Yuletide rec post #1!

[wakeupnew]

First of many yuletide recs! In fairly random order. I mostly post quotes instead of commentary, because I have SO MANY RECS that if I did full commentary for each, I would never finish this ever.

Also these rec quotes contain no italics or special formatting even if the original quotes did, because I'm pulling them off my delicious account.

SCOOBY DOO, WHERE ARE YOU? (all for meeee!)
Haunting Things (Real and Fake)
(If you have seen Scooby Doo on Zombie Island, you will immediately understand how amazing it is when I say that this fic is based on it. And if you haven't, it doesn't matter; you don't have to have seen it! All you need to know is that Zombie Island showed that the gang had gone their separate ways, tired of unmasking fake monsters, and that Daphne goes on to have a talk show while Velma owns a mystery bookstore. The fic is poignant and sweet and sad, primarily following Velma through her unrequited love for Daphne.)

“I’m sorry,” she says and sits down on the end of Velma’s sleeping bag. “I know you’re sad.”

“Why?” Velma asks. She wishes she had the words for what she’s feeling. Why are you leaving me? isn’t quite right, nor is Why don’t you love me? but both are as true as they are incorrect for what she wants to say.

The Mystery of Life
(How the gang is getting along post-series; absolutely delightful and lit up my Christmas morning. The revelation that Shaggy is a stoner is one of the most apt things EVER and thrills me to no freaking end.)

"You found our yearbook! Oh wow." Daphne took the book from Fred and started flipping through the pages. "Look at my signature to you! 'Dear Freddie, as long as the ocean waves... stay groovy! Hugs and Kisses'... how many x's and o's did I possibly need? 'Daffy.' Daffy!" She hooted. "Let's see what you put, Shag."

Unrequited
(This was a Yuletide treat for me, totally unexpected, and it is fabulous! The summary sets it up perfectly: Fred loves Velma, Velma loves Daphne, Daphne loves Shaggy, and Shaggy loves visiting all-you-can-eat buffets with his friend Scooby. It's a series of vignettes following relationships between the gang, and the insights that we gain are wonderful. Velma is awesome at Jeopardy and sudoku, and is totally kinky! Daphne realizes that she's known as the dumb pretty one and hates it!)

He used to sneak up behind her and pinch her waist and she'd give a little startled jump and let out a high pitched "Jinkies!" He'd give her a moment to compose herself and push her glasses back up her nose because they'd slipped, and then he'd throw both his arms around her. He could never guess what she was gonna be enthusiastic about ahead of time, but there was always something, like the time she came home, cheeks flushed, and said: "Hey, you know what? We've never tried tying each other up! Get some rope, let's go, let's go!"

HOT FUZZ
Model Village
(TERRIFICALLY CREEPY AU)

Mrs. Cartwright's little dog trots up. Aaron picks him up and holds him so he wags his tail. Aaron looks around, carefully, between the fence slats and into the house and up in the sky and in all the trees, and then he touches his mouth to Gabriel's ear and breathes:

"Sergeant Angel was already dead when they put him on the spire."

After the Explosion, the Days
(Nicholas/Danny, like pretty much everything else in the fandom [Mssrs. Frost and Pegg, you brought this upon yourselves], following them through Sandford after the movie.)

"Swan got out again," Nicholas said. He'd timed the comment carefully, just as Danny was starting to fidget, wanting to itch at his scars. He wasn't disappointed; Danny looked up, hands stilling.

"Did you have to chase it down?"

DIY for Beginners
(I CANNOT EVEN TELL YOU how hard this one made me laugh. Danny decides that Nicholas is gay, and that without somebody to date, he is going to leave Sandford. So Danny takes it upon himself to Turn Himself Gay in order to keep Nicholas in Sandford. Hilarity ensues.)

Over the next few hours, Danny did a great deal of thinking, more than he had in the past few years. He tried to piece together the evidence carefully, methodically, the way Nicholas had taught him. By three in the morning, he had arrived at the following conclusions:

1. Nicholas was a giant pouf.

2. There were very few poufs in Sandford. In fact, there was only one pouf in Sandford that Danny knew of, Roger Dalton. Roger was fit and all, but he was seventy-three, and Danny wasn't sure if Nicholas was his type. Roger was pretty choosy.

