LINKDING

Summary: <blockquote>It’s a little ridiculous, really, the things that make Ming Fan happy. They’re so small. A single word of praise from a teacher; being picked first to shoulder a responsibility; a smile and a touch from Zhao De. It’s painfully obvious how Ming Fan feels about Zhao De, and it always has been. Ming Fan has a paper face, and can’t hide what he feels to save his life. Zhao De has always known. And honestly? He doesn’t particularly care. Or, no; it’s a little funny, actually. To be able to make him flush with happiness or wilt with disappointment with such very little effort, to always have him eating out of his hand and so eager to please. It’s too easy, really, but easy is fun sometimes. Useful, too, when he’s the Head Disciple of Qing Jing now. For as long as that might last. Maybe Zhao De should reward him for making himself so useful? / Zhao De shows Ming Fan a bad good time.</blockquote> ➤ yikes (complimentary) ➤ Ming Fan/OMC, where the OC is another disciple on Qing Jing Peak ➤ it's truly impressively horrible, the pov of this awful bully who manipulates Ming Fan into misery and encourages Ming Fan in all of his own worst bullying tendencies ➤ it's so well and believably done, and so compelling! ➤ mind the author's tags on this one, it means what it says. I enjoyed the fic a lot but it's not a pleasant fic! ➤ 13k words in length

Summary: <blockquote>Eyes first. If I can get the eyes open, I’m good. If not, the meat’s too far gone, which means I have to try again, and I hate fucking trying again. This time’s okay, though. Eyelids roll up surprisingly easy, even if it takes the eyes themselves a minute. That’s fine, though; everybody’s eyes are different, even if nobody but me knows it, because how many eyes do you get to see through in your life? Me, I’ve lost count. The soft jelly settles, the focal centers slowly pull themselves into place. I can hear the pupils contract against the light. Eyes blink once, twice. We’re in business.</blockquote> ➤ content notes for ummmmmmm body horror? body grossness definitely. also, murder, plus sex with weird consent stuff going on. drug use. probably other stuff too. ➤ but it's not, like, horrifying and depressing about any of that! it's remarkably sweet! ➤ an absolutely incredible piece of original fiction about bodyswap/bodysharing that really makes its home in exploring the weirdness of the situation from the inside. What Is Embodiment. How to have a relationship with the body you're in. Bodies have a lot going on! The brain is part of the body. ➤ probably this story isn't for everyone, but if it is for you then you are in for a TREAT. I adored it. ➤ 14k words

Summary: <blockquote>“I hear you’re about to graduate, huh,” John called from the booths. Kieran’s jaw tensed on reflex, but he pried his mouth open to say, “Sure am, against all odds!” “Hell yeah, brother. You itching to get out of here once the degree is in hand?” The question was reasonable, his tone jovial, but Kieran froze stiff as a startled possum. Two weeks ago his answer would’ve been “of course not,” but then the admissions offer slashed new depths to his greedy imagination. The security he had built over the last two years stung sweetly between his teeth. Cozy living arrangements with fresh food and a wad of cash stuffed behind the attic access panel in his room; easy closeness grown between himself, Sean, and their mutual best friend Xander. He hadn’t told either of them, yet, about the letter.</blockquote> ➤ not really particularly sff though I guess there's technically a ghost, so it doesn't feel like it fits an sff publication, but it's a good story

Summary: <blockquote>Meng Yao rescues the first Jade of Lan and takes him into his home, becoming far more involved than ever anticipated. / The guards are getting closer; the man, likely Lan Xichen, tries not to curl in on himself. Meng Yao gives himself five seconds to consider the implications of getting involved before he swings his work bag off his shoulder and drops it rudely in the First Jade of Lan's lap. "I told you not to slouch," he says, a firm note of displeasure in his voice. / Stands alone from the prequel fic.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Qin Su is sick and tired of this wedding. And her marriage. Nie Huaisang is conveniently present.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Jingyi has his hands up immediately, ready to fire a warning talisman. “Who are you?” “Jingyi, it’s me. It’s Sizhui.” “I don’t know any Sizhui. How do you know my name?” / Something has gone wrong with the world. The worst part is, Sizhui's the only one who realizes it.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Generations after the events of the novel, Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao come out of retirement to investigate a series of mysterious fires targeting the watchtowers.</blockquote> ➤ the fic works well as is but I am still desperate to know what the solution might be that will honor yao-guniang's ambitions and keep her safe from yao-zongzhu at the same time!

