I am so tired there is a real chance I will just fall over right here instead of doing the many things I need to do before I can sleep tonight. And I have an inexplicable wrist injury. Poll time!

But first some explanatory text.

I rarely make New Year's resolutions. I am exceedingly demand resistant, so wanting to do a thing + intending to do a thing + basically ordering myself to do a thing = that thing will never be done by me. My deep, instinctive reaction to any order - even, like, "Duck!" - is, "I won't, and also fuck you," and that is absolutely true even if I am doing the ordering. (Or even if it's a lie. One year an acquaintance, who is very nice but sort of obsessed with growthfulness, and yes she does use exactly that word, asked me what my resolution was. Rather than tell the truth, which I knew would lead to a sincere, intense discussion of stagnation vs. blossoming, I told her my goal was to review every book I read for the year on GoodReads. And even though that was total bullshit, that year I stopped using GoodReads. I really am just that difficult.)

Occasionally, however, there will be a thing that fits into the tiny, tiny margin in my brain where resolutions are okay. I am not sure what qualifies a thing to go in there; it's just something I know. The last resolution I made was in 2005, and it was "Check the mail every day." (See, I would think, "Well, but I don't have time to sort the mail, so I should wait." The next day I would think, "Well, but I don't have time to sort a lot of mail, so I should wait." You can see how this goes.) I hoped that checking the mail daily would stop our mail carrier from hating us quite so intensely, and although that didn't work - I think the key there would have been having no dogs, or possibly getting no mail - I did get the mail every day for a year.

Or rather, that was the last resolution I made until this year. My current resolution is considerably more embarrassing, but I will tell you, because I am too tired to know any better. See. Okay. When you have a small child, there are certain - um - look. My resolution this year is "Remember to close the door all the way when you're going to the bathroom." Because when the earthling was able to get around, but not able to turn door handles, leaving the door cracked prevented him from spending the three minutes I was in the bathroom pressed against the door, miserable and alone and separated from Mama oh NO. But the earthling has been able to turn door handles with confidence for more than a year. And this holiday season I noticed that I had to make a great effort to remember to close the bathroom door when there were people in the house (besides BB and the earthling, I mean); it was like in the early months of the earthling's life, when I was breastfeeding so much that it took conscious, sustained effort for me to wear a shirt in the house.

I don't want to be that person. So: bathroom door closed this year, thank you.

But I feel kind of - envious, comparing this resolution to all the sincere efforts at self-improvement I see going on around me. I know that charts and goals and SMART objectives and comparables just cannot work like that for me, but it does look fun. I mean, I would totally join you except I am actually secretly a thirteen-year-old girl, and I do not mean silly or whatever people usually mean by that; I mean I am still, in some ways, the girl I was at 13: sullen and obstinate and willing to cut off her own legs if anyone, even for a moment, suggested it would be better not to. (True fact: every single time someone refers to a grown person as a thirteen-year-old girl in a work of fan fiction, I do not picture some ridiculous melodramatic love-obsessed naïf. I picture teeth and claws. It's confusing.)

So I cannot post about goals and so on. It would be futile. But all your goal posts (Hee! Oh, man, when I am tired I am so funny. To myself, I mean.) made me wonder: what would really make things better for you in the next year? If you had, like, a New Year's Wish instead of a New Year's Resolution, what would it be? (Yes, this is mostly so I can work on my When I Am Ruler of the Universe plans. What do you do when you're exhausted?) I am referring strictly to changes in you, by the way; change in other people is Beyond the Scope of the Poll.




Also posted at Dreamwidth, where there are comments.

This year, my story was in the fandom I most hoped to be assigned. Why I most hoped to be assigned it - I mean, okay, obviously I thought I could write a story in it, and I wanted to write a story in it, and all of that. But it is also a true and actual fact that I had, before this Yuletide, written two stories featuring characters played by Val Kilmer. (Basically, the one where Val Kilmer tops Robert Downey, Jr. and the one where Val Kilmer tops Tom Cruise, not that that is challenging or anything.) And I had noticed that any characters portrayed by Val Kilmer tended to, um. Feature in the kind of sex scenes that had my betas saying things like, "Wow, he's really toppy!" and "I love how toppy he is!" (And, once, "Did you mean him to be this toppy? Because I'm just saying, he's really, really toppy. Like, a lot.")

There was one more Val Kilmer movie that I'd seen, and I had to know. Does Val Kilmer just always play the top? Always?

Well, this year I was lucky enough to be assigned the marvelous omorka, who wanted a story that could answer that question. (Uh, for the record, my interest in Kilmer's topability rating was entirely my own, although her prompt fit with it perfectly. I don't want to impugn her good name or anything.) And I got my final data point, though I'm not going to spoil you with the results. Instead, I'm going to say that once again I had a terrific time writing my story (and creepily stalking my recipient's journal for clues about things she might like in a story). It was a Very Fun Yuletide. I'm sad I'm out of Val Kilmer movies to write for Yuletide, to be honest; he's been good to me. And to his various co-stars.

Etch out a Future of Your Own Design (13741 words) by thefourthvine
Fandom: Real Genius (1985), Eureka
Rating: Explicit
Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Mitch Taylor/Chris Knight, Mitch Taylor/Jordan
Characters: Mitch Taylor, Chris Knight, Jordan
Summary:

Chris keeps in touch.

