#revil fanfiction

[aceghosts]

Be Mine Forever

Summary: On Valentine's day, you reminisce about your former lover, Albert Wesker. A series of memories set through your time at S.T.A.R.S. Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death; Canon Typical Violence; Sexual Harassment (Very brief and the dude gets what's coming to him), Grief/Mourning, Boss/Employee Relationship, and Possessive Behavior. Let me know if I need to tag for anything else. Words: 3.8 k Author's Note: This is a gift for @mydisenchantedeulogy as part of @carlosoliveiraa's My Bloody Valentine's Day Gift Exchange! Amanda, thank you for letting me participate! Sugar, I really hope you like this! I had a lot of fun writing this.

AO3

Snow crunches beneath your boots as you head home from your late shift at the police station. Your breath comes out in misty puffs in the cold February air, gloved hands shoved in your pockets. A gust of wind blows, shivering as it tosses your hair in your face. You brush your hair out of your face, lamps lighting your way home as you walk along the crowded city sidewalk. Passing by a local restaurant, you catch sight of happy couples through the window, enjoying romantic candle-lit dinners. Stepping out of the way of other strangers on the sidewalk, you stop, an overwhelming sadness encompasses you. Those couples look so happy, so in love, especially the pair closest to the window. He gazes into her eyes, full of adoration, holding her hands with no regard for others around them. That should have been you and him. You should have been gazing lovingly into his cold blue eyes, holding his hand as he talked. Just the two of you together. Why couldn’t this be you and him?

Because he had chosen another path, one where you could not follow him.

Letting out a mournful sigh, you begin your journey home once again. Valentine’s Day, a holiday you once merely tolerated, was now a day of pain. All because of Albert Wesker. You hear his voice in your head, shaking it off. It was no use thinking of him; Albert was dead, and even worse, he had betrayed S.T.A.R.S., you included. When you spoke with your former team members, you pretended to be angry, yet that anger came from a real place, a different place. They were angry because of his betrayal. You were angry that he chose death over you. He chose ambition and power games over you. Yet, your heart longs for him, wishing to feel the warm comfort of his arms around you once again. You couldn’t help but mourn the man you loved; mourn the future you envisioned with him.

“Why Albert? Why?” You ask quietly, knowing no one will answer you. As you walk, memories of your days with Albert and S.T.A.R.S. play out.

—

A position on the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team was something you dreamed of and fought like hell for. Irons thought you didn’t deserve to be on the team, but Enrico vouched for you, asserting that you were the right fit, that you could carry your weight. Wesker, your Captain at the time, accepted you as a member of the team reluctantly. He would later admit, when it was just you two in bed late at night, that letting you on the team was one of the best decisions that he ever made. He would pick you to be a part of the team, again and again. Unfortunately, not everyone felt the same way.

Paul was a pain in your ass from the moment you met him, a bully to everyone around him. He hated you the most, believing you stole his spot on the Alpha team.  Fortunately for you, he was terrified of Wesker, slinking away whenever he saw the Captain. Paul would also back off (albeit reluctantly) when Barry or Chris stepped in. As you hit the punching bag, alone in the station gym late at night, you hear a familiar annoying voice. “Hey!” You stop, turning to find Paul striding towards him. You give him your best glare, one that would frighten most. “What? A fellow officer can’t say hello?”

“What do you want?” You really wish Wesker was here. Or Chris. Or Barry. Hell, you would even settle for Brad, who was slightly intimidated by Paul.

He sneers, crowding into your space. You step back, knowing there is limited room between you and the bag. “You too good for the rest of us now, huh? Being part of S.T.A.R.S. has really gone to your head.”

You don’t think you’re too good for anyone. (Well, you might be better than a few people, Paul included.) “I am, or at least, I know I’m better than you, Paul. I earned my spot on the team.” You really shouldn’t push Paul’s buttons, but God, does it feel so good. 

“Fuck off,” He says, hands clenching into fists, “You probably had to sleep your way onto the team, huh? You sleep with Wesker to-.” Red colors your vision, anger flaring in your chest. Wesker might be a hardass, but you respect the hell out of him, and you won’t let anyone besmirch his name.

Without thinking, you throw a punch, catching Paul in the stomach. He coughs, doubling over with a wheeze of pain. As he stumbles back, he curses, “you fucking asshole, I’m going to-.”

“You are going to what?” A familiar, cold voice cuts in, and as you look over to your left, you find Wesker watching the both of you intently. His posture is a little tense, compared to the normally controlled discipline. You feel something radiating off him, something akin to a frosty rage.

