#pia on ptsd

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia. Do you have any tip or resources for writing traumatised characters?

I love how you write complex characters and the way you portray trauma in a way that feels so natural

Hi anon!

For resources, not particularly, beyond a bunch of books that I've taken photos of in this post here. But a lot of these books are expensive, and they're not written for laypeople, but they're also very good books on PTSD. They are not books on how to write trauma.

I'm an 'own voice' when it comes to writing trauma. I've had severe PTSD and C-PTSD since my 1997 diagnosis, and it's treatment-resistant (yay, my least favourite phrase). I've been researching my own trauma for literally decades in order to work out how to fix myself (hot tip: cannot 'read books' your way into fixing it). As a result, I just know how to write trauma. I've lived it, I've researched it for selfish purposes, and I write different versions of it for personal reasons that are very important to me. I like writing different types of healing as a way of living through different types of healing, but also finding it fascinating how all of us as people heal differently depending on our natures and the nature of our trauma.

This makes me actually not great for recommending specific resources like websites, podcasts, or links, because this is not where I learned about PTSD and trauma or writing it, and my research was also very hyperfixated and excessive, because I was learning about my own condition. I wouldn't expect someone else to devote hundreds or thousands of hours into reading something on trauma like I have, just to write a story, for example. So your path is not going to look like mine, anon.

It probably feels so natural, because I really struggle to imagine writing anyone without trauma, because that's completely alien to me. Catch me asking people 'how are you writing characters without trauma, can't be true, right?' So I just...don't really do that, or I make sure I give that character trauma, *waves to Eran.*

I'm very sorry, I thought about like, finding some links for you via a Google search but firstly I wouldn't have the time to vet them all and secondly, you can probably find better resources that specifically suit what you want to write this way. If anyone else has recs because they needed to learn about this vs. actually just living the experience 24/7 and doing very deep academic research on it, please add your recs!

That being said, I am a resource! Lol. You might also want to check out this post I've written on writing trauma and knowing how much detail to go into re: writing trauma depending on the stage in the story, and the character's position re: healing. How deep you go and what you show depends on genre, character's growth points, and what you're trying to achieve as well!

If you ever have more specific questions, I will do my best. But 'how to write traumatised characters' is a mixed bag depending on your genre, how deep you want to go, what sort of trauma it is, whether they developed PTSD or C-PTSD from that trauma (not everyone does), what kind of character they are, etc. and I cannot write you a novel! Lol, but I will try :D

[hauntedselves]

The Continuum of Dissociation

[Image description:

An infographic describing the continuum of dissociation and the theory of structural dissociation. From left to right (more integrated parts to less integrated parts), are:

Altered states - Altered states of consciousness: Includes things like daydreaming, normal absorption, 'highway hypnosis', flow states, meditative practices, and imaginary play

Primary dissociation - PTSD / single incident trauma: Where a person has what can be described as a 'Going on with normal life' part that does daily life, as well as a 'Trauma part' that holds the experience of trauma

Secondary dissociation - C-PTSD / complex trauma: Where a person has more than one 'Going on with normal life' part as well as multiple trauma parts that often are caught in defensive actions and patterns of trauma

Dissociative disorders - OSDD / UDD: Other specified and unspecified dissociative disorders are diagnoses given when a person does not meet the full criteria for a specific dissociative disorder

Tertiary dissociation - DID / polyfragmented DID: Characterised by two or more distinct personality states, and in the case of polyfragmented DID, a person has a large number of 'alters' or identities, each with their own sense of self

Outside of the parts model, but still within dissociation, are:

Dissociative amnesia: Where a person cannot remember important information about their life (more than ordinary forgetfulness)

Depersonalisation & derealisation: Where a person experiences feelings of detachment from their body or cognitions, including a disconnect from their self or environment

End image description]

[Image description:

An infographic describing primary structural dissociation.

In primary structural dissociation, there is a 'Going on with normal life part', which avoids traumatic reminders to function in normal life goals. Daily life functions include rest, play, socialising, relationships, and intimacy.

There is also a trauma part, which is engaged in survival / animal defences and is often in hyper- or hypoarousal. Trauma responses (defences) are: fight, flight, freeze, submit, and attach.

End image description]

[Image description:

An infographic describing secondary structural dissociation.

In secondary structural dissociation, there is a 'Going on with normal life part', which avoids traumatic reminders to function in normal life goals.

There are also multiple trauma parts, which are engaged in survival / animal defences and is often in hyper- or hypoarousal. Trauma responses (defences) are: fight, flight, freeze, submit, and attach.

End image description]

[Image description:

An infographic describing tertiary structural dissociation. It gives an example of a system, the collection of all alters (parts) within a person.

In tertiary structural dissociation, there are multiple 'Going on with normal life parts', one or more of which may be called the 'host(s)', who are engaged in daily life. Examples of going on with normal life parts are a worker alter, a caregiver alter, and a partner alter.

There are also multiple trauma parts, which are alters engaged in survival defences. Examples of trauma parts are a gatekeeper alter (who decides who fronts), fight alters (e.g. Ann, a 24 year old primar protector part, and Don, a 30 year old persecutor part), flight alters (e.g. Sally, an 8 year old trauma holder), freeze alters (e.g. Marcus, a 10 year old trauma holder), submit alters (e.g. Pia, an 18 year old trauma holder), and attach alters (may be called 'littles', e.g. Lily, a 4 year old and Jack, a 6 year old, both trauma holders).

End image description]

- Natasja Wagner

[demonyawa]

Welcome! I'm Pia/Piaya, a concept artist specializing in BGs and an illustrator from the PH!!! (they/them)

Tags

Art tags: #my art #fanart Not mine: #others art Asks & textposts: #demonyappa

Links

Portfolio: https://demonyawa.art/ https://linktr.ee/demonyawa (twt, bsky, insta, etc.) Contact for work/comms: demonyawapia@gmail.com Unserious game-blogging: https://www.backloggd.com/u/demonyappa/

FAQ & interests below!

FAQ

Mediums:

Digital 2D [Clip Studio Paint, Photoshop CC 2019]

Pixel Art [Aseprite]

I love making original work!

Occasionally make fanart of my interests

Pls ask me/message me, I love making friends (and yapping abt games especially!)

Don't post much/not online often as I'm recovering from PTSD symptoms and have a full-time job

Interests

VGs: Ace Attorney, Zelda, Until Then, Monster Hunter, Yakuza, 999, and VN genre in general :]

Watch & Read: Tatsuki Fujimoto, Ryusuke Hamaguchi, and a variety of Filipino indie films

Playing the piano

Taking care of and training dogs

Art and art studies

[leos-beloved-notizbuch]

Fluch des Geldes 

Oh his noo thats such a sweet lady

Pia Esther Stadiondate aaaaahhh

Leo Hölzer yelling at the Spusiman in Adam style 

Adam is so babaygirling rn

Oh God i cannot Deal with vulnerable old people

Ok reminder Geschichts Unterricht Executive Judikative blablaba

I love unhinged Leo aka Jens Jens Baumann 

Oh yes we love betting on women so ethically right and definetly not sexist

Ptsd Leo - he again watches abuse and feels wehrlos as fuck

Omg jens jens du wirst doch erwischt schatzi

Leo- erklär mir mal worums geht OH MY GOD THE FACIAL EXPRESSION DANIEL?!! 

yes sir Nachschicht?!! That Boy Wants the Nachtschicht from dfl again 

Adam enjoys a little much how Leo acts like him

Moppelchen? Pia? really? Do we need this fatshaming?

The little smile leo gave adam?! They aren’t brothers vladdi they really aren’t

WHATEHATEHAT IM NOT OKAY NOT IKAY NOT OKAYJSHDJJDBSJSBHELP ADAM BABY YOU HOLDING LEO LIKE HES YOUR WHOLE WORLD

also loving how Pia verhörs while eating 

Gotttt der Move Adam grabbing the handcuffs out of Leo’s pocket heeelp

Wo sind wir hier Drei Fragezeichen? Wo am Ende alle gemeinsam lachen oder was? Fehlt nur noch der Kirschkuchen

Diese Taubenwette bro hilfe 

[asheurbanipal]

The Only Option Left: Chapter 3

The Devil's Bride

on A03

Summary:

"How have you enjoyed your time in my House of Hope?" he cooed into my ear. "It's been well enough," I demurred. Let him try to chase me down. "What if you could stay forever?"