This story only exists because of an incredible writing support team. (I was writing much faster than usual, and also outside my comfort zone - there were feelings involved - so I needed lots and lots of help.) I would like to thank:

The Supportive Alpha-Readers: Best Beloved, who provided help every time I got stuck, gave me some very key suggestions, and took care of the earthling so his Mama could write smut, and norah, who has no spare time at all these days, but still found the time to alpha-read my story and provide much-needed orientation, advice, and comments. (Her: "It isn't that bad. No, really, it isn't. You just always hate your Yuletide story at this point in the process." Me: "Really? Because this year seems different." Her: "Every. Single. Year. At exactly this point. In exactly this way." Me: "...Oh.")

The Team of Intrepid Betas: cathalin, dine, laurashapiro, mecurtin, and queue. They gave freely of their advice, support, and corrections. They looked for anachronisms. They answered questions like "What kind of underwear did cool dudes wear in 1985?" without blinking (and, I might add, with some highly amusing stories that will, for example, forever change my view of the color lemon yellow). They forced me to fix my feelings arc. They pried semicolons out of my clutching, desperate hands. They made my story so much better. And they were all really, really damned fast. I needed them, and they came through.

And, finally, Special Yuletide Consultant xenacryst. He summarized twenty-five years of internet history in AD&D terminology on 24 hours' notice, and I was so stressed I forgot to thank him (until now).

You are all awesome, and I could not have done it without you.

Also posted at Dreamwidth, where there are comments.

I have questions related to various things that we do with computers. (Not those things. Other things. Cleaner things. Or, okay, at least two of these are about things that are almost entirely clean.) I am hoping you all have answers.

Thank you! You are awesome! Yes, you.

( Twitter )

( Dreamwidth )

( LiveJournal )

( Offsite Backup )

( OK Cupid )

Also posted at Dreamwidth, where there are comments.

Once again, I had a very lucky Yuletide. (In the eight Yuletides I've done, I have had this many lucky Yuletides: eight. I have been blessed by the Yulegods.) I was a pinch hit this year (sorry, Yulemods; I swear, I don't mean to scare my assigned writers away), and some lovely person picked up my request and wrote me Resistance, based on the music video Lonely's Lunch. (The title has nothing to do with the video, and neither does the song, for the record.) Resistance is a gorgeous story that provides background and, you know, development for the female main character of the video and worldbuilding for the Earth with Big Ships in the Sky. Also, if that is not enough to tempt you: there is a bonus f/f relationship. It feeds seamlessly into the video, too. This story is everything I hoped for, and shiny, besides.

AND I also got The God of the Sun Goes Down to Earth, a wonderful, evocative treat that packs an awful lot of worldbuilding into a few hundred words. It is a one-bite taste of the same fandom, and it is marvelous.

I encourage you to read them both. Also comment! My writers deserve allllll the comments, for they are both - obviously - amazing people, with immaculate taste. (And I bet they are also kind to animals. You can just tell these things about people, sometimes.)

Also posted at Dreamwidth, where there are comments.

Dear Author,

We matched! This means we are destined to be friends, I tell you what, because while my requests this year are not as weird as last year's, they do sort of come off like I was trying to define "idiosyncratic" using only a Yuletide signup form. (I wasn't. I wouldn't do that to you, I swear. This is just the list that happened!)

I am, as always, going to provide you with all the details, because that's what I always hope to get from my recipient. But if that's not you, please tap out of this letter now. Just know that I really, really cannot handle child or animal harm or death, and I love you for volunteering for one of my tiny fandoms. See you on the 25th!

( Me )

( My Fandoms )

Also posted at Dreamwidth, where there are comments.

Today, a themed recommendations set! Yes, apparently I still do these. I don't know what to do with myself. The end of Delicious has changed me. Or changed me back, I guess?

But this is a weird set, one that I did not, until recently, think I'd ever be able to put together. (Thank you, Avengers fandom. You made me think this was possible.) It's first times that are actually someone's first time; in other words, to the best of my knowledge, someone loses some kind of virginity in all of these stories. Woo!

And now: stories.

The One That Proves That the Drunken Avengers Would Be Simultaneously the Best and the Most Horrifying Comic Book in All the World. (Yes, Even if You Take the Haunted Vagina One into Consideration.) Ready, Fire, Aim by gyzym. Avengers, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark.

Oh my god, you guys, the Avengers fandom is killing me with the first times. It's like everyone looks at Steve Rogers and thinks, "There is a dude who needs to have some adorably sweet first times with a total sex monster." Or, hey, maybe they say that in the actual canon. (Which is - a movie? And a trailer? I don't know. It turns out I can have a small child or I can keep up on popular culture. Not both. Although to be honest I wasn't doing such a hot job with that before we had the earthling, so it may just be the old problem with me and popular culture, here.) It could be canon! Many Marvel products have lengthy scenes in which costumed superheroes explain how they really don't have time for love, Dr. Jones.

...No. And I suppose if I mention that that would make me more likely to purchase their products, Marvel will, in the fine tradition of Western comic book publishers everywhere, make double double sure that never happens. But it doesn't matter, Marvel! There is fan fiction enough for everyone. And in the fan fiction, Steve Rogers gets to have sex with Tony Stark a lot the end.

But that is not all I love about this story (although Steve Rogers/Tony Stark is, as far as I'm concerned, a winning combination right there), because this story has great Tony voice and great Steve personality. I like my Steve, you know, a trifle fucked up by the fact that he's risen from the dead and doesn't even get the pointy teeth and sparkles, and this story delivers on that. (Although oh god a whole Avengers vampire AU just popped into my head unbidden, and I have to hope that someone has already written it. Someone has already written it, yes? Please?) And I like my Tony to be just precisely the sarcastic neurotic hyperactive asshole that somehow we all end up loving, and this story delivers on that, too.

Plus, I mean, adorable first time. There you go.