Paul straightens up quickly, playing the victim. “Captain Wesker! I was just asking them what they were doing here, and they attacked me!”

Wesker smirks. “Is that what happened?” He asks, coming next to you, “From where I was standing, you were harassing one of my officers. What was it you said? That they had to sleep their way on the team?”

Color drains from Paul’s face.  “I-I wasn’t-.”

He holds his hand up, cutting Paul off with a sneer on his face. “I think it’s time I made something very clear: you never had a spot on the Alpha team. You were never considered for a number of reasons, and,” Wesker places a hand on your shoulder, “They have proven themself to be a true asset to the team. I am proud to serve as their captain. If you were on my team, I would quit.” Wesker’s hand leaves your shoulder as he steps closer to Paul. “Now, are you going to leave them alone? Or do you need more encouragement?”

Paul nods, swallowing fearfully as he backs away. “Yes, Captain,” He says, before turning tail and fleeing.

Letting out a relieved sigh, you say, “Thanks for helping. Paul’s been a pain in my ass since I started.”

Wesker nods. “Why did you punch him?” He asks, a note of genuine curiosity. You notice he is more relaxed now that Paul is gone.

Your cheeks heat up, feeling slightly embarrassed. “He insulted you by saying that you slept with me for my spot on the team.”

“Not for yourself?”

Shaking your head, you say, “I really like you as a Captain. I’ve learned a lot being a part of Alpha team, more than anywhere else. I respect you a lot.” It’s more than respect, but you aren’t about to admit that. You swear you catch a look of delight on his face as you pause for a second, before asking, “Did you really mean it when you said that I’m an asset to the team?”

Wesker nods. “I do,” He says, giving you an approving look, “You’ve proven yourself to be a fine officer. I had my doubts when Enrico suggested you, but you continue to surpass my expectations everyday.” His words surprise you, but delight you, especially the surpassing expectations part. Smirking, he adds with a rather teasing tone, “I look forward to you continuing to do so, but please don’t punch anyone else on my behalf.”

You nod, letting out a small laugh. No more punching anyone on Wesker’s behalf, but you’ll still defend his honor verbally. Never said anything about putting someone in their place with a well-timed tongue-lashing.

A few weeks later, Paul disappears. You hear something about him accepting a job at another police station, wishing his new coworkers the best.  

—

At S.T.A.R.S., you continue to make Wesker proud, determined to be the best you can be. You work harder than you ever have, putting in blood, sweat, and tears. Wesker demands so much more of the team and more. His training is rigorous, but you feel prepared for whatever may come your and Alpha Team’s way. And as much as you loathe to admit, a part of you yearns for praises from Wesker. When he tells you that you’ve done well with a slightly approving tone, a rush of pride overwhelms you, a faint heat on your cheeks. And you swear that you’ve caught him smirking at that once or twice, especially in after-hours training where he’ll lean down, speaking the words of praise into your ear. It always sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. And, it definitely doesn’t help with that tiny crush you have.

One night, late after the rest of your teammates have gone home, you return to the station to pick up the book you were reading, left in the top drawer of your desk. As you reach the door of the S.T.A.R.S. office, you find Wesker alone, his office door open. He looks frustrated as he stares down at the paperwork, sunglasses on his desk. His hand runs through his hair, a few platinum blond strands falling loose. Wesker sighs, and your heart twinges a little. You can’t do Wesker’s paperwork for him, but you want to help in whatever way you can. A thought pops into your mind, and you head to the staff break room, ready to put your plan into action.

“Wesker?” His head snaps up, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.   

“What brings you to the station this late at night?” Wesker asks, placing the pen down as his gaze lands on the cup of coffee in your hand. He snorts. “Surely, the station coffee can’t be that good…”

You shake your head. “I came back to pick up my book, but I saw you, and…” you trail off slightly, feeling slightly shy, “I thought you could use a cup of coffee.” You hold out the Styrofoam cup of coffee for Wesker to take.

Suspicious, Wesker looks between you and the cup in your hands, eyes narrowed as if you might have poisoned it. Eventually, he relents, taking the cup from your hand. His fingers briefly make contact with your fingers, sending a spark of pleasure through you. Taking a sip of the coffee, Wesker looks pleased, raising an eyebrow. “This does not taste like the normal sludge that comes from the break room.”

“I know where all the good creamers and coffee are hidden,” You say proudly, taking a seat at Wesker’s desk.  

Wesker smiles, taking another sip of coffee. “A hidden talent perhaps?’

“I have many hidden talents,” you flirt, a devilish smile on your lips, “Maybe, I’ll show you sometime.”

He smiles, a darkly hungry look in his eyes. “Perhaps, you will.”

