#religious trauma rabbit

[natdpoetry]

To them I am a rabbit,

They impale me with their teeth

teeth, like nails pinning me to my own cross,

except it‘s not my arms they spread.

To them my library, my books my story

can be summed up in two words max:

„Nice catch“.

-ND/ natdpoetry

Excerpt from another one of my poems.

[lemonlemonfry]

is the rapture or zombies better for an apocalypse?

[gxlden-angels]

Joyce Meyer is still alive???

[dark-elf-writes]

I didn’t think I had a corruption kink before but god damn. Learn something new everyday ig

You and me both bestie. You and me both.

[muzic4sewerratz]

09

inspired by years of religious trauma and being surrounded by religious iconography,, also her little halo light is wobbly ik i had kinda wanted it to look like that but im just now realizing how weirdly it lines up with the shoulder idk 

n e wheys 

[itscalledmidgar]

next call of order is to go back to Valle Verde, which is in Spanish but has subs so 👍

[wolfertinger666]

I think making my fursona a demon and reclaiming my religious trauma has been one of the best things I've done. for years I was forced to be "god fearing" and "chaste". no impure thoughts whatsoever. that sex should only be between married men and women. that masturbation is "self abuse"and dating is evil.

drawing Salem as a sexy tboy rabbit with boobs is a pushback against all the bullshit I was taught as a child/teen.

it's why I'm so adverse to people who are sex negative/puritanical about horniness and sexuality. I grew up with this shit firsthand and it sucked, but I've learned to love myself for it.

[atryoshka]

Frenchie and Izzy getting together would be genius and tbh I can't unsee it now

Love that Izzy and Frenchie actually have a lot in common on a deeper level that wasn't really apparent to me until s2 when we see how they deal with trauma in equal but opposite ways. We have Frenchie with his little box that allows him to straight up ignore the dark shit he's been through like it doesn't exist, happily eat some blood cake, and thinking that his death being given a clear deadline is a comfort. Then we have Izzy trying to stone face his way through having his body parts severed, just business as usual bc that's the pirate life and it won't change even though he's visibly holding back tears, and then accusing the crew of being too cowardly to kill him, actively inviting death bc he doesn't get why any of it even matters so keeping him alive is pointless.

What's interesting is that given the right circumstances, they could easily trade places, with Izzy being more lighthearted and Frenchie falling apart at the seams.

We've already seen signs of this with Izzy being much more chilled out after the crew made him the new unicorn, finding something in this terrible life that make him see them, and himself, in a more positive light. Like yeah, life is still filled with unimaginable horror, but now has a custom gold painted unicorn leg to trudge through it with, which is absolutely absurd but now he can't help but smile. So he decided his life is so unserious right now and you know what? A shark took his leg, end of story, here's a little wooden shark I made today just for fun lol. Frenchie on the other hand is still pretty relaxed despite everything that's happened so far, but I have a feeling that he was probably very similar to izzy in the past before he joined the crew of The Revenge. His past is pretty mysterious even with the little tidbits we get like him being in the service for bit. It doesn't sound like he was doing it for too long so the other things in his life that he doesn't talk about remain unknown, probably even to himself. The box exists so he can pretend any trauma he experiences doesn't even exist, unlike a fiction which still somewhat acknowledges that there was something that happened to him in a way he could accept. The truth is, he actually never moved on bc all the parts of his life that he's ignoring are still lurking inside him waiting to break out at anytime. I think when something accidentally triggers a memory he suppressed, we'll see a different side to him. Less chill, more shrewd survivalist, like when he and the others reunited with the revenge crew after being stranded at sea. He bounced back pretty fast after they got past the pinnata and cake standoff but it was interesting to see how ready he was to be violent and how untrusting he was of everyone's intentions in that context. He'd usually be much more chill and willing to fast talk his way out of a situation, even when he knows someone has bad intentions. (There's also probably something with religious trauma he's hiding but that's a whole other can of worms I won't get into. All I'll say is that combined with his very strong beliefs of the supernatural and grudging flippant way he does the cross symbol on himself when others do it, when they boarded the cursed ship, he was that only one to not step in the satanic circle before anyone even questioned what the strange lines even were. Did he immediately recognize it and consciously avoid it or was it gut reaction? Idk, but he sure as hell didn't speak up about it and just wearily watched the other step into it and draw their own conclusions. ) But getting back on track Honestly, their dynamic would be really interesting to explore in the show bc they could understand and care about each other in ways that would probably surprise them if given the opportunity to spend more time together on screen. tl;dr: All this to say that I fell down the rabbit hole after realizing that they are basically this meme, which has a lot of potential for so many hilarious and accidentally heartbreaking moments

[sysmedsaresexist]

im a system trying to learn more about endos.

so far in syscourse ive only seen proof of cdds being traumagenic but they dont disprove non-cdd plurality, so what sources are there that have evidence of endogenic systems, if you have any?

Right now? There isn't any hard evidence that would satisfy anti endos. There's TONS of papers and articles talking about the recent emergence of endogenic systems, but they're mostly interview based. I debunked a lot of them when I was still anti. Small sample sizes, personal bias about dysfunction levels, all interviews. Those won't stand for those who are skeptical.

Now that I've calmed my gender neutral tits, though, I can look at where all this research is heading, and I can look back and find all the different terms that have been used to describe this same phenomenon. Those terms don't fall under psychology, they appear in journals about consciousness and self and philosophy, and they go all the way back to the 1800s, developing right alongside theories on hysteria and split personality, and the TOSD.

I don't need to do the work for you (/nm), just Google multiple self theory and fall down the rabbit hole. Trust me. One Google search, move at your own pace. It'll mean more when you find all this yourself and make the journey on your own. It was way more effective when I went alone.

That said, I'm not heartless.

The most promising research coming out is the tulpa studies.

Tanya Luhrmann and Michael Lifshitz are incredible, but it's Luhrmann who really stole my heart. She has a long list of work on religious communication with God and "others", and was a huge part of putting tulpas, and several other different voice hearing, religious communities into the fmri scanners to see what's going on. The reddit AMA is being passed around now, and it's largely being ignored by antis, without understanding what it was.

The tulpa studies began... shit, 5 years ago? Covid put a hold on the project, but it's back up and running and they're working on the final paper. The AMA was a chance for people to ask questions to the lead researchers about the project, including whether they found anything.

And they did.

The brains of tulpamancers and other practitioners lit up in unexpected areas and outside of conscious control (very basic overview).

Luhrmann also wrote about how this kind of research can help other voice hearers, and could potentially point to some new therapy opportunities for those struggling.

No, Luhrmann and Lifshitz are not dissociative specialists. Endogenic systems have screamed for decades about how they don't have CDDs and we just refuse to listen. This research is occurring in other areas and specialities. They don't need to be dissociative specialists to work fmri machines and see there's something happening.

My hope is that once the final results are published, we'll see some very quick movements comparing CDDs and endogenic systems. We're not there yet, but I think we'll actually have firm answers within the next couple years.

And after looking into other areas of research, and seeing the potential positives, and that they DID see some unexpected things on the scans...

