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whistlewhileiblogit · 6 years ago

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"Why didn't you fight back?"

Now I am not an expert on abuse. All I am about to say is what I know from my own experience, experiences of others' and own research. But here we go.

I hear this a lot from people. People that have never been abused emotionally, mentally, physically or sexually. Now, I haven't been sexually assaulted, so I won't be talking about that as I don't want to be insensitive or ignorant on the subject. Though I imagine at least some of what I say could be applied to that situation.

I also want to explain that while I am generalising a bit, I am not trying to speak for each and every victim of abuse. My intent is not to do that, but to try and explain to those ignorant of what abuse what it really is like.

Now I am gonna tell you why in the past I have not fought back against abusers. This includes (but is not limited to) physically attacking back, verbally standing up for oneself, calling authorities, getting an AVO (apprehended violence order), etc. But to do this, I have to give a (long) decent explanation of what I have experienced. How it feels from the point of view of a victim. So here we go...

I have suffered abuse in one form or another since childhood. As did my brothers. This was at the hands of our father. We were constantly belittled, berated and bashed for any given reason. My mother suffered the same treatment, and did her best to protect us.

My abuser was loud, sadistic. Always angry, always yelling. Loud enough that he could be heard down the street. Our neighbours knew what was happening to our mother, to us. Children. Never once did anyone do or say anything to try and help.

Now being the youngest, I was always naturally shy, and this abuse lead me deeper into that. I was quiet. I knew to keep my mouth shut. Don't talk back. Don't fight it.

If we were running away from our abuser? Do as he said. Stop running. Maybe this time he won't hurt me if I do as he says?

Of course though, he would. I remember being grabbed by my hair, dragged into his car and driven to our relatives. In front of them he beat me until I couldn't cry anymore, then left me there to go have lunch. I dragged myself behind the armchair in the corner to hide. My relative did nothing. All she did was wait until it was quiet, and then hand me a piece of toast.

This is just one example of truth I give. It was a seed that was unknowingly planted in my brain. Nothing will keep you safe. Nobody will help you.

Now I wasn't the only one being abused. Nor did I get the "worst" of it. When my abuser wanted to be nice, he was nice. He would do things for me...sorta. it was conditional, but to me, that was normal.

Now my eldest brother, let's call him Ian...our abuser hated him for whatever reason. More than the rest of us. So he was never kind to him. And Ian resented me especially for it. In his eyes, I was spoiled, a brat.

So he took it out on me.

He took his anger out on me in any way he could, mostly through violence. So I quickly learned to avoid him as well.

If Ian walked into the lounge room, I'd leave as quickly and quietly as possible. If I was having a conversation with mum and he walked in the room I would stop talking. I learned to spend most of my time alone in my room. I ate my dinners in there, I only left to go to the bathroom, or use the family computer (until I saved up money to buy my own laptop to avoid getting in trouble for being on the computer).

So by the time I was a teenager, I had a good system of handling both abusers. At the time, I didn't know that is what they were. At the time, they were simply my father and brother. I still did everything I could for them. I bought them birthday and Christmas gifts with no expectations, I was generally courteous and polite.

But at some point around ages 15-16, something in me has changed, or begun to. I became snappier at them both. If I was shoved, I'd shove back I began standing up for myself. But only a little bit. Eventually, I would still go back to my room, crying. But I wouldn't hide under my bed or in my closet anymore. I was becoming angry. Infuriated. I hated that they made me cry.

I have a sort of revolution or sorts. I gave them the cold shoulder for the most part, unless I absolutely had to play nice.

Fast forward a few years later, abuser #1 moved out, freeing us so much. My relationship with Ian began to improve. He actually started to be...kind to me? He still had a temper sometimes, but mostly he begun being nice with me. And I welcomed this change with open arms.

I became as supportive of him as I could. This involved lending him money, helping him through his drug addictions/rehab, calming him down when he was going off the rails, stuff like that. Whenever my mum would sigh in exasperation and say, "You are too good to him. You don't know how much you help." I would shrug casually and say, "I'm his sister, it's my job" and think nothing more of it.

Eventually, my mum and I moved out together, and the whole family essentially split for the first time, everyone being forced to find their own way.

And for the months in our new home it was just mum and I, we were happy. It wasn't by any means perfect. There were still struggles, and we didn't always agree- but abuse was never present. It was a fresh of breath air. We had finally escaped.

Until Ian came to our door one day, crashed on our couch uninvited and refused to leave. He had completely reverted. His temper was the same as it used to be. He was back smoking ice as well. He completely took over our home, and I couldn't stand it. I was back to staying in my room. In my own damn house. Mum and I couldn't converse without an argument following because of his berating. Yet he was trying to be on his "best" behaviour. He refused to lay a finger on me or mum, because he knew that would be the last straw. He figured everything else was fair game though.

And so every chance I got- I told him to get the fuck out. I told him that he wasn't welcome, that he didn't belong here. That neither of us invited or wanted him to stay. Of course this meant I would receive verbal abuse- but hell, I was used to it by now. Ian calling me fat or a slut or a mutt washed over me as if he'd said nothing by this point.

I wanted so badly for him to hit me. "PLEASE DO" I'd invite him. Just lay one fucking finger on me. I wanted an excuse to fight him. To give him what he deserved. And yet he wouldn't. He'd get all in my face of course- I can still smell his foul breath as he screamed at me centimetres away, spit flying onto my face as he did. He would threaten me constantly- telling me that he would gas me in my sleep, or sneak into my room at night and cut my head off- and I laughed it off. I wasn't afraid of death, and certainly not of him. Even after he picked up a can of bug spray and sprayed it in my face. My eyes, nose and mouth. I didn't even react. Not a cough. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of gagging. "Please try!" I'd laugh. "Please try kill me, I beg you."

Now Ian was (is) a gutless wimp at heart. After a particularly big fight, he would vanish for a few days. One day, he came back, and I ignored him. Didn't acknowledge him at all.

I woke up one morning to find a large jar of nutella at my door. I was confused, but figured maybe my mum had put it there (she often surprises me with treats)? So I put it on my shelf in my room and headed into the kitchen to get breakfast. As I was looking in the cupboard, squatting down, Ian softly said, "Did you see the nutella? I got it for you."

"Oh." I said, continuing to look in the cupboard. "ugh okay..." and then I felt his arms wrap around me in a hug. My entire body was tensed now. How dare he fucking hug me after all the shit he's done!??

"I'm sorry for how I've been. I've just been going through a lot lately" Ian let me go, keeping his hands on my shoulders, rubbing my back.

"Err...okay" I muttered, hoping he'd get the drift and leave me the fuck alone. He didn't. He kept standing there, rubbing my back as I was squatted looking in the cupboard. All I wanted was the peanut butter and this is what I got. "Fuck, you've got more muscles than Jake (other brother)"

I stood up, finally turning to face him. I was skeptical. I'd seen this act before. "Why don't you apologise to (the dog)? Pretty sure he doesn't understand why you were punching him the other day. After all, he was just trying to defend me."

This struck a nerve with Ian. Long story short, that dog used to be his dog. He thought he would be completely loyal to him. The dog was loyal to me. After all, I took care of him, and, you know, didn't punch him in fits of anger.

Anyway, fast forward a few more weeks, and Ian is back to his old self. His true self. It was midnight, I was playing Red Dead 2, trying to relax after a long work night. So of course Ian comes inside, and crashes on the couch. He didn't say a word, which was fine with me, until...

"Turn that fuckin shit down! It's too loud!" I grit my teeth and told him to shut up, and turned it down. I could hardly hear it it was that quiet.

Ian goes to sleep, snoring like a fucking howler monkey (much louder than my game was, mind you), and eventually snorts himself awake half an hour or so later. "Turn that fucking shit off! Go the fuck to sleep you stupid slut! What you have playstation withdrawals??!" etc etc. And I...couldn't stay silent anymore.

I told him if he had a problem with it, he could get the fuck out of my house, considering nobody invited him here. The screaming match began and then he leapt over to the power point and ripped the ps4 from its socket. I snapped. I shoved him away, back down on the couch, and he began trying to kick me away.