That damn man. How unfair he make you feel this way. One of the loose blond strands of hair briefly falls in his face, and you’re struck with the need to push it back for him. Impulsively, you rise and lean over the desk, your hand reaching towards him. You gently push his hair back, your fingers grazing his skin softly. Wesker grabs your wrist tightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to hold you in place. His lips are slightly parted, pupils wide. “I’m sorry,” You apologize, hoping you didn’t cross a line, “I wanted to help.”

Wesker releases your wrist, allowing you to draw your hand away, the ghost of his touch still haunting you. “Don’t apologize.” Sitting back down in your seat, you’re relieved to see that Wesker isn’t upset. Rather, he seems delighted by your touch. “I did not expect it, but,” he emphasizes that word, “That does not mean I did not like it.”

Your heart leaps at those words, butterflies in your stomach. “Good,” You say softly, before deciding to change the subject, “Do you need help with something else?”

“No,” He says, shaking his head, “I should be done soon, especially thanks to your coffee.” You straighten up with pride, always hungry for the tiniest bits of praise. “You should go home for the night.”

Heeding his advice, you get up from your chair. “Have a good night, Wesker.”

“You as well,” He replies, a teasing smirk on his face, “Sweet dreams.” What a cruel man. Like that isn’t going to haunt you for the rest of the night.

—

You sip your beer, watching Jill lineup her shot as you lean against the bar. Tonight, you’re at one of the local bars in Raccoon City with the Alpha and Bravo team, watching your teammates play Pool.  It’s not a bad way to spend a Friday night; you actually like the rest of your team and don’t mind spending a Friday night with them every once in a while. Even better, Wesker is here with the rest of you at the bar tonight, a rare occurrence.

Someone leans against the bar next to you. Looking over to your right, you realize it’s Wesker, beer in hand as he asks, “No interest in Pool?”

You shake your head. “I have fun playing Pool, but I thought I would sit this round out.” He nods, the silence settling around you two. You can’t help but wonder why Wesker is here. He always seems so busy, like he’s got something that he is hiding from the rest of you.

“You seem like you have something to ask,” He says, taking a sip of his beer.

Letting curiosity get the best of you, you ask, “Why are you here? You don’t normally join us,” before adding quickly a moment later, “not that anyone is complaining.” Well, that’s a lie. A few people did complain, namely that they would have to be on better behavior since Wesker was there. You definitely weren’t complaining; you were very happy to see him.

“I wanted to be here.”

Tilting your head, you wonder why Wesker would want to be here. No offense, but the cheap dive bar that Alpha and Bravo teams hung out at never seemed like his type of place. Wesker always stood out, like this was all beneath him. “Really?”

He nods. “Are you surprised?”

You shrug. “Kinda. I thought you might have something else to do. Or maybe, someone waiting for you at home.”

“There is no one waiting for me at home,” he slides closer, your breath catching in your throat, “And you? Is there someone waiting for you?” 

Shaking your head, you reply, “No, I’m single.” Since you met Wesker, most potential partners hadn’t measured up to him. Maybe it’s the beer or maybe it’s being so close to him, you decide to take a chance. “But there is someone that I’m interested in.”

“Do tell.”

You swallow nervously, your heart pounding. “Well, he works at RCPD with us.”

Wesker groans. “Please tell me it isn’t Redfield.”

“It’s not.” Chris was a good friend, nothing more. “He is a member of S.T.A.R.S.,” Wesker raises an eyebrow, “Everyone thinks he standoffish, but I think they’re wrong. He expects the best and settles for nothing less. I find that very attractive in a man.” He takes another sip of his beer, but you get the feeling that Wesker has already caught on, with that knowing twinkle in his blue eyes. “But I can’t ask him out.”

“Why would that be?”

“I don’t know if he would say yes,” You admit honestly, finding Wesker difficult to read at times, “And he’s my boss.”

 “Would you like to get out of here with me? Perhaps dinner?” He asks, placing his beer on the bar as you watch him with eyes wide. Was he really-?

“Yes,” you nod your head, excitement rising in your chest, “Yes, I would love to.”

“Good. I’ll leave first. Leave fifteen minutes after I do; I will be waiting for you outside.”

You watch him leave, on cloud nine. Holy shit, this was happening; this was really happening.

—

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart cracking into pieces. Albert, your Albert, was a plant for Umbrella. Or he used to be one. Apparently, Albert was moving on to bigger and better things. But he only had one problem: S.T.A.R.S. He lured you and the rest of S.T.A.R.S. to Arklay, to die here, your fates unknown to the rest of the world. You tremble, taking shaky breaths as you blink back tears. Was your whole relationship a lie? A helpful cover to make Albert seem normal? “Albert…” His name slips from your lips.

