LINKDING

<blockquote>there was a time when i, viciously in love with you, started believing that there was a being, a living conductor of our feelings, like a—a fairy, i suppose, winged, tiny, invisible to the human eye but wondrously fast and glittering,</blockquote>

<blockquote>The night is humid and warm, sticks to our skin like a wet T-shirt. Luz pokes the fire with a piece of scrap metal she found lying by Gunner’s feet. It sends a swarm of sparks flying into the air. Taking that as an invitation, others come flocking to our little circle. No matter the temperature, the kids gravitate towards the fire at night, so I always try to have one going near sundown. “Give us a poem, Daddy?” the new kid says, one of Luz’s strays. His name is Roy. He’s probably a little older than Luz. Maybe in his twenties. I think of asking for something in return—the kids need to learn the rules of this world, and better I teach them in my way than someone else in theirs—but I hold back. Just this once, I feel like giving one away.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Change is a constant, like the seasons and the tides.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Gabriel took the tiger by the ears, because somebody had to, and he never had a plan for getting off. Max is somewhat more practical.</blockquote> ➤ I've never even heard of this fandom before but this fic is actually lovely as is with no context, you figure out enough of the context to be going with from the fic itself.

<blockquote>Victor used to glance in the windows of marque studios and look at the flash on the walls sometimes, with curiosity more than longing. What would it be like to feel someone else’s soul? There are songs about it on the radio. Romantic. In his actual life, it’s always Yakov saying, “get over yourself, get more sleep, stop daydreaming on the ice.” Or it was.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Paula after the events of the movie.</blockquote>

<blockquote>“you have learned love but not self-consciousness, because love does not beget self. there’s no need for heart and body to love; no need for mind or soul though you have both, programmed for one and grew the other like a struggling sprout in a crack on the pavement, just for him, just like him. ” The Passenger and the Computer, in the midst of the all black everything. Time once more has meaning, and humanity must be redefined.</blockquote>

<blockquote>The currents seemed to pull the empty ache out of her, as though her body were just a translucent husk. And then the sound of her heart beating inside her would remind her it was time to surface, and she would feel the slight throbbing of her body asking to live, and reluctantly, made aware again of her natural place above water, she would rise.</blockquote> ➤ about a free-diver in the mediterranean. A lovely story of grief and loss and living, well-grounded in its setting.

<blockquote>Bandits came for Lalasa’s family and burned the whole farm out, except for her, because she had been at the river washing clothes. Lalasa did not miss her father or her brothers for all the long years of her life, which should tell you something about her. She cried for them anyway, and that should tell you something too. -- Retelling of Page and Squire from Lalasa's POV.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Spock and McCoy find themselves thrust into a new world and a new life. Can they work together to find their way home - or is being lost the best thing that ever happened to them? Reboot of Star Trek: The Next Generation episode 'The Inner Light'.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Five times Luke brushed Leia's hair.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Obi-Wan didn't become Qui-Gon Jinn's apprentice, and Ben didn't exile himself to Tatooine. On Bandomeer the two meet.</blockquote> ➤ marked as a wip and hasn't updated in a year, but it feels like a good ending place to me so it doesn't read like a wip. ➤ This fic is a lovely look at how being part of the Agricorps instead of the Jedi Order can actually be a /good/ thing

<blockquote>Han Solo blows by, moving fast. "Don't drink the hose water, kid, it's got fertilizer in it." Finn looks up, affronted. "Now you tell me?"</blockquote> ➤ Essie I particularly recommend this fic to you!

