12 Yuletide Recs
Jan. 30th, 2026 05:14 pm12 recs in 8 fandoms: Cherry Magic, Khemjira, Moby Dick, Never Let Me Go, The Old Kingdom, Perfect 10 Liners, Thai Actor RPF, and ThamePo Heart That Skips a Beat.
See them here.
See them here.
“Well, I can’t,” Izzy said. It came out blustery somehow, indignant and spitty and riled-up, like he was months back, talking to a peacocking Spriggs. “Have Roach explain it to you, if you’ve gone this long without—”
“I know how it works, boss.” Fang patted his stomach. His hand fell to the side of Izzy’s at first and then, almost shyly, straight on it. “Got nowhere to put it. But if you could.”
If he could. If he could, he’d still be a one-legged pirate past his prime, sailing on a ship where the crew was already vulnerable and downy enough without adding an infant in the mix. He had enough to take care of already. He had a child, he’d wind up throwing himself in the fucking sea.
“I’ll be performing the procedure, Mr Rackham,” informs the nurse dourly. “Then the doctor will review the report I write.”
“Oh,” sighs Jack, almost laughing with relief. “Cool, yeah, sweet.”
“Due to the invasive nature of the procedure, we like to give our patients as much privacy as possible. In this case, that means one-on-one treatment.”
“Right,” says Jack. “I should probably know your name, then.”
Does the nurse flush at that? Maybe. He’s looking down at the chicken scratch he’s hastily etching across the paper on his clipboard. “Izzy, but you will address me as Nurse when speaking to me.”
“Yes, Nurse,” Jack says, fast and breathless. “Thank you.”
He gripped the kitchen counter at his back, still wobbly at the knees in spite of a rapidly killed buzz, and wondered if this is what Gene had felt, back in the woods.
Seeing Gene properly for the first time since the start of this uneven conversation, Sam could recognize the effects of too much whisky in his stance, in the unrestrained flashing of his eyes. Yet even pissed, Gene had remarkable control, the gun in his hand held steady and sure, the muzzle lightly touching the hollow of his throat without the slightest tremor.
‘Not nice, is it, Sam?’ The barrel traveled slowly up his neck to his jaw, almost caressing in time to Gene’s languid speech. ‘Not nice when someone you trust points a gun at you…’
‘Gene…’
‘But do you trust me? Do you?’
"This is not a good idea, love," Dulcie says, keeping her tone level. "I know I said I’d try to be more open to change, and I hear and respect your opinion, I truly do, but this is—it’s like the hobby farm. It's really not going to work."
"I just think," Cath says, bright-eyed and earnest, "that it would be a healing experience for me. For us both! To share that kind of intimacy. I am committed to working through my anxiety about you fucking your partner and I'm sure that would be so much more manageable for me if we fucked her first. Together."
"Are you dying?" Murdock demanded, blocking his way.
"What?" he asked, trying to figure out where Murdock got that from for a moment, before realizing that he'd be there all night if he kept at it. "No."
Murdock didn't look convinced. "Are you sick?"
He didn't say, "Yeah, sick of you, fool," which he thought showed remarkable restraint on his part. Instead, he repeated, "No."
"Are you a Skrull?" Murdock asked, peering at him suspiciously. "Because if you are, I want the real B.A. back. You can have Face, instead."
"I ain't a pod person, either," he growled, and was about to ask what the hell was wrong with him and what the hell was a Skrull, when a guy bumped past Murdock, and he flinched away. The irritation drained out of him, and was replaced with horror.
He'd broken Murdock.
"No, Archie. I don't want to make you accessory to a felony--or is it a misdemeanor?"
"Nuts. I'd love to share a cell with you."
---Rex Stout, The Golden Spiders
Sure, I know why you want to hear all about it, Father. You're hoping for one of those "Oh, do not do as I have done" confessions, right? No?
Nice of you to care, but I never spent much time worrying about my immortal soul. Neither did he, as far as I could see, and I could see pretty far. But I'll tell you what I will do. You listen to what I have to say without piping up, you put it under that seal of the confessional that you priests value so much, and I promise I'll give you all the details and let you ask questions after. That's as far as I'll go, though I will add my word's been known to be good for years around here.
It's a deal? Let's go, then.
His first words to the newly freed man were, "That suit is abysmal."
"I can do better, since someone spotted me twenty bucks. Maybe you could introduce me to your tailor?" The chalk-striped blue suit coat he was wearing was bold but businesslike, much like the way Nero Wolfe had moved in on a deal back in the pen.
As for the man himself, he grunted. "You may not wish to commit yourself until you have seen what the young men are wearing in Manhattan this year. Get in."
I did, next to him in back. Some guy I didn't recognize was driving. When I glanced at the back of our driver's neck, Wolfe told me, "Jack will be giving you lessons to refresh your knowledge of controlling these mechanical contrivances."
Of course he was going to start right out by deciding how everything would go, now that we were both free of Mannerheim. I made a note to discuss this with him as soon as there were no ears around that I didn't recognize. Right now, Wolfe was getting a break because of the ride, the twenty, and the fashion advice.
BUNNING: And when they go out to sea, once they’re done nesting for the season...do they always stay in their pairs? Seems like that would be a rather crowded life for a penguin, never getting to go off on one’s own.
SØNDERGAARD: Oh, no, no, they’re very independent! Well, I can’t speak to any other sorts of penguins, but lancelot penguins allow one another a great deal of independence. For much of the year, they swim off to wherever they like. It’s only that they know there’s a mate they can return to, back on land, when it’s time to build a nest again. Someone to come home to, as it were.
BUNNING: (QUIETLY) What a striking thought.