretty passionate. Later he kissed Caitlin, also during the game of truth or dare, so, no, Stiles was attracted to both.

The car didn't ignite. "Ok, stop," Stiles said and came back to the jeep. Theo left the car.

"Maybe you should call a mechanic?" He suggested. Stiles shrugged.

"I will, but only if I won't make her work."

Theo didn't comment on how Stiles called this piece of junk 'she'. People tend to get attached to things. Plus it was nice to know it, just in case.

"We may try and kickstart it, or, at least, help you take it to repair service".

Stiles didn't answer right away, so Theo wondered if he even heard him.

"Why did you even stop? You aren't an altruistic type," Stiles still didn't look up.

And this phrase felt like a hit. It wasn't bitter, or exactly untrue, but Stiles said it like he really wondered about reasons.

"I may not be altruistic, but I am decent enough to recognize someone who needs help. Because this road doesn't have a mobile connection, does it?"

Stiles paused. "Right," he muttered. "Try one more time".

The car didn't start, not even close.

"Well, will you give me a pull?"

"Wanna kickstart it?" Theo nodded.

"Yeah, I have the rope somewhere."

And so they spent a few minutes attaching Stiles' jeep to Theo's. Tara was weirdly silent this whole time, so Theo was glad when he saw her fast asleep.

"Anyway," Stiles said, stopping right next to driver's seat. "If it won't kickstart, maybe you can get me to the repair service on Elm Street?"

"Sure," Theo nodded and smiled. Stiles didn't even smirk and went back to the car.

"Classmate, huh," Tara mumbled when Theo started the car again.

"You know him, Stiles," Theo answered. He saw Stiles waving at him when he got into the car, so he rode down the road.

"This kid from the little league with big ears?" Tara huffed. "Well, some adulting did him good."

"Did it," Theo mused.

"And here I thought you have eyes," Tara huffed and turned around. "The car didn't start, by the way. So what's the plan?"

"We take him to the repair service," Theo shrugged.

"Ok. I hope he’s worth all this time."

More times than not Tara sounded like an asshole. Theo, once again, decided to ignore it.

***

"Thanks, man, you really helped me," Stiles smiled weakly and patted Theo's shoulder. He could feel the gesture was genuine, and not the one some people initiate to just touch him.

Theo learned not to touch people first, and not even come close if he didn't want to be intimidating. Sometimes he had a feeling, people found his face intimidating when he didn't put an effort into keeping it friendly.

"No problem, it wasn't a bother. Do you want a ride home as well?"

"Nah, my dad’s gonna get me," Stiles waived his hands. "And, besides, I guess, Tara is tired anyway, so get her home".

Theo was a bit surprised he recognized Tara. He also very doubted she really wanted to go home, but Stiles had no chance of knowing so. Also, he didn't see a reason to push it.

"Ok. Well, good luck with the car," because only sheer luck could even save this jeep.

"Thanks," Stiles nodded and went back to repair station.

Tara didn't comment on this at all. When they got home, the father wasn't at home, and the mother sat at the table and lulled the wine-glass. Yeah, everything was just the usual.

***

Lydia Martin's end of the school year party was a big event for them all. Well, she held the best parties, so Theo was just happy to be here. A lot of people gathered there, you could always talk to whoever, drink and relax. He didn’t allow himself to become way too drunk, because in this state he would just get into a fight. The only one who saw him like that was Josh, he also was the person who helped afterward to deal with the hangover.

This party’s goal wasn’t to get drunk, it wasn’t even really to relax. Theo observed Stiles and came to some interesting thoughts before, but now he became sure of it.

Stiles always joked inappropriately, flirted left and right, he was touchy-feely with everyone of his gang, and, for whatever reason, he didn't have any significant other since Malia moved elsewhere. Theo knew rumors about Stiles being bi, saw it. He also heard, Malia broke up with him over something. They both were tight-lipped about personal gossips. Maybe they decided to stay in long-distance relationships, but, as far as Theo saw on her facebook page (and as far as he remembers actively flirting with her), she didn't consider herself to be with Stiles.

So, what made a pretty outgoing guy, with a decent look, stay away from dating and making an actual move on someone – that was something interesting. He doubted Stiles didn’t have people asking him out, or, at least, being explicitly into him. Maybe, if Theo would still have this interest at the beginning of the next school year, he’ll go for it.

Stiles was joking around, always smiling, flailing, and there was a group of people around him, catching his every word and movement. He was fascinating.

"Ya dun listen," Tracy said, a bit tipsy. He really hoped someone would take her home because he didn't really feel like it.

"You said Corey and Mason are making out in the bedroom," Theo repeated and looked back at her. She was really drunk, and he, probably, would have to take her home, the sooner the better.

They had a few nights stands not so long ago, but he didn’t want it to become something permanent. She did, though. Still wished. Theo really hoped the summer in Europe would change that. Tracy was leaving in a few days.

He noticed Stiles’ gaze. It was so fast, so it might be some sort of wishful thinking.

***

It was just the first week of summer vacations. The family was insufferable once again. Father was getting on Tara for not finishing her education and just abandoning it, he also said something of how they won’t have enough money to educate one more failure. So Theo screamed back at him, of how they would have more money if he didn’t spend it all on his bitch, cheating bastard. Or how he ruined everything.

Theo rarely had a screaming match with any of his parents, preferring to release his anger doing some extreme sports, working out in the gym or whatever. But this– this was it. Father was too shocked to fight, Tara giggled hysterically and left the room, and mother just clapped slowly.

So Theo just ran, took his skateboard, and left the house, while parents began arguing again. He heard exactly the same arguments for the last eight years since that incident with Tara getting lost in the forest and barely surviving in the cold. Somehow the almost tragedy just made their family worse to wear.

He had some favorite places to skate when he wanted to be left alone. This was some rare time he could forget about all the things that made his head hurt and just feel his board underneath. How he needed to keep the balance of his body to not fall. Honestly, if Theo had a chance, he would like to just skate.

This ramp was the empty Hales house pool. There was a big fire that killed almost every family member, and this tragedy created just one more weird urban legend about this house. As for Theo, Hales just had a pretty neat pool. It was big, kind of round and just perfect.

The walk in the preserve was nice, and probably deadly, so more adrenaline for him. But he didn’t care. Maybe when he would come back home, his father would be gone for good, or Theo would have a very awkward time. He couldn’t wait for his coming of legal age this autumn, to just leave. Yes, he would still be in his senior year, but he could manage.

"You know, they say if you are near old Hale house at the exact moment of sunset, you may hear their screams," the male voice startled Theo, but he still landed smoothly on the bottom of the pool and looked up.

Stiles was here, wearing a dark blue hoodie and just looking more relaxed than a transpassing son of the sheriff even should.

"I'm not here to check it, though," Theo shrugged. "Just to skate."

"And why exactly do you excuse himself," Stiles huffed and squatted next to the border of the pool. "It's not like we are on private property, right?" his smile became wide, and still didn't reach his eyes.

"I won't tell if you don't," Theo's smile was a bit crooked.

How Josh put it once, Theo had a ‘resting bitch face’, and it could scare people without a smile. And, well, sometimes he did use this for his benefit, as well as his attractiveness. Now he felt like it all was in vain because Stiles just blinked and began tapping the ground in front of him.

"Well, if you tell on me, I'll tell about you".

"Sounds right," Theo nodded. He took his right leg from the board and took it from the ground. "So, what, are you going to stay to listen to last Hale's screams?"

"Yeah, the sunset is in like a minute or two. Are you?"

