LINKDING

<blockquote>Novice Theo was not supposed to hate. He was expected to feel some negativity, of course, but he was not supposed to. Purging that was part of his novitiate training, burning away everything but love for and devotion to the Great Tetratheon that blessed their land. He had been with the Brothers for ten years now, and he had entered freely, wanting nothing but the serenity and discipline that a life of godly service promised to bring him. He wanted to be pure of heart and spirit. He yearned for that inner peace, earned through deep contemplation, which he could then reflect outwardly to better the entire world. But oh, he hated Novice Clarence.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Giuanne swirled his cup of wine idly, leaning back against one gleaming marble column, and did his best to look self-important, disdainful, and a little bit bored. It wasn't difficult. At least not until Aurelio arrived. But then it had been that way for weeks, months. Giuanne had lost all hope of mastering himself in that regard. Because Aurelio had no idea Giuanne was using him and always had been, cold and clear-eyed and deliberate; and he had no idea Giuanne was in love with him; and Giuanne could speak of neither, even as it sickened him with hot helpless guilt to hold his silence.</blockquote>

<blockquote>“I want a ridiculously large soft-serve ice cream cone with sprinkles on it,” Russell said, ticking the list off on his fingers. “I want a button with an ironic pop culture reference that I’ll lose before I get home. I want meat on a stick, and I want something deep-fried.” “It’s good to have goals.” Lew ignored a glossy postcard thrust in his direction by a guy in a glittery rainbow T-shirt, and deftly dodged a clump of silver balloons bobbing at the corner of a vendor’s stall. “Ooh, and I want all the free samples.” Russell veered off the street to where a young woman in a polka dot red dress stood in front of a tea place, offering small paper cups from a tray.</blockquote>

<blockquote>He dragged Morgan several blocks, past the coffeeshop his granddaughter ran and up the narrow stairs to the fifth floor apartment he’d given Morgan a key to a week ago. “You don’t have to lurk on the sidewalk,” Sercio said. “You can eat at the coffee shop, and just, I don’t know, hang out there, if you hate the apartment so much.” Morgan stared at him. “But first,” Sercio said, and Morgan noticed that he was carrying a bag when Sercio shoved it in his direction, “you need new clothes. You look like a vagrant right now.” “I am a goddamn vagrant,” Morgan spat back, the word hitting a nerve. “Did you forget the part where you picked me up on the fucking sidewalk?”</blockquote>

<blockquote>Jai let his overnight bag bounce on the bed with a careless jingle of souvenir charms as he darted across the room to the wall of windows. “Will you just look at that. Isn’t it spectacular?” Alyxi closed and locked the door and waved a hand over the light holo. Illumination bloomed along the edges of the ceiling, pooled above the table and the easy chairs and the two extravagant heaps of pillows on the bed. The one bed–Brobdingnagian, as everything dirtside was, but still, just one. Alyxi looked at it with resignation. Always ask to see the room. But of course community responsibility had left them no reasonable choice. There would be many rooms more crowded than this one tonight–probably even the two singles, booked months ago, that they’d been prevailed upon to give up in exchange for it.</blockquote>

<blockquote>When the pirate ship Aljana happens across a wreck in the depths of f-space, Captain Marouane takes it upon himself to rescue the lone survivor: a deck apprentice of the Lourguinnais merchant marine, one M. Bouchard. Bouchard is self-righteous, judgmental, argumentative—and profoundly attractive, damn him. It is far too easy to become excessively attached to him; and while he may not be a pirate, that does not mean he is not a liar, and it does not mean he is not keeping some particularly important secrets.</blockquote>

<blockquote>A solitary man meets a friend in the snow. It was difficult to believe in such a chill, even as Hrolf stepped out into it. Breathing it in was like taking a blow to the chest every time. With his hands, hobbled as they were in fur-lined mittens, he redoubled the scarf around his mouth and nose. The morning sky was the clear blue-grey of a bird's egg, but he would not see the sun's weak winter face today, not this late in the year. It would give him enough light, though, to do what was needed.</blockquote>

<blockquote>It was the Queer as Folk that tipped him off. But for the four months leading up to it, Gautam just blamed his brother.</blockquote> ➤ In which Gautam has a friendship with a ghost in his apartment, who talks to him via movie titles pulled up on Gautam's netflix account

➤ origfic (fantasy) in which a young man has to testify against a sodomite and succeeds in not helping by managing to reconceptualize homosexual acts as not shameful (in order to deal with truth spells)

➤ Blind bookkeeper's assistant and guy who reads aloud to him. Sweet.

➤ Two guys, working for a soulless corporation, living their lives