Baldur's Gate 3

Tav/Haarlep/Raphael

Explicit

Full Word Count: 14, 245

Content: PTSD, Depression, Trauma Bonding, mildly dubious consent, mid-sex shapeshifting, tail play, PIV and PIA, oral, hand stuff, genderfluid Haarlep

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I stood above a metal hatch in the small rotunda that allowed me access in and out of the hells. I had only just started seeing it, but I still couldn't push past the "stay away" to go down through it. Every time I left and returned, I saw something new about the House of Hope. At first I thought he was moving things around to fuck with me. Then I realized, no, these things had always been here, but they had been glamoured out of my vision. Either by design or happenstance, a little bit of the glamour slipped away when I moved between planes. I didn't know how long it would be or how many trips it would take to be sure I could see every nook and cranny.

I didn't know if I wanted to. 

"How long have you been able to see it?" Korilla appeared in a puff of sparkle and dust at the arch of the hallway. 

"A couple of weeks at this point," I replied. Time was difficult to keep track of down here in granularity, but I was just able to confirm it had been officially four months, three weeks, and two days since the netherbrain had fallen into the river. It would probably be the six month mark before I went back up again, and something felt…odd about that number. Like it would mean something. 

"What'll it take to be allowed down there?" I asked. Korilla was the one person in this damnable place who I felt I could trust to actually give me an answer I could work with. She joined me standing on the hatch. 

"You don't want to  go down there." Korilla hummed, tapping the hatch with her foot. "He doesn't want you to go down there, you don't want to disobey him, so you don't really want to go down there." 

"I fucking hate magic." I squatted to trace my fingers on the writing. I had been learning written Infernal and recognized at least the words intending to seal something. 

"My sister, Hope, is down there." Korilla said it so matter-of-factly I had to check with myself that I wasn't reading sarcasm in her voice. But no. She was earnest. 

House of Hope. I glanced over that mentally without settling into it. Of course. He was a devil. Whatever weird affection I was building for him he was still, ultimately, fucking evil. 

"Her tomb?" I ventured, genuinely wishing the answer to be yes. 

"No," Korilla replied. "She's still alive." 

I tapped the letters one more time, then stood. 

"Did he give you permission to tell me all this or command it?" Haarlep would tell me up-front whether he had been sent to me on a mission. Korilla I couldn't be so sure. 

"I just want you to know what you're getting into if you say 'no' to him," Korilla replied. She hip-checked me as she passed, moving through one of the portals back up to the Gate. That was all I  was getting out of her. 

I knew, at the core of me, that when Raphael called me to his room, this time, it would be it. That he'd be presenting whatever deal he had been buttering me up for. I already knew what it was. 

"I'm on the balcony, my turtledove," Raphael called out. His nicknames had gotten stranger, like he was trying to outdo himself each time. I moved through the door and met him, leaning against the railing. 

He grabbed me around the waist, pulling me into the curve of his arm. His arm wrapped around my back, drawing me in tightly. 

"How have you enjoyed your time in my House of Hope?" he cooed into my ear. The sound sparked and rolled down my spine, and I shivered. 

"It's been well enough," I demurred. Let him try to chase me down. 

"What if you could stay forever?" He nuzzled his nose into my temple.

"Come out with it, Raphael." 

He chuckled, the vibrations rattling the plates of my skull delightfully. 

"Be my bride. My wife." He flicked his fingers and a contract appeared in the air in front of us, slowly rotating. "You'll be a Lady of the Nine-hells, a Queen in the world I intend to create. Your own legion at your beck and call. And all you'll have to grant in return is permission for me to worship and adore you." His finger notched under my chin and lifted it, bringing my lips to his. It was soft. Almost chaste. "What do you say?"

Without breaking eye contact, I pulled the paper from its location hovering in front of us. 

"Three days," I said. 

"What?"

"You'll have my answer in three days. I want to read through it." I broke hard from his embrace, moving back through his room swiftly, pretty sure he wouldn't call my bluff in the time it took me to reach the door.

I already knew this proposal was coming. I knew it the instant I put on the white negligee in the Caress. And I had known what my answer would be since that next morning when I met him downstairs. Now I just wanted him to beg for it. 

Haarlep, in feminine form, entered my room in her leather strapping, but was naked by the time she flopped across my bed. She yanked me around the waist and brought my body down to lay next to her, wings scrunched against her back. 

"Did Raphael send you in to convince me to marry him?" I pulled up close to her, letting our bodies touch. I was in smallclothes, stockings, and one of my longer tunics, lounging without pants or stays.

"No, I've come in on my own to convince you to at least seriously consider it, and I chose this form because I know you like my tits." 

"I do like your tits." I moved a hand up to cup one, rubbing my thumb over her nipple. She turned on her back to give me more access and I nuzzled my face into the soft pillow of her breasts. 

"So I'd like you to stick around. You rattle him. Put him off his game. When he's off his game, I get a break. Right now he's pacing his room trying to figure out if there's a way to sweeten the deal. He genuinely thought you'd say yes immediately."

"Hm," I offered noncommittally. I trusted Haarlep as much as anyone could trust an incubus, and that meant I knew our conversations weren't privileged. She was compelled to report back anything that seemed important. Of course, that also meant she let things "slip," sometimes. 

I kissed Haarlep's clavicle to fill the space where conversation should go. Then the incubus-induced lust rose up, and I felt my body move on its own. I worked down across the top of her breast, taking one of her nipples into my mouth, flicking my tongue over it until it went hard. Then I moved to the other to do the same, swirling around her soft areolas. Haarlep arched her back to meet me, and I felt myself smiling around her flesh. I brushed my knuckles down her stomach, then slipped them down into her cleft, parting her folds to dip right inside with a single finger. She clutched around me.

"You're a wicked thing, songbird," Haarlep gasped. I hummed in agreement, pulling my hand back to circle her clit this time. 

"Wish I had a cock," I sighed into her skin.

"A little bit of polymorph," she offered.

"Ugh, magic." 

"Haarlep!"

Her body changed form underneath me, breasts into a broad plane, half-hard cock where vulva had been. Raphael had slammed open the door and was across the room in half a second. In another half second, he had snatched Haarlep by the hair and dragged him to the floor. 

"Let him go," I commanded. 

"You watch your mouth." He lifted his hand, ready to drag it across my face. I punched him. Hard. His nose cracked under my fist, and he gasped from the impact. 

Something I had learned while we had sex -- ather, while we used each's others bodies to fuck ourselves--  I was physically stronger than him. By a lot. He had illusions and mind manipulation, but he didn't actually know how to fight. 

I pushed him up against the wall, hand pressing into his windpipe.

"If we marry, I get access to some of your assets. One of those is Haarlep, and I will not have you abuse my things." I growled at him. Growled . I had growled more in my time here than the century leading up to it. His eyes were wide, staring down at me. He knew I was right. I didn't even have to reveal who I had been in contact with to get this information. I would save that for later. 

A tiny flick of contrition rolled over his brows, and I let him go. I offered him a small vial of healing potion from my bedside table to fix his nose. He snarled and flashed some magic on himself, fixing it with a flick instead. The way his brow crinkled, it still hurt, though. 

"Anything else you'll have me add to the marriage contract, songbird ?" So he was coming forward with it, being upfront. How charming. I stepped forward, pressing my body to his. 

He was fucking hard. He had an erection from getting smashed in the nose. What a lunatic. But I could work with that. 

"If Haarlep is amenable, why don't you show me how you two fuck?" I glanced back at the incubus who had moved to the edge of the bed. He raised an eyebrow at me, but gave a tiny nod. 

"Excuse me?"

"I feel like I should know how my husband-to-be is serviced by his concubine, don't you? Something a wife should have an understanding of." I gave him space, wandering around the end of the bed. I drifted a hand across Haarlep's back. That enraged him a second time, but he held himself back. 

"If that's what my darling desires," he said instead, drifting back toward the bed. His body was stiff as it stopped in front of Haarlep. When he unbuttoned his fly, his cock sprung forward lazily, twitching in anticipation. Haarlep took it in expert hands, sliding his mouth around Raphael and dropping down to the base immediately. Raphael rested his hands along Haarlep's horns and gripped them for support as he grunted through the ministrations. 

"That I won't do." I moved around behind him and slid my hand down his ass, pressing a finger against his back entrance through his pants. He let out a more earnest gasp. 