But I couldn't stop myself, despite my better judgement, because that had long since turned off. I screamed in fury, kicking him as much as I could, leaping at him and clawing at his skin. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to feel everything he made me feel. Twenty-two years of repressed anger had finally been unleashed. I felt like a tiger, unable to defend, only attack. I was seeing red.

He was kicking and punching me too, of course. He kicked me back and when I fell, he grabbed me from behind. He tried to get me in a choke hold (a favourite move of his), but I kept kicking, elbowing. He pulled me down onto the couch and I slashed him with my nails. They were much longer than I ever keep them, as I had recently misplaced my nail clippers. I felt one of my nails tear back completely, tearing the skin under my nail.

But that was enough to break free. And so I screamed at him again to get the fuck out. He refused. So I knocked the basket of his shit (little bits and pieces of bolts, phone chargers and the like) off the coffee table, so it flew on him, the floor, everywhere. I couldn't give a fuck. He tried pushing me down again to stop me from touching his stuff, so I did it again, throwing more of his shit- the shit that he had taking up my space. My home. And I threw it on the floor.

Now by this point the two dogs (one large and one small) had long since woken up and had started barking wildly. But when Ian lunged at me again, both of my dogs jumped in to my defense. That was when Ian turned his attacks toward them, especially the big one. His one. He tried to punch him in the ribs, but I got inbetween them-nobody touches my babies. I pushed him down, kicking, punching, clawing- whatever I could to keep him away from my dogs.

And then finally mum woke up, came out to find the mess. She told me to shut up. I turbed on her. Why wasn't she calling the cops?? She kept telling Ian for MONTHS she would if he laid a finger on me. So why wasn't she? I felt so betrayed and confused. But mum told me she would try calm him down. And that I should just take the dogs and go to my room. I felt like a fucking child again. Just be quiet. Go hide in your room.

But for the dogs' sake, I agreed to help calm them down. But not before my little one managed to nip Ian on the ankle. It was in this moment, I realised how pathetic he seemed. As soon as he got that little nip, not strong enough to even pierce the skin, he fell onto the couch literally wailing. I picked her up, and called off my boy, and went to my room in shock. That is what I spent years being afraid of? All that time I spent thinking he was the toughest person I knew, thinking he was practically indestructible, and he bursts into tears because my chicken nugget of a dog nipped his bloody ankle?! It was nothing other than pathetic.

Over the next hour he continued carrying on, now about his missing phone that he insisted I stole. (hint: I didn't)

Eventually mum went to her room to call the cops. And I heard the front door open and him leave.

The cops eventually came, long since he had left. And I knew I had to speak to them. I wasn't excited about it. I knew what was going to happen. I knew I would look like the bad guy here. The unreasonable one. And for another thing; I didn't trust the police as far as I could throw them.

So three cops come, two of which come inside. And they look confused. It was quiet since Ian had left, and mum had cleaned up all the mess trying to look for his phone. The place looked practically spotless. And I wasn't bleeding. I didn't look a mess. I wasn't sobbing or distraught. I was calm, annoyed at most.

They were so perplexed as I explained what happened. The main officer explained that he didn't even understand what had happened, what my mum had even called for. I told them I wanted him out of my life. I tried to tell them how he has always been.

"Well, have you reported any of his behaviour before?" The cop said. I knew he thought I was full of shit. I wanted to go in my room and sleep.

"No." mum and I answered. Was this guy serious?

"Well then what he's done in the past doesn't really matter." I was so over it by this point. The main cop went outside and left some dude who didn't seem to know what the hell he was doing to ask us the same questions we'd already answered.

I repeated myself multiple times. It wasn't until the third time of explaining what happened, I began to reenact my motions when I saw that my ps4 was gone. "Aaaand he's taken my bloody playstation." I said, completely dejected. My heart sank as it began to weigh on me. Red Dead 2 was in there too. Not only that, but all my trophies and game saves...everything. it might sound stupid to anyone else but playing games was one of my only true escapes. A distraction. And if I knew my brother- which I did- it would be long since destroyed now. The image of it splintered on some concrete was all I could think about now.

The main cop came back inside, and he informed me that the police would take an AVO out on my behalf. This basically meant that it would (in theory) prevent Ian from coming anywhere near me or my home. "What about my stolen playstation and game?" I asked.

And the cop smirked at me. I knew exactly what he was thinking. That I was just some stupid, young obsessed-with-technology millenial. "Yeah, that's nothing, we can deal with that later." He scoffed as if I was being unreasonable. It wasn't nothing to me.

So the police got their answers, and they just...left. I didn't have to go to the station or anything. It seemed so informal, unprofessional. That was it? How was I to know when the AVO was in effect? What were they gonna do about my stolen property?

This was three days ago. I have still heard nothing from the police. Not letter or anything. It is just a waiting game.

And it is this whole thing which has made me look into familial abuse. Why was I starting to feel guilty? Was I really to blame? Should I have just backed down like I used to?

I keep thinking about how differently that night would have gone had I been the person I used to be. Scared and upset. What if I had just said nothing, saved my game and turned it off and gone to bed? Well for one thing, I'd still have my ps4. But...the police wouldn't have been called. And Ian would have been here still, terrorising my mother and me.

I can't say if I would be more or less miserable than I am now. Maybe it would be the same. I'll never know.

But here's the thing that got me thinking about abuse, and when people ask why we don't fight back.

Of course everyone has their own reasons. Sometimes it's safer to do nothing. Sometimes you're just scared. Often you are conditioned into believing you are powerless, as I was for a long time.

But look at what happens when victims DO fight back. There are countless stories or victims- most of them women being abused by their partners or exes- who did all the right steps. They reported abuse and violence every single time, they got AVO's, and nothing fucking changed. Plenty of people moved out of state, and were followed.

And after years- when we finally had the courage to do something about it, my mother and I were simply dismissed. We weren't taken seriously. Nobody listened when I tried to explain the long, complex dynamic Ian and I have had.

But I am not seen as a victim in the eyes of others BECAUSE I fight back. Those who know me simply think my relationship with my brother is just tumultuous at best/worst. Even after explaining. I don't fit into the "victime image". I'm not a skinny, weak looking girl. I'm not beautifully weeping and I don't have a black eye when I turn up to work. I'm not the beautifully tragic image the media has conned the world into believing that is what an abuse victim looks like.

I look angry, violent even. I have messy, wild hair and gritted teeth. I am solid built and fairly muscular. The bruises I have only showed up the day after, and nobody knows how much physical pain I'm in. Being this sort of person has led people into viewing me as indestructible, strong. But it is all survival instincts.

And I am punished for it.

If I never fought back, nobody would have helped me. I learned that young. People like to pretend if they see something, they'll say something, yet when it happens, they say, "it's none of my business". I was a child, and had no help. So why should I expect it as an adult?

And because I did fight back, I am seen as equally guilty. An aggressor. Unstable. And yet again, nobody will help me.

THAT is why I never fought back. But now, I don't give a fuck. I am never going back to cowering again. I am done wasting tears over the actions of the men who wronged me. Even if it kills me, I will NEVER stop fighting back.

Tldr; people don't help victims regardless of whether they fight back against their abusers or not. There are plenty of reasons why victims would or wouldn't fight back and there is no right or wrong decision. Stop blamimg victims.

#long post #abuse #drug abuse mention #about me #sorry but this all had to be said #true story #theft #physical abuse #emotional abuse #mental abuse #victim blaming #I often think of the person I'd be had I not experienced such a violent history #would I be happy now?

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 6 years ago

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Falcon of Detroit (DBH Connor Fanfiction) Chapter Nine

I wanted to tell you this chapter has A LOT of dialogue and an explanation about rogues. Besides that, I hope you all enjoy! Love you all!!! ••••••••••••••••••••••• ~Phoebe's POV~

At noon, I heard Hank's stomach growl from my desk. Connor and I glanced up in unison at the Lieutenant. "Ya hungry?" I ask with a snort of laughter.