Yippi Ki Yay, Mother Hubbard
(Nicholas and Danny talk about their relationship through action movie cliches. Sort of.)

They returned to the station and filed the report and went back on patrol. "McClane is a loner," Danny argued. "Partners just cause problems for him. Look at Farrell in Die Hard 4."

"Farrell saved his life and his daughter's life, and Farrell had inside information on what was happening. Without that, nothing McClane did would have been any use. Thomas Gabriel would have won. Even in Die Hard 1, Al was his emotional touchpoint and kept him connected to the outside world."

"Bollocks! McClane could have done it. Batman wears John McClane pajamas," Danny said.

Home for the Holidays
(Danny goes home with Nicholas for Christmas and meets Nicholas's mum. SO CHARMING, plus UNEXPECTED CROSSOVER OF WIN AND AWESOME that I don't want to give away.)

"Would you please not remind me what a cradle-robber I am? Thank you."

Danny chortled. "Nicholas Angel, Corruptor of Innocents!"

THE NO. 1 LADIES' DETECTIVE AGENCY (BOOKS & TV)
The Principles of Professional Pride, by Precious Ramotswe
(TV show canon and so charming; a big movie is being filmed in Gaborone and BK is indignant that he has not been asked to do the hairstyling.)

BK shook his head. "Mma Makutsi, you have no sense of romance. Bechuanaland is a real American film. And based on a very good novel, too. Car chases in the Kalahari! Old family secrets! An illicit romance!"

Mma Makutsi frowned at this. "I prefer licit romances, thank you very much."

"So does everyone, Ninety-seven Percent, but some of us must take what we can get."

Gifts of Love
(Book canon, absolutely beautiful voice, stunning, I cannot get over this one. If you like the books or the show: read it. If you are unfamiliar with both: READ IT. It reads like one of Alexander McCall Smith's books.)

"You will never believe what is being given to the orphan farm," began Mma Potokwane. She sounded nearly breathless with excitement. Mma Ramotswe thought, perhaps cynically, that she could easily believe that Mma Potokwane had talked someone out of just about anything – for of course, that must have been what had happened. The matron of the orphan farm was astonishing in her ability to press and prod and persuade people to give their time and money. But of course, that was an essential part of her job. "A brand-new Mercedes-Benz minibus!"

NATIONAL TREASURE
Nobody Likes Tech Support
(As someone who used to work for an insurance company and who LOATHED our condescending tech support team -- HAHAHAHA. Pre-canon Riley fic.)

For the next few hours, in between explaining to Jack in HR how his mouse worked (it required moving it) and telling Tom in Collections to please, please stop downloading porn on his work computer, [Riley] pointed out backdoors that Fellow Tech Guy missed and took over typing for him entirely when he was just being a moron. Two days later when the FBI came to work to arrest Fellow Tech Guy (real name Carl Duffy) for hacking into the Pentagon, Riley's "He did what?" was so honestly unfaked the FBI barely even questioned him.

ANASTASIA (1997)
faded from the winter
(Anya and Dmitri as children, and just lovely.)

Across the square, Rasputin looks up, and meets Dimitri's gaze; his pale eyes are eerie, and he smiles a little. Dimitri wonders if he heard them talking; it's impossible, but still -

Anastasia hits him in the back of the head with a snowball. "Ow," Dimitri says. He tries to fish the snow out of the back of collar. "That's not fair, that was all ice!"

Dinner and Devotion
(Post-canon, Dmitri tells stories at state affairs to amuse himself.)

Her grandmother smiled. “He really does love you, doesn’t he?”

“Apparently so,” Anya said “I’m not sure I know of any other husbands who go around impersonating ex-nobility just to please their wives."

BAND OF BROTHERS
Hope for Heaven Where We Land
(Pitch-perfect Winters and Nixon voices, wherein the decision to go to the Pacific Theater is discussed. Welsh is fabulous in his short cameo, too. It's marked as Winters/Nixon slash, but I think it can be read as gen, honestly.

