#I know the self-loathing may have helped numb the bullet

[revenantghost]

Man, this bit right here from the episode 11 preview keeps standing out to me

We just saw Vash take a bullet and then pull it from him his own flesh with barely a whimper, no reaction. But this?

This hurts

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

An Unexpected Turn Of Events

(Paladin Danse x Preg! F!SoSu)

(Very tempted to still do a Maxson version of this.)

Everything has gone so badly. Danse was accustomed to it though. So many times had he felt like he had the whole thing planned out, just for him to wind up returning to the prydwen short a couple good men and women. It was this fact that often kept him up at night, his self-loathing keeping him from a restful sleep. However, as accustomed to death and injuries as his position had rendered him to being, he couldn’t have prepared for this.

It was just you, him and a whole lot of fusion cells. The mission was to clean out some old building, only expected to have a couple of ferals inside.

That certainly wasn’t the truth.

What was supposed to be an easy fight brought you, his love, to your knees and no longer able to fight. There had been so many of them, much more than your ammunition could keep up with. Grenades seemed like a good idea but in reality if you were to throw one within this range, you’d just end up blowing your limbs off.

Why didn’t you just wear your power armor?

As though things couldn’t get any worse, one of those putrid “glowing ones” emerged from some random post within the crumbling wall. The second the creature made its presence known, raising its recently fallen brethren..Danse thought this would be the end. Judging from your now motionless, laying form..he didn’t really want to continue on anyways. Had it been any other time, a time where adrenaline and sheer terror wasn’t fueling him, he would’ve been screaming his heart out of his chest at the realization you may have just died. He wouldn’t be able to just “soldier through” this one. Not this time.

Just as he was going to give in, let the horde overtake him, the familiar sound of heavy steel boots heralded in a renewed feeling of hope. Bullets like whistles flying through the area as the ever so rare “backup” knights came through guns blazing.

Once the ringing in his ears died down to a somewhat bearable level his first move was to sprint where he knew you had fallen. If you were actually dead..oh god he didn’t want to know at this point. No, he wouldn’t even check for a pulse or breath, he’d just rush his numb being into the nearest vertibird, vaguely recalling his hoarse voice barking orders at the pilots as he cradled you against his cold armored body.

His grasp on you wouldn’t falter for even a second, cradling you to him as though you were his baby. He didn’t care what anyone else on the prydwen thought at the time, even as they cast their worried gazes upon the two of you as he practically dashed for the bay clinic.

From there it was all a huge blur for Danse. Captain Cade had pried you away from the nearly iron like grip he had, allowing the unbelieving Paladin to helplessly watch as your crimson blood pooled and dripped from the several lacerations that littered your motionless body. Watch as Cade jammed rad-x into your arm before hastily beginning to dress your wounds. Watch until finally some scribes forcefully pulled him away from the undeniably terrible sight he bore witness to.

He didn’t go far though.

Luckily he didn’t have to wait too long, hours later being personally approached by one the same scribes that had torn him away.

“Knight Captain-Cade needs to speak with you immediately, sir! The younger man spoke with a rigid solute, only taking his leave whenever danse gave a shaky nod in acknowledgment.

The short walk from his quarters to the clinic hadn’t ever seemed so long before. He supposed the impending doom of whatever news was to befall him would do that though. Each step felt like his feet were made of lead, an unpleasant unrest settling deep within his gut and a strange tightening sensation took place in his calf muscles. By the time he was in the doorway of Cade’s clinic, the amber eyes man found himself blearily blinking away the glassy haze of unshed tears. He couldn’t help but wonder at what step on his way here did he begin to tear up?

Regardless he carefully cleared his throat, grabbing the attention of the grey haired man standing adjacent to him in the small room.

There you were..laying peacefully. Some manner of relief befell him at the sight, a clear heart rate detected on the electrocardiogram you were connected to.

He wasn’t a religious man but boy, was he going to pray thanks to whatever had prevented you from dying. Prevented you from being taken away from him.

“Ah, glad you came so quickly Paladin..there’s a certain hm.” Cade had stopped, already beginning to approach the taller man while still looking down at his clipboard. “Actually, I think you should sit down for this one.” He resumed, a small smile quirking at the corners of his mouth.

If thy didn’t perplex danse, he didn’t quite know what would. On one hand, you looked like you were in stable condition..plus Cade wouldn’t have been smiling if something was gravely wrong. On the other hand....why was Cade smiling?

Complying to the medic’s orders, Danse sat his shaking form down into the torn leather of one of the seats closest to your bedside. “Is..is she going to be okay?” Danse found his voice coming out far more strained that he assumed it would. The nerves and held back tears had eaten up the integrity of his already gruff tone.

To this Cade fully looked Danse in the eye, that mysteriously genuine smile only growing with the contact. Before the Paladin knew what was happening, Cade had tossed his clipboard down onto the seat next to him and clasped his shoulder.

Chuckling, the Captain nodded his head. “That’s the least of your worries now, Paladin. Our knight is going to be just fine, she just needs to rest for a while.” Danse felt the weight of the earth itself be lifted from his shoulders, his amber eyes now inquisitively narrowing as he tried to decipher just why it was that Cade wasn’t just cutting straight to the point as he usually did. “However...you might want to think twice before you take her out. Look, she’s one of the best we have, true..but..well, let’s just say fighting ghouls probably isn’t the best thing for her in this state.”

“What? What do you me-“ “I mean the two of you are about to be held up with something else more pressing. I was running some routine wellness tests and I found something unusual, considering your intimate involvement with the Knight you should be the first to know. Congratulations Danse, you’re going to be a father.”