Not to mention that I've spoken with Colin Ross, THE dissociative expert, who in the 1980s, wrote about "endogenous multiplicity," a subsection of those with MPD that had no trauma history, no dysfunction, no amnesia, etc, and he still stands by that to this very day. I've spoken with several other experts. Go look at Jamie Marich on Twitter and see all her colleagues in the notes.

Anti endo is a dying stance.

Learn nuance while you can (CDDs and endogenic plurality are different, occasionally overlapping), and jump ship before it's too late to take the harm back.

Happy googling and good luck!

[captainjacklyn]

Love, Love, Love Part 2-ish

A/N : continuation of this and this, hope you liked the first part because I'm on an absolute roll. To all those waiting for a continuation of many of my series, I am so sorry. I'm serious guys pls forgive me I know it's been a really long time since and I still need to finish other requests I started.

Context : Rollo gets transferred to NRC for a few months, The Headmaster decides that he would be staying at Ramshackle Dorm much to Malleus' dismay (along with grim and the first years who are aware of the truth). Yuu doesn't find it nice either but with time they allow the third year to open up to them, eventually growing mutual respect for one another, perhaps some friendship..and a bit more.

Warning(s) : fluff, mostly crack, hints of rollo liking Yuu, this is a continuation of some sort to my joke so pls understand that it isn't from the beginning, Rollo might be OOC he's just scared of Yuu, they/them pronouns for Prefect, the first years who weren't present in glorious masquerade find out and try to push rollo away. (it doesn't work) is this stolen from peter rabbit ? Yes. Most. but not all of it.

The story starts...now ?

Something suspicious was stirring around the 'relationship' between Yuu and the strange newcomer. At least it looked like it to their close friends who were already bitter about the idea of that religious trauma-induced student coming but even more so when that horrible influence hung around their prefect.

It wasn't as if they didn't trust Yuu, they didn't trust him ! He was being all close with their mom friend pal, knowing what he did, they weren't going to stand around and do nothing. They're gonna do something about it, about him.

It all began the day the Adeuce duo and Epel witnessed Yuu casually speaking with grey haired priest and HE WAS SMILING?! OH HELL NAH GET YOUR EYEBALLS OFF OF THEM- but truly they misunderstood, for now at least, since most of the resident's interactions regarded around Yuu, threatening Flamm..Of ripping his guts out.

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"Ace, Deuce!" Grim shouted through the halls as he ran towards them, the both of them turned around to see the raccoon panting and wheezing from his sprint. "Hey there Grim- Woah what was that?~ You trynna imitate being a cheetah now?" Ace teased, his remark making the fire cat retort with a 'hey!' before Deuce stepped in to ask the obvious question. "What's wrong?" forgetting his comeback, Grim immediately switched back to panic mode.

"My Henchman! A-A-And that weird suspicious dude! They're SPENDING TIME TOGETHER AND BEING ALL WEIRD MUSHY LOOKING!" He exclaimed, his revelation shocking the two freshmen who's eyes widened in horror. "What- How?! Didn't prefect say they hated that guy?" Ace sputtered as he tried making sense of the situation, he was a bit confused as to why he was reacting this way but with the amount of braincells left he couldn't care anymore.

"That's what I thought! But this morning I found them- laughing and talking to each other!" he added more fuel to the fire, ace and deuce exchanged concerned glances and spoke in unison. "We gotta get the others."

"Yes !" Grim smiled as he threw a fist in the air. It took a good second for him to realize they didn't say what he thought they would.

"...Wait what- AH!" But he didn't have time to argue as they grabbed him by the neck and made their way to find the others.

Passing through Savannaclaw, Pomefiore and Diasomnia almost felt like an eternity to fetch Jack, Epel and Sebek. Especially the half-fae as he was persistent on the idea of staying by his future king's side during the entire duration of Rollo's stay. After sharing the news, they all bolted to Ramshackle dorm, and there they saw it.

Yuu was having a conversation with the same young man that dropped them down a trap door when they came around for a celebration. The same young man who tried to erase magic forever. And they were speaking like they've been friends for years.

The group of first years were hiding behind a tree, in between the gates of the not-so-abandoned dorm. All of their heads comically poking out to take a peek at the flabbergasting sight. "That's a lot of smiling." Epel commented as he watched the prefect supposedly laugh at something Rollo said. (They weren't, they quite literally started to laugh because of Rollo's genuinely terrified face) "More than before even." he continued, Ace added on with another remark, "They're showing a lot of teeth."

Then, Jack made a very bold statement which earned collective noises of disgust from the rest of the team. "Do you think they like him?" Sebek's face morphed into horror, Grim started gagging, Deuce looked like he was going through fifty existential crisis all at the same time, meanwhile Ace was debating on what he should express. Either way they were all mortified.

"They don't like him, they're just being nice! Yuu is nice all the time, they always smile at us!" the grey monster retorted, denying any further supposition. "Well..not like that." They flipped their heads towards the pair, and Yuu's hand rested on Rollo's shoulder as he chuckled nervously.

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"Could you imagine? You trying to take over the world again? What a joke ! I would bury you alive honestly!" the non-magic student exclaimed as they broke into another loud laughter. Rollo could only nod along a little offended but mostly nervous, "Right yes no that would- that won't ever happen." "Yes because I will actually force-feed you the flowers you tried killing us with."

"😨"

"😄"

Yay. Part 3 coming up soon.

[nalyra-dreaming]

You know how Anne Rice cemented in her books that her vampires "couldn't" have sex? It was always a bit unclear to me whether she meant that drinking blood was so good they just chose not to, or whether they were physically incapable. I had theories - no erection due to low heart rate? Skin and muscles too inflexible to accomodate penetration? Only the ancients could potentially do it with each other because they're so physically hard they'd tear anyone younger apart? etc. etc. Ultimately the whole concert felt like thinly veiled religious puritanism, as if Anne Rice potentially wanted to keep her smut to the Beauty series and force herself to write the vampires "clean", like she might have felt that all the brutal things they did were less morally "bad" than sex could ever be. It made me angry. But ANYWAY - that's not what this post is really about. It is about how I ended up developing this headcanon that LESTAT is the only who thinks they can't have sex. Everyone else is potentially fucking like rabbits if they so choose - some of them are ace or otherwise choose not to - but only Lestat thinks they can't, and is usually so busy with Lestat adventures that he just... doesn't. Until he does whatever *fade to black* happens with Akasha and realises oh, well, that's awkward. Did everyone else know? And once the dust settles everyone else confirms that yes indeed, they knew. And yeah, then there's book canon science things, but I came up with this before that was released. I just kinda love the idea that Lestat is full of himself but there's something really obvious that he's just not cottoned on to.

Yeah well. I mean it's a head canon.

Also I have no idea where that take comes from that Lestat is always so "full of himself". The guy is walking insecurity and trauma bundled up in too much power and hidden by bravado.