"You spoil the kids, Dick," Nix says, holding the front door open for him. It's a nice little house. Nix lights a cigarette, flicking ashes onto the fine wood staircase as he leads Dick to the second story. "They're never going to learn any respect with you undermining me like that."

"We can't all have your discipline." Dick stops half a step into Nix's bunk, braces his hands on the doorjamb and stares. "And thank God for that," he adds, starting to chuckle. The floor's lined with crates of liquor, boxes and bags, anything that could be carried. There's barely a path cut to the narrow bed. There must be hundreds of bottles. Nix grabs one and settles himself by the window, tapping his cigarette against the sill. He surveys his stockpile with the proud beam of a new parent.

Safe
(It's Winters/Nixon in a foxhole just after Eindhoven; the voices are flawless and I liked the style.)

Oh, the vices he was definitely short on, but Dick had a subtle, wry sense of humor, and Nix was pretty sure there were a couple of flaws only he was privy to. The worst was pride. Not the kind of pride one could call hubris, the very sort that had forced them into this war. There was no arrogance or selfishness about the Winters pride, just a refusal to admit that he was only human, and not always in control. His pride battled the humility needed to retreat, and Nix wasn't sure which one was losing.

It Happened One Night
(This is the fic that single-handedly addicted me to Groundhog Day fics. Seriously. It is beautifully written. Nix lives the day before D-Day over and over and over again. Winters/Nixon slash.)

Aside from the Second World War raging—aside from that—and the H-hour approaching, it’s an awfully typical English night. Murky, misty still, with high, cold winds blowing and rain sputtering on and off, on and off. Across the airfield, there’s thousand of anxious eyes turned skyward, thousands of men ignoring projectors and Bette Davis and John Wayne and morale-boosters. Officers flit between tents hurrying information along, gossiping about the rain. A few orange cigarette tips light up off in the dim as lanterns go on.

BLACK BOOKS
Notes from the Lint Trap
(Manny wants to go to the laundrette. Bernard and Fran warn him against it. Utterly delightful voices; reads like the show.)

Manny stabbed the air a few more times. Still no button. He turned around in a circle, searching the kitchen for the elusive washing machine. Missing. Maybe it did a runner and headed off to a commune for inefficient appliances near the Forest of Dean where it could live out the rest of its days rusting gracefully and brewing extremely alcoholic parsnip wine?

BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S
Mr. Yunioshi's Photographs
(Humanizing, sad, really lovely story about Mr. Yunioshi, the Japanese landlord played to terrible racial stereotypes by Mickey Rooney.)

He isn't sure what he will do with the extra money if Mari and her family don't want to immigrate. He thinks maybe he will take a vacation to Japan. Mari lives in Kyoto now; he has never been to Kyoto, but it's supposed to be a beautiful city. When the Americans were deciding where to drop their nuclear bombs, they decided against Kyoto because of its historical importance and architectural beauty.

CABLE & DEADPOOL
The Cable & Deadpool Yuletide Special
(I still don't have words for this. It has been recced here, there, and everywhere, and I do not even -- I love the series and the characters SO MUCH and I was so startled and SO PLEASED to discover a piece of fan fiction on them that captured them so well and was so hilarious in its own right. It is a scream, hilariously meta, and while the kind of thing with tons of references that will go over your head if you don't know the comics like the back of your hand, it has the added feature of being quite enjoyable and FUCKING UPROARIOUS even if you haven't read the comics. Picking one quote was a miserable, thankless job.)

I wave my arm. "Out there. Do you see them? Our audience."

"No, Wade."

"Well, pretend you do, okay?" I'm looking at you guys now, just so you know. "I always thought, 'Wow, they like me.' 'Cause they do, right? They buy my comics, so Marvel keeps me around. They write me letters every month, so I can answer them in the letter column, when I have one. Now they're reading about me fighting Hobbes here in some fanfic archive on Christmas morning. And I mean first thing, Christmas morning. Some of 'em are still wearing their pajamas. A couple of them aren't wearing anything." Put some pants on. You know who you are.

CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY
Ordinary Chocolate
(Post-canon, Charlie wants to go to school without being constantly recognized; Willy Wonka does not understand why one would ever want to leave the factory. Sweet and inventive and deliciously quirky.)