"If you want me to keep you a company," Theo flexed his shoulders, silently attracting Stiles' attention.

Stiles didn't even lower his gaze, still looking at Theo's face.

"Of course I do, if rumors are true, Hales didn't just scream, they howled. And their howl attracts wolves, who would eat any unfortunate soul who is close enough. And I run faster than you do, so there is a bigger chance I'll survive," Stiles said it completely seriously, and Theo's mind shortcut. He stared at Stiles, feeling weird like he spoke to Tara on her bad days. Then he looked sideways, feeling the small honest smile.

"Well, there weren't any wolves in California for fifty years, so, I guess, we're safe," Theo went to Stiles, put the board next to him and raised himself from the bottom only using his hands.

"But there are coyotes, and they're even worse," Stiles winced and shook his head. "Their howl sounds like a human cry."

Stiles didn't really look at Theo, just at the forest behind the pool.

"Are you alone?" Theo asked, more out of politeness, and not because he was curious.

"Yeah," Stiles didn't reply more, even though Theo guessed, Scott didn’t come with him. Maybe he was with Allison again, because she didn’t leave this summer. "And you are as well, and also on your feet," he nodded and stood up, turning his attention, from the forest to Theo. There were no sun rays because of the tall trees rounding the house, so his eyes looked almost black.

"Mhm," Theo nodded. He kept looking at Stiles eyes, uncomfortable to down his gaze but also feeling weirdly scrutinized by his look. It wasn't particularly calculating, but still unpleasant.

Theo wondered what exactly happened to Stiles, to make him look that old when eye to eye. And why he acted so differently, compared to what he saw just a week ago.

"Wanna ride, if we survive the run against wolves?" Stiles was the first to avert his gaze, mostly because he looked at the house.

Theo didn't even know one could feel like prey when somebody like Stiles looked at them. Like, yes, compared to the Little League time, he did grow up well, but Theo couldn't really call him commonly handsome. Maybe because he wasn't looking at him much, but anyway. He was lanky, his nose was weirdly upturned, and, well, he still made it work, when he was animated and more alive than this intensity he gave some weird urban legend vibe.

"You know," Stiles began with a small smile on his lips. "There were a few cases of something wolf-like to attack people lately, next to the old Hale house".

Theo felt his stomach sink. Screw this, Stiles could be outright terrifying, and Theo now understood perfectly well where his reputation came from.

"You are joking, right?" He asked, changing his voice to sound more skeptical and sarcastic.

"I'm not," Stiles shrugged. "Oh, look, the sun is gone, and no howling, huh. I guess, the legend is false and it just so happened that all bodies were found somewhere nearby. Though maybe coyotes decided to make a den out of Hale house, and all the now-corpses just came too close. Well, we'll never know," Stiles put his hand on Theo's shoulder. "Let's go".

It was probably the weirdest thing that happened that day.

***

“Is your car even working today?" Theo asked with a smile when they went back to the road.

"If you want a lift home you'll stop bad mouthing my baby,” Stiles huffed.

“Of course I do, but I saw the monstrosity your jeep’s insides were. That’s like Lovecraftian abomination, that definitely only runs on the sheer magic of elder gods,” Theo shrugged. Stiles huffed and pushed him a bit.

“No, really. So many duct tape should be illegal. I wonder how do you even make this thing move.”

“Maybe I am the elder abomination,” Stiles said with an absolutely straight face, but then he smiled, and even in the darkness his features softened. “Just kidding, though there are a lot of weird things going on in Beacon Hills, like this Hale house rumor is resent, there are so many things that exist even before we were born.”

“Wanna explore?” Theo said without really thinking about it. He felt like this was his chance to get out of the house, and, well, this sounded interesting.

“Hell yeah, man!” Stiles exclaimed happily and almost jumped, which was potentially the bad idea in the dark wood when neither of them bothered with the flashlight. Though he managed not to fall, and they finally reached the jeep.

Miraculously, the car started. It was even nice inside, the decent smell, and it seemed to be well-kept. Stiles didn’t have a normal radio, but there was a police one. They didn’t even acknowledge its presence.

When they were riding back to the town, Stiles was talking about all unsolved mysteries of Beacon Hills. There were surprisingly a lot of them, and Theo found himself liking this.

***

They spent almost every day together. Stiles was livid about everything he could get his hands on. He also flirted with everybody, but it seemed natural, something he didn’t even think of, before doing. It was the same as breathing to him, and it’s been a while since Theo got so many mixed signals. It was really distracting.

Stiles was probably more happy about someone to really listen to his ramblings, than the fact they ventured into all these abandoned buildings.

Theo spent more time in the library than he ever did in his life. And it was a nice change of pace because his family life went to hell after that one time.

Parents finally decided to push the divorce. They didn’t set the process in the trial yet, because Theo was underage, and they would have to deal with ‘who’s going to take care of him’. Neither wanted to.

After one more family scene, Tara decided to move with her girlfriend she found in the neighbor town. That also created a stink, so Theo just– preferred not to come home a lot. Not that any of them noticed.

Stiles was actually chill about giving him a place to sleep during the night, or just take him somewhere in the nighttime. He was already eighteen, and also the sheriff’s son, so nobody really questioned him. He also knew all patrol routes, which was a bit scary.

At some point Theo found himself thinking, that he liked being with Stiles. Not as the way to distract himself from family drama, but genuinely being with him. Listening to his ramblings, watching him flail, frown, and also sit down together in silence. Theo didn’t think Stiles was even capable of being silent or still before. But he was when he read some old archives with the intensity only he was capable of. When he tried to figure something out.

Theo was screwed.

So he decided to go for it, even if Stiles’ mixed signals weren’t about romance.

“Maybe we should just go to the cinema today?” he proposed. “I think, the movie you talked about like a week ago is out already.”

Stiles blinked and looked up, surprised. His mouth was open like Theo just said something impossible. Maybe he did.

“Oh, yeah, I think it should,” Stiles coughed and looked down at the paper he was reading, perplexed. “Uh, yes, right.” He nodded to something in his thought.

“Should we call it a date, I wonder,” Theo smiled and leaned closer to Stiles over the table.

He blinked and raised his eyebrows.

“Well, sure, though I thought all our adventures were dates as well,” he teased and also leaned to Theo. He did it way too fast and sudden, so they almost hit their heads.

The laugh was way too loud, and if the librarian cared, she would scream at them in this weird scream-whisper. Just to not feel awkward.

So in their usual ‘let’s play Buzzfeed unsolved’ game became more varied. It was almost nice, Theo almost forgot why he didn’t date.

Until they were in a cafe and he saw the kissing pair. It wasn’t that Stiles and Theo didn’t kiss or cuddle. No, they both enjoyed it, even though that was a bit awkward at first.

But with all of this usually came sex. And he needed to try to go for it. Because even though Stiles never really talked about it directly, that was something they were supposed to do as a couple. So, while summer was still going, it wasn’t even the end of July, Theo decided on the plan.

***

They took Theo’s jeep this time, even though Stiles complained all the way. He didn’t want to believe his car won’t be able to ride all this way.

It was midday when they finally reached the beach. It wasn’t completely empty, but there weren’t a lot of people around. They weren’t really fans of nature, but it was romantic and fun.

They were messing around in the water, swimming and just being together. Stiles liked, that there was some sort of legend about it. That was actually how they ended up here, to check it.

The evening wore on. They decided to stay here for the night. The beach was below, and the car on the top of the rocky cliff. Theo had one look down to see that he didn’t want to fell. In the night the beach they messed around on would be under water.

