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Meta Yuletide Fic (The Fic You Wish Your Fic Smelled Like)

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Yuletide underscore pinch underscore hit dash owner at yahoogroups dot com wrote1:

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Request 3


* Old Spice Guy (Commercials)

Why hello, Laura. You might be wondering what fate will befall you now that your most wonderful Yuletide request has been sent to the pinch hit list. Will this fact cause your Yuletide to crumble into a little ball of brokenheartedness and despair so deep the Sun will be sucked in and all life will be destroyed? For that is a fear you must certainly must be having.

In this case, however, I am afraid that although you are a paragon in all other ways, you are wrong. I am here to reassure you that everything will still be good, even great, like the magic whale song sung in the ocean deep.

Once your request is sent out to the pinch list, it will be in the hands of a pinch hitter. Why, who are they? The pinch hitters are a group of fierce competitors with encyclopedic knowledge of fandoms from the obscure to the offbeat just waiting to come to your rescue. They would swim seas filled with octopi tentacles (something some of them might enjoy a bit too much, if you know what I mean 2) or scale the tallest tall buildings in that city where you live, all to please you, the recipient.

I should know, for I, too, am a pinch hitter. And I am that awesome, indeed. (Monocle smile!) How awesome? See that link, that link there? Oh, that goes to TV Tropes. I can go there and get back all within minutes, sometimes even seconds, while doing all the research I need.

I see you left a letter, radiant recipient. Thank you for your kind words. They make me happier than the thought of dolphins frolicking under a sky filled with double, nay, triple rainbows.

Apparently what you want from a fic about me is crack. Now, pop culture has taught us that crack is indeed whack3, so I shall give you something slightly different, though equally beauteous to the senses. I will write this fic for you while wading through the Great Lakes, yes, each of them at the same time, without getting my towel wet.

You also indicate that you would like something over the top. Oh, Yuletider of my dreams, this fic goes so far over the top that I would have to wear a breathing tank apparatus thing of science along with the trusty towel you see hanging here below my most glorious abs just to reach the pinnacle.

For you see, most wonderful requester, whose prompts are filled with rainbows, kittens and even personified perfection4, you are getting a very special treat. Oh, yes. You are getting the ever anticipated Yuletide Meta Fic.

Don’t be afraid of the title, with its slightly stale pop culture reference. This is the most splendorous of treats to find in your Yuletide stocking which I knitted for you using yarn spun from the hair of unicorn tails, none of whom were harmed in the making. The yearly phenomenon of the Yuletide Meta Fic occurs when a Yuletide author decides to create interest in their fic by including references to Yuletide or to fandom in general. And that is what I am writing for you.

Now, occasionally there is more than one attempt to be meta by people who think that they are clever, but I have some words for any who would try to outdo the meta-tacular excellence that is found in this fic for Laura:

Look at your fic, now back to mine. Now back to yours, now back to mine. Is your fic this meta? Does it include a fictional character writing meta fic about himself? No, it does not--and why not? Don’t you want your Yuletide fic to look like mine?5 Look at my excellent characterization and spot on dialogue. This is the fic your fic dreams about being.

Now, you might say, but what about a fic like that one where the characters take trips though old Yuletide fics6? A mere piffle. I could do that in my sleep. I wouldn’t even have to leave this computer screen, where I sit writing this fic for you, my darlingest recipient person. I could do that all while painting a self portrait so accurate its beauty would blind any who caught even the smallest glimpse.

See, look at your fic, now back to mine. Now I am eating oatmeal with Bert and Ernie7! No, not now, you missed me. For I am a zombie, eating NPR employees8. That is my fine physique, still wonderful and muscled as ever, biting off that man's head with a single powerful chomp to the neck.

Or what if you want to go more literary with your meta? Perhaps you want to try yet another Calvino take off9, making the fic about the Yuletide author. Isn’t that a nifty and keen idea? But the answer is very apparent and it is a no.

Look at my fic. I included you, Yuletide writers, in this Yuletide Meta fic even before you commented suggesting it, for my mind is stronger than a steel trap, able to fell the biggest of flanick bears10. You cannot fool me with your literate, well-read fics that make me think thoughts with my scholarly face, fist at chin. (Scholarly pose!)

Now don’t swoon, lovely Yuletide women and gentlemen and genderqueer. I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. Not only can I write about a character writing a Yuletide fic11 (isn’t that Burton Guster a charming fellow?), I am a Yuletide character writing a Yuletide fic about writing a Meta Yuletide fic. And I am doing all that while composing a song in your honor. Could you say that about your fic?

What, you want more? Because even with my keen ears of hearing, I haven’t heard any responses or marriage proposals, of which I would normally have received twenty by this time. Let me use my superior detective science abilities of detecting and investigating to discover what happened to you, Yuletide reader. Oh, I see, you do not use Old Spice Body Wash12 and as such fell prey to the twisted time suck of TV Tropes. For shame.

But as Yuletide is the time for daring rescues and killing grues (or at least it is for me) I suppose I will spring into action. I often spend this time of year leaping across forests (or rather hurdling, due to the uneven nature of most tree cover) to save small animals from impeding predators and/or starvation. And so I will come for you, fair Yuletider, and rescue you from the sticky site of time sucks.

Look at me! Not at that article, or that one either. Just follow my voice, Yuletider. Dramatic Deadpan! Oh, you found me. Look at me! See how my abs glisten and how the red background of the AO3 archive complements my skintone. Now look back at TV Tropes. Does it have me writing a fic just for you?