But just for the record:

He covered me and kissed my cheek. "Drink from me," he said, "drink until the pain goes away. It's only the body dying, drink Pandora, you are immortal." "Fill me, take me," I said. I reached down between his legs. "It doesn't matter now." But it was hard, this organ I sought, the organ forever lost to the god Osiris. I guided it, hard and cold as it was, into my body. Then I drank and drank, and when I felt his teeth again on my neck, when he began to draw from me the new mixture that filled my veins, it was sweet suckling, and I knew him and loved him and knew all his secrets in one flash which meant nothing. He was right. The lower organs meant nothing. He fed on me. I fed on him. This was our marriage. All around us, the grass was waving softly in the breeze, a majestic conjugal bed, and the smell of the green flooded me. ...

It's not that they can't.

It's that in book canon it isn't the height of pleasure anymore. Killing is. Blood sharing is.

That's a difference.

[det-loki]

winter. poison and wine blurb

tw: religious imagery, religious trauma, death, grief.

MASTERLIST

“Father, forgive me for I have sinned. Father, forgive me for I have sinned. Father, forgive me for I have sinned. Father, forgive me for-”

The words tumbled from Loki’s lips as he hunched over himself. His car had long gone cold in the Pennsylvania winter, his breath appearing in jagged grey clouds. Tattooed fingers were clasped before him in mock prayer, the steering wheel bearing the weight. His head hung low and his chest burned, throat constricting on unshed tears. 

Rain beat down outside around him, the droplets pelting against the car drained out the hushed pleas that escaped his cracked lips. The cemetery was vacant, save for its permanent residents. Loki’s eyes flitted around him, zeroing in on the faded pink fake flowers at the tombstone nearest his car. His chest burned and his head pounded as he choked on a sob. 

Three weeks. Twenty-one days she had been gone. Each day was more agonizing than the last, bitter reality setting in that this wasn’t a nightmare. Their daughter was gone. She was never coming back. Permanently a child taken too soon, senselessly and violently. Every second was time spent longer without her. Flashes of their last morning together echo through his mind, giggling at the breakfast table; crayons, glitter, and a stuffed rabbit sprawled across the space. 

Stepping out of the car, Loki felt like his feet were bricks. He wiped his nose with the back of his, squaring his shoulders as he approached the still-disturbed earth of his daughter's grave. He didn’t know what to say or do, instead standing awkwardly before the cold marble, rain pelting his aged coat. He knelt on the ground, frozen slushed dirt digging into his knees, reminiscent of his time in the boy's home, dried rice tearing into his knees as punishment, kneeling in front of a priest with venom in their eyes and poison in their hearts. 

Rain turned into snow, starting to fall around him, blanketing the cemetery in white. Pure and clean. 

“I’m sorry,” were the only words he could muster before he lit a cigarette and cried.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Beneath Miles of Stone - Part three - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: bullying ; asshole security guards ; mentions of traumatic pasts ; heavy drinking ; suicidal ideation ; depictions of suicide

She vaguely wonders when she had become such a cry-baby.

It’s her second favorite activity. The first is drinking alone, although enough liquor and she is immediately crying anyway.

She takes another sip of the vodka in the glass, puts her head in her other hand, lets tears drip onto a scuffed kitchen table.

These tears are from the fear that eviction could soon be in her future. Her new job, although awful, pays well, and she’s been picking up as much overtime as she thinks is safe.

She would be taking more open shifts if there wasn’t a hulking security guard out for her blood.

She tries to rationalize through the misery, but her brain can only sooth with thoughts of disaster, and eventually she always ends up giving in to things like this, so she does that, and lets herself sob for a long while.

Yearning for an actual mother she can call and ask for advice, she picks up her phone and stares at the screen longingly. Maybe a dad would be better for this situation, but she doesn’t have one of those either.

She doesn’t have anyone in this lonely city.

It’s times like these when the thought of slitting open her wrists in the bathtub sounds like a lovely escape. Her eyes catch the glint of scattered kitchen knives on her counter, but she doubts they would be sharp enough. She could walk to the corner store and buy a razor blade, but the fact that she is too lazy to do that right now tells her that she’s not yet fully committed to the idea of suicide.

Sure, it sounds great in theory. Kill yourself and make the pain disappear. Grow up with enough religious trauma, and the thought gets less appealing. The hell of life is nothing compared to the biblical one, at least not from what she’s learned about it, and although she has no belief now, the eternal damnation and fire-brimstone combo still sticks inside her brain and scares her alive.

When she had told her landlord she didn’t have enough for rent, they had hung up on her. That action alone was enough to interpret as a 30 day eviction notice.

So here she is, nothing to live or die for, head on the table, unpleasantly drunk, crying on her poor raw cheeks. Three cups of ramen left for dinner, a fourth case of pop in the fridge, salt and pepper and a bottle of ketchup and expired mustard, half a bottle of cheap vodka, and eight dollars. And too cowardly to even kill herself.

She remembers John telling her something about taking shitty care of herself, and he’s absolutely right. Out of line, but right. It’s funny how a guy that’s known her for a week can see her better than she can see herself. Her vodka brain suggests asking him for more advice since he seems to care so much. She thinks about it for a minute, the irony of asking an inmate for life directions, decides it actually is a great idea. It surely has nothing to do with her wanting to talk to or spend more time with him.

He is very handsome, even sporting that long, unkempt facial hair and prison jumpsuit. And of course she would find a prisoner attractive because he showed her the tiniest bit of non-negative attention. Yes, he’s convicted, but they’re not all bad. Some are in for stupid shit. Maybe he just pissed off the wrong person.

But he is good-looking. Anyone with a functioning brain can see that. Unless they hate tall, dark, broad-shouldered men with muscles. Not obscene muscles either—

She catches her wandering thoughts, screams into the thick wood of the kitchen table, vows to stop thinking about how hot her patient is, because crying is better than jumping down that terrifying rabbit hole.

She reaches for the bottle of vodka, drunken brain convincing her that she doesn’t have to look because she knows where it is. However, her brain is very wrong, and instead of gripping the bottle, she ends up knocking it over.

Before she can rectify the situation, there is already liquid all over the table and floor. The bottle is empty. She tries to look on the bright side because she doesn’t want to cry anymore. At least it would disinfect everything. Less cleaning that she had to do in the morning. It doesn’t work and she’s crying again.

————— ———————

She feels like an idiot creeping into the break room to search for cameras. Of course, there are none. She doesn’t keep her drinks or food in here anymore and she decides that this will be the final time she visits altogether.

Benny can’t get to her if she’s always in the open. The most he can do is scowl at her and make stupid comments, and these things she can live with.

She is at the desk doing her paperwork when she sees him again. Immediately, she wants to run, especially since he is walking her way. She stays put, though, determined not to let him see how scared she is of him.

He slides up to the counter and looks down at her, grinning. “Hey kid, nice shiner.”

She doesn’t look up.

He continues. “I forgot to get your number for the camping trip, mind giving me your phone for a minute?”

“I don’t have a phone.” The lie could have been a better one, but she’s still proud of herself for coming up with it under pressure.

Benny laughs, leans more toward her, his bulging shoulders hunched in and squeezing his cheeks. He reminds her of her old school bullies. “Bullshit.”

She sighs and puts her pen down. “I really don’t,” she says, “I broke it a week ago and I can’t afford another one.” She hopes the square outline of a smartphone in her pocket isn’t visible once she stands up.