Two Oompa-Loompas in full evening dress, arm in arm, beckoned to him from the parapet ahead, where they'd built a little bonfire to keep themselves warm. "Hi guys," said Wonka, joining them. "What's cooking?"

In response they pointed outward into the cavern's vastness - and a shower of fireworks burst overhead in a glory of pink and green, illuminating the lake far below. Closer and closer came the flames, as Wonka leaned on the parapet to watch the show - and then they were very close, and very soft, and raining tiny rosettes of deliciously light marzipan. Wonka ate several and beamed his approval.

LLOYD ALEXANDER -- THE CHRONICLES OF PRYDAIN
Gurgi's Quest for a Piggy
(Exactly as advertised; wonderful Gurgi voice.)

Piggy is somewhere close. Gurgi does not know exactly where, but piggy is near. Mighty lords need Gurgi to find piggy with seekings and peekings. But Gurgi was sadly lost in dark wetness that swallowed mighty lords. Gurgi’s poor tender head was filled with washings and sloshings in a large pool of dark, dank water. But strong, courageous Gurgi was clever! He splashed and smashed his way to shore. Smaller warriors grabbed poor Gurgi. They carried Gurgi from the dark, wet waters. But Gurgi beats them with mighty shakings and quakings of their round, lumpy heads. Gurgi gives their heads mighty smackings and whackings! Gurgi will not become the prisoner of smaller warriors!

The Truth of It
(Doli, post-canon. Quite lovely, and Doli is perfectly gruff.)

[Doli] wondered and he wondered and he never quite made a conscious decision, but there came a day when his wondering and his wandering brought him to the lip of a cavern. On the other side, mere inches from the shadows where he hesitated, mellow sunlight filtered through a canopy of golden leaves, turning the forest floor a rich brown he'd not seen in years, and the moss and lichens that clung to the trees to emerald. The bracken shivered with the movements of small animals as they gathered nuts and berries for the winter months that lay ahead. The scents of autumn came to Doli: apple-mint, thyme, and goldenrod. Wood-smoke too, which meant that he couldn't be far from human dwellings.

What Isn't Taught
(Eilonwy learns to get along without adventures, even if some still happen anyway. DELIGHTFUL. I love the writer's Eilonwy so much!)

The cords stretched a little further, and the first knot began to slide loose. Eilonwy drew herself up and raised her chin. "I have not come this far and done so much to claim my name just to share it with a kidnapper." Beside her, Celemon and Sinnoch had fallen silent, staring at her with wide eyes. "Besides, it's ridiculous to claim a lineage that isn't really yours. That's like sticking feathers on your head and calling yourself a bird."

DISTRICT 9
No Man's Land
(short and sweet; Christopher's return.)

“They’re for the kids,” Wikus explains, because he’d had to do something after Christopher escaped, and he could make little things, tiny useless little trinkets that the youngest prawns inexplicably loved. Most of the prawns were more prone to dismantling than creating things. Make us a human toy, Dolph had said, small orange eyes staring up at him hopefully, and Wikus had begun working on a yacht like the one he and Tania had once owned, one that Dolph could race across the scuzzy puddles in the north quadrant, its sails full of cold July wind.

GLEE
i sang the song that silence brings
(My notes on this one say APOCAGLEE, because that's exactly what this is. Glee + zombie apocalypse.)

I'm sorry," Santana said, "but I do not cook, we are not united in sisterhood, and I am not changing that baby's diapers."

"Wow, Santana," Mike said, "way to be a team player."

All the Single Ladies
(The ladies of Glee Club, each in her own vignette; the voices and observations are A++ spot-on excellent.)

Slinking through the halls toward her locker, [Mercedes] calls on strength. Oh, not from Jesus. She needs more. She needs Beyoncé.

Chartreuse
(Kurt and Mercedes go to the mall, where a male clerk starts hitting on Kurt. So charming.)

[Kurt] turned, a coffee in each hand, and looked at Mercedes—really looked at her. She looked great: chunky gold necklace, swingy chandelier earrings, black T-shirt and pants, low-riding studded belt, purple jacket that seemed to be all lapel and swing. But that wasn't what looked great about her. She looked confident and strong. She wasn't, for example, clutching her cell phone and muttering "oh my god." She didn't look like she was walling someone off by crossing her legs and arms. She didn't cultivate an air of superior unapproachability.