"Starvin'. Didn't have breakfast," Hank admitted.

"When do you ever have breakfast?" I retort.

"Never. Let's go to the Chicken Feed. I could definitely go for one of Gary's burgers." Hank grabbed his wallet and keys while I grabbed my crossbody purse. Connor followed us in silence to the Lieutenant's car. I decided to sit in the back while the RK800 sat in the passenger's seat. Hank drove through the light drizzle over the speed limit just to reach his favorite food truck in all of Detroit.

"Hanky Panky, the food truck isn't going anywhere," I tease.

"I know, but I'm fuckin' starving," Hank states nonchalantly. "And don't call me by that shitty nickname."

"Aw, I thought it was pretty creative. Guess I'll have to make up another one," I grin from ear-to-ear.

"Can't wait to heat it," Hank grumbles.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrive at Chicken Feed. As his normal routine, Hank ordered Connor to stay in the car. I wanted to smash my head against the window at his strictness with the android, who has done nothing but his job since he met both me and Hank. I cleared my throat as Hank exited the car, grabbing Connor's attention. "My sweet little android, will you accompany me?"

He smiled gently. "Of course, Phoebe."

The two of us leave Hank's car, crossing the street as the rain gradually soaked our clothes. We heard the Lieutenant talking to Pedro, a man who Hank constantly gambled with. "Last shit-hot tip you gave me set me back a week's wages, Pedro..."

"Come on, this is different. It's one hundred percent guaranteed. You can't go wrong," Pedro defends.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "It sounds like a drug deal..."

What I heard next made me roll my eyes. "Alright, I'm in."

Pedro smiled as he accepted the money from Hank as if it were candy. "Damn straight!" Before the gambler left, he turned back around and gave the older man a reassuring smirk. "Hey! You won't regret this!"

"Keep walking, Pedro," I warn, glaring at the man.

"Nice to see you, too, Phoebe. Looking beautiful as always."

"Keep walking before I change my mind and make you crawl!"

Pedro stuck his hands up in defense before turning, walking down the street, and disappearing from our sight. Connor sidled up beside Hank, who gave the android a glare. "Don't you ever do as you're told?"

"Actually, he did." I interjected myself into the conversation. "Remember, he's 'our' partner."

"I don't care 'bout that. He's a damn poodle!"

"Poodles are adorable and you know it!"

Hank groaned in disbelief, turning his eyes back to the grill Gary was slaving over. Connor placed his hands behind his back, eyes locked on Hank's slightly taller form. "I think our relationship got off on the wrong foot." I felt my heart melting as he was trying his best to mend the tears in his and Hank's relationship. "We should forget what happened and start over. What do you say?"

"Look..." Hank sighs. "They sent me a piece of plastic for a partner, which I already have a human one, and I'm dealing with it. But if you think we're gonna be buddies, you're as stupid as you look."

I pushed both of my hands into my crimson locks and pulled. "You are horrible, Hank!"

The older man then glanced at me. "What did I do now?"

"Connor's been trying to mend the relationship between you two, but all you give him in return is more shit! You're so fucking unbelievable, Hank!" I pulled one of my hands out of my hair and punched him on the arm, hard.

"Jesus, Phee! I've never seen you so defensive of a fucking android!"

"That's because Connor's been nothing but sweet and kind to me since day one! Unlike you, I welcomed his weird licking thing and intelligence with open arms. Y'know, that stick up your ass must actually be a whole damn tree because you've become more of an ass and won't give anyone a chance-human or android!"

Hank fell silent, eyes now casted downwards. I shook my head in disbelief as Connor just stared at me with slightly wide eyes. Even Gary froze at my loud outburst. Seeing as his food was done, Hank took his burger and drink from the man. "Thanks, Gary. I'm starving."

The Lieutenant walked away to enjoy his meal and I overheard Gary's remark when he finally shook his shock away. "Don't leave that thing here!"

Now, it was his turn to receive my death glare. "Don't you dare start, Gary!" The man flinched at my tone, quickly turning his back to me. Connor and I followed Hank over to a table. Luckily, the table had an umbrella that protected us from the light downpour. I rested my elbows on the table, covering my face in annoyance as the Lieutenant took a bite of his burger. "I've got a headache now..."

"Would you like me to retrieve your purse so you may take a pain pill, Phoebe?" Connor asked sweetly.

I shook my head, smiling at him as my hands fell from my face. "Thank you, but no. I'll be fine as long as I don't flip this table over and claw out Hank's eyes..."

"I am used to the harsh treatment. You are the first human I've met that has defended me from such treatment, Phoebe. Is it because I'm your partner?"

"That's one reason. The other is because I believe androids aren't that different from humans and deserve fair treatment, especially when they haven't done anything wrong."

"Oh, c'mon, Phee! This walking Ken doll was built to replace your job!" Hank retorts after taking a sip of his soda.

"Yeah, but he hasn't replaced my job. Last time I checked, I'm still employed and Captain Fowler has no plans of letting me go anytime soon. Right now, Connor is the best thing that has happened to the DPD! If he wasn't here, I'd still be stuck on the ten murdered men. Also, he's saved my life twice. If he wasn't here, I'd be dead or Amadeus would've already had his hands on me."

"First of all, the best thing that has happened to our department is you. And..." Hank glanced at Connor before his gaze returned to me. "I'm grateful that this thing has saved your life, but that still doesn't change my mind about androids."

"Trust me, Hank. You'll change your mind and I'll make sure of that," I declare.

Our conversation went silent until Connor spoke up and changed the subject for all our sakes. "This Pedro... He was proposing illegal gambling, am I right? And you made a bet?"

"Yeah," Hank answers in his usual nonchalant way, meeting Connor's gaze.

I laughed at Connor's slightly confused expression. "Don't hurt yourself by thinking about it too much, Connor. Hank's been gambling with Pedro for years."

After that, Connor told the Lieutenant of the calories in his burger and how high they exceeded the daily take-in and how high the cholesterol level was. Hank didn't care and just continued to eat. The android proceeded and chatted about yesterday's fiasco with Kara and Alice. The man placed his burger down, glaring at the machine. "You directly disobeyed my orders yesterday. You climbed that fucking fence and went after Phee!"

"Her survival rate of crossing the highway without perishing was only twenty-seven percent, Lieutenant. I disobeyed orders to make sure she was unharmed."

"And you!" Hank pointed his finger at me. "You're fucking crazy for crossing the damn highway!"

"Not even speeding traffic will stop this crazy lady," I snickered.

"You wouldn't be laughing right now if one of those cars had hit you," he barked. "There's a boundary between crazy and fucking stupidity!"

"Whatever. I found out the truth about a man who deserves to be behind bars. I've got nothing more to say on this topic," I sigh.

Connor, once again, changed subjects in hopes of alleviating the stuffy atmosphere suffocating us. "Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?" Hank just waited in silence, giving no reply. "Why do you hate androids so much?"

I met Hank's sorrowful gaze as I knew he had been reminded of Cole. "I have my reasons."

Not wanting to pry, Connor asked another question. "Is there anything you'd like to know about me?"

"Hell, no..." Then, Hank reconsidered. "Well, yeah. Um... Why do they make you look so goofy and give you that weird voice?"

I snorted in laughter as Connor answered. "CyberLife androids are designed to work harmoniously with humans. Both my appearance and voice were specifically designed to facilitate my integration."

Hank was silent for a split second before commenting. "Well, they fucked up."

"I think they nailed it," I huffed with a small burst of laughter.

Connor smiled at my response before deciding to ask Hank and myself about the abnormal androids. "Maybe I should tell you what we know about deviants and rogues?"

Not wishing to argue, Hank held his tongue. "You read my mind. Proceed."

"We believe a mutation occurs in the software of some androids, which can lead to them emulating a human emotion. On the other hand, rogues are the complete opposite. Their entire processing system becomes numb to their normal protocol by a virus CyberLife cannot identify. They view humans as pest and will kill without hesitation."