<blockquote>Emperor Luo Binghe goes looking for a Shen Yuan of his own. The one he finds has yet to fully ripen, but Luo Binghe is used to turning adversity into advantage.</blockquote> ➤ note the tags on the fic!

<blockquote>Loren’s brother-in-law fell sick six weeks after the last rack-and-pinion train departed for the base of the mountain and three weeks after winter closed over the mine like a frozen diamond pane. A layer of cloud hid the world far below, gray and silver in the winter-long night. Thunderheads drifted past, stately as tall ships under starshine, and you could watch them rise and collide and throb with lightning until your eyes froze over. Which took about eight seconds.</blockquote> ➤ this did not go where I was expected and where it went was fascinating

<blockquote> December 2, 1962 Dear Calvin, Congratulations on your upcoming marriage! I hope that you and <del>Michelle</del></blockquote> ➤ told through a series of unsent letters, as the title implies. Between the unsent letters you can tell that there are sent ones, and phone calls, and in-person visits, and through what is and isn't said in these unsent fragments you can piece together what's going on in between, and it's lovely.

<blockquote>That first autumn it felt as if the whole world had been made for them—which, of course, it had. They walked down the avenue of oaks that reached above their heads like Gothic arches, red leaves drifting lazily down to collect at their feet. Ashwin was pleased as anything and couldn’t say enough about the designers, how it was worth spending more sometimes, how you got what you paid for. Everything was just as he’d imagined it: roseate light, unseasonal butterflies, crisp air with a faint waft of frost in it. To Jade, the place was beautiful without having any special charm; she knew she could have seen the same landscape in a vidroom down the street from their apartment, could’ve had the scent of fog and bonfires pumped in and controlled the temperature from her cuff. But Ash was always a fanatic for authenticity.</blockquote> ➤ oh fascinating!! and what a good ending too

<blockquote>Exile’s End is a complex, sometimes uncomfortable examination of artifact repatriation and cultural appropriation. An artifact of indescribable and irreplaceable beauty created by an “extinct” culture has been the basis of another culture’s origin stories. The race who created the artifact has survived on a distant world and has sent a representative to reclaim it, throwing everything into question. Inspired by the SF camp in Danzhai, China, which is co-hosted by the Future Administration Authority (FAA) and Wanda Group.</blockquote> ➤ the poem that's interspersed makes sense when you read it after having read the whole story

<blockquote>The Enterprise is preparing for a 2-year refit between missions. Kirk has a proposal.</blockquote> ➤ Not sure how to tag this one! It's about a committed life partnership even though Kirk is straight -- not something commonly depicted in fiction

<blockquote>Where Genly Ai went, after Winter. [Written for Yuletide 2010.]</blockquote> ➤ oh, wow. Very effective at grounding in setting such that it evokes a strong consistent feeling throughout. Plus excellent alien anthropology