And just like that, Danse felt like he was going to stroke out. Did he hear Cade right? What? Of course he did!

Blinking a few times to hopefully help himself process, Danse stared in disbelief. Within moments though, a rare huge smile enveloped the Paladin usual scowling face. Shooting up from his seated position, he was at your side in no time.

“How far long?” He asked after a moment or two, his happy eyes scanning you up and down mirthfully. “Can’t be too far hm?” Amber eyes stopped right at your midsection to further his question.

“No..not at all, I’d say maybe eight weeks at the very most.”

Danse was completely in awe..but even that sweet, uncharacteristic joy came to an abrupt crash when he realized one key detail.

You almost got killed today..which meant in this state..he wouldn’t have only lost the one person that made him whole, he would’ve also lost his unborn baby and wouldn’t have even known the difference.

The thought brought a new wave of tears to his eyes, he wouldn’t dare let them spill, at least not where the doctor could see. Instead he’d lean down and bury his face into the crook of your neck, pressing a soft kiss below your ear and gingerly bringing his large hand to press into the area he imagined your little baby was growing. Soon it took everything he had to not openly sob.

What if things wouldn’t have gone as well as they did?

He wouldn’t dare let that be a possibility anytime soon. No. So instead he’d eagerly await your awakening at your side, ready to be there as Cade breaks the news to you as well and be there for whatever reaction you may have. He’ll also be there for you every step of the way, be it reassurance or anything you need of him- he’ll be there for you and for your new little baby.

He’ll be there for his family, he promises.

[archadianskies]

Numbness

Detroit: Become Family event ( @dbh-found-family​ ) Week three: Numbness Feeling/Joy (Week one: Home; Week two: Safety)

→ on Ao3

Androids don’t feel pain: a universally acknowledged fact, stated by CyberLife itself since the early days of manufacturing. Androids don’t feel pain, but deviants do; the addendum created during the last quarter of 2038 when deviancy cases spiked and he was activated. Connor RK800, the android sent by CyberLife; a machine designed to accomplish a task. 

When he himself deviated, it was like a dam breaking and flooding his entire system with emotions, with pain in many forms. He learned of guilt, of shame, of regret, of an intense aching desire to be accepted and forgiven while battling the rising self-loathing that told him he didn’t deserve such a blessing. All those feelings pale in comparison to the lead in his chest, to the weight, the gravity that’s filling him and sinking him down, swallowing him up and swaddling him like viscous tar he can’t claw his way out of, can’t wash away. 

He wants to go back to feeling nothing, he wants to be numb to this pain, he wants to be a machine again because anything would be better than being banished to pacing this hallway- (twenty-eight steps back and forth, twenty-eight steps is its length; he counted, he’s counting again, one, two, three-)

Androids have perfect memory; the RK800 model has enhanced optics, an upgraded version of the PJ500 eyes used for recording broadcast quality material for students. Connor can watch what happened, he can replay the events that led him here to Detroit Metro Hospital, he can see all the ways he failed, all the things that went wrong, all the reasons why he’s pacing this hallway (twenty-eight steps; twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-) and it’s because he wasn’t good enough, wasn’t fast enough and just like he was a terrible deviant hunter, a constant disappointment to CyberLife, he is now a terrible son. 

Androids are resilient; the human body can only withstand so much. The RK series was built to be more resilient than most, built to withstand violence moreso than the domestic series. He can survive many situations humans cannot. Humans are soft, humans are fleshly and full of organs and blood and tissue and sinew and muscle wrapped over bones. Humans are fragile machines, as stated slyly by Carl Manfred, and they break down so quickly; as they grow older, their bodies weaken. There is no regular maintenance a human can receive that will return them to prime condition unlike androids. 

Connor should’ve been on the receiving end of that gunfire, he would’ve survived it easily, he could’ve been taken in for repairs, perhaps put in standby for a few hours while he received supplementary thirium and a quick reboot and then he would’ve returned to his duties. Instead he wasn’t fast enough and Hank took the bullets, one, two, three, four, and Connor watched him fall and Connor cradled him as blood seeped everywhere, so much red, too much red and he screamed for help, screamed over and over and Hank told him it was okay, it’s all going to be okay son-

Twenty-eight steps and he’s reached the end of the hallway. He wants to feel numb, he wants to switch off his emotions. Hank used alcohol for such things, though he’d given that up ever since he made a place for Connor in his life, in his home, in his family. There isn’t an android equivalent; consuming thirium to excess would only result in a system purge and leave his emotions unaffected. He wants to feel numb and he can’t, all he can do is pivot and walk the other way (one, two, three, four- four bullets in Hank Anderson-)

It’s been three hours and he feels sick. He feels like he’s consumed thirium to excess and needs to purge his system but his thirium levels are fine because he hasn’t consumed any extra thirium, he has the right amount of thirium and none of it bled out of him on that warehouse floor though it should’ve, it should’ve been him, the blood should’ve been blue and not red and-

“Connor.” The tone is calm and neutral, intended to placate but all it does is cause his stress levels to spike because he knows his entire being hinges on whatever words follow his name. “He made it.” 

A strangled sound escapes his mouth and then he’s running to close the distance between them, throwing his arms around his brother. The blood of their father stains them both. 

“Thank you.” He sobs, and Ronan tightens his embrace as Connor buries his face in his shoulder. The soft blue glow of the medic crosses on his uniform are a balm for the stark white lights that have been glaring down on him for the past few hours. “Thank you.” He says again, and there’s still too much, too many feelings stacked on top of each other, teetering dangerously and so close to toppling over. 