His smile dissipates. “You better not be lying to me.”

That registers as a threat. She tries not to shrink, holds herself steady.

Diane, the other, older female nurse, comes through the swinging door of the nurses station.

Benny backs off the counter and leaves, scowling.

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

She should have told him off, explained to him that she would rather jump into a ravine full of crocodiles than give him her phone number. She at least likes crocodiles.

She’d like to think she’s never felt this helpless, but she’s wrong. Growing up in  foster care, she had met plenty of men like Benny. It grew hair on her chest, so to speak, formed her into a protector for those who needed one. But all those traumatic experiences never made it easier for her to stand up for herself. If anything, they made it much harder. It’s hard to show your backbone if you never learned how to grow one.

She can’t focus on the paperwork, not when Benny is here and she hates herself for not telling him to fuck off. So, she decides to round on her patients—one in particular she’s very worried about.

Although he did cross a line, the line was already breached anyway, and she can’t convince him or herself that she’s mad at him for it. First of all, because that would be admitting to him…and herself that he can get under her skin even further than he’s already burrowed, and, second of all, because admitting she’s angry at him would be establishing that she has some sort or relationship with him outside of the professional one.

In a provider patient scenario, it’s often the case that the patient feels weak and helpless, especially if the provider has feelings for them. If John finds out she feels drawn to him like this, he will probably hate her and think she’s a creep, and she’d honestly rather get fired than have that happen.

She doesn’t want to put him in a position where he has to tiptoe around her.

Trying to lie to herself, reasoning that this is her job and John is her patient and she needs to check on him periodically anyway, she stands up and pushes her chair in. A bunch of people have been discharged over the past few days, and her case load is light tonight—light enough to be boring. She only has three patients including John. The other two sleep soundly, both with only one wrist cuffed to the bed.

She knows that John won’t be sleeping.

She’s right, he’s not asleep, but he’s got other company tonight. Mike stands beside his bed with his phone held to John’s face. The blue light of the screen illuminates his kind smile. It’s a polite, slight upward turn of his mouth for Mike’s benefit, but when he catches her eyes, it turns genuine.

She smiles right back, almost involuntarily.

Mike doesn’t notice her, flips through his phone pictures. John has seen at least twenty photos or more of his grandkid’s since the janitor began talking to him tonight.

“And that’s my daughter-in-laws little girl, Ashlee.”

She almost steps back out to leave them to it, but John catches her with his voice. He says her name and Mike turns around, smiling wide.

They both greet her, and she greets back. Mike shoves his phone into his pocket and looks at her apologetically. “I suppose she’s here to do her job, and here I am slacking off,” he jokes.

She chuckles. “How dare you take a break, Mike, you know we don’t get those.”

“Right, right,” Mike sighs, sarcastic, “must have forgotten. My age is finally getting to me.”

“You’re like 30,” she tells him, waving a dismissing hand in the air.

“Aw, I love this girl,” Mike giggles, looking at John. “Best nurse in the building, you’re lucky to have her.”

She rolls her eyes, flushing, still smiling. “If you keep lying, you’ll go to hell.”

“Well, I hope so. I already bought my ticket.” He nudges John with an elbow, winking down at him. “I’ll leave you kids to it and get back to work.”

Mike starts to walk out, mop bucket in tow, but stops, addressing John, the freshly awakened guards, and herself.

“Why did the chicken cross the road?” He asks.

“Why?” She asks, already smiling for the punchline.

“Nobody knows,” Mike sighs. He looks off into the distance, adopting a dramatic, grave expression. “But the road will have its revenge.” With that, he is gone.

She’s the only one that laughs. John’s smile perks, although not for the joke.

She promises herself to find Mike later and ask for updates on his adorable little hoard of kiddos, then focuses her attention on the man cuffed to the bed.

“I don’t need anything,” he tells her before she asks. “But, I’m glad you came in.”

“That’s my job,” she shrugs.

“I really am sorry,” John says, looking like he means it with his droopy, apologetic eyes. It makes her heart seize to see him moping like a dejected dog.

“Don’t be sorry because you’re right,” she says, past the point of giving a shit what she talks to him about or what he knows about her. Maybe this is her way of living dangerously because of a shitty existence. Some people choose meth, she chooses alcohol and alluring prisoners. We all have our vices.

“Maybe not,” he says, “you’re alive, that’s saying something.”

She laughs without humor. “But I can’t pay my rent, and I can’t afford food.”

She waits for him to say something mean like ‘you clearly look like you can afford food ’, but instead, he thinks critically on her situation for a moment. “Do you have a partner, children?”

“No.”

Then who hit you. “Get a roommate.”

It’s so simple, and so easily slides from his mouth, and she can’t believe she didn’t think about it before. A roommate could help her afford rent, especially in New York where it is obscenely high. And she could ask for first months, which would give her half the payment she needs while waiting for her own supply of money. Perhaps a portion would delay eviction.

She stares at him. “That’s actually a great idea.”

He raises his eyebrows. “I have those.”

She laughs again, but there’s humor back in it. “You shouldn’t be in prison, John. You should be an advice counselor.”

“That’s what I keep telling them, but I don’t think they’re listening.” His dry humor makes her giggle harder, enough that the security guards glance over at them curiously.

He’s tried more than his share of addictive substances, and her laughter is quickly becoming one of the sweetest to invade his senses.

“No, really, you’re a genius, thank you for that. And I forgive you.”

He just hopes she can pick someone who’s not a scumbag, but based on her judge of character so far, that’s highly unlikely. Maybe he shouldn’t have suggested it.

“Good. Now I can live with myself.” She thinks he’s joking but the only funny thing about it is he’s really not.

[spittingbloodandscreaming]

Plaything (HABIT x Male reader SMUT!!)

WARNINGS: uhh kinda sorta held against your will? Somewhat dubcon, hair pulling, and HABIT is a warning all by himself. I don't think I missed anything, but let me know if I did!!

AN:

Not my first fic or first smut!! Just kinda my first time publishing. Uhmm reader is hinted to have religious trauma, Habit makes out like a fucking weirdo, reader doesn’t really talk other than to cry and be a slut, Habit doesn’t shut the fuck up, reader’s a dirty virgin. This is 109% self indulgent. Hope you like it!!

You hear footsteps echo from the hallway, the door slowly creaks open and shoes come into view of the desk you're hiding under. Habit bends down, one hand on the desk to steady himself, and the other on the knife he holds all too casually. Cartoonish in his movements and grinning, he speaks. "Well now, how'd you end up down here little rabbit? You weren't hiding from me, were ya?" He puts on an exaggerated frown, a caricature of hurt. The light from the hallway glints on the steel of his hunting knife. Your eyes widen, cheeks red and wet with tears. Your mind was actively shutting down from the stress of essentially being hunted. You’re in complete fight or flight mode, and you’re frozen. All you can do is be still, and stare, and hope.