Albert focuses on you, a sneer on his face. “Sorry, you had to be here for this, Dearheart. Perhaps, things would have been different for us in another life.”

Bullshit. The way he says it so flippantly makes you angry, red coloring your vision. “Fuck you,” You snarl, “You can make things different now. You don’t have to do this!”

“I don’t want to, Dearheart. It was always going to happen this way.” You wince, the words cutting deeply. Behind Albert, the glass splinters, the giant tyrant behind him awake. With a swift swipe, its long claws bury themselves directly into Albert’s chest. He gasps in pain, his eyes still on you. You see the fear in his eyes, and maybe due to a little wishful thinking, you see something like regret. Albert coughs up blood, dribbling down his chin onto his shirt. His hand twitches, slightly in your direction. That thing simply tosses him aside like a piece of garbage.

“ALBERT!” You scream, a painful howl of grief and anger. You step towards him, attempting to run for him. Despite everything he had done, he was your Albert, and you still loved him.

Jill grabs your shoulders roughly, holding you back from Albert. You try to scramble from her grip, but she holds tight as you scream. “Don’t! He’s dead!” She says, her fingers digging in as she tries to pull you back. Logically, you know Jill is right, but your heart desperately wants you to go to him, to run towards him. Maybe, Albert really isn’t dead. Maybe, you still have a chance to save him. “Barry, get them out of here.”

Barry nods, pulling you away from Jill. “Come on, we need to get out of here.” He looks over to Jill, who is only focused on the tyrant, her face determined.

“I’ll take care of this guy and meet you upstairs.”

He guides you away from Jill and the tyrant, back towards the door. “Be safe, Jill.” Your eyes are still on Albert, lifeless and motionless in a puddle of blood on the floor. His eyes are hollow, devoid of the intense storm of emotion you saw in his eyes. Why? Why did he have to do this? To leave you alone?

As Barry pulls you out of the lab, all you can think is: Is there some way you could have changed this?

—

Opening the door to your apartment, you let out a relieved sigh, stepping into the darkness. Flicking on the hallway light, you close the door behind you, dropping your keys into the bowl. You hang up your coat and scarf before eventually discarding your gloves on the table beside the bowls for your keys. Heading towards your kitchen, you glance over towards your living room. Stopping dead in your tracks, shock washes over you as your heart pounds loudly in your ears. That-that couldn’t be….

“Hello Dearheart,” Your former boss and lover says, sitting in your oversized armchair. He stands, shrouded in the dark of your apartment.

“This-This isn’t real…,” You try to rationalize it, tears welling in your eyes, “We watched you die. I watched you die.”

“I’m very real, Dearheart. Would you like to see for yourself?” He holds out his gloved hand for you to take.

You approach him cautiously, fearful that this might be your lonely heart playing a trick on you. Yet, this vision looks so much like your Albert. Sounds so much like him. You place your hand in his, allowing Albert to draw you close. He feels real as his other arm wraps around your waist, a familiar smirk on his face. He feels so much like your Albert. “Albert, is that-is that you?”

“Yes, I promise I am myself, Dearheart,” He replies, releasing your hand. His hand comes up to your face, gently wiping away tears that you didn’t know were falling. If this is a dream, you don’t ever want to wake up, even if he was a goddamn asshole who betrayed you. You want to stay here with Albert forever. Yet, something about him still feels off, not quite right. You need to see his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes. Your hands reach up, gently taking his sunglasses off. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare into his eyes, once blue, now a molten gold against a burning red. His eyes are feline-like, reminding you of a panther. They’re so inhuman, yet something about them is divine. “Scared, Dearheart?”

“No.” You shake your head. You should be, but you aren’t. Albert is back, and you don’t care if some things about him are different. And you like the way he looks at you, utterly possessive, utterly adoring. “Is this why you’re still alive?”

He nods. “One of the few to survive the process.”

Another thought comes to you. Why come back? He was content to let you think he was dead for so long. Why come back to you now? “Why come back for me, Albert? I thought I didn’t matter to you.”

“I believed I did not need you, Dearheart, but I was wrong. I want you; I need you.” The words roll off his tongue naturally, sounding so believable. You so desperately want to believe him, to believe that he came back for you. “You belong to me, Dearheart. I always come back for what belongs to me.”

“Is that your way of asking me to come with you? To leave everything behind?”

He nods. “Come with me. Be mine forever.”