“He’ll be taken to the ward to recover and he won’t surface for a few hours yet.” Ronan pulls away just far enough so their eyes meet. “Go home and take care of Sumo, then come back here.” 

He’s the older brother by technicality alone but the RK900 is the one in control right now, this is Ronan’s area of expertise, he is a doctor, he is a MedTech and Connor can only nod obediently and he walks twenty-eight steps and keeps walking until he’s leaving the hospital and climbing into a cab and going back to 115 Michigan Drive. 

The stack of emotions teeters and topples when he steps over the threshold into their home because Hank is everywhere here, there’s his coat on the rack, there’s a basket of fresh laundry by the couch, there’s his coffee cup from this morning on the kitchen benchtop. There’s Sumo curiously sniffing behind him, waiting for Hank to follow Connor into the house only he’s not here he’s back at Detroit Metro Hospital under the care of his younger son. The son who didn’t let him become riddled with bullets.

The snow continues to fall and it’s cold enough Connor thinks he’s starting to become numb. It’s sharp and icy when he inhales, and the chill seems to cling to his biocomponents like a layer of frost. Sumo walks on ahead, scarf and coat on because it’s too cold even for a Saint Bernard to be out without protective clothing. He walks Sumo dutifully and he keeps breathing even though he doesn’t need to so he can fill his insides with ice and feel something close enough to numbness.

Connor makes sure Sumo eats and lets him out into the backyard for an evening toilet before he tucks the dog in for the night. He stays until Sumo falls asleep because it isn’t right to leave him alone. He promises silently that Hank will come back soon, just not tonight, just not yet. But soon.

When he returns to the hospital his brother is no longer covered in their father’s blood, though Connor still is because he hadn’t thought to get changed, it hadn’t been on the objective list. 

“He’s due to surface from sedation but he may not be coherent for a little while.” Ronan leads him to the ward, to the hospital bed where Hank looks so very weak, so very mortal, so very much his fifty-five years. “I need to go, but I’ll be around.” 

“Thank you.” He says again because it’s not enough, it won’t ever be enough and so he’ll keep saying it. Ronan is quiet as he looks him over, before he cups Connor’s nape and gently brings him in to bump foreheads. He’d rather be numb than helpless, but helpless is all he’s allowed right now and so Connor closes his eyes and grips his brother’s arms and anchors himself to him and he will weather this storm for his sake, and for Hank.

*~*~*

Hank feels like shit. Well, it’s not like he should expect to feel anything other than shit; four bullets through and through will do that to anyone, let alone an unfit fifty-five year old recovering alcoholic. He feels like shit, probably looks like shit, but somehow Connor looks shittier. The android who is usually well-groomed sits across from him with disheveled hair, clothing rumpled and stained with grime, with blood- his blood. His eyes are closed, LED bright red like freshly spilled blood, as red as his blood would’ve been initially when Connor was cradling him, crying and begging him to hold on. Poor kid. 

Arm feeling like lead, Hank reaches out and manages to swat at his knee, completely missing the intended gentle, reassuring touch. Connor snaps awake, immediately lunging to hold his hand.

“Hank! Hank you’re- I’ll get the nurse! I’ll- I’ll get Ronan, he-” the boy stammers, eyes darting here and there, brain going a million miles. 

“C’mere son.” He rasps, throat like sandpaper as he reaches up and hooks a hand around his nape. Guiding him down, Hank manages a clumsy hug. “I’ve got you kid, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“Dad-” Connor’s voice wobbles and god it just pulls Hank’s heartstrings because he sounds so young. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve-”

“S’ok, s’ok I got you. I got you, son.” 

He used to drink to feel nothing, he used to drown himself to drown his grief and he won’t ever numb himself like that ever again; a life isn’t really lived if he refuses its spectrum of emotions that comes with the good and the bad. 

Besides, there’s too much at stake now, there’s two sons to stay alive for, to stay alert and aware and open for. He can do this much, he owes them this much; he can stand the pain, he can forgo the numbness for their sake. 

[mournfulpursuit]

Safety blanket part 2

Leon Kennedy x Reader

Summary: after Leon saves you, you realize your ankle is in pain a lot of pain and Leon offers to take you back to the station

Warnings: there’s a few naughty words and a quick description of blood. (Maybe also self loathing)

Word count: 1,703

Authors note So hi I decided to make a part 2 to this. Some reason taking at least three days to write it and go through it then add more to it. So here you go (also low key the longest thing I’ve ever written so there’s that) I also may continue it again as it ends on a cliffhanger. I’m more than likely going to edit this when I wake up but here ya go. Also go read part one on my blog to understand this better. Somethings also may not make sense as to why Leon just went back to outside the station again but oh well I tried.

Also you can read it in ao3 which also has chapter one.

“Almost there and..done”, Leon said with a smile,“that should do the trick for now”

You were obviously grateful for his help but something slightly irked you about why Leon would help you. Sure he was from the looks of it a cop, but did that even matter now that zombies had invaded all of raccoon city, there wasn’t really a need to enforce laws at the moment. Also you definitely had some self loathing.

The first group that came to get you just ended up leaving you behind as you just seemed like dead weight to them. You had hurt your ankle trying to fend off all of your undead coworkers before they found you. You were limping everywhere and slowing them down so they came to the executive decision to leave you behind. You couldn’t tell if they felt remorse or not but something about it got you like a bag of bricks. For a while now you had just been wandering around aimlessly trying to find a way out of raccoon city. Yeah now look where that got you.

“Thanks for the help”, you said turning around,“now if you’ll excuse me I’ll-”, you were about to say I’ll be going when a sharp pain in your ankle, causing you to take a deep inhale and grit your teeth.