This was why I had never been permitted to see them together despite Raphael not playing by the same ruleset. I knew what Raphael liked, but I also knew he was embarrassed. Ashamed. He shouldn't be, honestly. Bit of a prude for a hedonist, but then maybe it was all about power dynamics. Either way, that was a problem to address later. Right now, he needed to know what this relationship was going to look like. 

He needed to know he had underestimated me. 

I pulled up behind him, and bent his body over slightly, mimicking thrusting into him with my hips. Even the simulacrum made him whine in anticipation. I reached up behind him, pressing my mouth to his ear. 

"I know what you like, Raphael. Show yourself to me." 

Raphael grumbled low in his chest, and pushed Haarlep's head away. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and threw me on the bed. He ripped the underwear away with a horrific tearing around and plunged into me from behind. 

It was meant to hurt me, to be painful. But I was already wet from arousal, watching Haarlep service him, so he simply slid inside with no resistance. He'd pay for the attempt later, though. I marked it in my mental tally. 'Til death do us part, and he would regret how long my lifespan was.

In the meantime he pumped in and out of me, hands anchoring on the hinge of my hips and thighs. I needed to touch my clit to come, and I knew he wouldn't do it himself. He didn't actually care about my pleasure. That's why I had to always take it for myself. 

"Fuck." Raphael's body keeled over my back, forehead now touching my shoulders. I dropped to my elbows and glanced over my shoulder. Haarlep had taken his designated spot behind Raphael, and was now mercilessly slamming into his ass. 

And the way he didn't demand they all stop, Raphael liked it. 

Raphael's teeth sunk into my back, and I felt his body slow inside me, ragged. In the dropped rhythm, Haarlep picked up, his force rocking all the way through Raphael into me. I spread my knees to open myself wider to them, whining with the effort. 

Quickly, with a snorting grunt, Raphael came inside me, his body barely moving for the effort. Boring. Unsatisfactory. I pulled myself free of him, turning to look him in the face while Haarlep still poised behind him, claws digging into Raphael's half-clothed lower body. I pulled his head back by the hair on the back of his crown and he tried to break away from me. But, again, I was stronger than him. 

"You're incapable of giving pleasure on your own, so what use are you to me as a husband?" I glanced up at Haarlep who grinned at me. He pulled himself out of Raphael, did a quick clean of his cock with a magic touch, then pushed Raphael to the side to climb across the bed toward me.

Raphael laid there, exhausted, watching as Haarlep positioned himself under me, resting back on his knees. I rolled back on his cock, pressing my back to his chest and spreading my knees around his. He lifted my shirt over my head and brought his hands over my breasts, rubbing my nipples in his claws.

The rhythm set immediately, him using his hands to guide my hips up and down on top of him, me leaning forward to take him in deeper. His finger circled my clit gently, bringing me closer and closer to actual ecstasy, his tail wrapping around my waist, other hand caressing my breast. 

Raphael sat at the end of the bed, dick growing hard, again, staring. Watching. 

I met him in the eye.

"Oh, Haarlep," I moaned, chewing his name as the incubus nuzzled my neck. "Haarlep, oh gods, you feel so good. You're so good at fucking me." He felt like he grew bigger, more engorged inside me as I encouraged him. He was having fun, lifting off his knees a little to thrust into me harder, circling me faster in excitement. 

"Harder," I demanded. "Fuck me harder, Haarlep." I hissed and growled as I dropped on him faster and faster, throwing my arms up around his neck from behind, stretching my whole body out to show Raphael how deep Haarlep was inside me, how his fingers played me, how his hands already knew every line of my body. 

"I'm gonna make you come so hard, starlight. My darling moonbeam. My sweet darkness." Haarlep gnawed on my shoulder, and I could feel his gaze tracking Raphael. 

He took the game a bit too far, though, and I lost control. I did come, hard, actually screaming over the top of the peak. Haarlep came literally right behind me, the magic the only thing holding him back. I panted as I pulled free, turning to drop against Haarlep's chest. He held me, casting little kisses across my crown.

Raphael stood up, and collected the contract scroll where I had left it on one of the side tables. 

"Where are you going, fiance?" I asked, nuzzling into Haarlep's neck. 

"I'm rewriting the contract," Raphael muttered. "You've made your point."

"And you're nothing if not fair, correct?" 

He paused at the doorway. Then he grinned.

"I won't underestimate you again, starling." 

"We'll see…"

"Raphael, I've received a missive, apparently." I sat in the large tub in our boudoir, Haarlep underneath me as I used her breasts for cushioning. Raphael entered from the other side, wine glasses held above the water. He dropped on to me, and I slid off Haarlep's lap to sit closer to Raphael. She whined about it slightly, but I tapped her foot to quiet her. 

"And what does it say, my little scurrying rat." He leaned over my shoulder reading the letter that had appeared on my bedside table. I allowed it.

"Someone wants to call a reunion"

"With who?" Raphael sipped his wine in consideration. "I thought they were all dead?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's just Withers. I don't see much the point." 

"You could introduce him to your new husband."

I snorted.

"I'm sure that'll go over well."

I considered the letter briefly, and its appearance on my side table. I pulsed a tiny firebolt, and lit it on fire, letting the ashes fall into the water. I leaned back against the wall of the tub, letting the metal of my new ring tap a few times against the marble. 

Let the gods come find me if they really wanted me.

[gilly-moon]

So I told myself I'd stop collecting blorbos, but ykw I have space for some more. Do you have any fic recs for blackice? Or like a top favorite? Your art is compelling me to read rotg ffs again.

-♻️🗑

Oooo ok well all the fics I read are explicit so fair warning but here are the ones that stuck with me:

Shadows & Light by @not-poignant

I will recommend this series until my dying breath, Pia writes trauma/PTSD/healing so masterfully. I want this fic framed on my wall

Like Drowning by anonymous

my favorite take on the concept of Dark Jack

Moments by Lindzzz

some quality pwp from Pitch's perspective

Shiver / bernadette

bernadette is a rewrite of Shiver. These are my fav 'pitch is definitely still a bad guy' fics

[isthisstorysafe]

B. Ripley:

Possessive Love series (?1). Multi-author series. M-M. Supernatural. Virgins. Fated mates. One-way marking. Demon created by bargaining half a fetal human soul from desperate parent. Sex only counts if it's pia/piv. Bigger, supernatural lead tops first, apparently a metaphysical requirement for claiming but there's no discussion. Fairly light. Readable.

CW: awful parent; imprisonment; family a threat; child abuse; maiming; scarring without consent; being buried alive; 'friends' doing terrible things because they're ordered; deceased parent; historic cancer; referring to a person as a possession; theft; lead who likes 'bunnies'; cutting without consent; kidnap; imprisonment; betrayal; selective mutism; PTSD.

[not-poignant]

I've a bit of a vague question: How do you decide how much detail to go into when it comes to formative traumas for your characters, and particularly past sexual traumas and similarly loaded topics? I don't mind highly detailed, dramatic pasts (à la Doctrine of Labyrinths), though I know some people find overwhelmingly dark pasts trite and difficult to engage with ("grimdark" or "misery porn" - not terms I agree with), but in my own writing I tend to imply rather than state past horrors. 1/2

2/2 It's difficult to find the balance; obviously leaving too many things unsaid renders the story vague and not very compelling, whereas being too detailed alienates readers too. Of course there's ways to explore trauma which don't feel gratuitous or exploitative, but I think there's a knee-jerk impulse to dismiss certain media for the blatancy of their content alone regardless of how that's handled in-universe. How do you navigate this and settle on content which feels right for your stories?

*

Hi anon! At first when I was thinking of how to reply to this, all I had was 'I just do it, it feels natural.' Which is true! It does feel natural. But that's not helpful. So I've been noodling on it more and I think I finally have a twofold answer. Firstly, I don't care about what the reader thinks re: how graphic I get about retelling a character's past or trauma, because a) my content is thoroughly warned for and b) I tend to place additional warnings in 'extra confrontational' chapters. After that it's not my responsibility or my business. But I do know as someone who has been through extensive trauma, I would've like, sacrificed a theoretical firstborn to read stories that were as detailed and thorough as mine re: trauma recovery and trauma representation. I'm not writing for people who don't have trauma in their backgrounds (must be nice, can't relate), not to sound callous, but they're not my target audience and I don't care if they're too fragile to handle what's going on. They get the warnings. I write for the people who need to see their traumatic histories reflected in fiction. Because that's what I needed. Okay, so, point the second. How to know how much detail to go into? The character. I follow the character always. It's important to know enough about post-trauma and behavioural changes and what happens to the mind, as well as a character's general disposition, to know where you're going in terms of detail. That, anon, is something you're going to have to research.