The One That Reminds Us Not to Run Around in the Hot Sun with a Full Wheel of Brie in Your Stomach. (Frankly, I Get Queasy Just Thinking About It.) Summer 2010, by cimmerians. Glee, Kurt Hummel/Finn Hudson.

I'm pretty sure I've said this before, but I generally avoid fiction about teenagers. (And, yes, I have since I was a teenager.) My reasoning is: I had to live through it, and that was bad enough. I shouldn't have to read about it.

But I will make quite a few exceptions for cimmerians, who writes consistently amazing stuff and has a name that means Best Beloved and I occasionally conquer her in Civilization. (She's a barbarian state. I'm as surprised as you are.) And one thing you can say for fan fiction about teenagers: it's where the first times are a lot more believable. (I really struggle with, for example, first time stories about immortals. I'm sorry, but if you haven't tried every sexual act there is to try after the first three hundred years, you are not putting forth your best work effort. Immortality is wasted on the prudish and unimaginative, and Methos would tell you the same if you asked him.)

So obviously this story started with some advantages. (Author and fandom, in case you missed it in the rambling.) But there is so much more than that here. First, there's Finn, who is adorable and galumphing and confused and sincere. It's - well, I already used the word adorable, so let's just say - no, I have to go with fucking adorable. And then there's Kurt, who - do I need to say I've never seen Glee? I've never seen Glee. But I love Kurt in the fan fiction, so much so that it was a struggle to pick just one story from the fandom for this set. He's got the witty dialog going for him, and the intelligence, and this combined confidence and vulnerability that just makes me want to hug him and also want to enable him to skip his teenaged years entirely.

Except not. Not if people are going to write stories like this about him - stories that feature an entirely reasonable modern-day summer of love and discuss the gay subtext we all know is lurking beneath the spandex of all those superhero costumes.

The One in Which We Learn That, Really, an Obnoxious Little Sister Is a Life Advantage. I Would Like My Older Sister to Take Note, Please. Make Kings and Vagabonds, by noelia_g. Generation Kill, Brad Colbert/Nate Fick. (Which I initially wrote as Brad Fick/Nate Colbert. This means something. Maybe just that I need more sleep, though.)

There are some stories you read because the concept is instinctively right. And there are other stories you read because the concept is so very wrong you suspect it might actually be right, and even if it remains horribly wrong, it will still be really fucking funny. This is one of the latter.

Because, okay: Brad Colbert stars in The Princess Diaries. Tell me you didn't fall over laughing when you read that sentence. And tell me you aren't also staring speculatively at it, your mouse hovering over the link as you wonder if that could possibly work, because probably not - but if it did, oh if it did -

Well, I tell you what: it works. It works precisely because Brad Colbert is one of the last of fandom's favorites you'd pick to be a sudden unexpected princess. (I did have a lot of fun while I was reading this trying to imagine the ones who would be even worse at this than Brad. I mean, John Sheppard. And Aeryn Sun. Brian O'Conner, I guess. But it's a surprisingly short list. Buffy would handle this better than Brad, even though it would make her vampire slaying activities really challenging (paparazzi and vampires, never a good combination). So would Captain Jack Sparrow and every major member of the Marvelverse, including Erik Lehnsherr. Although I tell you what, I would pay actual money for a ringside seat at the first attempt to put a tiara on Erik.) Brad also makes a surprisingly excellent star of YA novel - moody, a trifle sulky, and with a Hidden Secret, but prepared to rise to the occasion awesomely when necessary. And Nate Fick works perfectly as Best Boyfriend Ever material.

The only real problem with this story is that I wanted at least another 30,000 words of it. (Which is the true sign of a great YA novel, in my opinion: not that you can't put it down, but that you can't give it up.) It's just - gay Princess Brad, trending on Twitter! (Okay, fine, he's a prince, whatever. He'll always be Princess Brad to me.) Just thinking those words makes me happy. Reading a story involving them made me happy all day long.

The One That Proves, Again and Again, That the Primary Advantage of Getting Older Is That You Can Be More Creative About Sex. The Winter of Banked Fires, by yahtzee63. X-Men, Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr, Rogue/Wolverine.

You know how it is. You meet someone, and it's wonderful. The two of you share something you've never shared with anyone before. You can't get over how amazing your beloved is - how amazing the world is with your beloved in it. It's bliss. It's perfection.

Then you have a really bad breakup and your beloved starts trying to destroy the world, and all you can remember even about the perfect time is how the seeds for this hideous nuclear winter were planted way back then.

That's pretty much my relationship with the X-Men, right there. Except. Except. Lately I've been able to go back! Revisit my past love! Remember why I thought it was so awesome, and forget about that whole unfortunate nuclear winter thing that came between us! Thank you, fan fiction. (I guess technically I should also think the fine cast and crew of X-Men: First Class, except I have not actually seen the movie, and also I suspect they may not have been seeing the key X-Men relationships exactly the same way I do.)

And, of course, that's not just my story with the X-Men; it's also one of the main stories in the X-Men, how there were these two awesome boyfriends in love and then ideological differences came between them and then, well, you know how it goes: decades of bloodshed and yearning. I think we've all been there.

This story simultaneously addresses both of these traumatic breakups. It's a blend of the X-Men movieverse (um, what are we calling the old trilogy, now?) and First Class - sort of the good parts version of all of them, from what I can tell - so it deals with the every-so-slightly fraught relationship of Charles and Erik. And resolves it. (And, okay, no spoilers, but they actually come out of it saner, which has to be the first time this has ever happened to anyone in the Marvelverse anywhere.) It's fucking brilliant.

And then there's the relationship between Wolverine and Rogue. And the plot, which has everything I have ever wanted from an X-Men story that I would never get in the canon. And, just. Everything. This story has everything. I will smile more for the rest of my life, just because it exists.