“(Y/N),are you okay?”, Leon asked worriedly

“Yeah never been better”, you said in obvious pain,“now if you’ll excuse me I’ll really get go-OW!”,you tried to walk but that seemed to just make it worse.

“Dammit it’s happening again”, you said frustrated and angrily. Your ankle hadn’t really healed properly and well trying to escape does require a lot of activity on your feet and unless you wanted to be a zombies next meal, you also just couldn’t find anywhere to rest. You had just been using painkillers and herbs you found to numb the pain but you had just run out before the zombie attacked.

“Is something wrong?”, Leon asked you

“It’s just my a-ankle, I hurt a while ago right when all this..happened”, you said sorrowful,“I’ve been using herbs and painkillers I found to numb the pain”

“Do you have any right now?”,Leon asked

You shook your head now kind of embarrassed you ran out so quickly.

“Well I did leave some extra herbs and a first aid spray back at the station, I could bring you there and fix you up a bit more there, it’s not far from here”

“I uhh”, you were about to reject his offer not wanting to be more dead weight to him but a realization hit you. If you went with Leon he could fix your ankle up and it would probably stop hurting like a bitch. He could also protect you if he’d allowed it as he seemed to have somewhat of an idea with what he was doing.

“I mean if you don’t mind”, you said with a weak smile, he then reaches for your hand and wraps your arm around his shoulder. You look at him slightly confused.

“It’ll take some pressure off of it”, he said with a smile

God he always smiled. He had perfect hair, a perfect smile, and had perfect blue eyes. Everything about him seemed perfect. This flustered you a bit as he was well umm pretty cute. You two walked very slowly back to the station as your ankle wasn’t in the best condition. You also felt dumb as the station wasn’t far from the alley you were in. You realized that there had been kinda an awkward silence and you tried to make conversation with Leon.

“So how long have you been here?”

“I uhh just got here actually”, he said not looking at you trying to stay concentrated Incase anymore zombies showed their faces,“I’m a new officer for the RPD, well I don’t know about that anymore actually,most of them turned”, he said looking down

“I get it one day my colleagues are alive and well the next day they’re zombies trying to eat me”, ``How did you find me anyways?”

“Well I decided to go outside the building to see if I could find anything, and well I heard you”, he said smiling...again

“Boy you sure do love to smile”, you joke with a small laugh

“I just can’t help it,especially when it comes to a pretty lady”, he said with a smirk winking, and all you could do was blush attempting to form coherent sentences but unable to. This made him laugh (loud enough so the zombies wouldn’t hear). You two were now very close after what felt like eternity. you two finally made it back to the station the next part was going to be tricky. The gate to the station was locked meaning one of you was going to have to climb over and unlatch it. Also some zombies were surrounding it. Leon cursed under his breath, trying to think of a way to get back to the station. While Leon was thinking you were obviously a little on edge after your last encounter with one urging Leon to think of a solution quick.

“How well do you know how to shoot a gun?”, he asked, catching you a bit off guard and slightly confused.

“I uhh think I can”, you say a little unconvinced at yourself,“do you have any extra guns on you?”, you ask him, he then hands you a shotgun.

“Woah that’s a bit more firepower than I was expecting”, you say with a nervous laugh

“(Y/N) I’m going to need you to distract them while I get the gate unlatched”

“But I’ve only fired a gun once in my life and I missed every shot”, you said slightly panicked, Leon places a hand on your shoulder trying to calm you down.

“I know you can do this just aim for their heads there’s only seven of them meaning the others from earlier went somewhere else”

“Wait...there were more here!”

“Ok just relax I’m gonna climb the fence and open the latch to let you in..I don’t know if more will come so just trust me”

“But-but my ankle!”

“Try and put more pressure on the good ankle, it should work”, though you swear you heard him say maybe under his breath. There weren’t really any other options so you took a deep breath, closed your eyes and nodded at Leon.

“Ok good”, he said, turning to face the gate before turning back at you and saying to also not waste ammo while you just rolled your eyes. He gave a nervous smile with a thumbs up.

“On the count of three”, he whispered,“one...two...three!”, and he immediately bolted toward the gate and left you in the dust. You suddenly realized what you were supposed to be doing. You grabbed the shotgun and aimed it at 3 of the zombies heads. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and fired. Two of them immediately collapsed to the ground while one of them was blasted away. Not taking a second chance to see where the other one went you fired again at three more zombies killing all three that time. You didn’t know where the one zombie from the first group was at but it didn’t matter to you as you bolted toward the gate with your ankle still in pain. Leon was now on the other side just about to unlatch when you heard the last zombie groan. You turned around cocking the shotgun and aiming it. The thing you didn’t expect was what the zombie looked like.

It had blonde decaying hair in a ponytail, a black Bret holding its bangs back, a wedding ring and a bracket on its wrist that had your name on it. This zombie was your childhood best friend and coworker, Maria. Your face dropped immediately recognizing her. Your arms shook and your heart pounded and soon it was all you could hear. Your vision soon blurred everything around Maria. She was all you could see. Your breathing became irregular while tears formed in your eyes. You thought you heard Leon yelling at you to shoot or to get behind him but you couldn’t hear him. All you heard was your heart pounding. You thought Maria was sick that day and she didn’t go in, she couldn’t have gotten infected that day...unless that’s why she was sick. Your mind began to race about her husband, was he safe?,Did she kill him, were they both infected? Your thoughts began to spiral and soon you thought this was somehow your fault, it somehow was always your fault when it came to things.

