#by “meditating upon” i mean “adding to my fic ideas list”

[boxboxlewis]

Share a DVD commentary on Come get your honey

I'm so obsessed with this fic forever. Honestly I would read a line-by-line director's commentary of the entire fic but to rein it in I'm really curious about what Max is thinking throughout the fic? Daniel is so focused on how good the sex is (for him) and at times, how connected and possessive he feels toward Max, but is Max in that emotional space with him or is he focused more on the simple pleasure of it?

also! if you wanted to! i'd truly just chin-hands raptly listen to you talk about anything you wanted to talk about in this verse. like do they ever get together? do they ever have sex that is emotionally overwhelming for max / what would that look like?

ahhhh sarah ilu thank you! come get your honey is one of my secret favourites of my own children fics so i'm esp pleased you like it. dvd commentary below the cut :)

The first time Daniel and Max have sex is also the last time, has to be the last time, so Daniel tries to memorise every detail as it’s happening. Max’s stubble, spikier than Daniel might’ve expected / the awkward way he giggles when Daniel reaches for his belt / how he immediately apologises for the giggle, voice raspy, “Sorry, I just—” 

max is giggling here from NERVES bc he has had a big fat crush on daniel for one million years. however! he is a professional at Being Around Daniel Without Getting His Heart Broken, so he's also determined not to make a fool of himself.

Daniel has no fucking idea what to do with someone else’s dick, except, presumably, touch it in the same way he likes to touch himself, and he has low-key worried about this, when he’s thought about having sex with Max, which has been always, over the past few weeks/months/years, except as it turns out it’s not an issue because Max tells him exactly what to do: every bitten-back gasp from Max’s stupid-plush mouth when Daniel nips at his skin and then soothes it with his tongue, every motion he makes, the way his hips jerk up how he rolls his eyes at Daniel how he says “No, like this, here—”

the max pov of this scene is basically "oh my god how is daniel so hot and also so bad at this"

The next time Daniel and Max have sex is an error. A mistake, a lapse, a moment, and it’s Max’s fault, really. He looks at Daniel while they’re waiting for the pre-race press conference to begin and he smirks, and Daniel looks at his mouth: that’s it, that’s waiting the whole press conference with a half-hard dick and a racing pulse, that’s walking back to his motorhome when he’d rather run and texting Max “ok then” and texting again a minute later, “come over dick.”

max: [smiles hello at daniel]

daniel: AW yeah he wants that ricciardo D again 😎... come on OVER baybeeeee

He’d thought Max would be new to this, would be unsure, maybe, waiting for Daniel to take the lead, but Max is so comfortable, knows just what he’s doing, he shows Daniel how to use his fingers, he opens for Daniel so easily and beautifully, Max is good at getting fucked, and relaxed about it, which means he must’ve done it before, and probably not just a few times, probably lots of times.

daniel is right, max has had a lot of sex in this universe and he knows what he likes!

“You make me crazy,” he grits out, pressing his forehead into Max’s shoulder his collarbone, getting high from the smell of Max’s skin his armpit his hair, he’s trying to give it to Max so good Max will never go to anyone else for sex ever again, will just keep coming back to Daniel over and over and over and maybe if he thrusts deep enough hard enough at just the right angle he’ll make Max his wife— Max just laughs and kicks his heel against Daniel’s ass, says “Daniel, c’mon,” grips his hand in the back of Daniel’s hair and tugs Daniel’s head up and looks at him all cool and handsome and rolls his fucking eyes and pulls Daniel in and bites his lip, hard, and Daniel comes in an agonised rush, no grace no finesse much too soon. He hasn’t even gotten Max off yet, has to pull out and get his breath back and then make his way down the bed so he can get his mouth on Max’s dick and his fingers pressing back inside where Max is still loose and sloppy. He can feel Max’s fucking heartbeat inside his asshole, secret and lovely against his fingers, he can taste how close Max is to coming, and then Max is groaning, salt-bleach warmth coating Daniel’s mouth, choking him.

max is dying here. he likes daniel SO MUCH but also he's like "im literally giving this man a roadmap and a torch what is he doing"

Max has never in his entire life known when to stop. “I think I can tell maybe that you’ve mostly fucked girls.” He’s still tracing Daniel’s tattoos: the cherub on his forearm, now. “Because you kind of, you ignore my—uh.” Daniel guesses the “uh” is Max for “prostate.” He wants to die.