He felt good when he was with her. He liked himself better when he was with her. She was his accent color: scary and dangerous, because she made him take risks.

Easy as
(OH MY GOD YESSSSSSSSSS! SOMEONE WROTE SANTANA/BRITTANY. And the tone is perfect.)

A cheerleading uniform is like boy-Kryptonite, or something. It makes them all weak. For whatever reason, most of the guys go after Quinn Fabray, probably because she's always going on about Jesus and morals and sinning, or whatever. What Santana hears is Blah, blah blah, I'm a nervous prude. Boys just like the challenge, is all. So, Santana's kind of easy. It's not like she's a huge slut, she's just not walking around with an iron chastity belt on under her cheer spankies like some people. Chastity is overrated as far as Santana's concerned. She quit being a virgin the first time she had sex.

THE HARDY BOYS
Our Red Sea
(A more grown-up, melancholy look at Frank and Joe and their lives, after the death of their father. Really moving.)

After the funeral the tightest circle of family and friends convene at the Hardy house for coffee and cookies and bittersweet anecdotes. Joe sits on his mother's sofa with a cup in his lap, picking absently at the flowered upholstery. He remembers spilling a glass of punch all over the cushions when he was seven, begging Frank, please don't tell. He doesn't know how his mother ever got the stain out, but after twenty-five years, the sofa still looks like new.

HAROLD AND KUMAR GO TO WHITE CASTLE
(Both of these fics involve Harold and Kumar getting together, and the voices are great, and they are perfectly unsentimental and HILARIOUS)

Harold and Kumar and Maria and Vanessa Go To Bed. Together.

"Okay, how's this? I'll blow you, and you can just jack me off. And then we can watch Maria and Vanessa having sex, which, frankly, I think is worth more of a sacrifice than that." Harold opens his mouth to protest further, but Kumar says quickly, "And you know I'm not going to let up until you agree, so you might as well do it now, while I'm offering to be the one who has to put someone's dick in his mouth."

It's the Thought That Counts

"'Roldy, you had some pretty shitty reactions the first few times I tried," Kumar says. "You can't really blame me for not saying that I'm kind of gay for you." He actually looks a little annoyed. "And can we get back to the part where I'm getting laid tonight?"

HELLBOY/BPRD (COMICS)
Soliloquy
(Kate, Roger, Abe, and Liz after Hellboy leaves the Bureau.)

The zipper on the side pocket of the duffel bag got caught as Liz tried to open it; she pulled, cursed, then let the bag go, fighting the urge to throw the hairbrush in her hand across the room. What she really felt, in times of high stress such as this, was the destructive urge of her innate fire prickling just below the surface of her skin. She hated the feeling more than anything; she had learned to take a step back, take a deep breath, try to slow her pulse and will the fire back down, but it always felt like nothing more than a temporary solution, like trying to stave off a fatal heart attack.

KRISTIN CASHORE -- GRACELING
And Gladly Teach
(Katsa and Po post-canon; the voices and the narrative read like Cashore herself wrote them. It's amazing.)

The next morning Katsa watched two children demonstrate how to stab each other, and had never been happier.

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER
The No "No Homo" Rule
(I almost didn't read this, as the title confused me and I didn't think the Barney/Ted pairing appealed to me, but I'm glad I did, because it's great! Really in-character, great roles for the whole gang. I'm probably not a Barney/Ted convert, but I appreciated them in this fic!)

"Anyway," Barney continued, "my point is that if you're going to re-experience the gay tongue, you may as well re-experience it with a master of masculinity, a Miyagi of manliness, a Tarantino of testosterone - "

"A Tarantino of testosterone?" Lily whispered.

"He just saw Reservoir Dogs," Robin whispered back, "he wants us to call him Mr. Awesome."

" - so tonight, Ted Evelyn Mosby, prepare to get your world rocked, Stinson-style."

Junior Wing
(Uncle Barney rescues Ted's offspring from their father. Absurdly adorable.)