Hank quickly stopped Connor. "In English, please."

"Deviants don't really feel emotions. They just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions, which can lead to unpredictable behavior."

"And rogues have a virus in their software, which disrupts their normal programming. That is why they see humans as enemies instead of allies," I finished, remembering what I had read in the newspaper when the first rogue appeared a few months ago. "I wonder if Amadeus knows that..." I mumble under my breath and neither one of them heard my last comment.

Connor nods in my direction. "Exactly, Phoebe."

"Deviants... emotions always screw everything up. Maybe androids aren't as different as we thought," Hank said, reiterating my words from earlier.

I smiled but it drooped into a frown. "And rogues are just androids suffering from a virus in their software. It's like when humans suffer from a plague or sickness. Too bad CyberLife can't purge it. We've had enough bloodshed between humans and androids."

Hank's slightly narrowed eyes bore into Connor. "You ever dealt with deviants or rogues before?"

"A few months back, a deviant was threatening to jump off a building with a little girl. I managed to save her. My first encounter with a rogue was with Phoebe."

"Next question. I guess you've done all your homework, right? Know everything there is to know about me?" Hank raised his chin slightly in curiosity.

"Oh, can't wait to hear this," I murmur under my breath with a grin.

"I know you graduated top of your class. You made a name for yourself in several cases, and became the youngest lieutenant in Detroit. I also know you've received several disciplinary warnings in recent years and you spend a lot of time in bars," the android responds.

"Whoop, there it is!" I chant while laughing.

Hank scoffed at my reaction before asking another question. "So, what's your conclusion?"

"I think working with an officer with personal issues is an added challenge, but adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features as I have already done with Phoebe," Connor glanced at me before winking.

I was shocked at the action, but recovered as Hank's final question had me on edge and caused my fingers to twitch. "What about Phee?"

#detroit become human #dbh spoilers #connor x oc #dbh connor

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major-artery · 7 years ago

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February 2nd - Rheumatoid Disease Awareness Day

TW: Medication, needles, blood, pain.

Today is Rheumatoid Disease / Rheumatoid Arthritis Awareness Day. You are in for a long read; feel free to skim through, read the entire thing, or skip it entirely. There are times it may be “TMI”, but I feel it’s all a necessary part of my journey.

A lot of people know, a lot of people don’t. I’m sure my people knows at this point, but I have this “invisible” disease. I have been officially diagnosed for... wow, how long has it been? At least five years. I tested borderline for JRA when I was young, but drastic measures / hard medications were not encouraged because I was a kid, maybe it was a phase, maybe it would pass.

It didn’t. I’ve been suffering with it silently for most of my pre-teen to adult life.

When you get sick, you go to the doctor; you’ll get some antibiotics, maybe a cough syrup. They’ll tell you take it easy, and in a few days you’ll be better. You will never hear those words as someone with RD/RA – or most invisible illnesses, for that matter.

At my first Rheumatologist appointment, I didn’t know this. I had come to see the Rheumatologist after a hospital visit; I’d had debilitating pain in my knees and ankles – they were so swollen I couldn’t move and the throbbing was agonizing. As I sat in the office, the doctor assessed me the best she could – asked me all the personal questions, gave me a physical, squeezed my joints, and checked my blood.

There was no immediate diagnosis. She didn’t want to assume until there was nothing left. I was sent for more blood work, x-rays, and thrown on prednisone. We discussed the possibility of other medications that may be needed down the line – their positives and their negatives. It mostly went in one ear and out the other side. All I kept thinking was that it would be over soon, I would be “normal.”

While I was on the prednisone I felt like I could bench a tank, but it also made my sick to my stomach. My next visit to my doctor did not go as I planned. Far from it, actually… I felt I had made progress, but my blood work showed degradation. There was more inflammation in my blood than before – even though the prednisone felt like it was helping, I was getting worse. By this point I had been tested for many different things, all coming back negative.

The official diagnosis came – I had Rheumatoid Disease. I had done some research on it, and through work I had learned a lot about it and the different types of drugs that are on the market. Everything I had ever heard didn’t matter though. Now I was the one wearing those shoes.

My Rheumatologist asked me if my husband and I were planning to have kids. “One day, I’d like to, sure.” The whole reason why she was asking was because she was going to put me on Methotrexate (MTX.) It’s a drug that is used in the treatment of patients going through chemotherapy – it takes your immune system from “hero to zero.” What I learned was the real truth about RD/RA – that your immune system has gone “haywire” and it views your joints (and at times other parts of your body as well) as an infection, something that needed to be illuminated. This is what causes the swelling and painful joints. You can’t have kids while you’re on these powerful drugs.

All of a sudden, in the span of ten minutes, I could no longer have children (unless I came off my medications for at least six months, would mean I would be in pain,) I could no longer go to hospitals to visit sick friends and family without it being a detriment to my health (or be around anyone sick for that matter), that a common cold could actually land me in the hospital (and has). Hand sanitizer, religious hand washing, and birth control were absolute musts.

--Medication Rant Here--

Bi-weekly visits to the Rheum began with repeated blood-checking. The small dose of MTX was not working efficiently. I was bumped from 4 pills a week to 6, then from 6 to 8 (a “maximum” dosage.) More visits, more unfortunate news. My doctor started me on a combination therapy of MTX and an injectable medication – Humira.

Six months passed, things seemed to be working well with Humira. My poor husband – as much as I was suffering, I put the pressure on him. I found that when it came time to give myself the injections I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to press the plunger on the auto-injector. (As an aside –the auto-injectors look like really thick pens. You push the trigger button on top, and it plunges the needle into your skin and automatically administers the entire dosage. Pictured above.) The loud click scared me, and the pain of the medication being administered so quickly by the syringe scared me even more. Like clockwork when it came time for the next dose, I’d go into a full meltdown and anxiety attack. I found myself literally biting onto pillows, crying my eyes out, and begging him to not do it. It sometimes took hours for him to talk me down. I was hysterical and inconsolable.

Almost a year after starting, I was taken off of MTX and left on Humira. Blood work throughout these passing months showed there was no real improvement. Once my prescription ran out my Rheum wanted to move me onto a different biologic / DMARD (disease-modifying anti-rheumatic drug). She wanted to move me onto Enbrel. I had heard nothing but positive things about Enbrel, and was excited to begin the treatment.

My doctor’s office called me while I was at work – my insurance would not cover the Enbrel, and I had to come in to discuss other treatment options. I was heartbroken. I remember going into an empty office in my building to cry it out. I had finally convinced myself that even though the idea of being on another auto-injected medication scared me, finally having peace from pain overtook it. Onto the next medication, I guessed.

The next time I saw my rheumatologist, we discussed something a new drug I hadn’t heard of but had been on the market for a long time. I was beginning to feel like a lab rat. I started Cimzia soon after – which was different than the auto-injectors I had been used. This was a manual plunge-syringe. The syringes come pre-filled and capped, I just needed to remove the cap, stab, and inject.

I actually took a liking to the Cimzia. I gained a lot of confidence in giving myself the two doses, one in each leg, because I could control how I “stabbed” myself with the needle, I could control how fast I pushed the plunger down and administered the medication.

But like the Humira, the Cimzia worked for a short amount of time then became ineffective. I was switched to Xeljanz – a twice a day pill instead of a bi-weekly injection. I’d found that I’d become more “tired”, lethargic even on this medication. It helped keep the swelling and the pain away for the most part. Just as with the MTX, Humira, and Cimzia, after almost a year the symptoms were becoming worse again. I was taken off of Xeljanz, and switched back onto an autoinjectable medication.

I had to fight my insurance for Enbrel. This time I was going to get it. I spent hours on the phone, hours in my doctor’s office. I cried, I got angry. My insurance was still insisting I hadn’t “failed” on enough medication to “qualify” for Enbrel.