this is max being like "well naturally daniel would want to know if he is bad at sex, so he can improve" and just 100% not getting why it's painful for daniel to hear god bless

Max riding him is good, is better than Daniel could’ve believed, and Daniel can’t worry anymore whether it’s good for Max because it’s so fucking good for him. He can see Max like this, the entire glorious country that is Max’s body, whole vistas open for Daniel’s gaze. The softness of Max’s stomach / his puffed-up little nipples / his perfect fucking thighs, his perfect fucking thighs clamped around Daniel’s hips no one else’s. Daniel’s cock disappearing into Max’s body, Max’s frown, how he bites his lip, focussing, how he throws his head back and hisses when he finds an angle he likes. Daniel can reach up and pinch his nipple, cup his tit and draw a thumb across it, watch how Max flushes blotchily across his whole chest, he can follow Max into the rhythm he’s setting with his hips he can watch as each thrust makes Max’s eyelids flutter he can hope he can hope that this time he’s getting it right.

this time around is much better for max. good work, daniel

Daniel says “I have something I need to tell you, but you're not gonna like it,” and Max looks at him with wide eyes and says “Well don't tell me yet then,” and Daniel kisses him and thinks, one day.

max has some inkling of what daniel wants to say but he is TERRIFIED that he's wrong and maybe daniel will just be like "i think we should try reverse cowgirl" or something. so he elects not to hear it, so that the beautiful possibility that maybe daniel really likes him can live on a little longer 🥲 they do get together eventually but it takes a while!!

#smut asks #asks #maxiel #mv33 #dr3 #sarah this is so long lmao im sorry!!! #i am meditating upon your question about what emotionally overwhelming sex for max would look like in this universe #by “meditating upon” i mean “adding to my fic ideas list”

[docholligay]

The God of Small Luck

As some of you know we get pathfnder bonus points or whatever for contributing to the story outside of the game, but this one conferred me an extra bonus: Trolling Jetty. Due to some miscommunication, her character was supposed to get Divine Favor and Zone of Truth when she leveled up but...didn’t. I argued that this was pretty much in keeping with Seth’s relationship with her deity(?) and so it became that if I wrote a fic about this happening, and she didn’t write a parry, she had to keep the spells she got. I’ve been kicking this idea around for nearly a month, and I hope you enjoy. 1800 words

Note: Shekinah (Shay) is my mom’s character, a half-elf witch. 

All her life, Seth Fuzlae had wanted to KNOW. 

Why is the sky blue? Where do the stars come from? Who was the first storyteller?  She would ask any adult who would listen, unsatisfied with any answer she received, always searching for what she considered to be the truth. Reading came as a boon to her--words always seemed more truthful when you laid them out in ink, at least they did when she was young--and so she discovered her own answers to these questions, and discovered that some of them were still waiting to be answered. 

But still, she was never satisfied. 

She became even less satisfied upon discovering that no one quite knew the answer as to why she was the chosen one, or why she would have to give her life (It always unnerved Seth that the phrase could be taken a variety of ways, and death seemed the least distressing) for this nebulous idea of a destiny. Books held no answers, and as much as she would like to have determined that it was a lie, the lack of book binding did not seem to allay the very real signs that Seth was bought to this fate, whatever it was. 

Curse. Gift. It was both, and neither, twin snakes curving around her as artfully as any caduceus, waiting to strike. 

However, Seth was no quitter, even if that was the most reasonable course of action, and so she had wrestled those snakes, tied them to her knapsack,  and gone off into the world, seeking whoever or whatever had laid this upon her, ready to demand an explanation. They would  be their own undoing, as Seth meditated and projected and incanted in all the ways she knew, and as her powers grew, she would come to fight the very thing from which her power flowed, She would deny it the meal it hoped for. 

And so, she sat across the table from her friend, she supposed it was now fair to say, who stood at the edge of the table, standing and holding her bowl of oatmeal. Even at the highest table in the human village, she was too tall for it, but Kitty seemed rather used to it by now, and, as Seth often did in the opposite direction adapted. 

“You know I love hearin’ your plans to kill God, but,” She pushed back the brim of her hat, “any particular reason it’s comin’ up the morning after we damn near got arrested?”

“Oh like we don’t almost get arrested all the time.” She scowled. 