He goes back to his office to get some decent coffee and ping the front desk that he's expecting two tiny visitors. Then he textmessages Ted that his offspring are delinquents who are planning a string of bodega robberies on the Upper West Side and makes an afternoon reservation for The Ultimate LaZeR Coliseum. If the children want to call him during the work day, they have to pay the consequences in indentured funitude.

take these leaps and chances
(Everybody has good news all at once. Ted/the Mother, Marshall/Lily, and a fucking fabulous Barney/Robin that fixes EVERYTHING AWFUL that Carter and Bays have done to them this season.)

The thing is, Robin alternates between Thank God That's Over, and I Kind Of Miss It, Maybe, when it comes to Barney. It's weird, really, because when they were together, it's like there was some kind of magnet drawing away their awesomeness and leaving them with hollow vessels of themselves. If Robin allows herself, she could blame Lily for that great downfall, because things went so swimmingly well when they didn't have any stupid labels on each other. What's even weirder (that she doesn't want to acknowledge, doesn't even want to think about) is that with Ted, it feels like a closed chapter of a book she might pick up again for nostalgia's sake. With Barney? It still feels like an unfinished Choose Your Own Adventure book; turn to page 54 for an afternoon of laser tag fun, turn to page 113 for the inevitable downfall.

AMELIE
Le mondain futur d'Amelie Poulain
(I'm sure I wasn't the only person wondering how in the name of God Nino and Amelie were going to get on after finally getting together. This fic tackles that question in a lovely, appropriately quirky style.)

They see a movie every Friday night, an old black and white one if there's one to be had. Amelie doesn't turn around once to look at the people behind her, ghostly-blue in the light of the projector. Nor does she say anything to Nino while the movie plays out before them. The little things she notices stay secreted between her lips, though they sometimes startle her into nonsensical almost-laughter.

She laughs when things are properly funny, too, of course. And Nino mostly laughs with her, then. But she can't quite bear to share the other parts that have always been hers alone.

LACKADAISY
The Midnight Special
(Guys, read this. Even if you don't know the canon, you should read this. The original canon is a webcomic set during Prohibition and starring personified cats who run a speakeasy. The art and the historical details are quite incredible, and I love the plotlines and the characters. The Yuletide story is about one of the side characters, Mordecai, who we see as a cold-hearted, sharp-dressing, meticulous, largely emotionless hitman and also features Viktor, who is his eastern European giant-wall-of-muscle stoic former partner. The fic takes place while they are still partners, and it is -- GUH. GUH. It is so darkly funny, and so them (while being more serious than the original canon), and HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS, JUST READ IT. It's funny and painful and I CANNOT DESCRIBE. It's tremendous. They seem to be people rather than cats in the story. I think.

Okay, seriously, this is all the canon in existence for Mordecai and Viktor as partners [with thanks to nextian for compiling the links]: four one-page mini comics. Sordid Sniffles, Valentino, Quick-fix, and Massacre. I would suggest reading them, for context and because they are hilarious in their own right, but you can read the fic without doing so.)

Viktor is not impressed with it. Viktor is never impressed. It still galls Mordecai to think about. Viktor, Mordecai thinks, has seen him gun down rooms full of men. Rooms full of armed men with their guns drawn, and he's taken them all out without so much as a scratch on his person. He's done it singlehandedly, only to have his sole acknowledgment from Viktor be the words, "too reckless," followed by, "you, you will get in trouble."

It galls him beyond belief. In no small part because Mordecai, and this he will never admit, is impressed with Viktor. It's impossible not to be. Viktor cuts through crowds like a blade. He reacts like an animal, like centuries of blood are telling him what to do. There is no environment Viktor can't use to his advantage, no weapon that he can't derive from his surroundings. Mordecai isn't entirely sure he could kill Viktor, and there aren't many people he affords that distinction. In fact, there aren't any others at all. Gunfire tends to be fairly unhealthful.

Altercation
(More Viktor and Mordecai, more in the dark comedy/borderline-slapstick humor of the webcomic.)

Mordecai and Viktor looked immediately away from each other, Mordecai's spine stiffly set and Viktor's expression disgruntled. Atlas 'ahhed' softly.