After much perseverance, I am on Enbrel today. I have been on it a few months. It’s another auto-injector. My husband has to do my shots for me, because I have an uncontrollable twitch reaction to rip the pen away when the pain starts. But I don’t have the panic attacks anymore. It’s like I’ve become used to knowing it’s going to hurt, and it’s going to suck, but that’s just the way it is. My thighs are covered in bruises from the harshness of it. The injection sites swell and itch. More than once I think we’ve struck a vein because of the amount of blood that seeps out when the needle is removed. That always sucks.

--End Medication Rant--

I was so angry with the world when I got my diagnosis. I was angry that some people didn’t seem to understand what I was going through was serious. “Oh, at least it’s only Rheumatoid Arthritis.” “You can’t have that – you’re not old…” I exhausted so much time and my precious energy being upset at things that were out of my control. Suddenly everyone was an expert in my illness, everyone know what could “cure” me – miracles.

When someone asks me how I’m feeling, I have to go through an internal monologue of “Do you actually want to know how I’m feeling? Do you want me to put that burden on you?”

I go through periods of guilt when I feel helpless; it makes me upset and makes me feel lazy when I ask my husband to grab me something from the fridge, to cook and clean up afterward, or sometimes (which hasn’t happened in a long time) to cut up my food for me. There are times where just putting on pants is a challenge and I have to ask someone to do the button for me. It’s embarrassing, and it’s heartbreaking.

I recently wrote a letter to myself – and I think a lot of people with invisible illnesses can relate.

“Dear Jessi,

It’s not the end of the world, I promise. I need you to take a deep breath, and really read what I’m about to write to you. Wipe your tears – wipe them off on your sleeves if you can’t reach the tissues, maybe even a pillow. Get comfy, because shit is about to get real.

This isn’t your fault. There is nothing you could have done to prevent this; your body was basically on a self-destruct timer with no wires to cut to stop it. You did not do anything to deserve this. People have crosses to bear – this is yours.

There will be people in your life who won’t understand what you’re going through. You can try to educate them, but sometimes you have to just turn the other cheek. You will make plans, and just as quickly you will cancel them. It is out of your control. Stop being embarrassed. Ask for help. Let people think whatever they want to think, and fuck’em if they don’t want to be compassionate.

They’ll still see you as the loveable weirdo, a little ditzy at times, maybe a klutz who obsesses way too much about RPGs. None of that changes because of your RA.

I mean what I’m about to say in the most positive way possible: you will -never- be cured. I’m going to be blunt about it because no one else will be. But you’ll persevere – you’re a boss-ass bitch. Your pain will be managed for most of the time. I’m not saying it won’t get bad, because it will. And you’re allowed to cry.

You are not the person you were a few years ago. You have all these rules to live by, and you’ll be worried that you won’t be able to go through with plans. There will be tools to help you, even if it’s a wheelchair.

IT IS OKAY TO NOT BE OKAY. Do NOT let anyone tell you otherwise. There will be days where you will roll over to turn off your alarm and you can’t. Don’t panic – take the time you need to get mobility back in your joints. When you’re out, use your handicap placard. You’re suffering. Do not let the dirty looks or comments sway you.

Appreciate your husband a little more every single day. He’s there for you – even if he’s pestering you about your medication, when your next doctor appointment is, or where that bruise came from (followed shortly by poking it.) You may not be able to keep up at times, and he will always change his pace for you.

Have you used all of your spoons today? I think you did; you probably over-extended yourself, and you’ll regret it tomorrow. But are you happy now? Then it was worth it.

Most importantly – at heart, you’re still you, even if your body is weird as fuck. You are not your illness. You are not any less of a person.

I love you. You should love you, too.”

So, this is me. Today I do my best to educate people on what I live with. Welcome to my world. Please, ask me questions, I may not have an answer, but I may have an experience. I’m a member of the #cureArthritis squad – and my goal is to spread information about my disease.

Thank you for taking the time to read; please consider making a donation toward RD/RA Research. It is one of the least funded research topics in the United States. And please feel free to share this post. <3

https://www.curearthritis.org/sponsor-specific-research/

#Rheumatoid Arthritis #rheumatoid disease #spoonie #RA warrior #it's okay to not be okay #rd awareness #autoimmune disease #invisible illness #I may have an invisible illness #but I'm invincible

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vluetae · 7 years ago

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BTS SCENARIO: STUDENT (JEON JUNGKOOK)

Other parts: Part 2

You took it all, not having the will to fight back. You remained silent as she pushed you back once again.

“Yah, didn’t I say I’d kill you if you it happens again?” She said inflicting another hard jab to your shoulder.

You pursed your lips tightly not daring to say a thing. You didn’t dare to meet her face keeping your eyes on the ground.

Jab by Jab, she kept yelling at you. You were sure your shoulder had bruised by now, it hurt pretty badly. She left after inflicting several bruises on your body leaving you to tend to yourself. You endured the whole day with much difficulty as everyone gave you judging glances. The teachers didn’t even care to ask what happened, not because they didn’t notice but because they knew. She was the daughter of the school’s fundraiser after all, who’d try to question her. The teachers all turned a blind eye to her actions.

You couldn’t keep your feelings bottled up any longer so as soon as you got home, you broke down into a fit of wrecking sobs.

Was it your fault that she had graded lower than you? Was it your fault that she could never beat you no matter how hard she tried? No it wasn’t but the bruises on your face and body told a completely different story.

The next day, you were sitting on your desk peacefully revising the history test you had today that Hyunbin came running into the class almost too abruptly shocking the students.

“I have interesting news.” He said piquing everyone’s interest including yours as you stopped revising your notes.

“What?” Someone asked.

“Our homeroom teacher transferred to another school.” Everyone gasped as soon as the words left Hyunbin’s mouth.

Whispers filled the classroom.

“Mr. Yu left?” You heard someone saying.

“That’s not all. Apparently we have a new homeroom teacher. I hope it’s a female this time. Imagine someone as sexy as Lim Ju Eun becoming our teacher.” Hyunbin further said causing a chaos to erupt. Everyone started talking at once and Hyunbin being satisfied with his news delivery, proudly walked towards his seat and sat down.

You weren’t too fazed by the news. You didn’t care who your homeroom teacher becomes, as far as you knew, he or she would be the same as all the other teachers in that shitty school.

You went back to reading your notes.

“Did you do well? I’ll really kill you if you come first again.” She blocked your way when you were walking out of the classroom during lunchtime. Of course you had done well, you had been studying for the test ever since it got announced.

“Move, Ra Jin.” You said in a meek voice.

“Yah, who do you think you are?” She jabbed you on your bruised shoulder again causing you to let out a hiss in pain.

She pulled your hair on your attempt to swat her hand as she tried to jab you again.

“My mom cuts each of my credit card every time I place second. Because of you, I have lost my night’s sleep. I really wish I could kill you, you worthless piece of shit.” She pushed you back hard causing you to collide against the wall which made sharp pain erupt in your backside.

She walked away as soon as she heard voices approaching leaving you to be the only person in the hallway until you saw the principal walking side by side with a much younger man who you didn’t care to get a good look at as you rubbed the back of your neck to dull the pain.

“Here we are, class 12-1. It’s your responsibility now, Mr. Jeon.” The principal stopped in front of your classroom having not noticed you yet as he spoke to Mr. Jeon. Mr. Jeon however was looking at you with a scrutinizing gaze, you just looked towards the principal who had finally looked your way now. You bowed with much difficulty and scuttered away.

“Ahh, I hate Math.” Jong Ki whined as he came inside the classroom after lunch break was finished.

Your head was resting on the desk and you felt like sleeping. You just wanted school to end already but there were still eight months left till you graduate high school for good.

Mr. Yu used to teach Math but he had transferred so most of the students had assumed it would be a free period. You did too, that’s why you didn’t stop yourself from dozing off when suddenly all noises stopped and it became eerily quiet making you wonder why so you fluttered your eyes open and lifted your head up to see Mr. Jeon from earlier standing behind the teacher’s desk looking at everyone as if memorizing every single face.

You felt uncomfortable when his gaze caught yours and you instantly looked away. He was handsome, no doubt, and you could hear some of the girls whispering to each other about how hot he looked.