He crouches down to be on eye level with you. His expression is almost sweet, almost apologetic. "Oh don't cry for me rabbit." He strokes your face with his free hand, brushing your hair out of your eyes. He pauses for a long moment, as if thinking over what to do next, then abruptly pulls his hand away. "You're adorable." He reaches for the knife on his belt. That's when you snap. You cover your face with your arms and curl up, making yourself as small as you physically can be, and start sobbing out mildly coherent nonsense.

"No! No— stop, please don't hurt me. I swear I'm a good boy! I went to church— I- I did everything I was supposed to! Please, I'm sorry."  You don’t even know what you were apologizing for. You don’t know why you’re saying what you are. It all just comes out. 

"Oh now don't be difficult, rabbit, you know it’ll just be worse if you make this hard for me." The words were said to you softly, "Just relax little fella, I'll only hurt you a bit. Just enough to make it fun." He puts the blade to your cheek, his touch is soft, almost loving, considering the deadly position he had you in. "Please rabbit, don't make this harder than it needs to be." You don’t respond. All you can do is sit there curled up and sobbing quietly. Your mind flooded with memories you’d tucked away, and a visceral, intense panic.

He grabs you by your jaw and forcibly turns your face towards him. He’s bent himself under the desk with you at this point, just enough to be uncomfortably close. He smiles, and it’s terrifying because it's unreadable. "Oh, you are just the cutest little thing." His free hand reaches out and strokes your face, but it's not soothing, it's possessive and controlling. He continues this for a moment as he stares you down before he begins to speak lowly. “You know, rabbit, I have no doubts you’re a good boy,” he says, moving his hand down to firmly grip your jaw, turning your face in a way where you’re forced to make eye contact with him. “I’m sure you can be the best little pet for me if you just cooperate, okay?” All you do is nod, and that’s enough for him. You work with Habit's movement, coming out from under the desk somewhat easily considering your current state, albeit somewhat hesitant. You and there uncomfortably, keeping your eyes down to the floor.

"That's a good rabbit." He stands up and pulls you out from under the desk. He picks you up with one arm, his knife still in the other before he puts it back in its place on his belt. He places both of his hands firmly on your shoulders, squeezing lightly. He looks you up and down briefly, almost inspecting you in a way. He doesn't take his eyes off of you as he reaches his arm to the side to pull up the office chair thrown to the side. He sighs as he sits down, cracking his knuckles before talking to you so casually, you'd think he isn't practically holding you hostage.

“Y'know, since you don't seem to like talking, I'll just tell you what's gonna happen.” He leans back in his chair, making himself comfortable in a way that makes him seem so powerful, so in control. “Now, I assume you don't wanna die, based on that… little outburst you had earlier, so what we're gonna do is—” he pauses, looking at you strangely. “Why aren't you sitting? Get down.” He motions to the floor, and after a second of confusion, you sit down, legs crossed, staring up at him with wide, tired eyes. “Now, as I was saying, you don't want to die, which works out great for me, since, well, I need a new plaything.” He leans his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “The old one just… stopped working for me. Wasn't fun anymore. You understand.”

Habit stands up from his chair abruptly, pushing it back as he does so. He holds out his arms, his movements very animated as he speaks. “You, though, you seem perfect. Just scared enough to not try to run away, just… just enough to be fun.” He crouches down to your level, grabbing your face in both hands as he does so. He leans in, face uncomfortably close to yours before pressing a kiss to your forehead. He pulls away briefly, scanning your face before kissing you properly. His lips are unsurprisingly rough—doesn't exactly seem like the type to use chapstick, anyway.  You can feel him smile against your lips, his hands still on your face in a way that almost seems kind underneath the immense possessiveness.

To Habit's surprise, you don't fight back. In fact, after a while, you start to lean into the kiss instead of just sitting unmoving and uncomfortable. He sits up on his knees, moving his hands from your face and down your sides, lightly lifting you by your thighs and maneuvering you in a way that puts you on his lap. He secures of hand around your waist, and one on the back of your neck in a way that puts him, again, in full control. He moves your body in the exact way he wants it, and if he hadn't made it clear he's absolutely insane, erratic, and mildly bloodthirsty, it'd be insanely attractive.

Maybe it still is. Maybe those things make it more attractive.

You don’t exactly know what to do with your hands, but keeping them still in your lap doesn’t seem right. As Habit tightens his vice grip around your waist, you shakily raise your hands to place them on his chest, pulling a light snicker from him. Habit pulls away, looking at you in an almost inspecting manner. “Oh aren’t you cute, huh rabbit?” He moves his hand to rest gently around your throat, bringing you just the slightest bit closer. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” After a second of mildly stunned silence, you shake your head. I mean, you've kissed before, maybe some light make-outs, but never anything more. “Awh, that's okay rabbit. Just more fun for me,” he speaks in a low purr, pulling you into another kiss. He smiles into it like he’s plotting. And he is.

This time, Habit bites your bottom lip, making you yelp softly. He takes the opportunity to practically shove his tongue down your throat. He feels around your mouth, tracing his tongue over your teeth and pausing over your canines. You can’t tell if it’s a way of sizing you up or if he’s just a really strange kisser, but none of it matters when he pushes you against the floor and pins your legs under his all in one fluid movement, never separating from the kiss. He tightens the hand around your throat before moving it to the side of your face, keeping your head pressed against the coarse carpet of the office floor. He puts a sturdy amount of weight on you, sufficiently trapping you in place as he does so. The hand he has on your waist stays stiff and in place as you kiss. He spends a few moments taking his time nipping and biting at your lips and tongue before finally pulling away to allow you to breathe. However, your panting is interrupted by Habit tracing a long lick from your collarbone up to your cheek.

His cold saliva on your skin sends a shiver down your spine and brings attention to the tent in your pants. You seem to have gone through the entire interaction without noticing the full-fledged erection you’ve gotten, but with how close-pressed Habit is to you, you have a feeling he’s known the whole time. You shift in place uncomfortably, holding in breathy moans as Habit bites your neck—not just nips, but full mouth bites. As soon as you let out a particularly audible yelp, though, Habit looks up at you mid-lick and grins like a madman. “Oh rabbit, you’re getting into this, aren’t you?” His voice is like a guttural purr and you feel it against your skin as his mouth reconnects with your neck again, sucking dark purple hickies into your flesh. Habit runs his hands down your sides before shoving them up your shirt, and the sudden skin-on-skin contact makes you whine. He takes his sweet time feeling around your chest before moving down to squeeze your sides. He keeps this position while he kisses you roughly, almost to the point of making your teeth clash. 

The way he’s holding you down, paired with the intense makeout sesh that’s been happening for the last however long brings you dangerously close to cumming in your pants. You think Habit knows, too, because just as you start to squirm and push against his chest, he begins to undo your belt one-handed while he uses the other to keep you still. As soon as you’re unbuckled, his hand is down your pants and palming your dick through your boxers. His actions rip a high-pitched, almost strangled moan from your throat, causing Habit to completely pull down your pants and underwear together. The second he has his hand around your cock he’s jerking you off at a brutal pace. It’s almost shameful how fast you cum, but who could blame you? I mean Habit just couldn’t help himself when you’re making such pretty sounds, how was he supposed to resist jerking you off?