Theo took some warm blankets and pillows. They thought about starting the fire but decided against it. Everything was way too wet. Belatedly, Theo hoped they won’t get ill or whatever. Maybe he should’ve taken the tent. Did they even have a tent?

“Woah, so many stars,” Stiles said.

“Yeah,” Theo hugged his shoulders and kissed Stiles’ jawline softly and almost lazily, even though he felt tense. Like that, it slowly turned into a kiss.

It happened enough times for Theo to know how to act. He always was the one who initiated sex, so it shouldn't be hard. Almost nobody stopped him before, so he should’ve done everything right. His body was reacting accordingly to such closeness, but it still didn’t make him wish for sex. He liked Stiles enough for it to be a bit more pleasant.

Theo put his hand on Stiles’ stomach and traced his fingers down to the line of his sweatpants.

“No, Theo,” Stiles said and leaned back. Theo tried to reach for the kiss instinctively but stopped in the track. Ok, it isn’t the first time somebody tells him ‘no’, but that were one-night stands, and not somebody he, kind of, dated. Was it too rushed? Did Theo do something wrong?

He felt a bit guilty, that there was a relief.

“Ugh, don't take it personally,” Stiles said. He sat down, and Theo did as well. “That’s just, I’m asexual.”

Theo blinked and frowned. He, kind of, never heard of that before. Stiles didn’t let him ask, though, and kept explaining. Maybe his face told him a lot.

“That’s just, I’m not particularly interested in sex. Like, I can have it, but, I don’t really want it. So, that’s, ugh, you know, telling it to Malia was easier for whatever reason,” Stiles huffed and rubbed his face.

“Huh,” Theo said, almost against his own will. Something felt just right about that. “So that’s a normal thing? I mean, the lack of desire or whatever?”

Like he wasn’t a failure at least somewhere.

“Well, yeah,” Stiles blinked. “Like, everyone says ‘if you don’t want to have sex, you aren’t a real man’ or whatever. But that’s just the absence of want, and that’s totally fine.”

“So,” Theo began, almost shyly. Ok, it felt surreal in a way. “If we just lie down, without sex, cuddle and so on, that’s alright?”

Stiles looked almost as lost, as Theo felt after that, then he nodded.

They laid on pillows and Theo hugged Stiles again. They spent a few minutes in silence, Stiles didn’t talk. He put his hand on Theo’s thigh and squeezed, almost nudged.

“I always thought there is something wrong with me because I didn’t really want it,” Theo confessed softly. “I had sex, so, probably, I’m not really asexual, am I?”

“Nah, you're fine,” Stiles rocked his leg. “I also had sex, and I even enjoyed it, but it doesn’t mean I want it all the time. Like, when I look at someone, it doesn’t mean I want to jump on them and fuck like bunnies. People just don’t get it.”

Theo nodded absently.

“Besides,” Stiles continued. “We are both the same, so that makes our life so much easier.”

“Yeah,” Theo still tried to wrap his head around the fact, that it was ok to not feel sexual desire or whatever.

“We can talk about that some more, or when we come home,” Stiles suggested.

“Home,” Theo said and relaxed.

“I have a few powerpoint presentations for you. I put all my heart in it.”

Theo remembered this one time he saw Stiles’ presentation and laughed softly. Yes, sure, that’s going to be a disaster.

“Hey,” Stiles’ grip on his thigh strengthened.

“I’ll watch it all anyway,” Theo said and kissed his temple.

Stiles murmured something about how great at presentations he is. Then he switched to the topic of stars and constellations. Theo listened to his voice and hugged him tighter.

The knot around his heart, this feeling of being a failure just about everything, let go, even if just a little bit. He needed to hear that, maybe told exactly by Stiles.

#steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #asexuality #fanfiction #steodiscordprompts

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kuzi-the-hunturr · 6 years

Note

hey uh abt the pridecraft post, pls don’t refer to transgender ppl as “transsexuals,” it’s considered offensive. also intersex people aren’t lgbt (for being intersex) or their own gender! thank u

Ok... I guess?

I’M admittedly not an expert on trans in any definition so I found one for you:

Transsexuals are people who transition from one sex to another. A person born as a male can become recognizably female through the use of hormones and/or surgical procedures; and a person born as a female can become recognizably male. That said, transsexuals are unable to change their genetics and cannot acquire the reproductive abilities of the sex to which they transition. Sex is assigned at birth and refers to a person’s biological status as male or female. In other words, sex refers exclusively to the biological features: chromosomes, the balance of hormones, and internal and external anatomy. Each of us is born as either male or female, with rare exceptions of those born intersex who may display characteristics of both sexes at birth.

Transgender, unlike transsexual, is a term for people whose identity, expression, behavior, or general sense of self does not conform to what is usually associated with the sex they were born in the place they were born. It is often said sex is a matter of the body, while gender occurs in the mind. Gender is an internal sense of being male, female, or other. People often use binary terms, for instance, masculine or feminine, to describe gender just as they do when referring to sex. But gender is more complex and encompasses more than just two possibilities. Gender also is influenced by culture, class, and race because behavior, activities, and attributes seen as appropriate in one society or group may be viewed otherwise in another.

Transgender, then, unlike transsexual is a multifaceted term. One example of a transgendered person might be a man who is attracted to women but also identifies as a cross-dresser. Other examples include people who consider themselves gender nonconforming, multigendered, androgynous, third gender, and two-spirit people. All of these definitions are inexact and vary from person to person, yet each of them includes a sense of blending or alternating the binary concepts of masculinity and femininity. Some people using these terms simply see the traditional concepts as restrictive. Less than one percent of all adults identify as transgender.

Source

Also I never said intersex individuals are inherently Lgbt, I just said that the people MY character interacted with may or may not have displayed feminine characteristics and therefore might be found somewhere in the LGBTQ+ spectrum.

Opinions?

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justtoseeursmile-blog · 7 years

Text

Mom,

I have done a lot of thinking these last few days. I have tried to figure out how and what to do because I have come to a breaking point. So I thought I would tell you about everything that has happen in my life. The things people don’t know, the things people ignored and the things people never accepted. The breaking point for me was Easter. When you showed an emotion of happiness and expressed to tom that you would like to stop down and see your dad who got you something and wish him a happy birthday. He sat there on the couch crossed his arms and said he did not want to go over there and spend 5 hours getting stuck talking to him. That was it. I was done. Grandpa is getting old and he is going downhill fast. Everyone talks about it but no one is spending the time they have left with him, except for me. I’m making it a priority in my life when everyone else just turns a blind eye and lets there problems and selfishness get in the way. So let me start from the beginning.

I was born July 21st 1988. On the way to the hospital my dad was coming down from a high and asked if you could wait so he could sleep. The day I came home from the hospital you tried but couldn’t not handle me and called Grandma Barbara for help and she took me. From the very start you couldn’t take care of me. You took care of me the best you knew how but let other people control and manipulate your actions or that’s what I choose to believe because it hurts too much to think you did these things out of your own selfish mind. And you did work, you did try to support us. But you never kept me safe. You left me with my dad who might have loved me but was not adult enough or mature enough to handle me. As I got older I have flash backs of the things that happen to me. He would leave me in the bath when he was too high to change my diaper, which causes terrible rashes and yeast infections I dealt with late into my teen years and even as an adult. You left me with drug addicts who left us alone while they go high. I can remember sitting in the living room at the little house and dad having a porn on the tv. I could not have been much older than 4 or 5. I remember my dad spending hours in the bathroom shooting up drugs and then come out and passing out. Or getting left at school because he forgot to pick us up. Yes I know these are not things you did but they are things that happen that I have never been able to process. I was exposed to sex at such a young age and taught that I was normal. The arguing was terrifying the people who came in and out of our house. The police at our house. Some many things I cannot even begin to list.