“Good afternoon, everyone. I’m your new homeroom teacher Mr. Jeon.” He spoke and you could also hear the whispered squeaks of some of the girls upon hearing his voice.

“You can come to me if you have any problem regarding anything, I’ll try my best to help you.” You felt like snickering at his words. Of course you didn’t believe him, his fake promises were gonna fade into thin air in no time.

“Now let’s get to Math. How far have you gotten?” Several groans erupted from the class as soon as he uttered those words.

“Saem (teacher), do we really have to study today?” Minjoo asked frowning.

“What’s your name?” Mr. Jeon smiled for a second before asking him.

“Choo Minjoo.” Minjoo replied.

“Yes, Minjoo, we have to study today.” Mr. Jeon answered before picking up the Math textbook from his desk and flipping through the pages.

You sighed and opened your own textbook.

It had been three days since Mr. Jeon was appointed as your homeroom teacher. With his looks, he could easily be passed off as a student in your class but there was also this certain masculine charm to him. His body was nowhere near boyish, it was pure masculine but he had a face of a baby especially when he smiled occasionally and showed his bunny teeth. All the girls were obviously crazy for him including Ra Jin. She was always giving him flirty eyes when he was teaching in class. You felt like throwing up whenever that happened, he was your teacher for goodness sakes.

Regardless of his charming looks, Mr. Jeon was also a very good teacher. He was friendly and easy to approach and knew Math like the back of his hand. He was also very good at drawing which you had discovered when instead of the art teacher, he was appointed as the head incharge of the art competition being held in your school.

“Why don’t you just die? I can’t bear to be in the same school as you.” She said after slapping your face. You exhaled several shaky breathes trying to prepare yourself for what was to come.

You had aced the history test and Ra Jin once again was placed second so as soon as you had stepped foot in the school, she had cornered you along with her two minions.

You weren’t bothered as people whispered behind you when you were walking in the hallway all bruised up. Your fists were clenched tightly. Finally you reached the classroom as you hastily walked in and settled on your seat.

After fourth period ended which happened to be Mr. Jeon’s, everyone was in a hurry to get out of class to feed their hungry stomachs but Mr. Jeon had asked you to stay back making you wonder why. You didn’t let your face show any expression as you watched everyone leave including Ra Jin who gave you a dirty look.

“Y/N, please follow me to the staff room.” Mr. Jeon said and you had no option but to comply. You wondered what you did wrong until realization dawned upon you that maybe he was reporting you for violence judging by the bruises on your face. You started to panic.

“Please sit down.” He said as you both stood in front of the conference table. His hands were on his sides as he waited for you to sit. You hesitantly did so passing him a curious glance. He sat on the chair in front of you and spoke.

“Y/N, is someone bothering you?”

You didn’t know what to think, was he actually asking you that question. Sure, he was different from all the other teachers as he always sided with the students and not the corrupt system of the school but he still didn’t have enough guts to raise his voice against it.

“No.” You replied with quivering lips.

He sighed abruptly making you startled as he slammed his hand on the table loudly.

“Don’t lie, Y/N. Please tell me if you have a problem. As your teacher, I’m here to help you.” He said but you didn’t have a reason to believe him. Even if he was willing to help now, would he still be this willing after knowing just who the cause of your problem was?

“I’m fine.” You lied.

Mr. Jeon was about to say something when you stood up; “Thank you for your concern but I’ll be leaving now.” You bowed and walked away.

“She’s a student of my class, of course I’m concerned.” Jungkook was truly shocked when the principal turned a blind eye to the issue he reported to him regarding you.

“Mr. Jeon, take my advice and stay far away from this matter. It’s not our problem.” The principal said putting his hands together on his hands.

“How can it not be our problem? She’s a student here and if she’s getting bullied, at least the school board should take an action against it.” Jungkook felt like beating his head on the wall, no matter how hard he was trying to convince the principal to acknowledge this problem, it was of no use.

“OK, listen here, Y/L/N Y/N isn’t our concern. See, her parents have no special place in the school committee, we have no reason to give her special treatment. We have to protect this school and we’re only doing what is right.” The principal spoke getting irritated by Jungkook’s constant pestering.

“What do you mean? Stopping violence against a student in school isn’t special treatment, it is every student’s right. What kind of school is this if the students aren’t guaranteed their safety?” Jungkook knitted his brows in frustration. He was starting to understand what this was all about. Just because your family wasn’t rich, the school didn’t care about your problems.

“Mr. Jeon, let’s talk later, OK?” The principal said stopping any further discussion as he picked the cradle of his phone up and dialed a number. Jungkook could only poke his inner cheek with his tongue as he stood up from the chair and left the office.

“Thanks for your notes, Y/N. They helped a lot.” Bo Ram said dropping your notes on your desk. The only reason people ever talked to you was to borrow your notes. It made you feel used but it didn’t matter as long as they acted civil towards you unlike Ra Jin.

You just nodded and watched her as she left to join her group of friends. How you longed to have friends but it just seemed a far off fantasy by now. Your gaze shifted to Mina and Changsub making out, they were the class couple and didn’t fail to disgust you ever. You tried to shake the image out of your mind and turned away. You put your notes in your bag and picked it up heading towards the library.

You were about to leave for home after night school when a hand wrapped around your mouth as the person dragged you behind along with them. Your eyes were widened beyond imagination as you tried to get the person’s hand off of your mouth. Tears had filled your eyes and you kept wishing for someone to help you until you were slammed against a wall. You shakily straightened your crouched down posture to see who it was.

“Ra Jin.” The words left your mouth in a mere whisper before a punch was thrown towards you. Ra Jin had delivered the punch to you while her two minions watched. She then gripped your hand firmly and started dragging you along with her towards the abandoned cabin inside the school grounds. You knew where this was heading, you started to resist but the more you resisted, the harder she gripped your hand and she was damn strong.

“Ra Jin, stop please.” You said in a panicky tone.

As expected, she didn’t listen to you. Your heart was thumping loudly in your chest as you reached the cabin. Of course, you felt scared.

“Yah, Jae Hee, open the door.” Ra Jin addressed one of her minions. At this point, tears kept flowing down your face as you struggled to break loose.

You didn’t know where they got the key from but Jae Hee hastily unlocked the door to the cabin and Ra Jin didn’t waste a single second in pushing you in.

“I tried to warn you. Tomorrow’s the Chemistry grand test and I won’t have you messing it up for me. Enjoy rotting here.” She let out spitefully. Her eyes were filled with mercilessness and hate.

“No, Ra Jin… Ra Jin, stop, please.” All your desperate pleads went to deaf ear as Ra Jin started to close the door. You didn’t let her as you kept pushing it back. Seeing that, one of Ra Jin’s minions pulled you back from the door and pushed you away hard causing you to stumble and it took a few seconds for you to regain your steps but that was enough time for Ra Jin to close the door and a loud sob escaped your lips as you heard them locking it.

You ran towards the door and started banging it, the cabin was dark and you felt so so scared. Your sobs echoed through the space.

“Please, let me out…” You kept repeating as you sobbed.

You banged the door with all your might but to no avail. You hastily pulled your phone out of your bag only to see the battery was dead.

You were alone, scared and vulnerable and no one was there to save you.

-To Be Continued-

(Part 2 will be up soon, please tell me if I should continue.)

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shimmy-sham-with-the-fam · 8 years ago

Photo

I finally finished it! Whoo!

This is a birthday gift for the absolutely lovely @kyoki243! (Although it’s actually kinda late... Sorry about that :( Happy Birthday Kyoki! <3

Either way, I hope you love it, you amazing existence to this earth~!

This fic is set about one year after the story line of the last fic for Mixing X Warm X Colors! The last picture isn’t exactly in the fic, it’s just a picture of them slow dancing together at homecoming after the fic takes place.

Rating: teen and up

Words: 2520

The news of the event had been mixing and brewing in the classroom over the last two weeks, and Gon couldn’t help but to eavesdrop. Since the young teen was originally a home schooled island kid, it was no surprise that he really hadn’t known what the event was all about. But after taking it upon himself to silently join his classmates discussions, he had begun to grasp a relative concept as to what it was.