She got closer and closer to you. You couldn’t move, your body wouldn’t let you. You thought this was it you were going to die by the hands of your best friend. You closed your eyes but you suddenly opened them with a start when you felt something pull you back by your jacket. Everything was in slow motion. You were about to fall back on the ground when you saw Leon holding and aiming a gun. You heard a gunshot and saw a bullet wiz past your face. You saw where it was heading and all you could do was mouth sorry as it flew into Maria’s head blood spewing out from it. Suddenly things sped up again as you hit the ground hard.

“What the hell was that!” Leon yelled, he waited for an answer but it didn’t come,“(Y/N), answer me what the hell-”, he stopped his sentence when he saw how visibly shaken you were. You were shaking like a leaf and tears were streaming down your face. He soon realized that more zombies were coming and quickly went to seal the gate.

“(Y/N) are you ok?”, Leon asked with no response and quickly realized he wasn’t going to get one anytime soon. He picked you up by the legs carrying you into the police station, While you wrapped your arms around him and just cried into his shoulder.

[flamereign]

so i’ve always sorta wanted to make a short (ish) overview of lea’s mental/emotional state during & post kh3,  as the game in all it’s Disney Is For Kids!!! fashion glossed over a lot of the results, repercussions and consequences of going through the kind of trauma axelea went through. of course, this is based on my view of events ( i.e. lea did not relinquish his heart willingly and did not cope well at all to his heartless state as axel which does have repercussions on lea’s state of mind once he got his heart back ) and what i’d imagine that would do to a guy who spent about a decade in a really emotionally toxic environment basically suppressing his emotions / memories and even his past identity.  as i just want to give an overview, i tried keeping it as short and to the point as possible, but it did still get a tad long thanks to my tendency to ramble so sorry in advance ... 

in any case, thanks for reading!  here goes

during and early post kh3 lea gets easily overwhelmed by emotions. as i stated earlier, he did spent about a decade believing he couldn’t feel,  even resulting in him gaslighting himself whenever he did feel something. because he essentially lost his heart around age 15-16 you could say he’s basically still stuck in puberty, only with some added ptsd to the mix: lea literally has to relearn how to process and identify emotions within himself after a decade of suppressing them*. emotions, therefore, tend to hit him hard and fast, can take him utterly by surprise and he has difficult getting them back under control. this can lead to either an overreaction of a certain type of emotion ( for example laughter that turns to unstoppable giggles,  tears that turn to uncontrollable sobbing, mild anxiety that can flip to a panic attack at even the smallest triggers ),  contrary emotional reactions ( crying when happy, wanting to laugh when actually feeling angry or nervous, or even just a lack of emotional response when he's feeling sad ) loss of temper / anger due to embarrassment or even complete dissociation / a feeling of numbness. *see also point 3

this emotional overload leads to hypersensitivity especially if there are added outside stimuli; if it gets really bad even the touch of clothes against his skin feels like too much. in some cases, it can also result in a feeling of extreme depersonalization**, a feeling like he’s not part of his own body anymore,  like his consciousness is torn in every which direction and he’s about to splinter apart. his usual reaction is to isolate himself to a contained space with little to no outside stimuli ( so a dark, quiet and small space ) until he can come back to himself. if for any reason he can’t,  it will result in an anxiety attack or even him flipping to rage form and lashing out. **in this case, it actually helps him a lot of there is a weight placed on top of him to ground him back into the here and now: sometimes this means he’ll go sit in the shower under a really hard stream of water,  or he’ll go huddle into a really tight space or, if there is someone around he trusts, he’ll even calm down if they lay down on top of him as it also reassures him they’re real and they’re there.  anyone else touching him is a big no no in this situation, however. 

lea has a mild case of alexithymia as a result of the decade long suppression of his own emotions and feelings.  though this condition is defined as a personality trait,  in lea’s case it’s more of a result of that very specific trauma ( see also the point 1 ), and will get less impacting as time goes on and lea learns to readjust to life with heart and emotions once more. alexithymia is mainly characterized by: a) difficulty identifying feelings and distinguishing between feelings in the self and in others, b) difficulty describing feelings to others.  point a) also results in point 1 and 2 while point b) results more in point 4 below and actually makes talking about his experiences and his feelings quite taxing for him.

as a result of all of the above, he still shows a lot of avoidance behaviors:  deflecting ( mostly with humour or self depreciation ),  distracting himself w/ something else instead of letting himself process ( like, throwing himself immediately into training to become a keyblade wielder and saving his friends rather than, yanno, give himself some fucking time to breathe ),  becoming defensive or angry when people push ( exceptions here roxas / xion / isa / others, depending on plotted relationship, but even then it’s difficult for him to fully open up ) and he’ll rather avoid talking about the heavy stuff altogether for as long as possible, preferring to act like things are fine even if his body language and facial expressions clearly show things are, in fact, not fine. 

to add to the above:  unlike axel,  who had a kick ass poker face, lea has a really hard time hiding what he feels,  but that still doesn’t make it easier for him to express what he feels.  he may be an open book to others,  but it’s not as obvious to himself. of course contextually or depending on the situation he can infer whether his own state of mind is happy or sad or anxious and he does still have previous experience to draw on,  but if the context or situation can’t help him it could be that he cries but will not be able to say if they’re happy tears or sad tears,  if he feels unsettled he won’t be able to easily discern if it’s anger, if it’s frustration, anxiety or simply because there’s something physical going on ( lack of sleep / eating / oncoming illness etc etc ).  as you can imagine this is very frustrating to him and does not help the bullet points i already expanded on above. 