These people you aloud in my life took advantage of me and no one in my life ever noticed. I must have been 4 years old the first time it happen. It’s one of my earliest memories so I’m not totally sure. This person you let into our lives. You thought he was not a threat or danger. What would and older man want with a bunch of 20 something druggies. He was just this old goofy man with a dog. He told me it was ok and that everyone does this. He said its just like the stuff mommy and daddy did and watched on the TV. He told me it was right and would be good for me and I could trust him and how much his little dog liked me. As he stood over me and pulled out his penis. He told me it was ok to touch it to put it in my mouth. That I should do what he said because I didn’t want to upset you or daddy. He laid me down on the floor and took my pants off, ran his fingers down my body and touched my vagina. He slowly crawled on top of me and touched he penis to me. He push inside of me. I remember crying because it hurt so bad. But it told me not to cry that it was ok and this was what mommy and dad wanted me to do and he was my special friend. He did that over and over for I don’t know how long. He always made sure to wipe me down and make sure no one could tell. He did it to Andy to. Sometimes while I was in the room. And we didn’t know better we didn’t know what to do. We didn’t know we should tell someone.

It got even worse as I got older thinking that was what you did and needed to be done. Tommy was exposed to this as well but says he never experienced sexual abuse. As 5 and 6 year olds I told him about it and what had happen and how it was normal. I asked him if he wanted to try what I had learned. He told me ok because he trust me. I showed him what I had been told to do and touched him like I had been showed to do. As tommy and I reconnected as adults we talked about this time and tried to understand what was going on. This is what brought us together. Tommy does not remember this part of his child hood was well as I do and has blocked most of it out. As a teenager this made me very confused when my hormones came in. When I experiences this feeling. It made me sexually provocative and pushed me to need male attention, acceptance and wanting to please them. While I was not out having sex I was constantly acting out sexually in other ways. Going to extremes to get the attention I needed. And opening myself up for a lot of things I really didn’t want but thought I was supposed to be doing to make other people happy and fill this void inside of me that I couldn’t understand.

Do you remember that summer I came to stay with you. You introduced me to some of your friends. I met Deno for the 1st time. We went to stay at his house with his gf and her kids. I was so excited to have friends to play with because I felt so alone. We stayed the weekend up there. I don’t know where you and Tim went but I was left alone with him. And I don’t really know where the other kids where or his gf but I was left alone with him. He told me how good of friends you and him were and how much he loved you and Tim. He told me I could trust him and that my mom told him it was ok to do this stuff. I don’t know I must have been 8? I don’t really remember. He started by just touching me under my shirt. He pushed my hair out of my face and told me I was the pretty girl he has ever seen. He pulled my pants down and told me I was beautiful. He was wearing shorts and slid them down to show his erect penis. He told me it was ok to touch him. Flash back of being that little girl and it being told what I should do and it being ok came back to me. I started to cry and he told me not to. He told me he would keep me safe and love me and I didn’t have to worry about anything. Mommy would be so proud of me and what did I want, I wanted my mommy to love me and be proud of me. So I did what I was told. He laid me down on the couch and asked what I like. He ask if I liked him touching me. I don’t remember saying anything but he continued to touch me. He very gently spread my legs and pushed the tip of his penis into me. I just closed my eyes. He then pushed harder until it hurt and I cried. He told me to be quiet so no one would hear me. I laid there crying quietly as he finished molesting me. When he had cumed he asked me if I wanted to taste him. I did what I was told. I don’t remember much more about that visit with you. I just remember him telling me that it was his and my special secret and that he would love me and keep me safe. I remember you telling me he died and how upset you were. I was so confused and distraught about it, So many emotions I could not explain and deal with.

As I reached puberty and my teenage years I was lost, hurt and just wanted the pain to go away. I acted out by cutting or biting myself. I never wanted to die I just wanted the hurt inside me to go away and to not be consumed by this feeling I could not explained. Grandma and Grandpa could not figure out what to do with me. I felt abandoned and used. I felt like something was wrong with me and I was in an altered state of reality. They tried counseling and medicine that just made me a zombie. They tried to understand what I was going through but couldn’t because I could never tell anyone. I learned to lie and had stuff in order to not upset or disappoint anyone because if I did I had failed. This followed me into adulthood.

During my childhood I was spoiled by grandma and grandpa. It’s like they were trying to make up for the trauma I have been through something they could never understand. Grandma tried so hard to help me so hard to do things for me she though was best but at this point I don’t think there was anything that could have been done. I put them through so much while you lived your life not worrying about us. I was left with grandpa from a very young age. His temper got the best of him when I acted out. He took his anger out of me. He did terrible things to me. And then once he snapped out of his angary he would hug me and tell me how sorry he was and how he loved me and would never do it again. Tell me we should not tell grandma about it because she was so stressed and busy at work. So I didn’t or tried not to. I held it inside. During this time I saw very little of Andy and when I was there I was constantly hearing the little snickers behind me as grandma and Julie or whoever talked about how I was spoiled and not a real loy and that grandma and grandpa had ruined me. They resented me for having a “better” life then Andy and that Andy missed out. They constantly showed me I was no one of them not including me in things. Yes I was raised with money and materialistic things but no one was there for my volleyball games. No one was there to help me with school. I begged for attention and acceptance. And some days I just completely shut down. I felt so alone and scared and really had no idea what to do or handle things.