And that is why I'm recommending it, even though everyone in the world seems to have read it already. (If you haven't - please please please do. It's pure joy, people.)

Also posted at Dreamwidth, where there are comments.

We recently watched Operation Petticoat, as you do. (Look, sometimes a person needs to see Cary Grant being suave. I am quite sure this has happened to you.) And I finished it feeling that you people had let me down, because while I am sure this has been thoroughly documented within the White Collar fandom, no one told me.

And what no one told me is that White Collar is an Operation Petticoat AU.

It's so obvious! Tony Curtis is the guy who joined the Navy for the shiny uniform and turned everything to his advantage, and then smooth-talked his way into being the supply officer for the submarine, and then robbed an entire Navy base blind to get the stuff he needed. Cary Grant is the captain, using Tony Curtis's skills because he needs them, but always aware this is a double-edged sword with no handle. Come on; that is obviously Neal and Peter, right there. And if you needed any proof beyond that, there's the name of the Tony Curtis character, which is: Nick Holden. As in, you know, one letter different from Neal Caffrey's favorite alias.

(If you're curious, by the way, Mozzie is clearly Ramon, thief and conman extraordinaire. Elizabeth, we decided after a lot of discussion, is the best parts of Lt. Crandall and Lt. Duran, combined; this is clearly why the OT3 vibe is so strong in White Collar. But there is no Satchmo equivalent. I guess you can't have everything.)

Anyway. If anyone has been yearning for a WWII White Collar AU that's heavy on the humor and features a pink submarine, there's one available for rental. I just thought you should know, in case your friends were keeping you in the dark, too.

And if you already knew, here are some other AUs for you to consider.

The One in Which We Learn That in the Right Hands, the Sketchbook Is Scarier than the Sword. Never Leave a Trace, by sam_storyteller. White Collar, Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey.

You know what's weird about White Collar? I remember the stories, but most of the time I can't remember if a given story was gen or OT3. (If it was something else, I remember.) I assume this is because White Collar itself is so OT3 that gen is just OT3 without actual sex scenes. (Dear White Collar people: Just have the canon sex scene already. The Burkes have a big enough bed, and it would save us all a lot of confusion and double-checking. We all know the fucking is happening, you realize. It wouldn't come as a surprise. <3, TFV) So take my pairing notes with a grain of salt, is what I'm saying. I double-checked, and I double-checked again, and I am pretty sure I'm right. But with White Collar, you can never be sure.

And now let's talk about this AU. It's not, like, the Neal, Peter, and Elizabeth gladiator AU. (Um. Please tell me there is not actually a White Collar gladiator AU. I think I sprained something just imagining that.) Instead, it's the show, except with magic. And this is not shiny happy magic with clear rules, where every first-level spellcaster gets one magic missile spell per day and his party only keeps him alive because at level 15 he will get lots of magic missiles. (And also because the player will whine if you let this character get killed off like the last one.) This magic is - fuzzy. Murky. Edgy. This is magic I can - okay, not believe in. But this is magic that works for me. (Hey, there's a reason I never played a magic user, okay? And not just because magic missile doesn't do all that much for me. I just have a hard time having fun with magic that's structured like an Amway sales chart.)

I love how this story manages to be so much like the actual show in the basics - I mean, everyone still has the same jobs and no one is wearing a toga - while being completely different in tone and genre. I love how much sense the magic makes, how it totally works to have prison, a place where people suffer and are often powerless, be a nexus of supernatural power. And I love how even though the entire picture is different, Neal and Peter and Elizabeth are still absolutely themselves.

This story is gorgeous and involving and lovely and great. And that's all I can say. Go read it right now.

The One That Starts and Ends in Pretty Much Exactly the Same Place, and Covers the Entire Galaxy in Between. It Is the Infinity Symbol of Fan Fiction Stories, Basically. Only Good for Legends, by leupagus. Star Trek XI, Jim Kirk/Spock.

Star Trek is officially the canon that ate my life. It should come with a warning, actually:

WARNING: Susceptible individuals may find themselves dramatically altered from continued exposure to this material. Changes may include, but are not limited to, a tendency to write "Spock" in hearts on your shoes, laughing at stories rated NCC-1701, and partial or total loss of your leisure time. You will never recover, and there is no way to know if you are susceptible until it is too late. Please check your schedule for the next four decades before opening this DVD.

I mean, that totally happened to me. So it is extremely cheering to me to happen upon a story like this and know, for sure, that I am not the only person who lost her soul and her evenings to Star Trek. (Okay, yes, I already know I'm not alone. frostfire fell down the well with me. But more company is always nice. It's a very big well.)

And then I get to read the story. Which is, well - it is a giant sprawling epic in which Spock is a cop and Jim is, you know, Jim. (I'm pretty sure in Iowa they use "Jim Kirk" as a descriptive phrase. As in, "Did you hear about Roger? Pulled a Jim Kirk with a Klingon; hear he won't be walking for months." Or "The barn's missing and there's giant letters spelling out a graphic insult where the floorboards used to be; gosh, this looks Jim Kirk-y.") And then stuff happens. I mean, a lot of stuff, because did I mention the sprawlingness of this story? Trust me, it's worth mentioning twice. This story goes from earth to Vulcan and back again.

I love lots of things about this, but probably what I love most is the mystery plot line. Mostly that's because SF mystery is something that's hard to do and, in my opinion, totally worth doing (All the time! Everywhere!), but I admit that there's also the fact that the mystery plot line has got a lot of Vulcans in it. I love Vulcans, especially when they aren't being a frankly creepy faceless monolith, and they are the furthest thing from that here.