Habit wastes absolutely no time flipping you over the second you cum in his hand. He has you face down ass up in a matter of seconds. He doesn’t bother prepping you, either. He takes a moment to smear your cum onto his dick for some impromptu lube before lining himself up. You don’t even register him undoing his belt until he’s already inside of you. He bottoms out first thrust, tearing a jagged squeal from your throat as he forces himself into you. Habit puts you in, what can only be described as a headlock, from behind as he rails you at an aggressively fast pace. The dull pain is quickly muddled with pleasure, making the two indecipherable as he fucks into you. 

Habit hooks his free arm around your waist, leaning into you and letting out a deep, animalistic growl. “Fuck, rabbit you’re just so good at this, aren’t you? A good slut, right?” You’re practically screaming, he’s just going so fast, so hard, you just can’t take it. You manage to nod in a way, though it’s difficult with his arm locked around your neck. “Oh, such a good boy,” Habit purrs, mouth against your shoulder as he speaks. Something about what he said makes your dick twitch and hole spazam, and Habit notices. He takes it as an opportunity to move the hand around your neck down to your cock, sufficiently overstimulating you even more than before. 

The side of your face is pressed into the carpet, and you’re drooling, and you cant even think about anything other than Habit’s cock buried inside of you. He’s hitting every single sweet spot. Anything and everything that can drive you crazy, he’s doing it. He’s jerking you off so well, too. Running his thumb over your tip every other flick of his wrist, focusing just the right amount of pressure in just the right places. You’re losing your mind, meanwhile Habit’s sucking and biting hickies all over your shoulders and the sides of your neck, furthering your high pitched screams and whines. It doesn't take much longer for you to cum again, making a mess all over your stomach and the carpet.

“Oh what a good rabbit, cumming all over for me?” Habit’s thrusts slow into a soft rutting as he speaks. He presses his chest against your back. “You’re gonna do it again,” it’s very clear that his words are a command, and it’s backed up by the new pace his hips set. It’s steady, but his thrusts are so rough they bring you to tears. Two orgasams back to back may have been enough for you, but it certainly wasn’t enough for Habit. The overstimulation is so much, it almost feels violent. Hot tears are running down your face now, and you’re hitting the office floor while begging him to stop. 

“Please! Please stop! I— I can’t— too much!” Habit just smiles and strokes your hair gently before grabbing a handful of it.

“Oh, but you can, right? And you will.” His sentence fades into a growl as he speeds up his thrusts to a punishing pace and pulls your head back by your hair. You’re sobbing by now, and you wouldn’t be able to stay up right if it wasn’t for Habit holding you up. You can’t seem to form thoughts, and the only sounds able to leave your mouth are incoherent babbles and moans. He has you positioned so you can feel every individual movement so deep inside you its borderline unbearable.

Habit growls and snarls the entire time, occasionally stopping to bite your shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Your thighs are shaking and your cock is dripping with a mix of cum and new precum. Habit has his hand around your cock, jerking you off lazily. He’s barely even moving his hand, instead he’s letting the impact of his thrusts do most of the work. His movements begin getting erratic and off rhythm, but he’s sure to maintain the brutal intensity he’s set. Your moans have been reduced to drooling whimpers. There’s an uncomfortable amount of bodily fluids on the floor. Habit’s hips stutter, his dick twitches inside of you, and that’s enough to send you over the edge for the third time. His hips rut into yours as he pumps you full of his cum, and the feeling of getting filled is almost intoxicating.

Habit doesn’t pull out, instead holding you against his chest as he lets himself relax onto the floor, making a sound along the lines of purring as he does so. You don’t even mind the fact that he’s crushing you under his weight, or the fact your covered in cum and sweat. All you can focus on is Habit’s breathing, and maybe the fact you just signed your life away to this guy.

“Such a good boy for me rabbit. Such a good boy.”

[fandomzwriterk]

Smoke and Mirrors

Pairings: Tomas Vrbada/Smoke x OC

Warnings: slight gore + Amnesiac!OC + religious trauma (?) + characters dying + hinted innuendos later on + Kuai & Bi Han trying to be good brothers + Liu Kang as a dad figure (?) + Tomas just being his sweet lovable self

Pt: 1/?

A/N: Enjoy my loves! I’m uh… deep in the MK1 rabbit hole thanks to my bf🤣

At the start of the universe,

There was nothing,

Not a single thing aside from light and dark.

It was from here the universe was "born".

To whom created it,

Nobody knows.

A god?

An explosion of matter?

Time and space?

Atoms?

All it takes is one person,

To start a war.

Some time ago, a man named Liu Kang created his own timeline, separate from the pain and trauma others had in their previous "lives". Those who were dead were returned to life, and those who were evil turned good. First... he started with:

"God damn it Kuai!" A loud Sub-Zero shouted from across the room. "When I find you I WILL take your damn hands!"

"Stuff it Bi Han! You can take your ice blades and shove them up your-"

"Oh for the love of all gods above just shut up!"

Both Kuai and Bi Han went silent. Liu Kang, their friend and teacher, was never one to get upset. Perhaps it was because he was now deciding the fate of his own universe.

"You've been up all night my friend." Geras stated, resting his hand on Liu's shoulder

"How can I sleep when everything from here on will be affected by my decisions."

While both parties went quiet, since Kuai and Bi Han couldn't hear what they said after Liu screamed at them, another head popped into the room.

"Tomas? What are you doing?"

Kuai was silent as Bi Han glared at the smaller ninja.

"You're late."

The small silver haired ninja only used his eyes to look around. He remained silent as to ignore Bi Han.

"Brother be kind to him. Lord Liu Kang is already angry enough with us. Don't add onto his problem."

Bi Han just scoffed, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms and looked away from them.

"Good morning brothers. Has Lord Liu Kang came up with anything yet?"

The three ninjas, named Bi Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas Vrbada, were Liu Kangs... "security". He would send them on missions whenever he needed, purely to check up on certain realms and their inhabitants.

"No word. All we heard was-"

"Being yelled at by Lord Liu Kang? I heard it from over there." He pointed behind him at the other building just a few steps away from where they were. "I take it he's not happy with something?"

"He is Earthrealms protector for a reason." Kuai answered

Tomas looked to his other brother Bi Han, who remained silent and stared at their lord. Tomas could never understand why Bi Han was so arrogant all the time.

"I'm sure it's nothing. Perhaps it's in our best interest if we don't bother him."

"I agree brother. I'll take Bi Han to his room since he's being insufferable once more." Kuai poked at his brother

All Bi Han could do was stare as his almost lookalike copy of himself. Perhaps Kuai was his polar opposite, the contrast yet complimentary side Bi Han didn't have.

"I'll remain here in any case Lord Liu Kang calls for us."

"Great idea brother."

The world went quiet as Bi Han and Kuai Liang walked towards one of the buildings where all of Liu Kang's students would live and sleep in. Tomas was one of those students. While Tomas decided to remain hidden under the shade of trees to watch and not be caught, Liu Kang and Geras were having their own problems.

"This is difficult my friend. What shall I do? I must decide what to do with Sindel and her daughters."

"Perhaps we change their father. That man, what was his name? Oh Jerrod. He would be a good father instead of Quan Chi."