"I see. Dare I ask what you got into an argument about this time that you felt the need to cause wild-scale violence and mayhem as collateral damage?"

"This, this plebian admitted to liking pinstripes!" Mordecai was on his feet in an incensed instant; Atlas leaned smoothly out of the way of a sweeping arm as he gesticulated. "It's absolutely appalling!"

ALIAS (COMIC)
pseudologica fantastica
(Jessica Jones and her faithful assistant Malcolm. Fucking wonderful, obscene voices for both of them.)

[Jessica] turns back to close the door, twisting the key in the lock. "You're one of the most annoying people I know. And I used to be an Avenger!" Her voice rings through the hall and down the stairs. "Those guys are super annoying, hardy har har! And fucking Spider-Man, Jesus Christ, I know Spider-Man! I wish I didn't! He's the worst!"

What If ... Steve Rogers was the Father of Jessica Jones's Baby
(The title threw me, until I realized that it was a play on Marvel's What If series. I am not usually a baby-fic person, but this one sold me; Jessica's abrasiveness (excellent first-person), Steve's decency, it is all great.)

"You think you could love him?" She asks it quietly, like saying it too loud will freak me out.

"Right now, you mean?"

Carol shrugs. "Now, maybe. Or sometime. You're having his kid, honey. You're having Steve Roger's kid. If he were more upstanding we could use him as a flagpole."

ARCHIE COMICS
Long and Lustrous Winter
(I didn't know how amazing Groundhog Day fics were until this year's crop of Yuletide fics. I really didn't. Betty Cooper experiences the same day over and over again. Also, I can't believe I'm reccing Archie stories at all much less two of them, but these are both fabulous.)

This time, Betty thinks, as she fixes her ponytail with a slightly manic sense of determination, she's going to try being a lesbian.

During English class Veronica passes her a note – date with Archie tonight, new blue dress or green one? Betty writes back – green looks so nice on you. But I heard there's a big sale at the mall. You can go out with Archie any night. Why don't we go shopping instead?

Maybe someone's writing chapters for us while we sleep
(It's Betty/Reggie in the modern world, post-high school, during college in New York and first jobs in D.C., and it is absolutely impeccable. My delicious notes say "the one where Reggie goes to work for Olympia Snowe; HAHAHAHA MAINE PRIDE!!!!!" but in all seriousness, it's a fascinating, mature, more realistic look at the very unrealistic world of the Archie comics.)

At first, they don't see each other much. Sure, they grab coffee every once in awhile, call when they're passing through the other's neck of the woods. Reggie buys Betty Broadway tickets for her birthday. For his, she shows up with cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery and he just loves her so much at that moment.

But they lead separate lives. Classes and new friends take up most of their time, leaving Reggie and Betty in that awkward stage of friendship, where she always feels like she should call, or he feels guilty if he passes by her neighborhood without stopping but he's in such a hurry, she'd understand.

But still. There's the party she ends up going to with him where she tries weed for the first time, and there's a bonding experience for you (because she made him walk her up and down every street until she found a hot dog vendor and then can they find some roasted peanuts, please?) And he got dumped and then completely drunk four blocks from her dorm, so he called her at a disgustingly early hour of the morning (Hey, hey Betty, um, do you know what line you take to get home? I mean, my home. Dude, there are so many trains...) and she groaned and pulled on her shoes and went to get him from the corner he was sitting on.

BURN NOTICE
In Sight
(Fiona watching Michael from a rooftop. This is a lengthy excerpt, but so worth it; the Fiona voice in this is the best I've ever read.)

It's only a moment's indulgence, because for all the hilarity of Michael's getup (and the tantalizing peak at that taut, tan chest), she knows she should instead be keeping her sight firmly fixed on the bastard weasel that Michael's supposedly meeting with, on the dickless little SOB that managed to convince Michael to come alone.

This time it was Sam who'd objected, loudly and through an increasingly impressive vocabulary, and for her part she'd called him a right idiot and announced that if he intended to be stupid and waltz right into a likely trap then she intended to get horribly drunk, sleep with Nate for kicks and spite, and get an early start on the obituary. Thus it was Sam who'd talked his way into driving the car, putting himself close enough to ease whatever passed for a conscience with him but still much too far away to be of any real help should things go down as Michael probably deserved -- while Fiona simply put on an impressive sulk until she heard them drive away, then spent the ten minutes it took to clean and prep her M85 being very, very grateful that he hadn't yet found the tracker she'd stuck up his tailpipe.