Plus, T'Pring is wonderful in this. In fact, my notes on this story read, in large part: "Come for the Kirk/Spock, stay for the T'Pring of awesome." (If you're wondering why I don't share my bookmarks on Pinboard too often, this would be why. I rec slowly because no one anywhere should be subjected to my immediate reactions to stories. Also, said reactions are often at least partly expressed in long strings of vowels. I try to edit that out of the final recs, too.)

The One in Which We Learn What Happens When You Hire a Wizard as an Interior Designer. The other things the road to hell is paved with, by luciazephyr. The Dresden Files, Harry Dresden/Susan Rodriguez, Harry Dresden/John Marcone.

The Dresden Files is turning out to be one of those fandoms where I find myself inexplicably sulking at the internet, wondering why there isn't more fan fiction for it out there, even though I have not taken the time to get to grips with the actual canon. But Dresden/Marcone apparently speaks directly to the part of my brain that was shaped by intensive exposure to Smallville fan fiction.

No, seriously, if you've ever wondered to yourself what the world would look like if Clark Kent had magical powers instead of, you know, super powers (primary difference: none noted) and Lex Luthor was a businesslike criminal instead of a criminal businessman, Dresden Files fan fiction is where you should be turning. And if you have no idea at all what the Dresden Files is about, not to worry, because this story will teach you everything you need to know. (And if you don't want to dive in there until you know, here you go: There's magic and crime. Dresden has magic. Marcone has crime. There are some complications. And then they have sex the end. Okay, technically that's what the fan fiction is about, but I think it's already established that in this case the fan fiction is my canon.)

This story is perfect for me, because I am - well, pragmatic might be a good way to put it. In Smallville, I rapidly grew tired of Clark's Lone Hero pose; I always wanted Lex and Clark to team up, because Lex got shit done. And Clark, honestly, needed someone to get his shit together. And then Lex could borrow (and slightly modify) Clark's moral compass, and together they could save the world. Seriously, people have no right having these prolonged declared mortal enemies/rivals things going on when by working together they could be so much more effective. Basically my message to them is always: With great power comes a great need to get your head out of your ass. (It's probably a good thing I'm not on any comic book writing team.)

Well, that is what does happen in this story with Dresden and Marcone, provided you are willing to consider Chicago to be roughly the same thing as the entire world. (It isn't. However, it definitely has the strangest pizza in the world, and that is almost the same thing.) Dresden even manages to get his head out of his ass. I cannot tell you how immensely satisfying I found this.

(I cannot help but notice that I'm a lot more concerned about Dresden's issues than Marcone, and I'm concerned that you might be envisioning me as a sort of chaotic neutral type person now. I'm not. I used to play paladins. Really, I did. I still like them! I find the concept of lawful goodness truly interesting! I give to charities and am kind to puppies and hardly ever break any important laws! Just, in fiction, I tend to prefer people who are effective but immoral to people who are the kind of moral where they screw things up all the time but for the best possible reasons.)

Anyway, this story is long and glorious and features the unstoppable team of Dresden (in charge of magic) and Marcone (in charge of everything else). Which is as it should be. The end.

The One That Left Me Twitching with a Need for the Recipes, Damn It, the RECIPES. Grande Soy Triple Dirty Chai, by friskaz. Suits, Mike Ross/Harvey Specter.

You can blame frostfire for this one. She's the person who emailed me while she was in a distant country with a summary of this fandom, which meant when I started seeing fan fiction for it I responded with "Oh, right, that's the one with Harvey and Mike! The lawyers!" instead of "So, what, we're big into Brioni/Armani now? How does that go? 'Oh, baby, slide your button into my notched lapel - harder, harder, YES.'"

(If you don't know the canon, although it's hard for me to believe I could be speaking from a place of greater knowledge than anyone when it comes to a currently airing show - it's about, well, Harvey and Mike. Harvey is a lawyer with an awesome boss. Mike doesn't actually have a law degree but is practicing law anyway. Note for people following along at home: In the real world, it is better not to do this.)

So. I think we can all agree that the barista AU is a fine and honorable tradition in fandom. (Although - when did this start, exactly? Is there a Highlander barista AU, in which Methos is the guy who knows everything about the history of coffee but will happily drink the stuff from a vending machine and Duncan is the guy who takes coffee way too seriously and works endlessly to bring good coffee to everyone? Is there a Starsky and Hutch barista AU where they hug a lot and fight corporate coffee? Is there a TOS barista AU in which Kirk is the - you know what, no. I can work a Reboot barista AU fine, but trying to imagine James Tiberius Kirk mark 1 as a barista is hurting my head, even given the worrisome similarity between Starfleet and Starbucks.)

Anyway. My point is: I can generally take or leave a barista AU, except when they are awesome. This one is awesome. I buy Mike as a barista (yes, based on my extensive experience with this canon, which involved reading not one but two intercontinental emails, I feel wholly comfortable making this assertion), I love the way Mike and Harvey interact, I love the (I assume) original characters, and this is just a totally satisfying, sweet, lovable story, from beginning to end.

Much like a really good pie. Which, note, if you read this story, you're going to want some pie. (Or other dessert of your choice, pie-haters; I know you're out there. I'm married to one.) I'm not saying this is a bad thing. Just, some stories should come with a kitchen warning up front ("Warning: Do not read if you don't have ready access to a kitchen or at least the excellent products thereof"), and that's what I'm giving you here.

Also posted at Dreamwidth, where there are comments.

So, Delicious is not exactly tasty, at least not right now. I have a Pinboard. (Although I am, yes, totally the kind of fan who responds to the Fans Are All Right with, "What, are you crazy? KIRK doesn't drill SPOCK. Spock does all the drilling there is to do, my good sir.") And I have hope that Delicious may eventually reach some kind of functionality again.