Liu nodded to his friend. Geras was the wisest man he knew and was proud he was watching the Hourglass for him.

"A wise decisions Geras. Perhaps I will be remaking these realms quicker than I thought. Maybe-"

Liu's sentence was cut short as a ray of light came across the sky, almost like a shooting star that was passing over. The light was bright, but it seemed to be never ending, as if the universe didn't want it to end.

"Never thought I'd create a shooting star Geras. It's beautiful to see myself."

"Maybe it's fate telling you that you've made the right choice."

Liu only nodded, noting how the star was leaving a gentle trail of light behind it, almost like calligraphy on paper. But this star, there was something about it Liu couldn't place. Why was it still going? A shooting star never lasts more than mere seconds, turning back into the sky as if it was never there.

"Geras? A star, does it ever decide to change?"

"What do you mean?"

"This star... it seems so different from all the others I've made, as if it wasn't mine I created. Yet, here it is so bright and shining in the day as if it has a purpose."

"I'd like to believe that stars are just beings who've come before us, watching us. Maybe in our time, it's still the same."

Liu nodded, thinking back to the papers scattered in front of him on his personal table. While he and Geras spoke... another issue was happening for poor Tomas.

"Oh for the elder gods sake it's so bright. Why does-"

The star above him was the brightest it's ever been, seeming to get closer to the Shirai Ryu.

"Well, it would be better if this was at night. Kind of reminds me of my mom and sister."

Tomas wasn't one to linger on the past too long, but this star brought back something in him. The star dropped from the sky, heading straight down instead of arching like it was before.

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit!" Tomas screeched as he ran for Kuai and Bi Han

Liu Kang and Geras looked up as the falling "star" was coming down onto their home base and with only a few seconds to spare.

"Geras! Make sure the Lin Kuei and everyone else is okay!"

Liu sprinted, not caring if his room was a mess. He had people to save. He was not going to let anything happen to his friends, the friends he just brought back and fixed their lives.

"Lord Liu Kang!" Tomas shouted as he caught up with his teacher

"Smoke?! Where's Scorpion and Sub Zero?!"

"They're inside! I was already outside when I saw the-"

The ground shook, sending both Liu and Tomas up into the air, both landing back on their feet after the shaking stopped.

"Stay behind me. It could be dangerous." Smoke spoke up, putting his mask on and swinging his karumbit into his hand

"I trust you Smoke."

Both Liu and Tomas walked carefully, looking for any damage that could lead to someone being hurt. Surprisingly, there was nothing. Nothing but a shine of something on the ground in the middle of the path, leaving both the buildings and pond untouched.

"What is it?" Liu asked as Smoke took a few steps toward from him

Tomas was careful, smoke bomb in hand in case he and Liu Kang needed to flee. Slowly, he stood over whatever the "star" was.

"Lord Liu Kang!" He called

Liu Kang ran, not minding the fact both Scorpion and Sub Zero weren't here in case they were outnumbered or got killed.

"That's... that's not possible. I didn't-"

Liu Kang stuttered at what was at his feet.

It was a human... a human who had fallen from the sky.

Liu Kang, not thinking twice and feeling his inner protector energy tell him to, he put a hand on the humans shoulder. He felt a faint pulse.

"They're alright but... we should check in case there are any other wounds."

They both flipped the person over, as if they were lightweight to them.

"Holy elder gods..."

It was what appeared to be a girl. Her face was covered with two golden like fabrics that crossed over her face and left only her mouth and nose visible. Her hair was almost white, just like the rest of her. Her mostly white clothes were splattered in what looked like golden liquid. All the scars of previous fights could be seen on her arms. The liquid itself was like...

"Is that... blood? No. Surely not. Blood is..."

Tomas was speechless. A human with gold blood? What human is like that? Tomas bled red, just like Liu Kang and his brothers.

"She's not well. We need to help heal her." Liu spoke as he picked up the girl and carried her in his arms to Geras

Tomas could only stare in curiosity as the girls limp body drip more of the golden liquid onto the stone grounds. Her body wore a white dress of some sorts, cut above her thighs in the front but longer in the back like a normal dress. The pure white was hard for Tomas to look at. It practically blinded him. The rips and tears over her arms and legs told him a lot. She went out fighting, and wasn't going to die easily.

"Lord Liu Kang! What is that?" Geras questioned as Liu Kang cleared his table and set the girl on it

Scorpion and Sub Zero joined them, the three ninjas ready to attack in case she woke up and decided to attack. Liu Kang set the girl on her back, her palms on the table next to her as if they were studying her.

"Not deadly cuts but it should be cleaned and managed. Who knows what this is causing her to bleed."

Liu Kang checked her as he rolled her onto her side. She seemed fine on her back, just stained in what felt like blood. Liu checked every spot, stopping at the hole on her middle back.

"Hm. I'm beginning to think that-"

It was cut short when the girls body jerked, bright white feathery wings popping out and resting on top of her limp, almost like she was. They were huge, almost as long as her body themselves.

"What in the world?" Geras spoke

"So she's not a demon or vampire like being. She's not from Nether Realm, that much I can see. Not from Outworld either. No connections... nothing to tell us what she is."

Liu was stumped. This girl just showed up from the sky and gave this poor man a headache since Liu didn't know her.

"Was she from..."

"No. There's no trace of her on anything else. It's just like she came from nowhere."

Liu stayed silent as his three ninjas stood in silence behind him. He felt their eyes on him. There was no chance she would survive out there if she didn't exist before.

"Surely she can make a good Lin Kuei member right?" Tomas asked half curiously

"Maybe... we'll leave her here since there's no place to put her for now and I can study what she is."

"But Lord Liu Kang I must insist-"

Liu only stared at Bi Han, silencing his complaints as he frowned. Liu Kang hardly frowned, especially to any of his friends.

"It's in our best interest to align our interests with her, when she eventually wakes up." Kuai Liang answered looking between both Tomas and Liu Kang "If she's an ally, I'm sure she'll be a very good warrior for us."

"You are both stupid. What if she's with Outworld? What if she's from Neatherrealm? How sure are you she's not dangerous Liu Kang?"

"A fair observation Sub Zero, one I had not fully thought of. You are right to call out my miscalculation."

To be continued...

Hope you enjoyed the read! I’ll add more if yall want 😋😊

[poindexters-labratory]

Talk about your version of William or I will spill hallucinogenic nightmare gas all over your blog =3

OKAY, FINE, YOU FORCED MY HAND

...heheheheh. >:3

Hurricane William Afton Lore Dump Part One

!!CW Warning!!: mentions of abuse, religious trauma, religious OCD, alcohol abuse, underage drinking and drug use, and addiction

William Anise Afton was born October 10, 1947 in a wooded area of Reading, a borough in Berkshire, England, to a shit awful family. This family consisted of his father (Edward), mother (Grace), and four older siblings (two older brothers and two older sisters), making William the baby of the family. The way they were shit awful, I'm not going to get into.