<blockquote>I am dreaming of peas. There is a shelling pea called Tom Thumb, that tolerates the cold. Eight inches tall. It thrives in the margins sets strong roots in small spaces – but there is also a pea called Homesteader that can handle the heat and keeps producing, and shoulders other vegetables aside to stretch its vines to the sky. If I can hold them both in my hands there will be green in my garden all summer.</blockquote>

<blockquote>"It's so green here," Rey says, wonderingly, the first morning; the first sunrise. "And the clouds! There's just so much color." "Just wait until it's really spring," Luke says. "I know patience is tough at your age—" Without looking, he can feel her tense, irritation scratching at the back of her mind. She's spent her whole life waiting. "Or maybe that was just me," he adds, smiling. </blockquote>

<blockquote>Where you tend a rose a thistle cannot grow.</blockquote>

<blockquote>There was a girl who died every morning, and it would not have been a problem except that she kept bees.</blockquote> ➤ weird and lovely, in that very Ursula Vernon sort of way

<blockquote>Most people who have reached their eighties without raising children have every right to believe that they will go on not raising them, and Judith and I were no different until the day they turned up with the social worker, neatly scrubbed and pressed inside their vac-suits and carrying cases with all their remaining worldly possessions. There were three of them like stairsteps, their black hair cut in fringes across their foreheads and their dark eyes shining out disconcertingly familiar at me. But it wasn’t until the social worker said, “Mr. Chao and Ms. Goldstein, these are your grandchildren, Enid, Richard, and Harry,” that I remembered, sheepishly, about the genes we had given all those years ago, to that nice couple from New New Prague, before they left for the Oort Cloud.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Nurse Angelica always dreamed of a day when Julia and Tybalt would be happy, surrounded by children and with loving spouses to stand between them. Now that that day has finally come, she can no longer avoid a conversation she's long deflected. A fix-it of sorts, inspired by drcalvin's "Gallant offers ill-delivered."</blockquote>

<blockquote>In his face there is no human pity, no understanding of her pain. If there had been, perhaps she would have hated him less. Elisabeth has sympathy for Death, once, but it's a long journey to get there.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Inspired by the lyrics, a tale of five people who love each other very much coming together at Christmas.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Because the wildness is everywhere, and you cannot ever really escape it.</blockquote> ➤ a retelling of beauty and the beast

<blockquote>Barney heeds Valancy's request for something frivolous for Christmas.</blockquote> ➤ feels very like canon

<blockquote>Salinger, I’m sorry, but “Don’t ever tell anybody anything” is a string of words I would like to wrap up in canvas and sink to the bottom of the Hudson, or extract by laser from the ribcage of all of us who ever believed it, who felt afraid to miss someone, to be the last one standing. </blockquote>

➤ the one about polyamorous bird people

<blockquote>There is a tale the young maidens of the kingdom tell, gathered together at the river’s edge, washing clothes against the rocks. It goes this way – once there was a woman who had something taken from her by a foolish, deceitful man. The loss grew within her until it was a thorn in her side, silver and sharp, stealing her breath as fast as she could gasp it. There was only one girl in the entire kingdom with hands small enough to slip between her ribs and pull it free.</blockquote>

<blockquote>The state took Aphra away from Innsmouth. They took her history, her home, her family, her god. They tried to take the sea. Now, years later, when she is just beginning to rebuild a life, an agent of that government intrudes on her life again, with an offer she wishes she could refuse. “The Litany of Earth” is a dark fantasy story inspired by the Lovecraft mythos.</blockquote> ➤ a subversion of Lovecraft's Cthulhu mythos ➤ see also Ex Urbe's excellent review of this story: http://www.exurbe.com/?p=2951

<blockquote>The Ivory Sun was brilliant on the day the orphan arrived at the Citadel of Six-and-Twenty Wonders. She had come across a desert and a half, from a small mountain town of no repute, a town with only three moons and no stars at all to speak of. The girl’s name was Rayyana, and she had come to the Citadel to paint.</blockquote>

<blockquote>When Rosaline is a little girl, she likes flowers and pretty things. She likes old books, with cracked leather binding, with pages filled with fairy tales or intrigues or household accounts. She likes the curve of her cousin’s smile. She likes the sound of her laugh. She likes the sound of her name. She sounds it out. Juliet. Juli-et. It rhymes with well-met, regret. It rhymes with poetry that has not been written yet.</blockquote>

<blockquote>We were cut from the same paper / that was folded long ago / so let all the other snowflakes turn to snow.</blockquote> ➤ fandom: fred astaire/ginger rogers films