But in the meantime, I thought I would try to go back to the way we used to do things before Delicious. Recs! Really! We used to make these lists that had links in them, and sometimes we would put notes to explain why we liked them, and it was very - no, really, it worked. Where are you all going?

So I am throwing caution to the winds and recommending stuff. The theme for this set turned out to be Awesome Stories That for Some Reason Made Me Uncomfortable, but It Turned out I Loved Them Anyway. I - will probably not be adding this as an actual tag, on account of the tag system would just laugh in my face. But there's a theme! And a recs set! Today, we are partying like it's 2006, baby.

The One in Which We Ask Ourselves: When Will Villains Finally Learn That Kidnapping Tony Stark Only Leads to Sorrow and Explosions? Kidnap Someone Else, That Is My Advice to the Ambitious Marvel Villain. Tomorrow Belongs to Me, by valtyr. Thor and Captain America and Iron Man, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark.

(WARNING: Animal harm, and animal death. I dealt with this by a) telling myself that they were really extradimensional evil creatures that simply looked like animals, and b) skipping the bad bits. It worked, and I believe it was worth it. However, I cannot in good conscience recommend this to anyone who shares my squick. If you want to give it a go anyway, though, I will be happy to tell you when to skip.)

I realize I'm perhaps in for a pillorying, but one of the reasons I sometimes want to slash a particular character is that I really cannot believe that any woman, anywhere should have to put up with him. My feeling about this small subset of guys tends to be: This is a dudely problem. Let dudes handle it. And perhaps the foremost example of this kind of character is Tony Stark.

See, I like Tony. But he's an asshole. (This dichotomy is fully explored in the story, let me just note.) He's such an asshole I could never feel entirely good about him ending up with Pepper Pott, who surely did not deserve that level of bullshit in her life. I just knew that sooner or later he'd, like, inadvertently fuck the entire U.S. Supreme Court on public television and then make a fist of triumph and shout, "FUCK YEAH, motion OVERTURNED!" for the cameras, and she'd be left dealing with the aftermath. So after I watched the first movie, the only romantic happy ending I could see in sight was Tony/robot sex machine, and that's not really fan fiction; that's canon. (Which is not to say I wouldn't read it. I would! I have! Happily! But it just isn't the same when it's canon.)

But I am entirely willing to pair Steve Rogers up with Tony Stark, turns out. And not just because it turns out their true love is the key to saving the universe. (No, really, there is actual canon documentation of this.) Steve Rogers is a good guy, sure - basically the archetypal good guy, good in absolutely every single way. And he has had, you know, a hard life - a couple years of WWII followed by being dead for a while, and then waking up and having to deal with Tony Stark. And yet I am happy to see him really dealing with Tony Stark, if you get my drift.

And not just because Steve makes Tony ask himself the hard questions. (Like, "Why is it always my fault? Is there something I'm doing? That I could perhaps not do?" Believe it or not, a lot of people get to middle age without ever once considering this. We call these people politicians, mostly, but I guess maverick billionaire CEOs might also fit the bill.) I also love this story because of Steve, adjusting to the 21st century, and Thor, being - you know, Thor. And General Fury, who is generally the lone adult in charge of the circus. (A circus, I might add, where the acts are, like, Nuclear Knife Juggling and Stampeding Elephant Riding.) There is a lot to love here, is my point. Go love it! Do mind the warnings, though.

The One That I Totally Forgive for Suggesting That Librarians Are Actually Quiet. The Barest Hint of a Thought, by Helens78. X-Men: First Class, Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr.

You know how sometimes there is something you just cannot watch, but you have to or at least you want to, so you watch through your fingers, as though you can somehow, if things go bad, close them fast enough to stop yourself from seeing what made you want to close your fingers?

That's pretty much how I read this story. It's also what this story is about.

I mean, I was actually, seriously horrified through a lot of this story. "See?" I wanted to say to the imaginary band of critics that lives in the back of my head, disagreeing with every word I say. "See? This is what is so evil about telepathy."

The imaginary band of critics pointed out that that was insane, of course. Because there's no such thing as telepathy. So instead of using this story to justify my perfectly logical and rational fear of telepaths, I will say: this is why Charles Xavier was a character Marvel should never have made. He's ridiculously overpowered. Ridiculously. He's a god. Except he could do a lot more than fuck Leda in the shape of a swan. Basically, in any universe in which Charles Xavier exists, the only real conflicts are the ones in his own head.

"But he's good!" you say. "He has morals and he chooses not to use his powers for evil and that's why he can work as a character."

Right. Yes. And, I mean, I love Charles, I love Charles/Erik, I have been reading about Charles and Erik since long before I got into fandom, but. Here's the thing. The excuse they use for having Xavier around - Morals! Goodness! - doesn't actually work. And this story explains why - why having someone so ludicrously powerful destroys the framework of the universe whether he's Charles Xavier or Sauron with the One Ring securely on his bony little hand.

I mean, yes, this story is also a fabulous exploration of consent issues, and kink, and all the stuff I've come to expect from helens78, and, yes, it's like a fairy tale for adults only (moral: if you take the shortcut to your goal, you will likely get your head eaten), but I'm in it for the simple question of whether there is any meaning to anything if Charles Xavier exists. (No.) Definitely read the tags and warnings, but if you can possibly stand it, read this story.

And then join me, won't you, in the fight against telepathy? (And the fight against the imaginary critics. I'd like to wipe them out, too.)

The One That Shows Us That Fish, Too, Can Meet Cute. What It Feels Like, by cimorene. Finding Nemo, Gill/Nemo.