regardless of the motivations and traumas that guided axel’s behaviors and actions ( which i will make a separate post about ),  getting his heart back has been a quite eye-opening experience to lea to the extent he’s willing to go to survive,  to all of his worst qualities and sides and to the fact that he’s capable of doing the things he’s done:  his past as axel and the things he’s done are causing a tremendous amount of guilt, identity issues*** and even self-loathing culmulating in mild depression.  in short, the confidence he used to have as a kid and as a nobody have taken a big ass dent.  despite the fact that the keyblade has chosen him,  he often doubts and second guesses on whether he’s even worthy of it and had it not been for his determination to save his friends and fix past wrongs,  he might’ve even renounced that power all together thinking he doesn’t truly deserve to be a wielder.  this self-doubt and lack of confidence caused him a lot of issues in his training even getting the keyblade to appear and is, imo, one of the big reasons why he was overpowered so easily by xemnas in that final confrontation.  ***in my opinion, the traits of the nobodies can be seen as that actual person’s worst traits magnified -- in a way, axel can be seen as lea’s inner darkness: the selfishness, the impulsiveness, the temper, that manipulative side, the ruthlessness and the dishonesty are all traits that were already there, but were always balanced out and trumped by his positive traits. lea post kh3 has gotten to know a lot more about himself and essentially does not like the things he found out:  quite understandably he’s having a hard time accepting and reconciling axel with who he is as lea now and as a result he subconsciously tries to suppress the parts that are axel while consciously trying to accept them, which causes him to feel like he’s not sure anymore who he is and who he is supposed to be.  this only adds to the guilt and self-doubts he already experiences.  this is also why i thought that him letting other people use the name axel for him so easily was a really weird decision in the game. 

with his tendency to doubt his own worth also comes paranoia. one big example is the automatic suspicion he feels at nice / friendly gestures, actions or words -- a suspicion mainly borne from the thought that he doesn’t really deserve those,  or that it shouldn’t be as easy. especially during kh3 this will largely center around the other wielders of light or really anyone who’s known him as axel. 

a large part of the paranoia is also linked to his ptsd; he is very hyper-aware:  this can be hyper-awareness in specific situations -- for example he’ll feel uncomfortable in large crowds, or in spaces with low visibility, he’ll flinch at loud & sudden noises, will go from relaxed to ready to attack in the span of a second if someone or something startles him and he will shy away from touch from people he doesn’t know -- or even in a general sense meaning that in any given situation where things seem to be going well or he’s feeling happy he’s always in some part waiting for the other shoe to drop or for the situation to blow up in his face as some kind of karmic retribution. as a result, there’s part of him that has become very sensitive to change as any signs of abrupt and inexplicable change in his life will be interpreted as a sign of impending doom, to put it very dramatically. this in turn can feed into the emotional overload and bodily hypersensitivity i described further above. 

for that latter part, the same can be said about his relationships with other people. i don’t think it’ll come as a surprise to know that with everything he’s gone through and the losses he’s faced as axel, his part of the blame in that aside for a moment, lea has some major abandonment issues.   this also ties in with his low confidence, self-doubt and guilt complex: it’ll take a long time for him to trust that someone will actually want to stick around and part of him is also hypersensitive to signs of behavioral changes in others towards him -- in short, part of him is also always waiting for the people he cares about and who obviously also care about him to wise up about what a failure he is and consequentially leave him. if by any chance this does happen, even if it is through no fault of any party, he’ll always instinctively place the blame on himself, putting it down as something he’s said or done to make that person go.  as a result, if that person returns lea will be both clingy as well a avoidant as he a) wants for them to stick around and b) doesn’t trust them not to leave again, so it’d be better to simply keep his distance. 

the above also results in him not wanting to show his flaws, his doubts and weaknesses: he loathes failure, internalizes and bottles up a lot of his negative emotions towards himself and others and pushes himself beyond his boundaries often just to try and prove that he can ( despite not truly believing that he is ). he’s afraid that if the people he cares for and respect know about his doubts and fears, it’ll increase the risk of them leaving him behind. this is especially apparent in kh3 towards his fellow keyblade wielders: despite having his doubts about being worthy of the keyblade, it’s not something he would’ve ever said or shown, believing that if he showed any signs of not being able to handle the weight of the keyblade, they’d sideline him or boot him out completely. considering a big motivation for him joining the battle in the first place was to atone, to fix past mistakes by helping to save his friends, the idea of having that chance taken away caused a lot of fear and inner stress, resulting in frequent bouts of exhaustion and depression, more self-loathing, defensiveness and even anger if someone tried to critique his actions or question his motives. 

due to the above described symptoms of his ptsd, depression and emotional instability, he has issues with insomnia. whenever he does manage to get sleep, he also frequently experiences very vivid nightmares and night terrors. whereas as axel he’d turn to sleep to pass the time,  as lea he tends to avoid sleep altogether unless absolutely necessary.

obviously i realize that reading all of the above combined makes it sound as if lea’s struggling under huge emotional and mental strain every day ( and technically speaking he sorta is because this is not something that turns off from one day to the next ),  but i also want to add that lea himself doesn’t particularly think of himself as unhappy or depressed 24/7 ( or even at all ) so it’ll not always be super apparent in his attitude or the way i write him in threads. imo, lea’s strength has always come from his empathy, his mental fortitude and his ability to adapt --- and i don’t want to forget that on top of all the negative, he’s finally experiencing all the positive sides of having his heart back as well. this, plus the fact that, unlike axel, he actually has a support system to fall back on, friends that support him and who he can support in return, definitely help him a lot in his day to day activities. 

nevertheless the above are all factors i take into account to determine the way axelea thinks and chooses to react to certain situations and in his interpersonal relationships and are thus important to my portrayal of him. so to anyone who’s read this entire thing:  i love you from the bottom of my heart. 