Felix in The Beast that Chose Its Own Bridle is more 'graphic' in his thoughts because he doesn't have the same kind of post-trauma as many other characters I'm writing. He has it, but it manifests in how he communicates and attaches to people, but he has no problems reflecting on or recollecting certain experiences (while avoiding thinking about others). This is fairly consistent with the character in the canon. He's also known for weaponising or talking about graphic experiences for shock value, or to push people away. So he will choose deliberately confrontational methods of talking about his life.

Efnisien on the other hand in say Underline the Black doesn't believe he's been through trauma and his brain is very protective as a result. People with extremely protective minds aren't likely to have graphic recollections of trauma on a regular basis, or are more likely to have nightmares (which he has), or have profound behavioural changes (which he has) which are consistent with trauma. I expect Efnisien's memories will get more explicit as the story goes on. We can see his 'shying away from the graphic nature of upcoming trauma' in the medical exam, he is actively trying to dissociate. A character that dissociates will not constantly be reflecting on trauma, but they might be shocked by it in the form of visceral flashbacks or nightmares. They are more likely to show overall behavioural changes.

Efnisien in Falling Falling Stars had intrusive thoughts as a manifestation of his trauma, and as those intrusive thoughts were dealt with and Efnisien acknowledged he had trauma, he began to have more graphic flashbacks. The more he acknowledged the content in the flashbacks as being traumatic, the less he actually had to deal with a ton of graphic stuff being described, because he was slowly recovering.

Augus in the canon rarely reflects on any of his past trauma. We see it less than a handful of times in any graphic memories, over 1.5 million words. But he has some behavioural changes around trauma. When he experiences current trauma in the story, it's often emotional, and he usually responds with anger or a fight response (and sometimes a flight response). So I would say Augus' story and descriptions are overall less graphic, which fits his disposition, which is to heavily compartmentalise his pain, so he doesn't have to deal with it (which comes back to bite him later on).

So basically if a character is leaving things vague, it's because they can't handle it yet, and that's normally because of dissociation. I've definitely written characters who have dissociated through current trauma, and who are trying to avoid past trauma. Likewise, there are characters who are just starting to experience flashbacks, and characters who are so 'oh yeah I was a child prostitute, what of it?' (hi Felix), and it all comes down to just...where they're at in their journey. How healed is your character? What do they still have left to deal with? What are their main triggers? What do they see or experience in their mind or their body when they're triggered? Have they been through so much trauma, they no longer really respond to new traumas properly? (See Augus and Efnisien, lol). Or are they very unfamiliar with trauma? (See Eran). All of this changes how a character will think about trauma. If a character is super good at compartmentalising for example, even if they go through a current trauma, I'm not likely to write it in huge detail. But if they're bad at it, or flooded, I will.

When applying this to your own writing, think about your characters and their natures. Are they the type to mentally run and hide from trauma? Those characters might not be describing it mentally in great detail unless they're forced to because of a flashback. Or are they characters who don't find something that traumatic? Then you don't need to describe what's happening in as much detail. Are they very sensitive people? Then they might be noticing every detail, or they might be noticing one or two details and trying to forget the rest in order to survive. The nature of your characters, their previous experiences, their coping skills with trauma, for me, all determine how graphic you need to be.

Tl;dr none of my decisions are determined by the reader, because I don't care about the kinds of readers who will go 'this kind of trauma is gratuitous/exploitative' or whatever (and I'm sure some have). I have PTSD, therefore, I write post-trauma. Not everyone with PTSD can handle my content, that's why there's warnings. But for the people who can? Who need it because of their own histories? Who just want to a) feel seen, and then b) feel like healing might be possible? I see you. You're the ones I'm writing for.

Also, for the record, grimdark refers to no characters being likeable or trustworthy and generally terrible things happening all the time, including at the end. It assumes an untrustworthy and dark or corrupt world, and therefore dark or corrupt characters. It actually in and of itself has nothing to do with 'being super graphic about trauma' (though they do often go hand in hand). Most of my stuff could never be grimdark, no matter how graphic it gets, because there's always a lot of hope, healing, and the assumption that the majority of the world is capable of good despite great evil. As for misery porn, sure! But I don't care, see point 1, lol.

I definitely think researching trauma and researching case studies about how people write about their own traumatic experience can help. A lot of the time people who have PTSD aren't actually thinking about their experiences in graphic detail because avoidance is a symptom of PTSD, which means their/our behaviours have changed to avoid thinking about those things. My entire life has been marked with trauma, but I don't talk to anyone about it or think about it often, because avoidance is a cardinal symptom of PTSD/C-PTSD. So if I were writing my story, it would be very not graphic, with bursts of intense graphic detail that even I don't like experiencing.

Conveniently in storytelling, this means even if you are sharing graphic trauma, it's very selectively, and not all the time anyway. Because 'all the time' it's not how human brains work in the first place. So once you understand more about the mechanisms of trauma, trauma avoidance, post-trauma , and trauma recovery (where sometimes some of the most graphic reflection happens, but often in a more supported environment, so it can feel gentler to the reader), you get a better sense of how graphic to be, and how often! So I'd say this will be down to a) researching trauma and b) reflecting on the nature of your characters!

I hope that helps!

[drunkcnsunlight]

--- they used to call her PRETTY PIA. she was described as sweet and eager and promiscuous, but in recent years, she struggled to reclaim her previously joyous self. it was completely unfair, the abuses that had been committed against her. she’d wanted to sleep with the GOLDEN KNIGHT. she’d almost gotten the chance, even though SER JAIME had sent her away. not too long after that occasion, a man had punched out her teeth. in this place, she’d been able to have a couple of reconstructive surgeries, so no one could tell that she’d been injured in the first place, but her insecurities remained. when a man informed her that he was headed to the DENTIST, her pain was called into the present, and... the person who sat in the stranger’s seat gave her a look. “i am sorry,” she admitted, as her usual kindness returned, and made its presence moderately known. “i... am just not fond of the DENTIST.” no one was. 

closed for @bcssbitchs​ and @igcttabe​ and @ragdclls​

[rubberchickeny]

On Jaime Lannister and empathy...

Once again I ponder the complexities and contradictions of Jaime Lannister, book character.

Not only does GRRM write chapters from alternating points of view, we also know that being a "gardener", many of his ideas and plans for characters changed along the way. Jaime was at one point to become an evil king, I've read.

One thing about Jaime that has me in a pickle is his compassion, as I cannot quite decide how much of it was always there and if Brienne just re-awakened that part of him. Did what happened with Aerys, and Cersei being...Cersei just lock up his feelings for fifteen years? His PTSD would explain a lot too.

At a young age, wanted to be a knight. Didn't accept rape (unlike about every other person in the books) develops PTSD, kills his king to save the population.

Lays with sister, begets three bastards on her.

With Brienne, tries to advice her how to "go away inside", tries (and succeeds in) stopping her rape, saves her from a bear, then jails her ("you oughta be blowing me..." kisses?) to protect her from Loras and Cersei, then gives her armour, horse, money, The Sword and A Proper Knightly Quest.

What does Jaime do after Brienne, and after finding out some of the truths about Cersei? Well, refuses his sister's advances and orders. Tries to help and bond with his son. Leaves King's Landing willingly, ends a siege without bloodshead, helps Pia and gets her justice. Tells Peck to treat her like his bride on a wedding night.

This is a man who does not want to name his horses because (it hurts when) they die!

So what do you guys think? Jaime - oozing empathy all along or no?

[asheurbanipal]

The Only Option Left: Chapter 2

The Devil's Bed

on Ao3

Summary:

Our Tav finds herself in the House of Hope with Raphael's plan unfolding. Ultimately the question becomes, though, what does he want? More importantly, what does she want? Because she doesn't like what he's bringing out in her.

Baldur's Gate 3

Tav/Haarlep/Raphael

Explicit

Full Word Count: 14, 245

Content: PTSD, Depression, Trauma Bonding, mildly dubious consent, mid-sex shapeshifting, tail play, PIV and PIA, oral, hand stuff, genderfluid Haarlep

Chapter 1

Chapter 3-incoming

Haarlep was already gone when I snorted awake in a most unladylike fashion, tangled in the sheet and my gown hiked up to my hips. I was pretty certain I hadn't been fondled in my sleep, but there wasn't anything I could do about it now, if I had been. I stumbled through the room, looking for a way to freshen up. The tub had been drained, but there was a washbasin leftover, towel hanging off the side. It was a viable solution. 

