Yuletide recs, round one.
*adjusts little-used hat* At the end of the first day, I have eight things that I think would reward your attention, in...seven fandoms.
First, two Wodehouse stories, because you know I start there every year. The first, The Aunt and the Ankh, is a basically straight-up Wodehouse pastiche, with delightful puns, which gets a little slashy at the end. If you're looking for something really Wodehousian, I think this is the best of this year's crop. The second is deeper and weirder and more meta, and I like it a lot. It's called Deus Ex, and it reminds me of a lot of things (mostly Sandman, to be honest, though stylistically it's not the same at all, and nobody eats anybody else).
Speaking of people eating each other, you must read The Hundred Acre House, which is a fusion of Danielewski's House of Leaves and, um, yes. Dear God. No, really, read it now. I love that aspect of Yuletide which is about fucking up our communal childhoods, I really do, but I haven't gotten down to Sesame Street yet this year....
Sticking with the "dear Lord, that's disturbing, and yet," but on an entirely different level, there's Ten Sephirot, Nine and a Half Fingers, Eight Nights, 44 Presidents. It's RPF, about our duly elected chief executive, his chief of staff, and, um, kabbalah. Which, yes, I know, but. Well. It's not like my hands are clean in the RPF department. And it's quite a good story.
*coughs, shuffles feet*
Right then! Onward to two semi- or demi-Shakespearean stories. Shakespeare is classy, right? Our ticket out of the gutter, y/y? Metamorphosis is a Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead story, unsettling and sad and insightful all at once. And it's got an espresso machine. Chimes At Midnight is a WWI AU for Shakespeare's Henry IV plays, and I promise that no familiarity with the Shakespearean histories is necessary to appreciate it. I can promise this with some authority because I have no familiarity with these plays whatsoever. In the interests of full disclosure, I did provide minor ass-kicking on this one, but it was pretty fricking minor, so I feel no qualms about reccing it wholeheartedly (and when I say minor, I mean that I gave the advice I always give, which is, "Everyone likes screwing and explosions." Mind you, I think the author is more oblique about these things than I tend to be, bless her.)
More cheerfully, there's a Love and Rockets story this year; not the band, the Los Bros. Hernandez comic. And since I have been a Maggie/Hopey shipper since, um, about 1993, it makes me very happy on a multiple levels. I can just see the drawings for this one. It's called Spy vs. Spy.
And rolling over to sitcomlandia, and speaking of my sadass shippy nature, there's a lovely How I Met Your Mother story this year, Waiting, which is very Barney/Robin and manages to be sentimental and silly and deeply them all at the same time.
Now I'm off to the Doctor Who Christmas special, because if I don't get it watched tonight, I'm liable to be spoiled by tomorrow morning. Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite.
First, two Wodehouse stories, because you know I start there every year. The first, The Aunt and the Ankh, is a basically straight-up Wodehouse pastiche, with delightful puns, which gets a little slashy at the end. If you're looking for something really Wodehousian, I think this is the best of this year's crop. The second is deeper and weirder and more meta, and I like it a lot. It's called Deus Ex, and it reminds me of a lot of things (mostly Sandman, to be honest, though stylistically it's not the same at all, and nobody eats anybody else).
Speaking of people eating each other, you must read The Hundred Acre House, which is a fusion of Danielewski's House of Leaves and, um, yes. Dear God. No, really, read it now. I love that aspect of Yuletide which is about fucking up our communal childhoods, I really do, but I haven't gotten down to Sesame Street yet this year....
Sticking with the "dear Lord, that's disturbing, and yet," but on an entirely different level, there's Ten Sephirot, Nine and a Half Fingers, Eight Nights, 44 Presidents. It's RPF, about our duly elected chief executive, his chief of staff, and, um, kabbalah. Which, yes, I know, but. Well. It's not like my hands are clean in the RPF department. And it's quite a good story.
*coughs, shuffles feet*
Right then! Onward to two semi- or demi-Shakespearean stories. Shakespeare is classy, right? Our ticket out of the gutter, y/y? Metamorphosis is a Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead story, unsettling and sad and insightful all at once. And it's got an espresso machine. Chimes At Midnight is a WWI AU for Shakespeare's Henry IV plays, and I promise that no familiarity with the Shakespearean histories is necessary to appreciate it. I can promise this with some authority because I have no familiarity with these plays whatsoever. In the interests of full disclosure, I did provide minor ass-kicking on this one, but it was pretty fricking minor, so I feel no qualms about reccing it wholeheartedly (and when I say minor, I mean that I gave the advice I always give, which is, "Everyone likes screwing and explosions." Mind you, I think the author is more oblique about these things than I tend to be, bless her.)
More cheerfully, there's a Love and Rockets story this year; not the band, the Los Bros. Hernandez comic. And since I have been a Maggie/Hopey shipper since, um, about 1993, it makes me very happy on a multiple levels. I can just see the drawings for this one. It's called Spy vs. Spy.
And rolling over to sitcomlandia, and speaking of my sadass shippy nature, there's a lovely How I Met Your Mother story this year, Waiting, which is very Barney/Robin and manages to be sentimental and silly and deeply them all at the same time.
Now I'm off to the Doctor Who Christmas special, because if I don't get it watched tonight, I'm liable to be spoiled by tomorrow morning. Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite.