Wrap me in your trauma and I may just give you mine

she's platonic about it but in my opinion, stratt 100% treats grace as her dead wife. she keeps a tacky fox trinket in her coat pocket. there's a framed photo of him in her study . he's grinning goofily in it (bc he's a dork). new guy like: is that her husband? / no, dumbass, it's dr. ryland grace, 1/3 of the hail mary mission. / oh, fuck. were they... ? / yeah, it's unclear. black-and-white montages of grace messing around in high-level meetings play every time stratt contemplates committing more environmental crimes. she looks up at the night sky and vaguely wonders if he's enjoying his space ramen. that's her dead wife. she killed him.

Dahling you simply must read this book! It’s all about this devious little caterpillar who simply gorges himself on all manner of divine things

Sometimes I think people’s complaints about queer genre fic boil down to them wanting litfic and not knowing there’s queer litfic. If you wish to read about sad lesbian adjunct professors having unsatisfying sex, rejoice! NPR has reviewed it for you