<blockquote>Nyalu squeezes my hand, burying a blunt talon into my flesh as if to wake me up from sleep. It’s time to wear our wedding rings—the gifts sent to the island two moons ago, for our husband to mark us as his. Nyalu slips one pearl-white ring over my wrist, then traces the chain to find the other one; I push it down gently over his hand. His fingers shake—it’s not the boat’s rocking. The pairs of brides around us are already restless, already standing on their feet inside the boats, wings flapping anxiously underneath their veils. The hairless, featherless arms of men are tying our boats to the pier, unloading the stacks of lacquered boxes. A gloved hand reaches out. Nyalu is behind me and almost loses his balance as he hops from wood over water and onto the earth. Beneath our feet we find flat, concrete rock. We careen through the silent faces of husbands, through a swarm of veils, feathers, hands, and feet covered in bridal tattoos. No words of welcome, no music or dance to celebrate the group wedding. No mothers-in-law to host us. This is a nation of men.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Breq is a traitor, a rebel, and a captain a thousand years out of date. Mercy of Seivarden is drifting without a crew.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Rita Hanson is also experiencing a time loop on February 2nd, 2017 in Punxsutawney. But it's not quite the same.</blockquote>

<blockquote>“It’s wastoures! They came through Newton and Blackhill and killed everything, and then they split into two big groups and one turned north, and the other’s coming here. I stay ahead of them and earn pennies by warning people.” Wastoures. Perhaps you have not heard of them, you people born a thousand years after Ada and Blanche and this runner—whose name is Hardourt, though his part in this story is nearly over: his name will not matter to you, though it matters to him. In your time they are gone, but in the twelfth century, every child knew of them, and adults as well. Wastoures: scarce larger than chickens but unfeathered and wingless, snake-necked and sharp-beaked and bright-clawed, with little arms ending in daggery talons. For long years there would be no wastoures (except in memory and dread), and then a population bloom, like duckweed choking an August pond, or locusts after a dry spring, or cicadas rising from the ground each seventeenth year. For reasons unknowable, they emerged in their scores of thousands from some unknown cave or forgotten Roman mine, and seethed like floodwater or plague across the land.</blockquote> ➤ I'm fascinated by the way the narrative continues to draw your attention to what might happen to the other characters Ada encounters throughout the story, and the structure of Story.

<blockquote>“Don’t get too comfortable,” Haakon said to me in a low tone. “What do you mean?” I said. Everyone exchanged a look. It was Namja who finally explained. “The third cargo capsule from the homeworld is going to land at Newton’s Eye in about 650 hours.” “But . . . ” I stopped when I saw they didn’t need me to tell them the problem. The timing couldn’t have been worse. Umbernight was just around the corner. Much as we needed that cargo, getting to it would be a gamble with death. I remember how my mother explained Umbernight to me as a child. “There’s a bad star in the sky, Michiko. We didn’t know it was there at first because there’s a shroud covering it. But sometimes, in winter, the shroud pulls back and we can see its light. Then we have to go inside, or we would die.”</blockquote> ➤ Good worldbuilding, evocative writing

<blockquote>Marie kept on chattering. “...and the suitors can start watching you dance for the unicorns next month. Philippe is first in line to try, right? He would make a good king.” “Mother danced for nine men before Father.” Zéphine mashed the custard with her spoon. “I wouldn’t like that.” Marie’s dark eyebrows drew together. “Nine men, all dead....” I would only like to summon a unicorn, thought Zéphine. The men can look after themselves. But she knew that no unicorn would ever come for her.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Mr. Abraham Lincoln Smithsonian Institution National Museum of American History 1400 Connecticut Avenue, NW Washington D.C. 20004 United States of America 12 February 2168 Dear Sir, I hope you will forgive the impropriety of this personal letter sent without the benefit of previous acquaintance, but I feel compelled to write you in order that I might, indeed, introduce myself, and also so I might render to you my personal wishes for your hale and happy birthday. And, as I am scheduled to go on display in just a few days’ time, I would additionally like to express my genuine and incalculable pride that I am soon to be joining your illustrious ranks. I do not know what, if anything, you have heard of me in the media—I myself am never exposed to such things and know not what they say—but I have led a quiet life thus far, one much devoted to the study of my impending duties and, to better acquaint myself with my peers, of the other personalities currently on display.</blockquote>