Kitty was the only person Seth trusted with any of the truth of her past, which was irrevocably tied to her future. Kitty and she had gone along together for a long time now, and she could always count on Kitty to never pry too hard about where Seth had come from, to pretend to ignore Seth’s hand, and to never open her mouth to another human being about the things she did know. Seth treated her the same, and the bits and pieces she knew about why Kitty had left home stayed locked in her mind and in her mouth. 

But if there was to be a negative about Kitty, the first thing Seth would put on the list was a certain practicality that left little room for Seth’s sense of presentation and occasion. 

She sighed, knowing that her dramatic and eerie and, she thought, very well practiced speech was a complete waste on the centaur across from her, whose main sense of wonder came from the dried fruit in her oatmeal. 

“Because, my pearl-buttoned friend,” she looked up at Kitty, “I am on the eve of recieving more power. I can feel it, they can’t deny me any longer. And I,” She sat up straight and grinned, “am going to receive that which is due me. Knowledge, and luck.”

“Sure.” Kitty picked out a raisin. 

“You really are fortunate to have me around, I’ll be able to find out the truth from anyone we come across, and the God--Gods--power--thing that cursed me will have no choice but to grant me favor in combat, and,” she leaned forward conspiratorially, “I just MIGHT ask them to bless you with luck.” 

Kitty looked at her a moment, took a sip of her coffee, and then looked off. 

“I have a couplea questions. Or thoughts, I spose.” 

Seth tossed back her mess of hair. “I’m always here to enlighten you.” 

“Number one, luck’s a poor thing to rely on, and can’t take the place of skill or steel, Seth.” She took another sip, as if putting a final period on the thought. 

Seth took her own drink, the brightly colored foam dotting her nose. “Listen, I know you people like plows more than prophecy, but you’ve been traveling with me and Shay long enough that you can’t not believe in it.” 

Kitty shook her head. ‘Didn’t say I didn’t believe in it, said I didn’t rely on it. Number two,” she said, refusing to answer further, “I have known ya to be a good many things in my life, many of which I appreciate. Lucky’s never been on of ‘em.” 

“Yes,” Seth sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes, “That’s what this is going to address. Obviously.” 

“Right, so,” Kitty hunkered down to the table so her eyes were directly across from Seth’s, “How in hell do ya know that whatever it is that gives ya this power’s gonna give ya the power ya want? That thing ya gotta ride with doesn’t seem particularly inclined toward your preferences generally, if ya follow me.”

“Oh Kitty,” Seth laughed, “I have learned how to interact with this mystical crown which has been set upon my head, ready to struggle and do battle and to--” 

“Lord.” 

“Really wrestle with the gods themselves, and while they are not yet on the ropes, I do know how to get a punch or two in. I have done an immense amount of reading on the subject, and they’ll simply have no choice but to give me what I ask for.” 

She crossed her arms, sat back, and smiled. 

Kitty looked at her flatly. “‘Kay.” 

“Don’t say okay that way I know that means you don’t believe me I have it perfectly worked out and---” 

_________________________

That night, Seth sat at her bed, eyes closed, slowly letting the breath come in and out, as she focused her thoughts on her desires. Truth. Favor. She wove her will throughout the words, tying them into herself like ribbons of a maypole, over and under and around, until she was coveered completely in the weavings of the magic. 

It would come. She knew this, as she squeezed the stone in her hand, the one Kitty had shook her head as she traded several gold for. Kitty couldn’t possibly have known the way this would guide the divine will of the god, or gods, or whatever her patron and pursuer happened to be. In her other hand was a brightly colored feather, something she’d picked up weeks ago but had come to use as a stand-in for herself in these sort of invocations, something that felt tied to her. 

She slept, or didn’t. She dreamed, or prophesied. 

In either case, the darkness came. 

Morning came with it, following on its heels like a dog after the fox, and Seth awoke seemingly as soon as she slept. 

It had worked. She could feel a surge of power within her, some glow, as if several candles had been added to a dark hallway, and she could see so many things now laid out before her. The power was hers, and she was ready to use it. 

She had promised Kitty, early on in their friendship, that she would never get into her head without permission, and so, as Kitty stood in the corner buttoning up her shirt, she wouldn’t use her newfound powers of truth. She was a gnome of honor, and of her word. 