No, it does not.

Ah, good, I have convinced you to rejoin me in this festive fic of epic awesome. I shall now continue on my metaphysical journey through Yuletide meta. Where was I? Ah yes, I was explaining how I surpassed all other attempts at Yuletide Meta Fics.

Look at my tags, now back to me.

What did you see? Why, a crossover tag! For not only do my mentions of you, my most brilliant lady Laura of the forty-seven, make this a crossover with #yuletide RPF, (to those chatters, of course, I am shamelessly pandering) but see, look at me.

Why yes, there are three fine specimens standing before you. For such is the power contained in my abs that one Yuletide nomination would not fit it. No, my name appears on the list thrice. This comes out to once for each time I have batted away meteors from the Earth using nothing but my bare hands. Oh yes, assorted Yuletide type people, I am just that good.

Perhaps that is why I can be found under the listings for Commercials, Old Spice Man (Commercials) and Yuletide Fandom #RPF13. And so all three of us are writing this just for you. Look at us all standing here, speaking to you in tandem. Our muscles are rippling in tiny waves just to celebrate you!

Look! Now I am a lady! Or at least one of me is. The other two remain men, as you see. (Surprise genderswap!) Look how my breasts provide a nice soft spot for you to rest your head, an oasis among the desert of the muscle that is my body.

You liked that trope, didn’t you? Do you need a fainting couch like a Victorian lady having vapors with a side of sighs at the mere thought of it? The sight of this much me is enough to move mountains with the speed of 60 cheetahs, I know.

Now, in order for this to be truly meta, I probably should link this thought to some wanks, perhaps with some colorful yet sly insights that make you all take my side on debates like the move to AO3 or writing extra treats. But my fellow Yuletiders, I am well aware of the power I wield. I would never take sides. So judicial am I that I could convince feuding late night talk show hosts14 to work through their differences without the use of a gavel.

Instead, how about more tropes? Not the TV kind, I wouldn’t risk losing you again, oh lovely light of my life, but the kind much beloved in fics such as this one. That might convince any authors who would battle for the title of Most Meta Fic to back down.

Now what to chose? MPREG, too painful. Orgy, possible. Racebend?

Look at my breasts, now look at me! No, the one on the left. I am now Chinese. (What, you thought I would be white? For shame. All the best fics are written for Chromatic Yuletide15.)

What is that I spy in the distance? An explosion? Is it the power of thousands of users refreshing the archive over and over in anticipation of a story written just for them? Well, hello Yuletiders, this fic is for you. (Though it’s mostly for my lovely Laura. But it’s OK, you can share. See? You are doing so already.)

And with that final stroke of fine authorial intent, I declare this the most Meta Yuletide fic of the year. (At least that I have read. I don’t know, I haven’t done much beta reading yet. And I wouldn’t want to spoil you from the things I read with my clever time travel device.) So you see, Laura, was being pinch hit really so bad?

I’m on a hippo.


[1] The excerpt is used with full permission from that most magnificent of personages, a mod. In return I offer not only a smile brighter than the center of the sun, but flowers, candy and culturally appropriate gifts of epic. You’re welcome.

[2] Oh yes, you know what I mean, don’t you?

[3] Don’t do drugs, dear Yuletiders. No drugs were involved the day I managed to sing, yes, sing all the colors of the rainbow in a stirring serenade to a passing stray kitten. If you were like me, you too could manage such feats without chemical aids. But I won’t judge. I know not everyone can be as amazing as me.

[4] And by ‘personified perfection’ I do mean myself. Any tendency towards modesty on my part is out-weighed by my need to tell the exact truth, sans hyperbole.

[5] Yes.

[6] It is always polite to cite the author of the fic mention. As I am not above this etiquette, I must commend David Hines for his cunning comedy skills. I salute you.

[7] Greenspine, you astound me with your ability to transcend the ratings inherent in Sesame Street. You can turn a phrase faster than I can out-run a genetically altered marsupial on a motorcycle. However, I must apologize to any Yuletiders whom I sent to your fic for the broken brains. Let me make it up to you. Here, have some oatmeal, I’ll let you pick how to eat it.

[8] Nestra, you have awesomeness so astounding that even those people who you wrote about being eaten by zombies enjoyed reading it. Surely your skills outpace the work of the finest painter artist people of that time period in Europe.

[9] Recently I invented time travel in the spare hours I had from compressing my sleep into seven minute intervals. However, I did not create time itself, and so I have not read all these amazing treats of fiction. Except yours. Yes, I am talking to you.

[10] Flanick bears are also responsible for the recent lunar eclipse. They hoped for mass hysteria and a beginning of a new era in panic. Don’t worry. I took care of them.

[11] Liviapenn, what are BFFs for? Are they for making Yuletides great with laughter that goes on as long as your Dear Yulegoat letters? Then you are my BFF. You’re welcome.

[12] This fic of the fan persuasion was not made as an advertisement. However, if you too would like to smell like me, then please, do not abstain from enjoying this excellent product.

[13] This number might be subject to change based on the work of the wranglers. Those mysterious creatures work under a code of secrecy so deep that even my eyes of seeing cannot pierce it.

[14] This vicious species is known for fighting so much that their wars caused a 300% increase in the sales of bright orange hair dye. (Surprise Team CoCo!)

[15] And yes, Yuletiders, this is one of the best fics. After all, I wrote it with a quill made from a rare bird with feathers made of gold which I plucked while writing a treat for you.


(Surprise Care Bear BDSM Orgy!)