<blockquote>I considered declining the invitation. It was too weird, too expensive, too far, too dangerous, too weird. Way too weird. An invitation like that would never come again. I’d regret it if I didn’t go. It lay on our kitchen table for three weeks while I argued out the pros and cons with Mabel. She listened, made suggestions; I countered her, then argued her part, then made both arguments, then reversed them again. “How do I know it’s not a hoax?” I asked, studying the list of backing organizations for the twentieth time. “The website looks legit, but how could it not be a hoax?”</blockquote> ➤ in which Sarah Pinsker is invited to a convention of multiverses of Sarah Pinskers, and then one of the Sarahs is murdered at the convention

<blockquote>features trade routes, magical fertilizer, and one girl's centuries-long effort to impress a woman who is already in a committed relationship with a boat.</blockquote> Yeah!!!! I've already read it twice since I discovered this story yesterday. the fantasist no longer has the story up so it's now posted on the author's website https://rebeccafraimow.com/2023/08/20/suradanna-and-the-sea/

<blockquote>“Thanks for being here,” she said. She’d practiced her statement in prison, with the sympathetic ears she’d just worked her way around to thinking of as friends, and fell back on that without thinking about how completely nil it’d sound as a soundbyte. “I have stuff to say on Government data, but right now I want dinner, a shower, and a nap. I’ll post a blog in the next few days, and if you want an interview, message me.”</blockquote> ➤ cyberpunk hacker story

<blockquote>The Fleet of the Godless came to the waters around Au by chance. It was an odd assortment of the refugees of the world; some had deliberately renounced all gods, some had offended one god in particular. A few were some god’s favorites that another, rival god had cursed. But most were merely the descendants of the original unfortunates and had never lived any other way.</blockquote> ➤ part of leckie's godsverse ➤ the one with the self-serving god who has promised to protect and care for a particular island nation, with things like human sacrifice as recompense

<blockquote>“No,” answered my father. “Better.” He sat on the bench behind him. My brothers and I knew better than to sit ourselves. “He wants to end the curse on his line. And Artau Ehat, the lord of the sky and protector of Therete, has said to the king of Therete — or to his priests, since because of the curse the king himself isn’t able to enter the god’s presence — that the curse will be ended when the prince Atehatsqe marries your sister. And,” he continued into our perplexed silence, “if he can get a better price for timber, so much the better.”</blockquote> ➤ part of leckie's godsverse

<blockquote>Snow White and Rose Red live peacefully in the forest with their mother, but their earliest memories are of a different life: a blighted homeworld and a journey through the stars. A winter visitor and a falling star lead them on a journey to discover the truth about their home and about their own mysterious powers.</blockquote> ➤ what an interesting and great scifi reimagining of snow white & rose red, that actually makes some sense of the weirdness of the story

<blockquote>Candace Montross’s eggs, like the eggs of a growing number of women around the world, are not haploid. They are diploid. Her eggs are fully capable of implanting in her womb and growing into a baby that shares every one of Candace’s genes, a perfect clone of her only biological parent. They weren’t always that way. Her gametes were altered after she was raped by a man in Houston who also had diploid gametes, and who also wasn’t born that way. They both, now, have GDS. Since diploid sperm are nonviable, Candace’s rapist is a sterile carrier of the disease, which renders all men who contract it sterile. But they can still transmit it to women, whose diploid eggs will put them at risk for pregnancy whenever they ovulate. Their genetically identical children will themselves be carriers, and will similarly begin auto-impregnating when they reach puberty. This is a new form of reproduction which crowds out the old, and only time will tell which method is more robust.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Lex can't let this Cassandra thing go.</blockquote> ➤ In which Lex figures out how to make himself see futures, but all he sees are awful ones. (happy ending.)

<blockquote>England’s first two magicians of the modern age are somewhere near Venice.</blockquote> ➤ great groundedness in setting, and great female oc. The one with the marcolina. And I really appreciate this bit of a look at non-english magic