When I was done, I cast around for my pack. It had been moved to the back of the room near the bed, resting against the low bench Haarlep had pulled the gown from. There was more clothing. Not dresses. A soft cotton shirt with a lace frilled collar and front. Broadcloth vest with complex embroidery. Cropped pants and new boots to pair with them, hem high enough to show the fancy stitching across the top and at the ankle. And it all fit. And it was comfortable. Beautiful and comfortable. 

Fuck.

 How could he have possibly known my size and preference? 

What other intimate things did he know about me?

After Haarlep reported in, probably more than I could bear to think about. 

After dressing and picking up my pack, I sat in the chair where I first met Haarlep and just sort of…stared…into the distance. What did I do, now? The brain was dead. The crown was retrieved. I didn't have anything else. 

Before the nautiloid scooped me up I was a sellsword. A cheap one. Nothing big. Keeping bandits off merchant caravans. Little bit of night security. A lot of the work had dried up when Gortash started kicking up his business, so I had tried moving out to the countryside. Had even considered relocating to Daggerford just for a change of pace.

Then I woke up in a pod. 

Was it possible to pick up that plan again? I could properly join the effort here to rebuild. Probably should. They needed all the strength they could for it. 

I glanced up at the door as I thought about it. There was a piece of paper. I was at the door even before I had actively decided to get to my feet. It was a note from Raphael, probably delivered by Haarlep. If I wanted to talk further I could find him downstairs. He'd be waiting.

I crumpled the paper in my hand. 

I opened the door. 

Then I set my feet along the catwalk, hoping by the time I reached the end of it, I would have decided what to do. 

"My little wonder. Have a seat." I must have blacked out, feet walking on my own, because now I was standing in front of Raphael again. His--servant? associate? employee?--dwarf Korilla was with him, seated to the side. He gestured that I should take the seat across, and I dropped down numbly. I shook my head. I needed to get my shit together. 

"Thank you for the room," I said curtly. "It was nice to have a good night's sleep."

"Is that all?" he tested.

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell," I replied, hoping that was the answer to the riddle. He cracked a knowing smile but moved on. "Korilla here was reporting in on the city rebuild. Particularly my…investments." He flourished his hand that she should continue, and she nodded.

"They're quite enamored of you, you know," Korrilla said. "A native of the Gate rising up from obscurity to overcome ceremorphosis and save the world? It's quite the story. They're talking about a statue." And Korilla was holding back a laugh at the idea. That was fair. 

"If they knew everything that happened leading up to the brain…" I sighed. 

"Martyrs for the cause," Raphael cooed. "We can put them on the plinth next to you." 

"Don't you fucking dare," I growled. 

"I'll convey your sentiment on the matter to the masses," Korrilla smirked. "Now, I have some contracts to check in on, still." She glanced to Raphael who granted permission with a nod. Then a sparking puff of red and purple and she disappeared. 

"Is that the job you're offering me?" I asked Raphael. "Following up on your…clients." I had decided at some point last night in between everything else, that if I was going to talk to him about his offer again, I needed to come on strong. Take the upper hand before it slipped out from under me.

"Oh dear me, no," he replied. "Korilla is excellent at that sort of thing. Very efficient. For you, I have something more…abstract in mind. Something that could benefit from your knack for big picture thinking."

"Is that what you call my fuckups?"

"Silver linings, dearest." He leaned across the table. "Come to my home. Stay with me awhile. Let me show you a sample of what I have to offer before I make my proposal, so you'll be fully informed before you decide." 

"Then you trap me in the hells?"

Raphael scoffed. 

"What good does that do me? You'll be free to come and go as you please. The portals will all be completely open to you."

"You could be lying to me, right now."

"Yes, of course."

"So you're asking me to trust you." 

"Unfortunately for us both." He raised an eyebrow, sharp and testing. "Have I lied to you at all since you fell from that nautiloid? Have I gone back on a single promise?" 

I dropped my eyes out of his. No. He hadn't. Not really. 

"Alright. Let's go." Almost as soon as the words left my mouth we were moving through the planes, and I was standing in the same dining room he had brought us all into on our first meeting.

"Feel free to take a plate," Raphael gestured to that same table, piled high with food. It was different, now. Rotting and foul. He gestured me down one of the long halls. 

There were people scattered through the hall, some crawling, some crying, some babbling nonsense. The smell of sulfur and burning cast over everything as we walked the dark red pathway, footsteps loud on the tiles. 

"What did these people do, Raphael?"

He waved his hand noncommittally. 

"Various and sundry sins, all poor souls who owe me a debt." 

"If I turn on you, is this the kind of punishment I should expect?"

He turned sharply, grabbing my jaw hard in his hand. 

"Should you turn on me after we make our deal, you'll wish this was your punishment."

I met his gaze, hard at the edges and firm. 

"I understand. You can let me go."

His hand fluttered away. 

"Good. Come along. I'll show you your room."

It was right next to what was clearly Raphael's boudoir, a small room off to the side with a balcony. I left that door closed, not ready to look out onto the landscape of Avernus below. The room itself was gorgeous. The walls were paneled in blue brocade fabric, and silver lace curtains fell along the lines of the rafters to create an illusion of division between the bed, the bath, and a seating area. I sat on the bed, cream-colored duvet soft and feathery under my touch. He really didn't need to offer me any more opulence than this for me to start taking his theoretical proposal seriously. Then he opened the wardrobe. 

"By Balduran's beard," I gasped, moving to the row of clothes. 

Pants and shirts and vests in coordinating colors, soft to the touch, crafted to my size. The next door he opened was an impossible closet that spread into a sword training room with a dummy with rotating arms. Along the walls were swords and maces shields the like of which I'd never seen. Made of metals I didn't recognize the sheen of. 

"These are beautiful." I ran my fingers down the blade of one of the long swords, itching to pull it down from the hook.

"Just a sampling really," Raphael said. "I don't expect you to bend for such paltry excesses." I choked on my excitement. He overestimated me. I wasn't a hero anymore. Not an adventurer. I was just a woman who liked swords and needed a purpose. He didn't need to try too hard, honestly, if he was able to give me both. But I'd hold back on revealing that little tidbit. 

I started when he touched my hand but let him take it softly. 

"This way." He pulled me along out of the room and to the big door next to mine. "Your entry credentials." He pressed my hand to a plate on the door and the whole structure shuddered and opened. The room beyond opened into a larger, more detailed version of his suite at the Caress. There was even a bath, this one large and deep. 

In the middle of it was Haarlep, wings spread taking in the water. He perked when he saw me, and moved out of the water, naked foem dripping across the floor as he approached me.

"Miss Hero. He snatched you up in the end." Haarlep tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and leaned down to speak low. "Sorry to leave you cold this morning, but I had a curfew." He cast a glance at Raphael. The devil placed two fingers against Haarlep's shoulder and pushed him away from. He stepped between us ever so slightly. 

"You got free reign last night," he hissed. "You'll need permission from now on." Haarlep responded in Infernal. They clipped back and forth quickly, a negotiation I couldn't understand but knew was about me. They raised their matching eyebrows at each other before Raphael turned to me. "Far be it from to keep such fast friends from carousing at their leisure when in such close proximity. But you only get to use him when I send him to you. For now."

He grabbed my wrist again and dragged me to a table with chairs. The one he dropped me in met me hard against my spine and backside. It was physically impossible for a chair to be this uncomfortable, so I assumed magic was involved. Raphael sat straight and narrow in his, prim up through his spine. 

"Keeping the power of the crown once I claim it is about maintaining order. It's about planning. There are loose ends all along the Storm Coast.The chaos caused by those idiots still has to be corralled a little before I can get any use out of it." He nearly spit at the mere mention of the dead three. "I'd rather things be in a certain state before I take my place. And for that I need agents of all varieties. Particularly ones who are so apt at attracting the attention powerful gods." 

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Who, like Withers? I haven't seen him in weeks at this point. Not sure how he plays into it."

"You still don't really understand who he is," Raphael chuckled. "Hm. In any case. Stay with me. Permit me to…unfold things. And you can decide if you see your future in it."

"Where's the deadline on this decision, Raphael? You haven't even given me the parameters of the deal. 