And he had decided he wanted to go with Killua.

But he knew he couldn’t out right ask the other teen. He had to ease Killua into it; so he feigned ignorance of his knowledge of the event.

“Hey Killua?” Gon’s voice filled what little space could possibly be filled between the two as they sat next to each other in the secluded field of the courtyard for lunch. Despite having the whole area to themselves, it was hard not to be drawn to the warmth that the physical bodies brought to one another.

“Hmm?” Killua’s melodic drone was the response that Gon had become accustomed to when prompted with the usual inquired name.

“So, I keep hearing about it and I’m kinda curious. What is this ‘homecoming’ thing everyone’s talking about?” Gon felt the lumps of seeds on the berry that rested in his fingers. The seeds were so tiny, Gon noted in his mind absently. The pads of his fingers brushed against the rough leaves that crowned the top of the berry. It was at that moment he confirmed that he liked the feeling of the small seeds rooted about the fruit than he did the leaves.

“Homecoming?” Gon heard the snort in Killua’s voice. The darker complexed of the two knew he was getting ready to receive a spiel on how stupid said occasion was. He tried to keep his thoughts on the answer positive, though. So Gon sunk his teeth into the sweet berry as he listened to his significant other. “Gon, don’t worry about something like that; it’s lame.” Yup, good old Killua’s version of ‘I’m kinda interested in it but too embarrassed to admit it.’ Gon would have to dig deeper.

“Aw, really? I keep hearing all of our classmates talking about it! I’m not sure what it is but from what I’ve heard, it seems like a lot of fun!” Gon finished the last bits of his current snack before picking up the next one; an equally plump and just as sweet berry.

“Well, what have you heard?” Gon could hear that Killua was trying to sound nonchalant about it; that he didn’t really care. The older of the two boys couldn’t help but mentally giggle. Killua tries his best to hide his thoughts on things like this, but it never really worked. Gon would never tell him, but the tone of his voice would always give away his true intentions. Not that anyone besides Gon would catch it, though. Gon was the only one who truly listened for it (besides Alluka of course).

He played into Killua’s game of curiosity. “Well, I heard that our classmates and students from other classes all gather together in super fancy clothes! And everyone is supposed to dance and there’s food and it sounds like everyone is supposed to have a lot of fun!” Gon’s voice bounced in his answer.

A hitch in Killua’s breath was entirely audible. Gon found it cute that his charm was working on Killua; so entirely cute! “Well, that’s pretty much all it is. It’s not anything huge or whatever.” Gon felt a small gust of cold air blow next to him as his partner laid down into the grass.

“Well, that’s not all I’ve heard,” Gon joined him, and nuzzled his head into Killua. The heat that radiated off the younger teen was something to cherish. But the gulp that waved itself into Gon’s ears was just as precious.

“W-what else have you heard?”

“Some people have said that you can go to homecoming with a special someone. And that it’s supposed to be something close to a date! And you also get to have a special dance with that person, too!”

“Gon, all of that stuff is really over glorified. It’s nothing but a stupid gathering in a really hot room with a whole bunch of idiots who have nothing better to do with their lives on a Saturday night.” Killua, once again, tried to conceal his true feelings on the matter.

“But,” Gon was sure to deliver the start of the finishing blow with this line. “I think I’d like to be one of those idiots with you.” Gon gave the most earnest smile he could muster for the Zoldyck.

“Gon! Do you have any idea what you’re-”

“Killua, go to homecoming with me, please?!” Gon wouldn’t let him finish. Not if he could help it! He had been waiting too long to ask his precious somebody to homecoming!

“Holy hell, you do! Shit!” Killua exclaimed heavily into the air. The white haired boy now propped himself back up into a sitting position, feeling much too warm for his own comfort. The year they had spent together had done nothing to stop the moments of flushed cheeks and swollen heart beats.

“That didn’t answer my question!” Gon’s cheeks swelled into a pout. His whole proposal had been ruined!

“Well, I mean-! But I… You-!” Killua sounded like he wanted to say yes but couldn’t quite get the small word out of his system. Gon knew that in the end, the answer would hold true to what he wanted. There was no doubting this, it was just a matter of getting Killua to answer. And while Gon wasn’t normally the one to use tactics of guilt, it wasn’t entirely beyond the brown boy to do so.

“So… you don’t... want to go with me then…?” Gon hung his head low.

“I never said that idiot!”

“Then you’ll go with me?!” Gon’s head raised, suddenly losing all traces of sadness.

“I-I mean… I guess it doesn’t sound too lame… Sure…” Killua stammered.

“Yay~! Killua, you’re the best!” Gon wrapped his arms tightly around Killua’s shoulders, causing the light skin to color itself a deep red. Killua had been so distracted by the outburst of affection that he hadn’t noticed the mischievous fingers wrapping around the very last snack he had in his food container. It wasn’t until he managed to finally push Gon away, feeling much too heated for his own liking, that he noticed the chocolate covered treat in between Gon’s playfully curled lips.

“Gon! Hey, that’s my last chocolate covered strawberry!”

Gon continued his sly act, knowing full well he would get the silent treatment for the rest of the school day. It was no matter; he decided as he bit into the chocolate. Killua was just too much fun to play with.

“Gon~! Why would you betray me like that?!” Killua’s whine rang through Gon’s ears. It was too easy with Killua sometimes. “You owe me another chocolate strawberry!”

“Hmm… Okay!” Gon felt for the collar of Killua’s shirt. Once his fingers had grasped firmly into the clothing, he yanked Killua forward.

It was when their lips met together that Killua confirmed only to himself that the lingering flavor of chocolate strawberries on Gon was much more tasteful than the sweets alone.

XxXx

Any amount of time felt grueling when one was entirely too excited for a specific event. For Gon, the time span was about two weeks. And each second felt like a century. But finally, finally the wonderful day arrived for the two boys to accompany each other to what Killua still deemed as a “lame” and “boring” dance party. Nonetheless, Gon knew that Killua was itching in anticipation as much as he was.

And they weren’t the only ones. Along with the two boys, their respective relatives were entirely excited. Alluka, upon hearing of the two’s decision to attend the dance, demanded that she be in charge of Gon’s outfit and hairstyle. At first Killua tried to brush his beloved sister’s orders off, saying that they would just dress in something close to business casual like. There was no reason for them to get prim and proper over such a small, stupid thing like a homecoming dance. But this all back fired on Killua when Aunt Mito joined the mixture, and said that she would be more than happy to dress Killua up for the evening if Alluka promised to take care of Gon. Poor Killua just couldn’t get a break.

And despite Killua’s constant bickering with the two women who had practically taken over scene, he had to admit to himself that he was secretly glad that they did. It took a huge load off his shoulders, mainly because he really didn’t know what he would wear or how he would style his hair. The young Zoldyck would have spent an hour or two trying to perfect his hair for Gon had he taken his own initiatives. Yes, Killua knew that he was entirely relieved to not have to make the decision himself, but he was feeling something different on the other side concerning Gon. Alluka was a smart girl and knew exactly what to do with Gon, the white haired boy had convinced himself. But he was ever eager to see what the finished product would look.

And ever breathless was he when his eyes finally caught sight of his beloved ray of sunshine.

Mito and Alluka had agreed that they would meet the two boys at a gazebo in the park close to their home. It was here where they would take pictures of the momentous occasion. At first, Killua thought the picture idea was stupid; it was pointless if both of them couldn't see them. But Gon had insisted on them none the less, saying that even if he couldn't see their stilled selves in endearing photos, Killua could. And he wanted Killua to be able to look and remember whenever he wanted.

Killua would never admit how incredibly happy he was that he had been convinced to go through with it. Because for months to come, he would find himself staring with the utmost endearment at their photographs.

But none of those photos could compare to moment in which they occurred.

When they were reunited, the pale teen had to remind himself to breath while looking at his partner.