When I met Franklin he made me feel wanted, something of value. He gave me attention that I thrived off of. He made me feel like it was ok and there was nothing wrong with me. And he fought for me and stood up for me. He also after time realized how vulnerable I was and used that against me. He cheated on me multiple times as a teenager. He learned how to possess me. I was addicted to his attention and didn’t know how to get out. I supported him and give him everything I could leaving little for myself. I carried him through high school so he could graduate and join the marines. I separated myself from the social aspects because I could not deal with the rejection and hurt I felt from other people. When Franklin and taken over my whole life I lashed out looking for positive attention other places where I let myself get taken advantage of. I looked for friendship in people who were bad for me. I hid things and lied because I didn’t know how to express or process what was going. I was in a pattern of self-destruction and something I did not know how to deal with. As high school I came to a lost time where I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what was next. Franklin was leaving to join the Marines he broke up with me and said he didn’t want to be with me and thinking about me when he was gone at boot camp. I started that time by myself running from my emotions. Staying out late at night and doing things I’m not proud of. Then I got a little form him telling me how sorry he was for everything and how much he loved me and how he wanted to get married and how he wanted me to be there when he graduated and I feel right back into it. I was there when he graduated. I supported him as much as I could and did exactly as he expected of me. We spent time together and started to plan the wedding. He deployed and I was there for him. Sending him care packages and being there for him as much as I could. I answered every call sent him letters every day and told people about how proud I was of him and how good of a person he was. About half way through that deployment he stopped talking to me. I would not hear from him for weeks. When he did call he would talk for a few mins and stopped telling me he loved and missed me. One day I received a letter from him telling me that we were over and that he had found someone new and someone else on the internet and that he was leaving me for her and when he came home he planned on marrying her. I was angry and upset and torn to apart. I felt abandoned again. Grandma had paid so much for the dream wedding I was planning. He asked me to still be there when he came home. So I went for thanks giving that year with grandma. She was so sick. I met him in the barracks. I felt so used and terrible as I walked up to him. He didn’t hug me just asked like I was his buddy calling me dude and not saying my name. We hung out with his buddies and started to drink. I just kept drinking and trying to stay in control of my emotions. I stayed all night until I passed out. I woke up that next morning half naked with franklin lying next to me and a few of his buddies. I was sore. I had bruises all over me, I hurt and really don’t know what happen. They told me I passed out and they kept drinking but my insides tell me they took advantage of me as I was passed out. I left that week of seeing him and went home. He told me all about the ball and how he was taking this new girl to it and how he wanted here to be here when he got home but she couldn’t make it out so I just stood as a replacement. The day before the ball he called me saying she backed out and asked if I could come and go with him. Pathetic me hurting inside said yes and packed my stuff for LV. I arrived a few hours before the ball started and got dressed. I wore my old prom dress because it was all I had. We went to the ball and drank until everyone was pretty messed up. Franklin broke down and told me he wanted to get married and he was sorry and I caved. I said yes and at 3amin the morning he called and woke grandma and grandpa up and asked if we could get married. Grandma and grandpa half asleep said there was nothing they could say to stop us. At 3am we didn’t know that it was too late to get it done and I have to fly home in the morning. So drunk in the hotel we set a date for 3 weeks later for me to fly back and get married. I bought my ticket right then. I didn’t tell anyone when I got back what we planned to do. Not for about a week when I told grandma I was going back to LV in 2 weeks to get married and they could be there or not. But I just wanted them to know. I don’t remember how I told you. You were just so excited because you loved franklin so much. So we went and got married. I moved down there. It was fine for a while. He left then was told he was going to deploy and we packed up our house and put it in storage. I was so worried he would find someone else while he was gone but tried to hide it so that no one knew. When that bus took him away I was a mess. We drove back to Washington from 29 and I sat and waited there for 8 months. When I moved back down and set up our new house. When he got back we settled into married life. We had friends that we had bonded with. Mentally I was doing fine for a while. Franklins drinking picked up and he was drinking anytime he was not working and our house turned into the place to be on off times. One night I was tired and the guys were picking on me being fat and why would franklin marry a fatty and he just told him it was cause I was easy and did what he told me too. I decided to go to bed. I took 2 sleeping pills and cried myself to sleep. I was woken up later that night by franklin lying next to me and 2 of his sr marines standing on my side of the bed. They were drink and told franklin this would stop all the hazing and he would be cool with them. The started to hold me down. I was confused at what was happening and not really awake. Franklin kept telling them it’s ok she likes the fight and not to worry when said no. They took turns raping me and laughing about it. Franklin took some pictures of me on their phone and said that if I ever told they would show people. I finally just stopped fighting and laid there crying. I have bruises and scratches over my body. I was bleeding. He just passed out and laughed about the next morning. I just sunk into a depression. He was getting meaner and drinking more and I was just falling apart. I was going to school and one day I put my computer away in my backpack and got ready to leave. At some point he took it back out and hide it from me. I walked into class and went to get my computer out. He has taken it out when I was looking away. I left class not having anything to do since he had taken my computer out. I went home and when I got home he has locked all the doors and I was not able to get into the house. When he finally opened the door for me. My computer was sitting on the table in front of where he sat. I got upset and looked at the history on the computer where he had been watching porn on. I lost it and yelled at him got really upset and told him I could not do this anymore. He told me to shut the fuck up and he didn’t care I could leave but that no one would want me because I was used and broken and that I should just go kill myself. So I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a knife and ran in across my arm. Blood sprayed everywhere, on the floor the walls. I walked into the living room and showed him what I had done. He freaked out and called me names but said he needed to take me to the hospital. When we got there I was numb and blank. I don’t remember much. I remember then asking what happen and I lost it. I was kicking and screaming. They held me down and gave me a sedative. I don’t remember much after that. There were times that I do remember and times that I don’t. I know the MPs took franklin away and questioned him. I remember them stopping the bleeding and putting stitches in my arm and the ride in the cop car to the crisis center. I remember my boss Lori coming and getting me and letting me stay at her house and then grandma coming down. She was so mad at me. I was interesting her life. I was unstable and losing it. I saw a dr who stabilized me on medication and then I was committed to the mental hospital. During that time they tried different medications. I slept a lot. Didn’t get out of bed. I don’t remember much of my time there or how long I was there. I don’t remember coming home or anything like that. I know I had a freak out on the drive home but not much more than that. We started to go to couples counseling. Franklin would not admit that there was anything wrong. He took everything the dr said and turned it around and blamed me and told me that I was weak for taking pills and having so many problems. I just gave up at that point. He held me down to have sex when he wanted and forces things on me. He told everyone I was fine. One night he got really drunk and hit me. Made me bleed. I got in my car and drove away. I didn’t know where I was going. I ended up at my friend’s house in Santa Monica. I stayed there with him for I don’t know how long. I was so hurt and confused and lost. I ended up sleeping with him. I eventually went home. Franklin continued to force himself on me. He made me move out of my house into a house in town with a bunch of people. It was a constant party and all the wives look at me like something was wrong with me. I found out I was pregnant around that time. I didn’t tell anyone I just feel into a deeper depression I just hid from everyone. I faked life so that I didn’t upset anymore or have to ender any additional abuse. About that time we moved back to WA. While franklin went off to train before we moved to PA. He would leave for 3 weeks and then come home for a week. One week he was home we stayed in a hotel to get away from grandma and grandpas house. He figured out I was pregnant and got very upset. He kept drinking and yelling at me. Pushing me around. I just sat there. I didn’t fight back I didn’t know what to do. He drank so much that he lost it. I was asleep on the bed. And he grabbed me out of the bed onto the floor. He started yelling at me and kicking me in the stomach and vagina. He told me how I was a dirty whore and he hated me so much. He slammed my head on the night stand next to the bed. I passed out. I don’t know what time it was I hurt so badly and I was bleeding and franklin was passed out on the floor. I got up and took a shower. The bleeding would not stop. I just wanted to lay down and die. I wanted to stop living. He woke up and saw blood and didn’t know what happen. He took me the ER and dropped me off and left. I went in and they admitted me. They kept asking what happened and called the cops and I wouldn’t say anything. I just shut down. They did an ultra sound and there was no movement or heartbeat. They induced labor and gave me stuff in my IV that made things move in slow motion. I have no idea what was happening. I remember them pulling the baby out at some point and asking if I wanted to see him. I don’t remember what I said but they took him away. After a while the cops came in to question me and find out what was going on. I wouldn’t talk to them I wouldn’t tell them anything. I stayed overnight. The next day when they asked who did this or what happen I just told them I didn’t not know. I finally got a charger for my phone and charged it. Franklin had left a text saying he was going back to work and he had left my stuff at grandma’s house. When I was released I went to stay at my best friend’s house. I didn’t tell her what happen or anything because she was due with her little boy in 2 months but she just let me sleep. When I finally went back to grandma and grandpas it was a few days before my birthday. I just slept and stayed in my room upstairs. I didn’t say much to anymore or anything. A few weeks later franklin came back and we drove to PA. As soon as we got there he left for 3 weeks to go to work. I stayed by myself in this place. I was by myself and had no one. I pretty much stayed in side for the 1stweek. The 2nd week I went outside and branched around. Still living with no emotion. At the end of September I sat on the phone while my best friend had her baby and I just wanted to go home. When Franklin came home that last time we went out with friends to dinner. I was pretty depressed and just wanted to leave. Franklin continued to drink. He drank that night and the next day. He would come up stairs where I stayed and yell at me. I told him I wanted to go home. I needed to see my grandma who was dying and I needed my family. He kept yelling at me and just telling me I was not going to leave him. That night he came up stairs yelling and screaming at me telling me he would never let me leave and he was going to keep me here and no one would ever want me because I was used up and broken. He held me down one last time and had sex with me. He went back down stairs and I could hear things breaking. Glass and hard thinking hitting the floor. He came back up yelling that he was going to kill me before he let me leave and he would never let me leave because I was his and no body else could have me. He pulled his gun out of his pocked and waved it around. He yelled at me the only way you’re leaving is if I kill you or myself. He put the gun against my forehead and pulled the trigger. He got really bad and shoved me back on the bed and then hit me over the head with what I think was the gun I’m not totally sure. I passed out and did not wake up tell the cops and fire truck were there. They told me he has set the living room on fire. Later that night I saw the fire they put out on the floor. Pictures and things of mine. I called grandma to tell her about it and that I wanted to come home and she got mad at me. She told me I needed to stop this stuff and make my mind up. I told her I wanted to come home and never leave again. She was so mad at me. I started to pack some of my stuff up. I was going to leave regardless of her support. 3 days later I left there and never looked back. Never saw franklin again. Grandma ended up bailing him out of jail so he could go to work the next week. He called on the drive home crying to me about how sorry he was and how he would change and how he expected me to be there when he got out of jail. The months after that were lots and confusing. I was not welcomed home. I remember one night grandma yelled at me how she raised her kids and how she was done with it she wanted to enjoy her retirement. If I wasn’t broken enough as it was to hear that from the one person you thought you could always rely on. I left that night and went for a drive. I tried to control the broken heart I felt and pushed with the idea of just driving as fast as I could into a tree so I could be free and not in anyone’s way. It was not soon after that when Grandma Linda started to go downhill I spent my days there with her and my nights wondering around and getting drunk. I was in a new relationship with someone who had been my friend for years. I was looking for comfort from him and he was I guess just playing with me. Franklin also continued to harass me and try and get me to come back. Grandma died and it was just so much for me to deal with and process. No long after that tommy and I started talking. Neither of us was available at that time. His fiancé had just left him while she was pregnant with his son and never did come back. I was falling in love with him but worked really hard to be supportive of him and know that if he needed to leave and go be with her I was going to have to deal with that. I spent most of my time with him and at his place. I supported him or trying to get her back and the baby. I remember the 1sttime I went to Toms with him. We walked in and sat down. Tom didn’t know who I was at first. Tommy sad you remember Jaimie and it didn’t click yet. And he just looked at me. Tommy continued to tell him I was Jaimie from when we were kids, chirsty and tims daughter. The look on his face when he heard that changed. He looked like he was going to throw up. He didn’t say much just looked at me with some much hate. It made me very uncomfortable and hurt in a lot of ways because I have spent my life being looked down on because of things I had no control of. Things I have nothing to do with, teachers at school, other family members, and now tom. We didn’t stay long because tom told us he was just leaving so tommy and I left. I was so hurt by the look of disgust on his face and hatred of me. I don’t really remember what it was but tom told tommy is some way or another that loyalty was the only thing you have in life and that he needed to be loyal to his dad and that meant not being with me. Tommy told him he was being dumb and that he was not going to not be friends with me for something I didn’t do. I only went around there with him a few times. He made comments about how I brought bad memories up for him and how he changed his life and didn’t want the past coming back in. He told me how much he hated you and dad and wanted nothing to do with lowlife, liars and cheaters. Tommy and I moved in together and went on with life, we didn’t see him much or I was not around when he did go see his dad. It was really hard to be hated for something I had nothing to do with. When I got pregnant with remi. I was so excited I didn’t know what to do. I could not believe it. My response from everyone was pretty negative. It hurt a lot. Janee told me not to get to attached because I would probably miscarry. Grandma betty was upset that I was not married and grandma Barbra and GP couldn’t believe why I would do that. We never did tell tom. Not until we saw him on the 4th of july before remi was born. He had heard from other family members but never said anything to us. He just pushed the idea off and never said anything to us about it. You could tell he was upset for not fighting for the child he had already, the boy to carry on the Helus name. He even stayed in contact with his Ex along with Janee. They did not support his decision to fight for a child that would be torn back and forth because his mom wanted nothing to do with tommy. That made tommy even harder and hurt and unable to trust anyone. When remi was born tom said he would never let remi know that there was an issue between him and my dad. But as you know that has not been true. I have had to go out of my way to make my dad feel comfortable because he does not want to upset tom.