But she had never promised Kitty that she would not use her powers at all, and so her hand moved to the pistol laid on the table, trying not to grin as she did so. She would shoot Kitty’s hat off, without harming her, just a gentle blow-by on the brim, and Kitty would see that she had this new power, this luck Kitty claimed she never had, and then Kitty would laugh, and suggest she use this in some cheap and low way, like for dice. 

Okay, maybe Seth would use it for dice too, but not right AWAY. 

Seth closed her eyes, focusing her energy on the new power inside of her, hands gripping the pistol tightly. Luck. Luck. Luck. She heard the words spin her head, the words that she would bring forth to call this in future, written on her mind like the ink she had loved as a child, and she felt her body vibrate with energy and power. 

She fired. 

The next half-second was not exactly as Seth had seen it. The shot went off, and Seth was blown backward into the side of the bed. Kitty’s hat shot off as she ducked, swearing furiously, a hole appearing right at the edge of the crown where Kitty’s head had been moments before. There was a bright ping as the bullet ricocheted off the stone wall, and headed right back for Seth, who could do nothing but watch in horror as it came to her chest. 

There was another clink as it bounced off, and under the bed. 

“WHAT IN THE FULL HELL UNDER THE MARE’S MOON ARE YA DOING?!” Kitty looked at her with wild eyes, her finger through the hole in her hat. 

“I”M SUPPOSED TO BE LUCKY NOW!!” Seth stood up. “BUT--”

“DAMN RIGHT YOU’RE LUCKY, LUCKY I DON’T KILL YA WHERE YA STAND!” 

“Girls!” Shay was at the door, her dress flowing and her hair coiffed already, in her strange, elegant sense, “What is going on in here?”

“Seth tried to shoot me, near’s I can figure.” She jammed the tarnished hat on her head and scooped the pistol off the ground. 

“No! I mean,” she paused, “Yes, but not--” She looked to Shay as if she were a child explaining to her mother, “I got new powers last night! I was supposed to--” 

“Oh yes!” Shay patted her hands together excitedly, “Ironskin! I see! How lovely, but if I could suggest you NOT try new spells with--” 

“WHAT??” Seth looked down, and there it was shimmering iron haze about her skin, unbending, “no...I was supposed to get--you have to be kidding me” She closed her eyes and focused on truth, temporarily forgetting her promise to Kitty, and then opened them, “Kitty, did you sleep with that girl back in Nelesee?” 

“None of your goddamn business, and also--” 

Seth angrily shoved at the side table next to her, slamming it into the wall. 

“Oh!” Shay chirped excitedly “Bull’s Strength! How useful!” 

Seth moaned and sank to the floor. All her life Seth Fuzlae had wanted to know the answers t every question, but in the particular moment, there was only one:

Why me?

#the adventures of Seth and Kitty

[metaandpotatoes]

Some old school Kingdom Hearts fic recs

Once upon a time, I think most of the fics on here would have been the usual suspects for a KH fic rec list. Time to resurrect them and make sure everyone gets their eyeballs on these beautifully crafted stories. I like these fics because they challenge you, they take risks, and you can see through the writing that the authors were also out to challenge themselves.

Note: Most of these don’t appear on @rabidbehemoth​‘s excellent old school KH fic rec list. Also, there are tragically few Zemyx fics because apparently the ones I love best have all been removed.

Bonus: This definitely double as a slight history of my aesthetic development as a writer.

Deceitful Above All Things by Quillslinger

Pairing: Axel/Roxas

Rating: Mature (no smut, but some descriptions of sexual acts/porn)

Summary: A history of Axel and Roxas’ relationship (and its unraveling) as they move through the Organization. Written before Chain of Memories, 358/2 Days etc., but surprisingly prescient with regard to them.

Excerpt: He said, "Meanwhile, my name's Axel," and gave himself ten seconds before adding, "Got it memorized?"

In a surprise twist, Roxas managed neither to develop an allergic reaction to Axel's trademark icebreaker nor find it funnier than he should, which actually made Axel decide maybe he liked the taciturn shrimp. It led to his spending the rest of the morning—Afternoon? Evening? You could never tell in this seaside cosmic joke—asking probing, insightful questions—"But seriously, how do you get your hair to look like that?"—only to learn that everyone in the Organization had warned Roxas about him.

My commentary: Great characterization, slow build, beautiful evocation of ocean imagery. The dialogue is really out of this world, and shows that you can insert humor into writing even if its predominantly serious or sad. This fic also turned teen!me onto Pablo Neruda.