One of these days he just might get what she means when she tells him he's got a bug up his ass, but until that day arrives she'll be ready and willing to cover said ass, especially since Michael seems hellbent on leaving it hanging wide open.

If she doesn't just decide to shoot him in it first, simply as an object lesson.

FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL
nor no man ever loved
(Matthew's wedding. Hopeful and heartbreaking at once.)

Later, when they're dancing, when his cheek is on Anthony's shoulder, he doesn't think the one thing he never thinks, because it isn't fair to anybody. He doesn't think that if Gareth was alive, if Gareth was here and not twelve years underground, that they'd be dancing like this, that after so many years of other people's weddings it would finally be their turn. He doesn't think this.

NEIL GAIMAN -- "A STUDY IN EMERALD"
The Terror from Bohemia: Being the Reminisces of John H. Watson, M.D., in the Year of the Old Ones 745
(Pitch-perfect continuation of Gaiman's creepy Lovecraft/Conan Doyle story. Hint: the terror from Bohemia is a woman. If you know the stories at all, I suspect you know precisely who she is now. *DELIGHTED FACE*)

To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. He did not feel anything akin to love for her, for to admit the intrusion of emotion into such a mind as his, a mind that had constantly to be watchful and merciless in order to carry our chosen and necessary work, would have been a fatal disaster. He always spoke of the softer passions with a gibe and a sneer, dismissing them as the luxury of those who would live under dominion, those who refused to shake off the shackles long since placed on us by the fiends from beyond the Pit. Not until the world was restored could Holmes permit himself to think of such things. Yet she has earned forever the honorable title of the woman.

When first we made her acquaintance in the rookery of St. Giles, after the affair of Prince Franz Drago in which we first came to the attention of Moriarty and the Queen, Holmes was impressed merely by the quickness of her hands and her palpable viciousness when she spoke of her prey. Yet there was something of grace and kindliness in her manner, I saw, something not yet wiped away by her years of battle with the things that should not be.

HERCULES
Coming to the Sacrifice
(Hades on Megara; note-perfect for Hades's voice, and so fucking creepy! Lots of fabulous Greek mythology reference, too.)

Under everything, all the little defense mechanisms, the bravado, the masks, Meg's soul is a canvas of pain, betrayal, and self-loathing; she's been cut and burned by the worst that humans inflict on each other. She's a work of art, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and each nick and scratch and bruise I've added to the collection just highlight what was already there. I pick the scabs and open her scars and as much as she protests, as much as she begs, I know she thinks she deserves it as much as I do.

I AM MARU VIDEOS
[ I succeeded in crawling into the breast of my big boss! ]
(Okay, if you don't know the Maru videos, your life is sad and bereft. You'll get the gist after watching about 30 seconds of one. Maru is a pudgy cat who lives in Japan and who loves mischief and boxes. Maru's owner makes videos and posts them to a tremendously popular YouTube channel. I cannot tell you how much these videos have made me laugh/brightened my day on numerous occasions. So you could watch a video or two, then read this. Alternately, you can just read this, because it is freaking hysterical on its own merits. It's a story from the perspective of a bunch of cat toys (including hilariously obscene cat grass) about how GREAT AND AMAZING their boss, the cat (who has the occasional zen monologue), is. Like I said in my comment on the fic itself, I really did post it in chat the other night and had people falling over laughing, and it really did make me spit water all over myself.)

I am Maru. I am a golden god. I am grace itself.

A leap, a single arc through the shimmering air, brings me to my accustomed perch: the tower of claw sharpening. I dig my talons, these shining and cruel instruments of justice, into the defenseless yarns of this post, which is mine and not yours. Yes.

Claws sharpened, I execute eight and one quarter rotations culminating in my vast and imposing bulk becoming an impossibly round semi-sphere of shining fur.

I am Maru, and I am taking a nap.

MORE RECS LATER