FISH SLASH. Between mentor fish and mentored fish, I might add, just in case fish aren't a problem for you, but age differences are. (And, yes, I can think of several people off the top of my head who will look at this all, "YES FINDING NEMO - oh, wait. Big age difference. No." This is #31 on the list of reasons I love fandom, just below "Not the only catboy story I've read today" and just above "Can't really remember the days when I thought snake MPreg was out there.") A measure of my discomfort with this story is that it took me two years to read it. (And during those two years, the earthling went through a Nemo phase. That didn't help. Parents of babies, read this story now, that's my advice.)

So. You know. Fish slash. That happened. And the thing is, it's fucking adorable. Nemo is the same intent, curious, determined fish he was in the movie. Gill is the same badass in fish form. All the voices in this, in fact, are absolutely perfect. And, I mean, I can absolutely believe this ending. (And in fact would greatly prefer to believe this ending over the one the movie gave us, which horrifies me every time I watch it. Nemo is home and happy! Marlin is home and happy! Dory is home and happy! And the fishtank fish are trapped in plastic and about to die. Seriously, Pixar, it's like you're trying to take the coveted Destroyer of Children's Happiness mantle from Disney's clutching hands.) And why shouldn't two boy fishes who love each other very much be happy ever after in a story that earns its explicit rating?

Just. I find myself eyeing the earthling's DVDs with trepidation, now. When awesome and adorable fish slash is already old news, what comes next? Is Bob the Builder going to show us some of the special short films on his computer, which feature uses for his equipment that totally void their warranties? Are the Penguins of Madagascar going to provide a whole new perspective on four-way teamwork with a strict chain of command? Are Eve and Otto going to get caught in a bad romance, leaving Wall-E to find consolation in the arms of Mo? Anything is possible. Anything.

But this story is worth the mental images that will never leave my head, I tell you what. It's just. Cute. Cuter than fish having sex has any right to be.

The One That Shows Exactly How Irritating Arguing with Someone Who Can Apparate Must Be. Getting the Last Word Must Be an Art Form in the Wizarding World. The Death of Narcissa Black: A Potion, by massicot. (That's a deleted and purged journal, unfortunately. Does anyone have a more current link for her?) Harry Potter, gen.

Oh my GOD. This is. Okay. You know how there are stories that you settle into happily, because you know the author and you know the fandom and you know the genre and you just know this is going to hit you square in your comfort zone? This is not that story for me. It is outside my comfort zone in absolutely every way - the artwork, while gorgeous and perfect for the story, is really far from what I can usually parse. The main character is a villain from a fandom I don't read that much in anymore. The storyline is dark and grim. And yet. And yet. This story is also an excellent example of why I'm in love with fandom.

See, this takes a minor villain (or at least I think she is; she may have a more major role in the two books that came after I gave up on the series) and makes her into a real person, a person with some remarkably unfortunate ideals and some remarkably positive traits. And then it carefully, clearly, and beautifully details how those ideals combine with circumstance to wipe out the positive traits, not to mention basically every trace of who Narcissa was.

It's so amazing, and so perfect, and so unlike anything else I've read in fandom, that I re-read it on a regular basis even though there are some pages - um, a fair number of pages - that still make me genuinely recoil from the screen. (Really. Please pay attention to the warnings. She is not kidding about any of that.)

So, you know, this is incredible. It's also just about the darkest thing I've ever seen written for a darkfest. (Not that I am inviting further links on that score. Uh, no. Feel free to hand me the white feather on this one; I will wear it with, if not pride, at least total acceptance of my limitations.)

But even if this is normally the kind of thing you would walk a mile in wet shoes to avoid - well. I can't tell you to read it. But I can tell you I read it, despite the warnings, against my better judgment, and I was totally, totally glad. It's the kind of story that makes me want to applaud for fandom. Even as, okay, yes, I am reaching for a safety tab story.

Also posted at Dreamwidth, where there are comments.

I am seeking advice on two clothing problems. One is mine, one is the earthling's.

The Trousers Must Stay On!

The earthling has a very, very narrow waist. (He is not underweight. Just - narrow.) This makes buying trousers for him difficult; he generally grows into the waist around the same time the cuffs hit his mid-calf. With some brands, he doesn't grow into the waist until the cuffs are just below his knee, which would make them good shorts, except he doesn't like shorts. I have seen clothes labeled 9 - 12 months that have waists too big for his 40-month-old body.

And the thing is, the earthling has preferences. He doesn't like clothes with stiff or scratchy fabric or anything he deems poky, and he expresses his objections in no uncertain terms when things do not meet his standards. But for his age group, the only option for the narrow-waisted is adjustable-waist trousers. Which are, in the earthling's judgment, unacceptably poky, and in any case they only come in jeans and cords and stuff - all fabrics that are too stiff. He will not wear them. (And even if he did, on the tightest setting they still slip some.) He wants to wear elastic-waistband trousers made from soft fabric.

This takes us to pajama pants and sweatpants. Both of which, when they fit his length, fall off his narrow, narrow body unless we roll the waistband at least once, often twice. (We own exactly one pair of trousers that fits him in every dimension. One. This pair came to us as part of a pajama set. If I could, I would clone it.) This has worked for most of his life, but now he wants to get dressed all by himself. He does not want help, no thank you, Mama, I do it, I do it. He can get the trousers on, but he can't get them properly rolled, and the result is that he spends a lot of time walking around on his cuffs hauling up his waistband every two steps.

So does anyone have any brilliant ideas? I need either:

1. Some mechanism by which the waistbands of elastic-waist trousers can be made permanently narrower, without interfering with the earthling's ability to get them on all by himself.
   