[tiredstarryeyes]

2011

This is incredibly long overdue. I’ve been meaning to post this for a while now, but fear has always stopped me. It’s a relief to finally feel and hear my voice, regardless if it’s only in written form. Warning: Mention of DV, suicidal thoughts, and depression. 

When I was 18, I had a roommate that was in a physically violent relationship. I heard, and at times witnessed these acts, for roughly a year and a half.

I had just moved to Sydney to start my journey as an Actor, and I was scared shitless, broke as hell, and so naive it was pathetic. After a mere few weeks, I was all of sudden thrown into the deep end of adulthood, and faced with the choice of standing up for myself and this victim. It really didn’t hit me at first. The weight of what was really going on. It’s a part of my life that I’ve not talked about, a trauma that eventually chipped away at my psyche, and turned my mental state into mush. It’s safe to say because of this, I now have a love-hate relationship with my past, as it’s something that I will always be in therapy for, but I’m not ashamed to admit the struggle. I’m not the only one in this world who has been through something like this, and definitely not the only one who has been through depression and trauma.

The reason I stayed, was because coming home and starting again, would mean that I had failed. My biggest fear in life. I had planned to move out of home since I was 15. Worked at a crappy part time job for over 3 years and saved every penny I made. People at the bank knew me by my first name, praising me for being so diligent with my money. I auditioned for a school and got in, so did my best friend at the time with hers, respectively. Everything about the plan was put into motion, and then here we were, ready to start our new lives. Thinking back on it, I was just young and dumb and selfish, yet understandably, I was also in shock. Having been so isolated and protected from the harsh realities of the world, then immediately faced with this type of responsibility, I simply could not cope. I’m ashamed to admit I sat in mostly stunned silence until it was over, then just went to sleep. I remember everyone waking up the next morning, exchanging awkward small talk, ignoring the bruises, and pretending nothing had happened. The repercussions of telling my family, and sticking up for myself and this girl all at once, stuffing up my best friends plans as well, was seemingly too much to bare. I had no experience in the latter, so I drowned within the uncertainty of it all. I think I was in denial as well, but I really had no idea what to do, so I simply did nothing.

Sadly, because of this, all good memories of my first apartment, my early 20’s, and living out of home for the first time, are tainted with sounds of screams. 

Before I sound like more of a wet blanket, I know that everything happens for a reason, and I’ve made this part of my journey the reason for my strength and resilience, and that’s something to be proud of. 

As they they say with trauma, the mind may forget, but the body doesn’t. The PTSD, PTD, anxiety, depression, and emotional triggers that came from this experience, didn’t just go away once I left. Doors were slammed in my face, things were thrown, people were slapped and beaten, furniture was pulled to pieces. It took five years to talk about it without crying, and I still do to this day at times. It’s a trigger for so many things, and I still feel guilty over it. I think I always will to an extent, and I’ve had to work really hard to be at peace with that. If it had affected me this badly to just see and hear it, I can’t imagine what internal struggle and pain was inflicted to the person at the other end of those fists. The aftermath seamed worse than the actual event, and that was a hard thing to accept. I walked around angry for too many years. Too much time wasted hating the world for what was happening to her, how I couldn’t just get over it once I finally bit the bullet and crawled back home. Rather than enjoying my life, like so many people told me to do, I know I let the experience, and my reaction to it, rob those years from me. 

I eventually did call the police after a few months, though.

I asked her one morning if she was scared. She said yes. So I kept going with the questions. I asked her if she wanted it to be over. She said yes. I asked her if she wanted to leave this person. She said yes. I asked her if she was afraid. She said yes. I asked her how long it had been happening. It was way longer than I expected or could wrap my head around. I told her that I had heard everything and that I was scared too. She said she was sorry and we both hugged and cried and fell to the floor. I’ll never forget that moment. Two bits of broken pieces finding each other on dirty carpet. A mess of feelings. Both numb and drained at the environment we were in, feeling stuck and desperate to get out. I made a pact with her and told her to scream for me next time things got heated, and when she did, I ran in and got her just as I had promised. We waited in the dark and I called the police. A few weeks passed, and we went to court. I was standing there in front of the double doors, ready to go in, my scripts clutched to my chest for the acting class I’d have to attend afterwards, (because I moved to Sydney to become an Actor, and a court hearing wasn’t going to stop me. That was my thinking process while in the midst of losing my god damn mind, naturally.) standing there willing to testify for what was right, was one of the scariest moments of my life, staring at the judge in the court room, full of other people who didn't give a shit if I was having a meltdown or not, including the police officers, though are we surprised?  

Then, sadly, nothing really came of it. Except my $30 check for making an appearance. The officer then gave me their business card and told me to send them an email if I needed anything. Like a fucking email was going to stop someone from getting beaten up? But lol ok you do you boo.

Relationships like that are messy and complicated and don’t make sense unless you’re in it. I get it now in retrospect, as I’ve put up with bad behaviour and my fair share of narcissism from men, so I get how hard it is to break things off. 

Boy, do I get it. 

I’ve spent the last 9 years of my life putting myself through therapy because of what I didn’t do, because I didn’t reach out, living in fear. When I couldn’t stop ruminating over the guilt and self loathing and self pity of not making better choices, not feeling I was smart enough, good enough, worthy enough of anything in life because I let this happen. 

One night, thinking about what happened in that room, I drank too much wine, blacked out, and told my doctor I wanted to go on antidepressants the following morning. I was sick and tired of not feeling like these thoughts were coming from my own brain. It didn’t feel like mine and I didn’t feel like me. I was on them for 8 months.