There is so much more I could say but it wouldn’t be any good. You know how I feel about you leaving tim. You know how I feel about your and toms relationship. And since you’r unwilling to see it or stand up for yourself or put anyone but your feelings first it made me come to the decision that I can’t be a part of it. I can’t have remi a part of it. I didn’t wanna be the person to give an ultimatum but I did and you made the choice to pick Tom over me, over remi. Just like you picked drugs and other things like this before. I should not have been surprised by this decision but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. I get it your living your life for you. So good luck. I hope it’s worth it in the end. So now you know everything I have been hiding and holding on to for all these years. All the pain I have been dealing with. Now you know why I have no faith or tolerance anymore. And you of all people should know how hard it is to give up on the people in my life but I give up on you. I can’t be the responsible adult in our relationship anymore. I can’t be there to give you want you need even if it is taking more than I have. I’m putting myself first and my daughter and family. I didn’t pick to be born. I didn’t pick to be abused and abandoned. Also I had a miscarriage this week.

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oselatra · 7 years

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The real transgender crisis in Arkansas: health care

Finally, the doctor is in.

While Arkansas lawmakers were wringing their hands this past legislative session over what to do about genitalia sightings in bathroom stalls — a nonexistent problem that, had the legislation passed, would have required bearded, buff men to use the ladies' room — doctors, medical students and activists were working to address a real problem: the dearth of health care for transgender individuals.

Nonscientific ideas about gender crowded out reason, as Republican state lawmakers like Sens. Linda Collins-Smith of Pocahontas and Gary Stubblefield of Branch and Reps. Bob Ballinger of Berryville, Mickey Gates of Hot Springs and Greg Standridge of Russellville promoted bills that would have required Arkansans to wear their original birth certificates around their necks and thrown people in jail if their nudity offended. Their actions, thankfully, were stopped by a business-minded Governor Hutchinson. But Hutchinson only stanched the flow of hurt that such ignorance surely set loose, the sort of bullying that drives 45 percent of transgender teenagers to attempt suicide.

Had legislators gotten their heads out of the stalls, they could have acted to help, rather than further marginalize, their fellow Arkansans. They could have changed state Medicaid rules that disallow reimbursement for hormone therapies. They could have appropriated funds to run the Department of Health's suicide hotline. Or they could have talked to physicians who would have helped them understand that transgendered people are not freaks, no more likely to prey on people than, say, redheads or Razorback fans.

Rowan Rodgers, 27, is one of those burly, bearded guys that, had Collins-Smith's bathroom bill passed, requiring folks to show original birth certificates at the bathroom door, would have been coming to a girls' powder room near you. The Heber Springs man, born with the genital attributes of a woman but who as a toddler asked for boys' underwear on a shopping trip with his father, praised Little Rock gynecologist Dr. Janet Cathey for making his life, and that of his fiance and two kids, better. "She's a one of a kind," he said.