2. A source for elastic-waist, soft fabric trousers for narrow-bodied toddlers.

Keep in mind that I do not own a sewing machine, and also the only reason I passed the needlecrafts part of Home Ec was that the district office sent over a note saying that, diagnostically, I could not ever be expected to do any better. (And even then, I was extremely wise and kept my projects very low on the ambition scale.) And Best Beloved's mother deliberately did not teach her kids home skills of any kind, on the grounds that she did not ever want them to use them.

So, basically, we are looking for a solution that does not require us to be crafty and handy and - stuff. This has ruled out everything I have come up with so far. Help? The earthling is running out of trousers. And tripping a lot. It is very sad.

The Boobs Must Be Free!

Before I got pregnant, I wore bras that took their design inspiration from the Bastille. My bras were things that you could, in an emergency, use as moderately functional body armor, filled with ribbing and nine million hooks and many wires, with a general aesthetic somewhere between "bondage device" and "cruel and unusual punishment."

Then I got pregnant, and soon I had a stomach in the way of many of those bras. Then I was nursing, and it turns out those sorts of bras block various critical ducts, not to mention that they don't fit the ever-fluctuating boobs of the breastfeeder, so they don't make them in nursing versions. I mean, yes, I have an underwire nursing bra, but it's entirely wimpy. One tiny wire under each boob! That's not a true underwire bra as I know it.

So, the earthling is now officially weaned. And, see, I've spent the last two years assuming that would happen any day now (and look! I was right!), so I've been wary of purchasing new nursing bras. As a result, I now have a total of four of them: one that is so stretched out it is more like a tank top, one that has a giant hole in it (making it ideal for any three-breasted breastfeeder, but less ideal for me), one that is way too loose, and one that actually fits and works.

Obviously, it's time to get out the old bras. They are the same size as my boobs currently are (or, okay, some of them are). But my boobs have lost the knack of wearing them. Used to be I strapped them into their wire cages and they did not protest, but after four years of freedom, they have decided they don't like captivity. They whine all the time - "A wire is poking my sensitive underparts!" (Used to be I could get an open sore on my boob from an exposed underwire with only minimal boob protests.) "This is really tight!" "Why is the cup only big enough for half of me?" (I said only some of them fit, right?) It's pathetic, seriously. Somehow having and nursing a baby turned my boobs into wimps.

Basically, they want to stay in nursing bras. I, on the other hand, would prefer to have cups that don't come randomly unhooked when I move too much, largely because there is nothing more wonderful than fishing around in your shirt for a stray cup, unless it is the charmingly lopsided look your boobs have when one is in a cup and the other one is on top of its cup.

I need recs. For bras. Bras that are not fierce contraptions of steel and strapping, bras that are somehow comfortable. (Underwires are optional, but fine. I mean, I do have underwires in my best-fitting nursing bra. Just - I guess not really aggressive underwires.) And these bras have to come in an H cup. Is there anything like that out there? Do any of you large-breasted persons out there know of a bra like that? Help my boobs! They are yearning to breathe free!

Also posted at Dreamwidth, where there are comments.

Okay, so a few months ago I made a playlist for Best Beloved (based around the theme of heroes and saving the world, additions still gratefully accepted) featuring the song Michael (Jump in), which is actually written (Jumpin) in the version I bought, but I refuse to believe that. Anyway, what I didn't realize when I put the song on the mix is that it is, at least according to BB, a song written by a car to David Hasselhoff.

Best Beloved spent some time explaining this concept to me - apparently, the car was an artificial intelligence, and together he and Michael (played by David Hasselhoff) fought crime. And then I asked her about the line in the song that goes:

"It's not like you/To turn your back and let the dark side win"

Obviously, this gave me a mental image of the show as a kind of Star Wars crossover, where Michael was a Jedi and the car was his - trusty, um, whatever. Racer-thing, maybe. Basically, I was sort of envisioning David Hasselhoff as Anakin Skywalker, which made my brain hurt.

BB explained to me that, no, it wasn't about Michael's dark side. "Because I don't think he really had one," she said.

"But without angst, what do you write about in the third season?" I asked her.

She didn't know. Apparently her television knowledge is not that encyclopedic.

Thinking about it, though, I'm not sure I can imagine this concept. He's a lone wolf white guy out to save the world with just his car (and, I'm guessing, his fists or maybe a gun, although BB did not go into that part)! Surely he must have:

1. Angst, including a tragic back story.
   
2. A dead wife or girlfriend or kid something, or maybe just one who left him with prejudice after she found the photos of him with a puppy on his dick. (Warning for a dude with a puppy on his dick. NSFW, is what I'm saying. Also possibly not all that safe for your brain.)
   
3. A constant struggle with the dark side, whether it be his alcoholism or his desire to eat people or his evil twin or his general dickishness or whatever.

You can't have TV without those things, is my understanding. Even in Sports Night, a half-hour comedy show, Danny had a dead brother, a bad relationship with his parents, and some kind of major emotional breakdown including acting out on air. He had plenty of angst! He had a dark side! He was a news anchor on a half-hour comedy show. So I really don't see how a crimefighter with an intelligent car could get out of this. (BB does recall that the car apparently had some angst. And an evil twin.)

Except, as previously documented extensively in this space, my understanding of TV is limited and narrow. So - can you have TV without those things? I mean, are these the actual requirements, or am I just confused? And if those are the requirements, was it always that way? Can you pinpoint an era as the Rise of Main Character Angst? What about Main Character Dark Sides?

Tell me about angst and dark sides on TV, is what I'm saying!

Also posted at Dreamwidth, where there are comments.