Meaning of Silence by The Writer Triumphant

Pairing: Axel/Roxas

Summary: AU; Axel finds love in a park, within a boy seven years his junior. Unfortunately, Roxas loves him back.

Rating: Mature

Excerpt: "Watch this."

I sit up, twist around, and watch as Roxas performs a simple skateboard trick. And then another. He's still wearing the band-aid, and I don't ask why. He offers half a smile and then walks off to join the retreating backs of his brother and the silver haired boy. I have to erase the image from my mind before I start driving.

He gets better at it, and eventually he's gliding along effortlessly. I don't want to watch him. I don't want to walk over to him when he's alone on the swing, have his hair brush my chin as I pull back on the chains to start the arch. But I do.

"You're not a grown-up."

I tell him I'm seventeen. He's ten.

My commentary: This. Story. Ruins me. Every. Fucking. Time. It’s a really moving and beautiful and bleak exploration of a topic that still riles people up in fandom: Age differences in pairings. Which is to say, it’s an extended literary meditation on accusations of pedophilia for certain pairings in fandom. It is not crass or crude or fetishizing; it is compassionate, it is complicated, it is seeking to understand.

This fic should make you uncomfortable; it should make you stop and think. Reading does not have to be pleasurable or fluffy or politically correct (I would argue it should rarely ever be that last one), not even in fanfiction.

This is also one of the only first-person fics I’ve ever liked. It heightens the reader’s complicated relationship to the story’s subject matter; it implicates us. It cements Axel as sympathetic.

The second part is dramatic as fuck and I don’t know if I agree that it should have ended the way it does. I also lose track of wtf is happening at one part through it. But once again, that is the pleasure and challenge of reading interesting work.

(Also, I don’t really know why the author chose to structure it like a play, e.g., in acts, etc.)

(Two more recs under the cut)

A Cautionary Tale by Quillslinger

Pairing: Axel/Roxas

Rating: Mature

Summary: Roxas-centric; focused on his feeling pulled away from the Organization toward Sora.

Excerpt: The slice of light is narrow but has a certain buoyant quality that fills up the entire room with a dusty glow, and all of a sudden Roxas entertains the absurd thought that perhaps this light has the ability to permeate skin and flesh, sinking under and shining out from beneath surface membranes, glowing red with the color of living blood. In this moment, he and Axel seem like diaphanous creatures, two members of a light-consuming, translucent-skinned breed glutted on radiance, veins pumped full of light, to the point they're so bloated on the stuff you could scoop halos from their cracked-open ribs.

My commentary: While some of the verb tensing can get confusing at the beginning, there are just really beautiful and visceral descriptions of light throughout this entire piece. And some surprising, satisfying word combinations. It also has a Riku-as-prophet-spouting-nonsese element that elevates it into the surreal; really fascinating and daring stretch of canon.

Shout! by Dualism

Pairing: Zexion/Demyx (Zemyx)

Rating: Mature

Summary: AU; The worst thing about living in an apartment, Zexion decided, were the neighbors. And the fact that his were apparently nymphomaniacs. And by the way: falling in love with one of them? So not a good idea.

Excerpt: It wasn't that he hadn't accounted for the neighbors. Zexion had definitely accounted for the neighbors. Really. He'd spent a grand total of three seconds accounting for them. And then he'd realized that the neighbors didn't quite matter, anyway, because Zexion had little intention of ever associating with them. Zexion, to tell the truth, rarely had much of an inclination to associate with anybody. Which wasn't to that he was a recluse. He just had high standards.On the other side of the wall the bed started thumping. Zexion resisted the urge to cover his ears with a pillow. It was eight o'clock in the morning. Surely no one had sex-drives at eight o'clock in the morning.

My commentary: No one wrote Zexion (really Zemyx) like Dualism did. Dualism made him a true schemer, but not unlikable or sociopathic. Dualism also converted me from an irrational Larxene/Zexion shipper (long story) to a Zemyx shipper. And Dualism’s writing is hi-lar-i-ous.

Obligatory moment of silence that the best of Dualism’s Zemyx work seems to be lost to the bowels of the internet. (They purged their livejournal :( )

Brb, not completing this list because I’m sobbing.

#fic rec #zemyx #akuroku #kingdom hearts #kh fanfic #kingdom hearts fic #fanfic rec #fanfic #kh #kh2 #kh3