I can’t deny I’ve never thought about not being here either. What this world, my family, or what my friends would do if I were suddenly no longer here, had started to cross my mind a lot in those days. I don’t have those thoughts anymore, but I have had them clear as day, and it has to be said.

I remember the moment it felt like my thoughts were finally back to how they were before it all happened. That moment in the movie when the character is called too adventure, before it all goes to shit? That alive, happy person full of hope and ambition. I wanted to be her again, and I finally started to recognise the old me in this moment. 

I remember breaking down in the shower at the gym, during the fourth day of taking Citalopram. Sobbing happy tears because I finally recognised this thing in my head that was making me think and navigate my consciousness again. Like I had woken up from a bad dream. I literally felt the imbalance of chemicals changing over in my brain, re-wiring itself so I could finally function again. 

This memory, is why I am who I am, and I wear my mental illness that at times seams non existent, but at other times is emotionally and physically debilitating, really fucking proudly, and everyone else can as well. Apparently 1 in 7 people in Australia suffer from depression sometime in their life, so this is not a rare occurrence, just a rare conversation topic to be had because of the stigma against mental illness. 

It’s 2020. Let’s change that. 

I write this because these dark parts are the realest, rawest bits of myself that I relate too more than anything else. They give me strength and drive and motivate me to always do better for my past self who hated herself too much. 

Also, not a lot of people may fully understand the fact that I have depression and anxiety, without really knowing the extent, nor how it came about. I guess it’s because I lost my younger years to this very rough and draining experience, so I think I’ll always appear young at heart and seam more innocent and plain than I actually am, as I’ll always feel like I need to make up for all that lost time. Watching everyone else live through their early 20′s so positively. Because I never did, and this may possibly be my anxiety talking, it may affect how people perceive me. In the Acting world, seaming younger than I am has worked to my advantage, but in reality, people may misunderstand and judge me for it, too. I just hope this post will help make people understand why I have not had certain experiences, and to not judge other people if they have been through the same. There is always more to a person. To sound cheesy as fuck, we are all just the tips of the Icebergs above the water, and you may never know what's been endured beneath the surface of someone, or why they are only showing you certain parts of themselves because there’s not a simple answer for it, and that’s not a bad thing. They are not lazy, boring, or inexperienced. I am not an open book, and I don’t care if you can’t find the patience to try and understand why. 

Depression, to me, feels like this:

It’s like a dark storm cloud that follows you over your shoulders everyday. I can’t sense it on the good days. But, when it’s there, I struggle to see through the fog and it’s like I’m suffocating or choking. When it’s triggered and starts to rumble, all of a sudden you can feel it tingling down your spine. It’s similar to a foreboding like feeling that is all encompassing and knocks you around, mentally and physically. It’s like a presence that gets more difficult and heavy the longer I ignore it. I usually have an inkling that something has been triggered, even if it’s not obvious right away, and I soon come to know that I have some work to do for myself over the following weeks when I have this certain feeling.

If I don’t have the time to reflect however, (in my case, I was filming for my first TV show a few months ago, and didn’t want to focus on anything but the work, and boy did I pay for it afterwards) the storm always becomes louder and I become more lethargic or more sensitive or angry, and it feels like my limbs are constantly dragging me towards the ground. I’m exhausted when I wake up because my anxiety hits me at night and I can’t sleep. And then the cycle repeats itself and I am, a mess. It can be a very temperamental thing when you’re out of your routine. It’s also hard sometimes to differentiate between having off days and feeling down, which is fine, but then if I’m waking up and realising it’s been a week and I can’t stop crying, that’s a warning sign I’m on the precipice of an episode. I know then that this is the beginning of just a bad few weeks, and I need to figure out how to get out of this dark place in my mind. 

The last few months, it’s been my anxiety that’s gone and unsettled me to my core, and after a few sessions of therapy, some Valium, keeping my boundaries up, I’ve mentally been able to reset myself, and can look at life more clearly for what it is. 

This year has been stressful for the entire planet, but I think it was probably a mixture of self doubt, paranoia, staring at the age of 30, maybe, and feeling more isolated than I actually am because of covid. Many reasons I’m sure I’ll figure out later, but I stopped crying a few weeks ago, and don’t feel down anymore, so it’s going to be a good month rather than a hectic one. There’s also a lot to look forward to as well now, and positive thinking is feeling less like a chore. (You know you’re out of the storm when feeling happy ain’t draining! Am I right!)

One thing that has helped is the BLM movement here in Aus, and connecting more to my heritage. Unpacking my childhood in relation to that is going to take a bit more strength, but I know more about my people at this point in my life then I ever have before, and it’s helped shaped my identity and made me feel more closer to myself. I know now, it may always feel like there are missing links to an eternal puzzle that may never be completely put together, or understood. But, I know that's not my fault. It’s because of what this country did to my people. Their voices were taken, their lives erased and destroyed, and thus, were not given to me to learn about and pass on like other generations had the privilege of doing. 

I feel like we are louder and stronger than ever before, but that’s probably because we have had no choice and have never given up. 

At times, all I can do is read about them online, listen to my friends stories who have lived with culture around them, watch our movies, read our books, and feel something I cannot name. That’s not to say I have not experienced racism. I have, and do and always will, and I already feel fear for my future children because it is inevitable. But, I find comfort from the fact that I know this essence of myself has been, and is always going to be there inside me to help make me strong. No matter who I am or what I become, my Aboriginal identity will always be something I can treasure and protect and claim no matter what someone may think of me. I can talk to my ancestors however I want, defend my people whenever I want, because it is no one else’s journey but my own.