He went to Catholic school until he was twelve and developed a pretty big obsession with death during primary school because of a belief that what was happening to him with his family was his fault, making him guilty of sin, therefore condemning him to Hell at the age of nine. This resulted in obsessive thoughts that had him believe that everywhere he went, he was in mortal danger and had to prepare himself to die. He was petrified of dying because he always believed he was just meant to go to Hell and be tortured even before he got older.

Psychology bit: OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) can be a wide range of obsessive thoughts combatted with a wide range of compulsive behavior. In William's case, he has obsessional intrusive thoughts about death and Hell, which leads him to stay away from situations where he could die and be tortured for eternity, which is the compulsion. He avoided streets, stairs, heights, etc. the best he could for a long time.

When he was twelve, his father took him away after he discovered the at-home circumstances were horrible for the youngest member of the family. William then moved to London with his father, and they lived in the place where Edward worked, which was a mechanic shop he supervised for the owner of a small company.

Edward Afton had always been cold and old-fashioned, he was a veteran of the second World War, Irish, and very smart. He was also a mean bastard, an alcoholic, and emotionally unavailable for his traumatized son that he called Billy (even though that was nowhere near William's name, no matter how many times he was told it was a nickname). Not to mention that William confused him, and Edward didn't like things he couldn't understand.

William had always been... different. He was a shy and quiet boy, nose always in a book, (Will's favorites being Alice in Wonderland, The Velveteen Rabbit, The Wind in the Willows, and whatever books he could find with fantastical animals involved), had stereotypically feminine interests and habits compared to his older brothers when they were growing up, and had an odd obsession with rabbits.

Edward tried for a few years to "fix" him, to make Will "more like a boy". This included getting him involved in fixing cars, which William took to quickly, and bullying him out of his habits. Seemingly.

At this point in time, William was feeling a lot of shame for his lack of masculinity, self-conscious about his appearance, teenage hormones going haywire as he wasn't developing to fit the description of what people said a man should look like, and his father seemingly hating him more every day. This drew him to a group of boys that roamed the streets of London around his father's workplace. They were tough, toxically masculine, everything William thought he was missing.

This is where we mention William has always been charming and charismatic. He's learned it from the books he's read, movies he's seen, and stories he's heard. It's how he got money, food, books, and short-term relationships out of people whenever he wanted/needed it. The people he's charmed generally liked him, even though he was a stupid kid. At fourteen, he joined the rocker group that roamed around where he lived.

For a few years, to the age of seventeen, he ran around with them, dressed like them, did what they did, and became increasingly loud, impulsive, spiteful, incredibly violent, very tall, developed his father's drinking problem, and a drug addiction (that he kept secret). He dropped out of secondary school and had no plans other than someday soon he'd curl up into a ball and die somewhere. He didn't really care if he died at that point in time, William was too exhausted to care, and he lost his belief in a god and an afterlife. All of that shit he heard in primary school was just a scary story.

Then he met Henry in spring of 1964. Henry Emily was a twenty-year-old American student attending one of the universities for an engineering degree. He was working in that mechanic shop, the same one his father supervised; a trade offer given to him by the owner who knew Henry's father when they both served in World War II. The trade was this owner would pay for Henry's schooling while Henry (who was a mechanical genius apparently) would work in this shop.

History Bit: The 1960s was regarded as the "counterculture decade" in America, and in England, "The Swinging Sixties". There were massive differences between the two countries' views on the changing world and the changing cultures between them. One of the biggest things that caused this culture shift was widespread television access, giving the younger generation access to the world around them. American society was also thrown into the Vietnam War with the draft being set in place in 1966. There were many American movements in the decade, such as civil rights, anti-war, and gay rights, all seen as a direct attack on the "American way of life". England didn't have much involvement in the Vietnam War, the new generation was trying to move past the post-war era their parents came from. This will become relevant later.

William and Henry met on the circumstances that Will was trying to steal some of his stuff. From all Will's rummaging around in his stuff, he discovered some drawings of Fredbear (at this point, just known as Fred). This seemed to snap William out of this stupor he'd been in because he also had an animal character he'd draw. A golden yellow rabbit with purple eyes, that wore a little bow and waistcoat. He just called it Bunny (generating names wasn't his strong suit).

William couldn't pass up on the opportunity to meet someone that actually liked the same things as him. So, they talked. And then talked some more. And then spent the entire day together. And then they became best friends. Henry was reserved, calm, and headstrong, able to balance out William's high energy and impulsive nature.

The two of them could talk for hours on end about their animal characters (autistic people at their finest), pretty soon associating them with the other. Animatronics just started as a joke, both of them having an appreciation for Walt Disney and his Audio-Animatronics. Then it kind of stopped being a joke when Henry started brainstorming ideas for how a giant singing bear might actually work.

History Bit: Walt Disney coined the term "Audio-Animatronic" in 1961, the first of their kind being Disney's "Enchanted Tiki Birds" debuting in the Disneyland Resort, June 23, 1963.

Throughout the year, they became closer, and William started to feel more and more like a person living a life instead of going through the motions to survive. His mental health started to get better and he was slowly starting to express himself in the ways that he wanted to. He broke away from the rocker subculture and gained some social independence, doing what he really enjoyed doing, which was talking to Henry about Fred and Bonnie (Bunny renamed), reading on everything to help them on their journey to making a giant animatronic, drawing the two characters together, being Henry's best friend, and he was very happy.

Henry invited William to come back to his hometown in Utah (which William had never even heard of) and their goal became getting him across the Atlantic, slowly working off of his addictions and dependences. They were talking about owning a restaurant now with Fred and Bonnie as entertainment, everything was going to be perfect. But then there was a wrench in that plan.

William got mixed up with an upper-class girl slightly older than him, nineteen-year-old Claire-Marie Schmidt. He got her pregnant and neither of them wanted to abort the pregnancy and William didn't want to leave her to deal with this by herself because this was his fault, so Claire hung around to the displeasure of Henry.

Henry is just like William in a lot of ways. First of all, he gets jealous easily and second of all, he's lonely. All of William's attention seemed to get taken away by Claire and this unborn baby, and he felt abandoned. Not to mention that William and this girl had to get married per traditional values of Claire's father which they both respected. The baby was due in July and Henry was graduating in May, leaving soon after that. William could only pick one or the other. And he chose his wife. It was a painful and bitter goodbye at the airport, and William had to watch his one friend leave, not sure if he'd ever see or hear from him again.

He saw him again after about three minutes.

Henry cancelled his flight last second because he couldn't make a huge mistake like this. They made plans for all three of them to fly to Utah and that summer they did.

As soon as Claire got to close her eyes in the bed within the Emily ranch house, the contractions started, and Michael John Edward Afton was born a few weeks early in that room. When William laid eyes on Michael for the first time, something changed. Nothing else mattered more than who was in his arms right now, he loved nothing more. Of course, William got huffy when they had to give Michael back to Claire.

William and Claire had an interesting relationship. They didn't love each other like a married couple would, they were very good friends if anything. They confided in each other, told each other their problems, but William was a gay man and Claire knew this, and had no issue with it. They loved each other as good friends, they weren't romantically or sexually inclined to the other, so they formed an agreement that she could do what she wanted, and he could do what he wanted. And it worked for a while.

Part 2 ->