It's not 4 minutes later but maybe close enough: BTHB "Stitches"
“What happened here?” Rob asks, ushering Leo into an empty exam room. They’re all empty right now, well past business hours.
“I f…” Leo pauses as the kitchen towel is unwrapped from his hand, revealing a deep red gash. He follows Rob’s unspoken direction to sit on the exam table as Rob holds his arm at the wrist, inspecting his palm. “I fell.” The words come as naturally as anything else, and he wonders, if just for a moment, why.
He feels Rob’s hand tense around his and knows instantly that he isn’t convinced.
“Mm,” is all Rob says in response.
Leo watches an accusatory glance pass between brothers. Luke, from the doorway, puts his hands up. Some of the panic has subsided, Leo thinks, and faint traces of humor line his eyes. It helps. He closes his eyes, ignoring the throbbing pain and the spinning room and the medical supplies and the bandages and cotton swabs and the needles that he knows are hiding in the cabinets, and he forces himself to breathe.
“You push him?” he hears from somewhere far away. It’s followed by laughter. The laughter is Luke’s, but it’s hesitant. He swallows, and he feels a hand squeeze at his forearm.
“Leo?”
He forces himself to breathe, and he hears Rob asking him if he’s okay and he makes himself nod and he hears Rob asking him if he’s in pain and he shakes his head even though he’s not sure if it’s true or not.
He’s been in this room just once before, and every time he’s come to the office since, he’s avoided it with unwavering resolve.
He hears his name again, and he feels hands at his fingers, straightening them out. “I need you to open your eyes.”
He does, and as he does, he holds his breath. The room’s still spinning, but if he keeps his eyes on Luke, it’s less, so he does that, too.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and even he isn’t sure why.
Rob’s expression tightens but he smiles, gesturing toward his hand. “I’ll get it cleaned up, and then–” he pauses, taking a breath “–you’ll need at least a few stitches.”
Luke has moved from the door to the table in the time it takes Leo to refocus, and he can feel his hand on his back, and he can feel his eyes on his face, and he nods. He won’t cry. It’s not worth it.
Rob rummages through the cabinets for whatever medical supplies he’s going to use on Leo and Leo listens to Luke’s voice, telling him that it’ll be okay, that it’ll be quick, and eventually, asking if he will do it. If he’ll agree to let Rob do this.
They stare at each other. He doesn't know how long it lasts, only that it’s interrupted when Rob drags a cart full of needles and gauze and drugs over, pulls along a stool, and sits down in front of him. Reluctantly, Leo’s eyes leave Luke’s.
Rob looks serious, even as he spins with the room.
-
“What if I don’t do it?” Leo asks. His voice is smaller than normal, and Rob spares a glance at his brother, before nodding earnestly.
“It’ll still heal,” he says. “It’ll heal over the course of a few weeks. You risk a serious infection, and if it gets infected, it’ll probably hurt, but we’ll manage it. It’ll probably scar, you may risk increased nerve damage, but it’s an option.” He means it, and he tries to convey that. He’s not entirely sure how much Leo is even hearing.
“What,” Leo mouths, not completely audible. “Will you numb it? If I do it?”
Again, Rob and Luke’s eyes meet, this time, there’s fire behind them both.
Rob takes a breath.
“Of course, Leo,” is all he can make himself say.
Leo nods, and Rob can feel the unmatched tension lingering in the room. His instinct is to make a joke, to cut through it, but he can’t make the words form.
“If it’s the drugs you’re afraid of,” he finds himself saying instead, “it’s not the kind of medicine that should impact you in any real way. It’ll numb the area, but it won’t do anything to your head, or to your stomach, or to anything outside of the immediate area of the wound.”
Leo’s eyes fill with tears, but they don’t spill. “If it’s pain that you’re worried about, all I can ask you is to trust me. I get that that’s a big ask, but you won’t feel the stitches, and you’ll barely feel the needle. You’ve got Luke right here, you can stop me any time, okay?”
Rob hands Leo a small cup of water, and Leo drinks it without hesitation. He tries not to, as a general rule, let himself imagine what Leo’s truly been through. But in these fleeting moments, where these small details unravel themselves, he can’t completely stop himself. “It was just water,” he finds himself saying, and Leo nods automatically.
“Can I close my eyes again?” Leo asks; there’s no mockery in his voice– just raw uncertainty at the very real possibility that the answer might be ‘no.’
Rob can’t look at Luke when he says, “Of course.” He can’t look at Luke when he accepts Leo’s ‘okay,’ as consent, knowing Leo absolutely would not refuse this procedure, if he thought Luke wanted it for him. He can’t look at Luke as he reconciles the need to provide medical care with the knowledge that Leo is suffering.
He takes a breath, on the edge of calling it off, of waiting until Leo is in a better mindset to handle this, when Leo whispers, “Please– Please do it fast.”
He nods as he makes the decision, even though Leo can’t see him. That it may be more cruel to prolong the anxiety, that Leo has made this request in earnest, and while maybe he wouldn’t have consented under other circumstances, there are no circumstances in which he can truly consent.
Leo holds completely still as he cleans the wound; as he numbs his hand, as each stitch is placed. He doesn’t open his eyes, and he doesn’t speak.
“All set,” Rob eventually says, quickly clearing the area of anything that might be remotely upsetting.
Leo only nods and issues a soft ‘thank you,’ before standing, unsteady on his feet. Luke shadows him but keeps his distance, and Rob watches with tears in his eyes as they walk back toward the car.
They pause at the passenger door. He knows it’s a moment he isn’t meant to see, and he knows how deep in his brother is, but watching the tension leave Luke’s shoulders as he wraps his arms around Leo, watching Leo start to come back to himself, he knows, for better or for worse, that it’s as right as it can be, and that has to be worth something.
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Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?
I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?
In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".
Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.
This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.
Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.
The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.
[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]
There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.
This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.
[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]
As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.
But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?
Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.
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