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Dec. 25th, 2025 11:34 pmI am not allowing myself to dive into the Yuletide archive this year until after reveals due to a bunch of other reading commitments that have to get done by early January, BUT! I obviously made an exception for my own
THREE
INCREDIBLE
GIFT
FICS:
The Knight Under the Apple Tree
“Our crop is well tended,” Celia protested, despite all evidence that it was not. “It grows copiously out yonder.”
Oliver turned his head to look out the window. “Indeed, the grass outside does grow most mightily.”
“It is a sheepcote, sir; as the name suggests, it is for the keeping of sheep. Thus grass is essential.”
“And yet I do not see the sheep.”
I asked someone to sell me on As You Like It's Celia/Oliver side ship and I have completely received my wish: this fic is SO cute and does such a lovely job filling out the relationship between these characters until it feels like something that fully exists and that I want to root for
A rainbow-stripe in another proper world
“None of it ever happened,” said Uncle Nirupam in his precise way, “and so we have no memories of it, of course. But the instincts remain. I felt the same way when I first visited this world. I thought, is this where they burn people like us?”
The first of two excellent Witch Week fix-it fics -- this one is a short little outsider-POV gem in which Janet Chant and Nan Pilgrim are married, which is not something I would have ever thought of in a million years but which delights me deeply! galaxy brain!
Remember, Remember
“To produce the required crispiness, the mandrake is dipped in wallpaper paste, dredged in sawdust, and then pan-fried until it is completely burnt on all sides,” Nan recited obligingly. “It is served with a side of slugs poached in their own slime. Their chewy texture provides a perfect complement…” Estelle was howling with laughter by this point. Nan, as always in such moments, felt as though she were being carried along by an inexorable flood of words quite independent of herself. A rhyme was pushing insistently at the inside of her head, and she let it out without the least idea where it was going to finish up:
“Crispy mandrake, extra fancy,
Bring me something
Chrestomanci!”
and THIS one is a luxurious and voice-perfect THIRTEEN THOUSAND WORDS spent with my beloved terrible children as their memories are returned by way of an encounter with the TRAGICALLY ABANDONED SENTIENT GARDEN IMPLEMENTS. ABSOLUTE GALAXY BRAIN AGAIN ... I'm so happy ...
and having been Yuletided well beyond my deserts, I now leave the archive for now but I look forward to reading everyone's recs on the other side!
THREE
INCREDIBLE
GIFT
FICS:
The Knight Under the Apple Tree
“Our crop is well tended,” Celia protested, despite all evidence that it was not. “It grows copiously out yonder.”
Oliver turned his head to look out the window. “Indeed, the grass outside does grow most mightily.”
“It is a sheepcote, sir; as the name suggests, it is for the keeping of sheep. Thus grass is essential.”
“And yet I do not see the sheep.”
I asked someone to sell me on As You Like It's Celia/Oliver side ship and I have completely received my wish: this fic is SO cute and does such a lovely job filling out the relationship between these characters until it feels like something that fully exists and that I want to root for
A rainbow-stripe in another proper world
“None of it ever happened,” said Uncle Nirupam in his precise way, “and so we have no memories of it, of course. But the instincts remain. I felt the same way when I first visited this world. I thought, is this where they burn people like us?”
The first of two excellent Witch Week fix-it fics -- this one is a short little outsider-POV gem in which Janet Chant and Nan Pilgrim are married, which is not something I would have ever thought of in a million years but which delights me deeply! galaxy brain!
Remember, Remember
“To produce the required crispiness, the mandrake is dipped in wallpaper paste, dredged in sawdust, and then pan-fried until it is completely burnt on all sides,” Nan recited obligingly. “It is served with a side of slugs poached in their own slime. Their chewy texture provides a perfect complement…” Estelle was howling with laughter by this point. Nan, as always in such moments, felt as though she were being carried along by an inexorable flood of words quite independent of herself. A rhyme was pushing insistently at the inside of her head, and she let it out without the least idea where it was going to finish up:
“Crispy mandrake, extra fancy,
Bring me something
Chrestomanci!”
and THIS one is a luxurious and voice-perfect THIRTEEN THOUSAND WORDS spent with my beloved terrible children as their memories are returned by way of an encounter with the TRAGICALLY ABANDONED SENTIENT GARDEN IMPLEMENTS. ABSOLUTE GALAXY BRAIN AGAIN ... I'm so happy ...
and having been Yuletided well beyond my deserts, I now leave the archive for now but I look forward to reading everyone's recs on the other side!