He is absolutely beautiful.

The island boy had the faintest of blush added to his dense set of freckles patterned across his cheeks. Alluka had dressed him in a fine ivory suit that more than definitely complimented the soft but bright look in his eyes, with a pure white dress shirt tucked away underneath. Killua thought the bowtie in placement of a regular tie was probably the most endearing portion of his whole outfit.

However, when it came down to Alluka’s more than perfect job on Gon, hands down, Killua’s favorite was the long braid that trickled down and rested against his shoulder. Scattered about the braid were small sunflowers to decorate his already more than gorgeous strands. These flowers mixed with the wisps of hair that couldn't be settled at the top of Gon’s head had made for a rather adorable look for the shorter male.

Alluka had demanded to work on Gon because she knew exactly how to make her older brother’s heart melt. And she was not one to refrain from boasting about it. “Well Killua, I did a pretty good job, dontcha think?”

“Uhm… Yeah. Gon looks great. He's uhm…” Killua had barely managed to find the words when Gon had brought his hands up to feel Killua’s warm face; the most sincere smile carved into his lips.

Gon’s fingertips brushed lightly against soft cheeks. Oh, how smooth Killua’s cheeks were. And they were warm; so so warm. Just like the first day they met. They were always heated in comparison to anyone else. Gon could feel that there was a difference in Killua, which from the very beginning, was why he was able to tell that Killua had a special connection to him despite not being able to see. He raised his hands up further as Killua closed his eyes to let Gon feel around. The pads of dark fingers gently brushed against eyelashes. Such long eyelashes… The older male then took the time to notice the hair that began to poke lightly at the top of his hand. The soft, fluffy strands were all Gon could think of at that time. So he ascended his fingers into the thick fluff of Killua's hair. He couldn't help but gasp in delight as his fingers tangled excitedly into the white locks. “Killua, your hair isn't pinned up! And it's so soft…”

Killua hummed in delight at the compliment. Aunt Mito must have known that Gon preferred to run his fingers in Killua’s hair. It was probably for the best, considering that if it were up to Killua, he would have pinned his bangs up to keep them out of the way. Gon would have been slightly disappointed if they would have been pinned up.

Gon finally pulled his fingers down and placed them at the center of Killua’s chest. He felt around the silky tie that was smoothly flattened around Killua’s neck. Then the hands branched out and placed themselves on Killua’s shoulders. Much to Gon’s surprise, Killua wasn't sporting a normal suit. Rather, he could feel the cut off of the thick material at the shoulder, then thinner, much softer fabric was present underneath. Gon figured out that Aunt Mito had picked out a suit vest for her nephew’s companion. And underneath, a dress shirt whose sleeves were rolled neatly at the elbows.

All and all, neither relative had spent much time preparing them, but the way that they looked; the way that they felt, was like years had been taken to carefully plan such a miniscule occasion.

“Killua, you're so pretty,” Gon couldn't help but tell his partner exactly what his touches had explained to him.

Killua couldn't conjure up anything to say back to Gon. Normally, he would stutter frantically, calling out that his soulmate was being entirely embarrassing. He'd tell Gon to shut up. But for now, this was okay. He could indulge, even if just for a little while.

So for now he let Gon wrap his arms loosely about his shoulders. In return, Killua placed his hands at the small of Gon’s back and gently leaned into Gon, inhaling the wonderful scent of sunflowers.

It was only when the two boys heard aunt Mito clear her throat. “Let’s… take those pictures, yeah?”

“Ah, yeah! You’re right, Aunt Mito!” Gon pulls himself out of Killua’s embrace. Killua almost feels disappointed, but realizes that their fingers become intertwined with one another. Gon was just like Killua in this sense; neither wanted to be separated from the other.

No, neither wanted to be separated from the warmth of the other; but rather bask in the company of one another forever.

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major-artery · 8 years ago

Photo

I’m sure everyone knows at this point, but I have this “invisible” disease. I have been officially diagnosed for a few years at this point, but tested borderline for JRA when I was young – I believe I’ve been suffering with it silently for most of my teenage and adult life.

At my first Rheumatologist appointment, I didn’t know this. I had come to see the Rheumatologist after a hospital visit; I’d had debilitating pain in my knees and ankles – they were so swollen I couldn’t move and the throbbing was agonizing. As I sat in the office, my doctor assessed me the best she could – asked me all the personal questions, gave me a physical, squeezed my joints, and checked my blood.

There was no immediate diagnosis. She didn’t want to assume the worst until there was nothing left. I was sent for more blood work, x-rays, and thrown on prednisone. We discussed the possibility of other medications that may be needed down the line – their positives and their negatives. It mostly went in one ear and out the other side. All I kept thinking was that it would be over soon.

All of a sudden, in the span of ten minutes, I could no longer have children (unless I came off my medications for at least six months, would mean I would be in pain,) I could no longer go to hospitals to visit sick friends and family without it being a detriment to my health (or be around anyone sick for that matter), that a common cold could actually land me in the hospital. Hand sanitizer, religious hand washing, and birth control were absolute musts.

--Medication Rant Here--

Bi-weekly visits to the Rheum began with repeated blood-checking. The small dose of MTX was not working efficiently. I was bump from 4 pills a week to 6, then from 6 to 8 (a “maximum” dosage.) More visits, more unfortunate news. My doctor started me on a combination therapy of MTX and an injectable medication – Humira.

A few months passed, things seemed to be working well with Humira. My poor husband – as much as I was suffering, I put the pressure on him. I found that when it came time to give myself the injections I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to press the plunger on the auto-injector. (As an aside –the auto-injectors look like really thick pens. You push the trigger button on top, and it plunges the needle into your skin and automatically administers the entire dosage.) The loud click scared me, and the pain of the medication being administered so quickly by the syringe scared me even more. Like clockwork when it came time for the next dose, I’d go into a full meltdown and anxiety attack. I found myself literally biting onto pillows, crying my eyes out, and begging him to not do it. It sometimes took hours for him to talk me down.

Through the months, almost a year, I was taken off of MTX and left on Humira. Blood work throughout these passing months showed there was no real improvement. My prescription ran out for it and my Rheum wanted to move me onto a different biologic / DMARD (disease-modifying anti-rheumatic drug). She wanted to move me onto Enbrel. I had heard nothing but positive things about Enbrel, and was excited to begin the treatment.

My doctor’s office called me while I was at work – my insurance would not cover the Enbrel, and I had to come in to discuss other treatment options. I was heartbroken; the idea of being on another auto-injected medication scared me, but the idea of finally having peace overtook it.

I actually took a liking to the Cimzia. I gained a lot of confidence in giving myself the two doses – because I could control how I “stabbed” myself with the needle, I could control how fast I pushed the plunger down.

But like the Humira, the Cimzia worked for a short amount of time then became ineffective. I was switched to Xeljanz – a twice a day pill instead of a bi-weekly injection. I’ve found that I’ve become more “tired”, lethargic even on this medication. It helps keep the swelling and the pain away for the most part. We’ll see where it goes in the next few months.

--End Medication Rant--

When someone asks me how I’m feeling, I have to go through an internal monologue of “Do you actually want to know how I’m feeling? Do you want me to put that burden on you?”

I recently wrote a letter to myself – and I think a lot of people with invisible illnesses can relate.

“Dear Jessi,

They’ll still see you as the loveable weirdo, a little ditzy at times, maybe a klutz who obsesses way too much about RPGs. None of that changes because of your RA.

Have you used all of your spoons today? I think you did; you probably over-extended yourself, and you’ll regret it tomorrow. But are you happy now? Then it was worth it.

Most importantly – at heart, you’re still you, even if your body is weird as fuck. You are not your illness. You are not any less of a person.

I love you. You should love you, too.”

Thank you for taking the time to read; please consider making a donation toward RD/RA Research. It is one of the least funded research topics in the United States.

https://www.curearthritis.org/sponsor-specific-research/

#rheumatoid disease #rheumatoid arthritis #ra #invisible illness #ra warrior #autoimmune disease

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