"Shhhh." He touched his finger to my lips. "Patience. I'd never let you wander into something unprepared. All in due time." And I knew he wasn't lying, but he certainly wasn't giving me the truth. 

*****

I had just finished Reverie when my door opened and the outline of an incubus appeared. Haarlep didn't wait for an answer, just wandered across the floor and slid into bed next to me. 

"It's my first night," I said into the darkness as arms came around my waist. The voice that answered back felt like Haarlep's in its curve and shape, but it was higher pitched. 

"He was done with me and said to come check on you. Make sure you haven't fled in the night."

When I reached out to touch him, I was met with soft breasts and a rounder face. It was just as nice as the other form and I pressed my body into her hips and face into her cleavage. 

"This your preferred form?" I asked. 

"No, Raphael's number two preference. You've got him hot and bothered, so he wanted something feminine." She grabbed my ass a little and gave it a pat of affection. 

"Hm. Well. I like them both so far." I ran my hand over her side. "Don't cause any trouble with Raphael on my account. I don't need that on me."

"Don't think too hard about it. Raphael thinks he's in charge, but I report to Mephistopheles at the end of the day. If he gets out of hand, all I have to do is call Daddy, and Raphael knows it."

"That doesn't really protect me from him, now does it?"

"From the way I hear it, you've got something just as scary watching your back."

"Would be nice for them to step in." I tapped my fingers along her hips and spine. "Did you want to fuck or…?"

"I'm actually exhausted. I was hoping to come in here and sleep on the off-chance that asshole wakes up and wants round two." 

"Here." I pulled her head down to rest on my chest. "I know that feeling all too well.

*****

Something I was deciding about Raphael the more I stood next to him was the impression of his height. He was taller than me, most certainly, but then I was accustomed to being right in the middle of any given party. Taller than the halflings but shorter than humans and some other elves. So Raphael was well within any of those ranges. He shouldn't have seemed so utterly giant. And yet there was this way about him that forced him to take up the entire field of my vision even in human form. In cambion form, I still struggled to comprehend him from wingtip to wingtip. 

That was how I found him in his room, scurrying to answer his call like a mouse to a trap. Gods he understood me too much; it was starting to crawl up under my skin. 

Most of the days I had been here, Raphael was in and out, gone for long lengths of time. When he called me into his room, it was always to ask something obscure about the experience of growing up in the Gate or run through a specific intricacy a thousand times to find all the holes. I had started to piece together an idea of what he wanted to do with the city, at last. He wanted full economic control, to slot into the place that Gortash had eked out for himself. I didn't understand it, but I also didn't encourage him into another direction.. 

At least I was starting to grow accustomed to the boudoir. It was less heady, less oppressive on my senses. I had even grown to like the view of the cliffs of Avernus from the large window. 

"Come here, pet," he cooed, tapping his fingers on the top of the ornate table in the corner of the room. I dropped into the chair that I had started seeing as mine. This time it was comfortable as could be, and I had all but confirmed the change in support had to be magical to set whatever mood he needed. 

"Where's Haarlep?" It was always the first I thing I looked for, now. The length of Haarlep's leash (metaphorical or very very literal) gave a sense of Raphael's mood. I hadn't seen him that morning, so I had assumed a short chain.

"He's been doing such a good job at keeping you attended, I thought I'd test him on another potential client." He adjusted in his chair primly, chin tilting up. I hated that he kept doing this. He was the one who had directly sent Haarlep to my room a handful of times, yet he seemed so pissed off about it. I wished he would make up his mind. 

"You've made the acquaintance of a wizard named Lorroakan, if I'm not mistaken," he said. "Proprietor of Sorcerer's Sundries." 

"Yeah," I replied. "He's an asshole." I should have killed him. Or let Aylin do it. I managed to convince him I had killed the Nightsong myself to get him off her trail, but after that I let the whole thing drop. There were too many other, more dire things to attend to. She had disappeared after the battle, at least. 

Raphael approved my assessment with a smirk. 

"Yes, I got the same impression. The tower survived the attack, but it took a bit of damage. I offered him some funds to make some repairs. In like exchange, of course." 

I tsked at him. 

"He's not going to part with any of his toys or books."

"Simply an opening volley. A little knock on the door." He wrapped his fingers on the table. "Which is why I'm curious what your read on him was. What does he want more than anything?"

"Immortality," I answered easily. It fueled his obsession with the Nightsong.

"That won't do, at all, of course. Maybe if he was a bit more…malleable…I'd be willing to extend him an offer of that nature. But as he is, no. I think not."

"Can you do that? Make someone immortal?" 

"After a fashion, and for the right price." He grinned through the words, and I knew that was as much information as I wanted about that. I didn't care to imagine whatever catch came with the immortality offered by a devil's deal. "Is that something you might find an interest in?"

I couldn't even answer with the laugh that rolled out of me.

"I've got five-hundred more years on me, and I'm already ready to call it quits, most days. I can't imagine having to trudge through this shit forever."  

"Poor little thing." Raphael made one of his flourishing gestures, and my chair slid around the table toward him. He ran his fingers through my hair and tucked them into the loose bun at the back. "Is life really so difficult?" He tugged on the ribbon that was holding my hair and it all flowed free. I rolled my cheek into his palm. 

"Some of us have real problems, Raphael," I clucked. His hand tightened in my hair, pulling at my scalp. As he stood, he pulled my head back, trapping me with my neck stretched out to him, eyes locked on him by force. He dipped his body until his lips were near my ear.

"Oh, my problems are about to be very real for you, if you don't behave."

I choked through my words, but I felt the grin form on my face. As much as he threatened and cajoled, I wasn't dead until he got what he wanted from me.

"Testy. You frustrated without your toy around?" I regretted it the instant I said it, the sudden blankness of his gaze worse than his more classic, irritated expression. 

He lifted me from the chair and dragged me across the room by my hair right at the base of my scalp. I landed on the bed in half a heap, head snapping forward from the force of Raphael releasing me. When I looked back up at him, he had shifted into his more human shape. I still hadn't figured out the reasoning for which form he preferred, but I didn't like that he had taken the energy to shift at all. He moved onto the bed, knee on either side of me. I felt myself scrambling backward without considering the actual escape route was in the exact opposite direction. Raphael followed, crawling to keep up with me until we reached the center of the bed. 

"Where do you think you're going, darling dearest?" He grabbed my wrists to pull me closer. "You and I both know this is where you want to be. Where you've always wanted to be."

"And where's that?" I snapped back, trying to pull my wrists away. The thin line of his mouth cracked into a wry grin. 

"A place where you don't have to make any decisions. Where someone else, where I, control everything. Where all you have to do is lay back and accept what I give you." He released my wrists, and I dropped back to the bed unceremoniously. "Now I am a reasonable man who prefers a sense of structure. Of order in the chaos. But I always get what I want in the end. The only choice you have, at the moment, is how difficult you want to make it for yourself." 

"Oh, spare me," I said. His hand twitched back as though he wanted to strike me, and I leveled one of those same gazes at him that he kept trying to tear me down with. 

"I came here of my own accord, and I've been staying voluntarily, waiting to find out what you actually want from me. I have jumped and danced at every summon, no matter how dumb it ends up being. I have been your perfect little confidant, and you can't handle a little sass? A little backtalk? Or is it that you can't stand I'm not afraid of you? That you don't have me, yet?" I was panting, waiting for Raphael to react. To do anything but hover over me. He needed to do something. "If you want to be fucking Archdevil Jackass, Prince of the Nine Hells, you'll have to grow a thicker skin than that." 

Finally, he did something. He dropped down to his elbows, bringing his body down on top of mine, line on line, angle on angle with my own. He pecked the side of my mouth. Gently. Delicate. His lips were rough but damp. 

"What are you trying to dose me with?" I asked. Raphael clucked. 

"So suspicious."

"Do you blame me?"

"Not at all," Raphael smirked. "I would expect it." He kissed me again, this time capturing my lips and going deeper, tip of his tongue trailing along my bottom lip. "But no. This is all just me…and you…" The next kiss was ravenous. 

His hands cupped my jaw, forcing me to accept every undulating press of his lips against me. The knees locked around my hips would have kept me from wriggling free if I really wanted to. Instead, my hands found the back for Raphael's head, and I wound my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. I didn't pull like he had, but he didn't like it nonetheless. He pulled back sharply, breaking the kiss with a quick nip on my bottom lip. He settled his body lower across my hips, sitting back on my thighs. For a long moment, he hovered his fingers over the top button of my vest, his face moving through a bunch of micro-emotions like he was considering something. 