Cathey, along with Drs. Sara Tariq and Sam Jackson are a few of the physicians working to provide better health care for transmen and transwomen, both in clinics and the classroom, at the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences.

Cathey, an obstetrician/gynecologist, sees transgender patients in clinic one morning a week at UAMS. It's work she said is the most rewarding of her life. She's been treating transgender patients for most of her 30-year career, providing hormone therapy to transmen who, in the days before social media, learned of her willingness to help by word of mouth. It started shortly after she opened her practice, when a caller inquired if she'd provide testosterone to a woman, "and I thought, 'Why not?' " It grew from there.

"I get tearful thinking about it," Cathey said. Her transgender patients "are the most appreciative patient population you could ever have. When you put someone on hormones, and they come in two months later for follow-up, and they say, 'I've just had the best two months of my life ... .' "

That she feels bonded to her patients is obvious: She does tear up while she's talking about them.

In 2009, Cathey injured her spine in an automobile accident and had to sell her practice. That left her transgender patients hanging. As she recuperated, she knew she didn't want to retire. "I thought maybe I could do a gender clinic. I knew there was a need," she said. But how could she afford to set up a new practice?

Serendipitously, she ran into Dr. Curtis Lowery, chairman of UAMS' department of obstetrics and gynecology. He asked her to help oversee the medical college's residents' clinic, and she agreed.

Cathey wasn't the only doctor who saw a need for a gender clinic. A year into her work at UAMS, she was approached by mental health professionals about setting up a gender clinic. With the same determination it took to get back on her feet again — she walks now with the help of braces and a cane — she went to Lowery and told him that's what she and another OB/GYN wanted to do. "He said, 'Just don't lose a lot of money.' "

The administration allotted her two spots for gender patients. "I said, 'Y'all just wait.' "

There is now a four-month waiting list to be seen in the gender clinic: The two spots for appointments have stretched to a morning's worth of appointments. She and Dr. Mary Racher "make about 60 patient contacts" a month. "We've seen, between the two of us, probably around 300 patients," genetic females transitioning to males and genetic males transitioning to female, in the past two and a half years, Cathey said. Men get estrogen and androgen blockers. Women get testosterone. Transmen — the term for a genetically female person who is transitioning to male — can schedule hysterectomies and breast reduction surgery.

What does she think about legislative attempts to pass a bathroom bill? "I promise you have peed next to a transperson plenty of times."

Rodgers has been a patient of Cathey's since 2015. "I was very depressed when I went in there," he said. "She knew it."

But his hormone therapy lifted "a huge weight off my shoulders. When I took testosterone ... [changes in my] energy level, my voice, it was like injecting life into myself. That's the best way I can explain it. It was definitely life-changing."

Rodgers cried after his first shot in Cathey's office. After his second, he quit having periods. "I was like, 'wow.' "

The relief and happiness that Rodgers experienced after the start of hormone therapy is common, though the reasons why have not been well studied. "There is something neurochemically going on," Jackson, the Psychiatric Research Institute resident, said. It may be that the hormones resolve the emotional conflict that transpeople experience. Hormones "change the brain so it becomes correct. ... It confirms to me that biologically, there is something there, activating the brain and the right receptors, [telling the brain] yes, this is the correct hormone situation I am supposed to be in."

The hormones alter mood so much, Cathey said, that her patients can quit taking their antidepressants. "I've seen kids come in on SSRis (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors) and Abilify (an antipsychotic). They come in and they won't make eye contact. In two or three months [after hormone therapy], they're animated. It's too much to think it's not biological. They're getting relief." They're getting what they need, she said.

Though some Arkansas legislators believe that men are men and women are women and never the twain shall meet, medicine knows that human gender is on a continuum.

As Arkansas Children's Hospital endocrinologist Dr. Michele Hutchison explained it, there are several kinds of gender. There is chromosomal gender: one X and one Y for males and two Xs for females. There is hormonal gender: For example, boys born with Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome are born looking and identifying as female because their bodies don't respond to testosterone. Boys with Reifenstein Syndrome —partial androgen insensitivity — may be born with either male or female genitalia and may identify as either male or female. There is something called testosterone transfer in fraternal twins, when the testosterone of the male fetus is transferred to the female fetus and makes the female masculine in genital and brain structure, etc. There is physiological gender: Whether there is a penis or a vagina. There is emotional gender: Whether you feel like a boy or a girl.

"It's a complex system that goes into creating a child," Hutchison said.

Hutchison said there is an "ever-growing body of evidence" that trans children and trans adults differ physiologically from non-trans persons, though the research "is in its infancy."

Male and female brains differ in structure, chemistry and how information is processed. One study, a small brain imaging project, showed that the brains of transgender children acted like the brains of the sex with which the children identified — transmale brains looked male, transfemale brains looked female. "Of course, behavior and experience shape brain anatomy, so it is impossible to say if these subtle differences are inborn," she said.

Arkansas Children's Hospital, which has physicians on staff who address such things as ambiguous genitalia, is looking into creating a gender clinic, Hutchison said. Health care — especially mental health care, given the high attempted suicide rate — for children who identify with a gender their bodies don't reflect would be a good thing, she believes.

"The hospital treats children with diabetes, and adrenal issues and hyperthyroidism [for example]. We're so good at it now. It's a fantastic hospital. We're so good at those things that we don't lose kids. This is an area where we could quite literally save some lives," Hutchinson said. "I have goose bumps" thinking about it, she said. She said clinics in Seattle, Los Angeles and Boston offer a model to look at.

Before she transitioned, Michelle Palumbo moved to Salem (Fulton County) with her wife and four children. She showed up with long hair, wearing earrings. Folks just attributed that to the fact that she was from New York.

But Palumbo had for a lifetime struggled with feelings of being a woman in a man's body. She was a cross-dresser, and her wife was OK with that.

In 2008, after her third heart attack and after doctors told her she could die at any time, Palumbo made up her mind to transition. Because she had been a bench chemist, she made her own estrogen, a fact that she said made Cathey's jaw drop when she finally went to her for proper medication two years ago. "If there is an angel on this earth," it's Cathey, Palumbo said.

"We are not freaks," said Palumbo, 64. She considers people who think so "religious extremists"; by contrast, the member of Pulaski Heights United Methodist Church considers herself a "religious evangelical." Palumbo also described herself as "ticked off" at the legislature, where she testified on various anti-transgender bills in the last session.

Palumbo moved to Little Rock in September after someone she'd confided in spread the word of her transition. (She'd been binding her breasts.) Her high school daughter was getting teased at school; kids were asking, "What's between your father's legs?" Palumbo said. Her wife stopped her from raising hell at the high school, and asked her to move out. The couple is now divorcing, though Palumbo said of her wife, "there's no better person on earth."

Palumbo is of the same generation as many of the legislators who don't understand that there is such a thing as transgender identification. In fact, 30 years ago, she decided to go through conversion therapy. "I wanted to be a man," she said, and her wife at the time had grown tired of Palumbo's "internal battle of identity." Palumbo said she would buy women's clothes and wear them, and then decide to "purge that, be a man, then the cycle would start all over again."

The psychiatrist Palumbo went to told her she could "cure her," and prescribed more sex. After a year and a half, Palumbo realized there was no cure. She researched transgender issues. "I'm not a freak. I'm not nuts."

