gaudete, gaudete, christus est natus, ex maria virgine gaudete
ie: The Post Where I Talk About Christmas
Christmas! Christmas this year was mostly quiet, which was nice. It didn't really seem much like the holiday until it was suddenly Christmas morning, and we missed going to hear the music at church on Christmas Eve. Those of you who know anything about my religious proclivities will know that I am adamantly not Catholic, nor indeed do I go in for organised religion of any sort myself. Despite that, I have a deep fondness for churches and old church music, and I've always enjoyed going to hear the choir and the organ in the half hour preceding midnight mass in the church I grew up going to. So that was a little something missing from my Christmas this year. I'm making it up, as you can see by my subject line, with church music everywhere else.
Aside from that, there was much family-- eating of dinners and drinking of bizarre wines and giving of gifts. I got some good stuff, including, rather marvellously, a cast-iron gothic candelabra that my aunt picked up in a charity shop in London. I just need some bloodred taper candles to drip down it to finish the dramatic look.
BUT. One of the best parts of Christmas every year-- or at least for the past four years-- and certainly the part which most concerns the internet, is Yuletide! I adore Yuletide; it's the only fic exchange I ever sign up for, and I always intensely enjoy it, even the mad stress of finishing a story at the very last minute. The fics that I've got in the past have, by and large, been utterly marvellous, and I always feel that Yuletide somehow culls the cream of the fic-writing crop to participate, and turns out all sorts of wonderful, obscure fic. This year I recieved not one, not even two, but three brilliant Yuletide fics. Let me tell you about them!
In Character, a League of Gentlemen fanfiction.
If you're familiar with the League of Gentlemen at all, you'll know that its characters tend towards the fairly twisted and unlikeable, apart from an 'Aww/Hee, you're so... disturbing,' that, as viewers, we are allowed. Ollie Plimsolls, the character around whom this fic centres, is rarely even that. In the programme, he's shouty and unpleasant, the worst sort of pretentious artist without anything to back up his pretension. And this fic made me empathise with him. It gave him a backstory that not only made sense, but gave his actions a wonderful, bitter irony. The writing is subtle and bleak, the development of Ollie's backstory deliberately crafted-- it's that wonderful fic, the kind I didn't know I wanted until I read it. You should also read it, because it is awesome and fab.
And then two treats:
As Tennyson Wrote, a The Worst Journey in the World fanfiction.
This. God. Unlike the League of Gentlemen, it is so, so easy to emotionally manipulate me with the characters and events that Worst Journey concerns. But even considering that, it is a testament to the amazing story and writing and not my own soppiness that this fic made me cry several times, and then come up at the end-- still with tears on my cheeks-- but grinning so hard it hurt. It has everything that I love about Worst Journey and then some. There is poetry and epic Antarctic scenery and repression and unspoken fondness-- and then vehemently spoken fondness-- and Aaaaaatch (which is to say, Dr. Edward L. Atkinson, the ever stoic and unamused (except for when he secretly is)), all wrapped in gorgeous, lyrical prose that grabs you and refuses to be gentle with you until the end. You should read it.
If you've never heard of Worst Journey, which is entirely likely, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? Hit me up and I will tell you everything you need to know.
The Highest Form of Entertainment, a The Worst Journey in the World fanfiction.
As if one wasn't enough, right? This one is not really a sequel to As Tennyson Wrote, given that it's set before it, but it takes place in the same universe and contains references to that fic. And this one is sheer, happy silliness. It prominently features the darling departed Titus Oates, before he was departed (the darling is debatable), a pessimistic, sarcastic, belaguered misery of a man who is also utterly delightful. And occasionally a little bit evil. Bets are taken, Atch is dragged into nonsense ostensibly against his will, and Cherry and Birdie pine at each other adorably. You should-- you guessed it-- read this one too.