"No no," he muttered. "You'd enjoy too much, and I don't want to lose the buttons. I have something better." He rolled sideways off me, pulling me up by the collar as he went. I almost lost my footing as I was yanked up off the bed, but I stayed standing as I skidded over the marble floor. 

"Undress." The command reverberated soft and deep through the chamber. 

"Excuse me?" I had heard him clearly, but I was struggling to comprehend. 

"I could hold you down and do it myself, but then it wouldn't be a real choice, now would it? Now, you can either do as I ask, or not. Which will you do?"

"What if I don't do as you say?" 

"Then you're more than free to go back to your room. Leave for the material plane, for all I care. You were never a prisoner." He said the words, and they almost felt like the truth. He probably would let me go. For now. I wasn't ready to test it, yet. 

I undid the first button on the vest, slowly moving down to the next one. There were only ten of them, and my vest fell to the floor with a clank. Raphael slightly jolted with the sound. He was so concerned about his buttons, I wish I had thrown it down harder. The line of his body tensed again as I moved on to my shirt. I pulled the threading out from the eyelets one by one until the entire front of my shirt was open down to below my chest, exposing the short stays underneath. I pulled my shirt up over my head, letting the shirt fall on top of the vest. Raphael watched every movement closely, studying me. His hand twitched on his thigh as though he wanted to reach for me again, but he held firm. 

Four more buttons on my fly, and my pants were down, pooled around my ankles. I stepped out of them and pushed them away. I hadn't taken to wearing hard-soled shoes around the house, and my slippers were back at the table. I still had stockings, though, tied at mid-thigh. Raphael's eyes shot down to them immediately, and his lips parted ever so slightly. He dug his hand into the front of the stays and dragged me forward until I was tucked between his knees. 

"Now this…this is an outfit I think I might begin to insist on." His face dropped to the cleft of my breasts and he worked slowly upward along the span of my chest. His nose and lips traced the line of my clavicle, teeth scraping against my skin. One hand came up on the other side of my neck and his mouth worked in small kisses up the other side, over the edge of my jaw. He teased a kiss at my lips, but pulled back, breath touching mine. 

"I'm not a doll for you to dress up," I said into the tiny space between us. He undid the top strap of three on the stays.

"Yet you wear everything I give you." The second strap slipped free with a soft pop. 

"You have good taste," I replied. 

A third click and the stays loosened, letting my breasts fall free. He rolled the stays off my back, but folded the garment and set it on the bench on the end of the bed instead of throwing it down with the others. He turned me sharply, pulling me tight against his body, legs spread around my hips again. Raphael's face dug into my back and I felt the sharp graze of his teeth along my spine. A hand swept around and dipped past the waistband of my undershorts and into my cleft. He didn't touch me, though, just tracing the outline of it, skin prickling under his touch.

By the time he touched a pad of his finger to my clit, I had started growing wet and tense. Every touch was light, teasing, and I jumped with each flick. He slid down and sunk into my entrance, and I gasped with the friction. I arched my back in response, breast falling right into his other waiting hand. He pinched my nipple…hard…enough that the pleasure turned to pain.

"Ow," I gasped. And he let go. I didn't expect it, but he did. After a moment, though, he returned to pinching and tweaking that same pink nub with a softer roll of his rough fingers. 

"My little mouse is so quiet," he said. "Why don't you raise your voice a little. Let me hear how much you enjoy it." He slid two fingers inside this time. On the third, a choked squeak emerged, breathy and short. 

"There we go," he cooed into the curve of my spine. His hands lifted to my shoulders and he pushed me down to my knees, half turning in a sprawl. His hands worked quickly on his doublet then barely touched his shirt before they were laid neatly on the bench. Raphael was soft in the chest and stomach, his tan skin freckled and tough. He untied the top of his pants and rolled them back to reveal a half-sprung cock weeping with pre-cum. 

"Another choice I'm willing to extend." Raphael's voice lifted and bloomed dramatically while he pumped his hand over her cock slowly. "How will you take me first? Hand or mouth?" 

I considered the math. He wasn't too big for either, and my teeth would do more damage if he pulled something on me while I was servicing him. I didn't relish the idea of biting a devil's dick off, but I was willing to consider the possibility it played into my backup plan. Not touching him, in that moment, simply wasn't an option. I wanted to. Gods I wanted to touch him. Where did that come from? What was this place turning me into? 

I moved to my knees and steadied myself against the inside of his thighs with one arm. One hand wrapped around the base, and I parted my lips around the head of his cock, sucking gently at the soft flesh as it emerged from the foreskin. A glaze of pre-cum slicked across my tongue and throat as I pulled him in deeper. He was peppery. Sweat and skin tingling with the bitter warmth of whiskey. His fingers wove into my hair, and he pulled me back from the base. Then forward again. A gentle pace up and down his length as I lathed and sucked on him. I was perfectly capable of doing it myself, but if it made him happy to have that control, I was willing to abdicate it. Even as he moved me faster and faster, I kept to his rhythm, grazing the edge of one hand along the soft skin of his balls, the other hand still squeezed around the base, throat and tongue acting in tandem to encompass the entirety of him at the crest of every gentle thrust.

Then he shoved me down hard, thrusting deep into my throat, forcing me to gag. I pulled back quickly. 

"Do that again without asking, and I bite it off." I leveled a hard gaze up at him, daring him to test me on this. His hand was still in my hair, and he pulled my head sideways against his thigh. 

"Apologies, dearest. I simply grew…excited…impatient, perhaps." 

I pushed myself up using his knees, my own cracking a little as I got to my feet. 

"Then let's finish this." 

I was the one who crawled into his lap, this time, my knees spreading around his hips as I found purchase on the bed. My arms dropped softly around his shoulders and I demanded a kiss from him, pulling him up to me with a crook of my thumb under his chin. He unwound the lacing on the sides of my undershorts and they slid away neatly. I didn't wait, lifting up immediately to drop down, quivering and wet, on his waiting cock. He groaned into my mouth, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I rolled over him, chasing the feel of him inside of me, pulsing and hot. It filled me, but it wasn't enough. I needed…something…Something my body was yearning for, but I was having trouble placing. I pulled away from his mouth just enough to speak, his breath hot on my face as he panted under me. 

"Can you shift? Change form? To the other one?"

He looked up at me through half-closed eyes, tracing me through his eyelashes. The grin that cracked across his face was sharp and dangerous at the corners, barely touching the bottom of his eyes. 

"Oh. I know what you want. How lucky you are that I'm happy to give it to you."

His body didn't change anywhere I could see, but I felt the morph inside me, the pressure going in different directions, now. The ridges on his cock dragged against my insides when I lifted, pushing a gasping keen out of me. I dropped again, pressing our pelvises together to get the most out of this new shapes. 

"Gods," I found myself groaning. "Yes. Fuck." 

"Anything for my little starling. Anything you want, it's yours." He panted into the base of my neck then trailed his lips across the top of my breasts. "I'll give you anything." His hands gripped my ass to support the ever quicker, more forceful grinding I was pressing against his body. I believed him. That he'd give me anything. Rather, I believed he believed himself. That he was willing, in that moment, to part with everything in his home for me. I would see how things changed once the building ecstasy popped and dissolved. 

We weren't going to get there like this. I needed more leverage. I pushed him. He didn't let go. I growled and put all my weight against him, throwing us down on the bed. He seemed surprised but accepted the new position with ease. I bounced hard, thighs hitting my heels, Raphael's hands on my hips the whole while, this time following my pattern of lifting and dropping instead of forcing a new one. Faster, harder, I dug my fingers into his stomach, reveling in all the sensations I could rip from him. Taking what I wanted instead of waiting for him to give it. 

I crunched forward, resting my forehead against his chest, supporting myself on my elbows. Raphael's hands were firm on my back. Then they started to grip tighter. 

"Yes," he muttered low in his throat, the sound carrying through his chest. "Fire of my heart, brings us both to ecstasy." His nails dug into my flesh as he reached climax, and I felt him swelter and pulse inside me. I tilted my head up and pressed my hand to his neck lightly. 

"Don't fucking move," I snapped at him. 

I moved a hand down to find my clitoris in the tight space between our bodies. I circled and flicked quickly, pulsing my hips fast on the thankfully still-hard cock inside me. When I came with a tight squeal, it was filled with the scent of him. Hellfire and rum. I rested for a moment in that same position, letting my legs recover for a moment. Then I rolled off him, the feel of his cock sending one last shivering sensation up me. I rested with my knees up, thighs together, stretching my hips back into their preferred state. The tandem gasping and panting echoed through the room for a minute as the only sound.

"Perhaps Lorroakan can be fucked into submission," Raphael said quietly. I processed this statement. I heard the conversation with Haarlep play back in my head about the nature of Raphael's pillow talk. I laughed. Big and deep. Shaking my body down to the toes.

"You can always try it," I giggled. He sat up, legs off the bed. He wiped himself off with the edge of his sheets then re-buttoned his pants. 

"With that performance, I would send you after him."

"Hmph. I'm not Haarlep. I only have a few of those in me. Not gonna waste one on him. Really should just kill him if he's that much of an issue. I saw the stuff to conjure up some myrmidons up there in his tower, but if you let me borrow a couple orthons I could probably do it. Yurgir's wandering around here, right? He packed a punch when I killed him the first time." Raphael had turned about halfway through my string of thoughts, and now he watched me with interest, head tilted. 

"See this--" he pointed at me "--this is why I want you. Vicious. Practical." He stood and eased down the bed. He rested his hands on my knees. "Take a bath, pull something comfortable from the closet, then meet me in the dining hall. We're going up for a stroll, and I want to run some ideas past you." He grabbed his shirt from the bench and started putting it on as he left the room. 

The strongest part of his scent left with him, but the wisp and dregs of it surrounded me as I rolled a little on the mattresses. I was starting to dig myself too deep into this hole. But at least I had a little something to help me climb out of it. 

The implications from Haarlep and Korilla were starting to come together with my own experience. Whether sexually or logistically, he didn't like actually putting in the effort himself. He preferred, strongly, to delegate. To make someone else do it while he reaped the rewards.

Whatever his motions to the contrary, he needed me. Far more than I needed him. I could use that.

[cinematicnomad]

congrats on 5k kat, so well deserved!! 💌 i followed you because of your beautiful gifs: i noticed them when i first joined the fandom, for their incredible quality and because you draw the best parallels too! and i stayed because of all of that but also for you, i just really enjoy your presence on my dash 💖 and ✌️ if you want – my ao3 username is farfromthstars! - @buckactuallys

pia!! if memory serves, you were one of the first 911 blogs i followed last summer when i got into the show. your fics and your blog is just full of amazing 911 content, and then YOU are such a total sweetheart. for real, i die every single time you make a rec list and include one of my fics (it's happened twice and i swoon). i love seeing you on my dash always!! as for a favorite fic, you kNOW it's gonna be:

darker days, brighter endings by farfromthstars/@buckactuallys (3/3 | 44k+ | T) minor eddieana; minor bucktaylor; POV eddie; sexuality crisis; PTSD; therapy; friends to lovers

recovery isn’t easy, or linear. eddie lets buck get him one of those old fashioned button-up pajama tops because they’re easier to slip his arm into without moving his shoulder, but he doesn’t ask him for help with shaving until he cuts himself trying to do it himself and breaks down crying in the bathroom. not because it hurts—he watches the blood trickle down from his cheekbone for a few seconds and suddenly feels completely overwhelmed, live everything is way too much. or a fic on eddie’s recovery after 4.14.

this is legitimately one of my FAVORITE post-shooting fics. you hit every single beat i wanted canon to explore (but knew would never happen)—having it be from eddie's POV and just showing how his recovery would impact him both physically and emotionally, how he'd feel about buck being there to help him through it all, and then along the way coming to terms with his understanding of his sexuality and his feelings for buck....jesus, i love this fic so much. EVERYONE should read it. thank you so much for writing and sharing it with the rest of us <33

✨cinematicnomad’s 5k celebration✨

[recovering-and-healing]

[telaviv-delhi]

Egyik durva deliverim a Fixácios Buli volt, nem értettem, miafaszom lehet, de pénz ugat, Tökös hívott, hogy ő nem mehet, mert ő családos ember, annyira veszélye? kérdeztem, Tökös nem véletlenūl Tökös, egy évet ūlt előzetesben potom két kiló koxszal, szatyor koronggal, ezzelazzal, de nem köpött, pedig berakták a kannibálok közé, onnét meg ment a korházba, majd megint vissza postafordultával a kannibálokhoz, reciklálták, egy kerek időbe telt, míg a politikus meg rendőr haverjai kivakarták, kiderūlt, hogy saját fogyasztásra kellett neki, nem is az övé volt, kūlönben is eltűnt a bizonyíték a raktárból meg eljárási hibâk halmaza, a fegyőrök lágyéksérvet kaptak a röhögéstől, mikor megtudták, mivel engedik ki, nemnemnem, nem veszélyes, csak hogy ő tényleg családos ember, nekem meg mindegy, ne paráźz, methet is akartak, a fene az ízlésūkbe, nade honnét azt Magyarországon, gyorsba? Koxom van, kell? Kérdeztem, szargurigával nem foglslkozom, rotterdami minőség, 90÷, nem a fostalicska magyar 40÷, Kell nekik. Tökös még azt is mondta, hogy rendőrautó lesz a ház előtt, de szarjam telibe őket, mert a házigazdának, Elődnek dolgoznak, fő a biztonság, ok, majd a szélvédőjūkre szarok. Menő budai villa hatalmas kerttel, timpanonnal, korinthoszi oszlopokkal, babkorláttal, aranyozott, Ámoros szökökúttal, pálmafával, magyarzàszlóval, a ház előtt parkoló kocsik min. Audi 7, ok, a bejárati faragott ajtón hátrafelé nyilazó magyar, Power Puff csajoknak öltözött kigyúrt arcok nyitottak ajtót, mitakarsz, az Ellátó vagyok, az Előd hívott, belépés max. gatyában, telefon nuku, a napgéped is tedd le, kamera lehet benne, szerkót hoztál? Nembaj, itt ez a szopóálarc, vedd fel, röhögtek, bazmeg, hova kerūltem, hovaafaszba, mindenki meztelen, hacsak pl. a szopóálarcot meg a pestiscsőrt nem tekintjūk ruhának, de volt Pókember, Vader, Macskanő, Alien, Halálfej, sőt egy Donald Trump is, a zene valahol Kisgrofó és a hibbant technó között, Lost Highway kutyaszar, stroboszkóp, UV meg diszkófény, egy keresztre kikötözott csávót két kurvának öltözött nagymama szopott, a harmadik finoman korbácsolta meg nyalogatta, másik szobában hatan csináltak egy tetovált csajt, hivatásos lehetett, mert nem viselt maszkot, duble penetration, de a két keze és szája is dolgozott, turul a hátára varrva, alatta "Magyarország a magyaroké", szállj be, észrevett, mire vársz, kiskakas, szállj be, sok jó ember kis helyen elfér, hát milyen gizda magyar vagy?leūltem egy pamlagra, pia dögivel, stresszoldónak nekifogtam egy Stresszoldó nevű koktélt keverni, egy deci Tatratea, 4 deci pezsgő, sokat tapasztalt iraki veterán cimbi szerint a PTSD-t is rendberakja, azt szopogattam elanyátlanodva, mint az egyszeri eszdéeszes, erre elém áll két kigyúrt sikertörténet, mindketten Ctullhu fejjel, fuxszal meg Rolex órákkal, a farkukon szorgosan dolgozva, hogyaszogya, megcsinálnának, ha nem bánom, én lányos zavarban szabadkoztam, hogy fáj a fejem, fáradt vagyok, de a két Ctullhu nem tágított, egyre gyorsabban dolgoztak a pélón, akkor minek jöttél ide, már egy órája figyelūnk, te meg ūlsz, mint egy devizakárosult, se nővel, se faszival nem rakod össze, amid van! Vagy te is perverz vagy és a Lóra jöttél? Kecskénk nincs, magyarember max lovat baszik!

Kicsit befeszūlve közöltem, hogy akkor elmondom az igazságot, én a Gandhi-féle Transzcendens Hatha Jóga akaraterősítő gyúrás híve vagyok, Gandhi is rendszeresen két pucér ándörédzs kiscsajjal hált, de egy ujjal sem nyúlt hozzájuk, akaraterősítés, értitek, akaraterő!!! na, néztek bambán, még a kèzimunkát is abbahagyták, jóvan, akkor csak leszophatunk?

végre megérkezett az Előd, felmarkoltam a pénzt és elszeleltem