Also because of her age, she believes, Palumbo is less militant than younger people about getting pronouns right. When a nurse who was looking down while Palumbo was signing in at the doctor's office and, hearing her voice, addressed Palumbo as sir, the nurse became flustered and apologetic. Palumbo told her not to worry. "I was upset because she was upset," Palumbo said, laughing. (Palumbo's voice is not generally deep, but on occasion it can change.)

Medical settings can be problematic, though not always because providers are uncomfortable with transgender people. Palumbo said her medical chart includes information that she is transgender, and at a recent appointment, the nurse who called her in for a heart procedure had a "stone cold" look on her face. Palumbo told her if she had a problem with her gender identity, she'd like to have another nurse, "but if you misgender me [use the wrong pronoun], I'm not going to be upset. Boom! Big smile."

And another thing about coming out as an older person: "You have more guilt," Palumbo said, wistfully. "You've made relationships with more people. When you're young, it's not like that."

"You can't hold people responsible for what they don't understand."

Dr. Tariq, assistant dean for undergraduate education at UAMS' College of Medicine, teaches the practice of medicine, a three-year course, to students in their second year: how to be compassionate, effective and "savvy." About seven or eight years ago, she introduced LGBT care into the course curriculum.

Not surprisingly, the LGBT community is underserved. "The patients are very vulnerable, and not just because they have to take their clothes off and let us poke around," Tariq said. They are called on to reveal information about themselves that they have never told anyone else. She teaches her students "the most irresponsible thing you can do is ignore them."

Many of UAMS' medical students have never been knowingly exposed to members of the LGBT community. As part of the curriculum, Tariq brings in a panel of LGBT folks — most recently, two transgender persons, a lesbian and a gay man.

One of the panelists told the assembled students that when he walks into a doctor's office he looks around for signs that the clinic is friendly to gay people. Even "as a brown woman in the South, that would never occur to me," Tariq said. The panelists gave examples of bad treatment: Doctors referring them to psychiatrists, not to deal with depression, but because they believe them to be mentally ill. Doctors making no eye contact. Doctors referring them to other doctors because they are uncomfortable treating them. (Palumbo recounted the experience of a transgender friend who was upbraided by a doctor for coming in: "There are children here!" he was told, as if he were a pederast.)

Many transgender people choose to keep their body phenotype, especially since surgery is both expensive and sometimes risky. That means pap smears and mammograms for transmen, prostate exams for transwomen. It also means mammograms for transwomen, since estrogen stimulates real breast tissue. "My motive," Tariq said, is to teach her students "to leave their biases at the door."

Part of Tariq's curriculum was contributed by Sam Jackson. In his fourth year of medical school, Jackson did a rotation in primary care for LGBT patients at Kaiser Permanente in Los Angeles. There, he worked with the hospital's transgender support group, which he said was the largest in Southern California.

"I am a story-driven person," Jackson said. "I really liked hearing the patients' stories. ... It just blew my mind." The experience left him with a passion for working with the trans community, and when he returned, Tariq asked him to share his experiences with her students.

"We've done an OK job of talking about LGBT health in the past," Jackson said. "We learn how to interview patients, take a sexual history and not be judgmental. It becomes a rote process ... and makes it easier for you to ask [questions] in a nonjudgmental way."

Now, Jackson is medical director for a clinic for transgender youths, the Rainbow Clinic, which meets quarterly at UAMS' student-staffed 12th Street Health and Wellness Center. Lucie's Place, a shelter for homeless LGBT youth, partners with UAMS for the Rainbow Center. Jackson also hopes to work with Cathey's clinic to provide psychiatric care.

Cathey has heard the stories, too. She recited what a transmale told her: "I remember one of my earliest memories was I got out of Pull-Ups and was going to Walmart to get real underwear, and we go in the girls' department and my mother picks out pink panties. And I said, I want boy underwear." An 18-year-old told her, "It wasn't that I wanted to be a boy. It was that I knew I was a boy." That patient's mother told Cathey that as a child, every picture he drew of himself was as a boy, never as a girl.

"One patient who was transfemale said she was coming home from first grade and her mother asked, 'How was your day?' And the patient said, 'This girl had on a pink dress and a pink bow and could I get a pink bow?' And the mother said, 'No, that's not how God made you, you're a boy."

An older patient told Cathey that in her 30s she'd learned you could buy hormones over the counter in Mexico, and, as Cathey related, "I went over and picked out the highest dose of Premarin I could. It was like magic. The second time, the border patrol started questioning me." She was too intimidated to continue. "Those were the best six months of my life," the patient told Cathey.

"It really gets you," Cathey said. Nobody would choose to be transgender. Palumbo said the same. "No guy would decide to be a woman. ... Who would give up male privilege?"

Dating also presents new issues for some transgender people, and they seek Cathey's advice. When do they tell people they're interested in about their transgender situation? "I don't talk about my genitals on a first date," Cathy said she tells them, "and you don't have to, either." She also tells them not to reveal anything at their apartment or their friend's.

One of Cathey's patients, a transwoman, told her she'd come out to her parents as gay last Christmas, and was thinking of telling them she was transgender this Christmas. "So last year, they had a gay son and this year they have a heterosexual daughter?" Cathey asked.

Rowan Rodgers, who's been with his girlfriend for seven years, first as a lesbian woman, waited a couple of years before he told her he was transgender.

"I didn't know how she'd react. We have two children, and it's just when you live in a world where you don't know how people are going to take things ... . You hear about people disowning their children. It's just bad. If I have one regret, it's not telling her sooner.

"At first, there were a lot of questions. It was a lot she had to take in. But she was very accepting. I call her 'my constant.' "

The children, boys 11 and 13, "are wonderful," Rodgers said. "They are thriving, doing wonderful in school and so smart and the most accepting of a lot of people who I thought were my friends. They said, 'You're my dad and I love you.' "

His parents, Rodgers said, "are a different story." They call him by his "dead name," which is what transgender people call the names given them at birth. "They tell me their daughter is dead." Rodgers has tried to keep the relationship going. "So when they call and want to talk, I'm there. When they tell me they hate me, I turn the other cheek."

Caring for the transgender community has also required that Cathey become a social worker of sorts. She's made her nurse a notary to help with legal documents, and helps her patients navigate the process of changing birth certificates, which requires a name change and a letter from a physician.

One of those persons she's helped changed a birth certificate was Rodgers. "I was lucky," Rodgers said. "I got a very nice lady" at the health department's vital records office. Now, Rodgers always keeps his birth certificate with him. "I'm always scared I'm going to be hassled."

Cathey and her patients have struggled with Medicaid, and Cathey is fearful the current political situation will make things harder for her transgender patients, many of whom rely on Medicaid because of the barriers to work that an anti-transgender society presents. Medicaid will cover top surgery — mastectomy — once a transman has begun to transition and the sex on his birth certificate has been corrected, because at that point, the condition is considered gynecomastia — male breasts. But it wouldn't pay for Rodgers' testosterone.

"Reassignment surgery male to female," Cathey estimated, "is about $50,000, but that's nothing compared to a total hip replacement." She hears people complain their insurance shouldn't have to pay for gender reassignment. To them she would say, "Well, you know what, I don't want to pay for your hip surgery."

Rodgers has found a pharmacy in Heber Springs that charges him a reasonable price for testosterone. He's also had top surgery and a hysterectomy. "Right now, I'm not planning to have any other surgery. I'm fine. The breasts bothered me and having a period every month."

Rodgers is looking forward to summer. "This is the first year I get to go out and swim. That's a beautiful thing."

The real transgender crisis in Arkansas: health care

#The real transgender crisis in Arkansas: health care

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