“Yes.” You don’t need to think about it; you want Albert-you always have. You drop his glasses, taking his face into your hands as you kiss him roughly. With both of his hands on your waist, he pulls you against him, eagerly returning the kiss. Albert is overwhelming, your head dizzy and your legs slightly weak. He bites your bottom lip, your mouth opens for him. You missed this; you missed him so much.

You whine as he pulls away, desperate and in need of him. “We will have time for that later, Dearheart, but we need to leave. Now.”

And you don’t look back, allowing Albert Wesker to whisk you away to a new life.  

#mydisenchantedeulogy #mybloodyvalentinesday24 #my bloody valentine gift exchange #resident evil #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #resident evil fanfiction #revil fanfiction #kate writes #I really hope you like this!!! #Writing a reader insert was a challenge #but in a good way!

[starheartconstellations]

IKIGAI

Chapter 7 - Cryomania

Let's get back to posting chapters as they actually come out, shall we? As we delve deeper into the fic, Alexia delves deeper into her obsession with the elements numbing her and further freezing her heart.

🌟 Ko-fi / Linktree 🌟

#starheart illustrations #resident evil #re #revil #code veronica #resident evil code veronica #alexia ashford #cvx #albert wesker #weskerford #Ikigai Fic #Starheart Scribblings #resident evil fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 #fic #resident evil fanart #Fanart #Resident Evil Fanfic #William Birkin #Resident Evil AU #AU #ao3 author #Alternate Universe #Ko-Fi Link #Linktree #RE AU

[vvatchword]

Chapter 1: Take the Head

You remember Pa teaching you how to pop the head off of a chicken. You weren’t very big yet, maybe five. You had always been taught to treat the animals with respect, so it jarred you to yank the chicken up by the throat. The chicken flapped and kicked; the golden eye latched on yours, a panicked pinpoint.

You couldn’t break her neck. You tried and you tried but you just rubbed her throat in a circle over and over like you were trying to give her an Indian burn. She frantically scratched your arm up and down, her beak gaping in a terrified pant. You know now that you could have done it easily—a chicken’s spine is little more resistant than a dry stick or a pencil—but that was just the problem: she wasn’t either of those things.

Then Pa took her from you, wrapped his fist around the throat, and popped the head clean off. He held the head out to you. The eyes had closed. The lids were soft and pink. Her face was peaceful. Her body still kicked.

“See?” he said. “Easy. She didn’t feel a thing.”

There was blood on Pa’s hands. When he pointed out the cockerel for you to try again, there was blood on your hands, too.

** You aren’t much of a conversationalist. You’ve gone on dates where you barely spoke a word. Your coworkers don’t know your name. You work in a factory line, screwing in one piece at a time. Dull work, monotonous work. Lets your brain run on its own time at its own pace.

You like to remember lists during such times. Pa taught you about something called a “mind palace,” a detailed map you build in your mind and store thoughts inside of. Somehow recall is easier when you can imagine them in a physical space. You store your shopping lists there. You also store guns—lists about makes, models, ammunition.

Guns have been a special interest of yours since childhood. You would save pages out of the Sears catalog as a child and tape them on the wall so you saw them when you woke up. You were fascinated how they went together and would draw them in their disparate parts before drawing them put together again. You liked drawing them from all different angles just to admire the geometry. You checked out books on guns from the library so often that the librarian started setting aside new offerings for you. You had never been able to own guns of your own, but you practiced with your father’s Mark I Sturm Ruger and the old .22. You could ping prairie dogs like a pro.

You like to think that eventually, you’ll buy one of your own. You know just the model—the BAR, or Browning Automatic Rifle—full-aut, carried by Bonnie and Clyde, running second-fiddle to the M1 Garand throughout World War II. When you repeat the gun list, you think “BAR” before any of the others; it is the highest honor you can bestow.

You like monotony for the same reason you like lists. There’s something relaxing about rhythms. It’s like music, like dance. You can’t dance, of course—you never learned. You don’t own a record player, either—you don’t spend money on frivolous things. The Depression is still a heavy black cloud in the back of your mind. You lived on a farm, so your belly never went empty, but you also didn’t grow up wearing shoes.

You are 28. Or is it 29? It’s been a while since you’ve thought about your birthday. It’s on July 3. “Our independence baby,” someone said. It may have been Pa, but you don’t remember exactly; you were very small. You do remember Ma replying that it was one day off and they weren’t in America anyway, so it didn’t count. You were disappointed for some reason; sure, you know it doesn’t make a difference either way, but it would be nice to have something special that was just your own. Oh, Ma and Pa told you you were going to do great things someday—that’s something you could believe when you were, say, eight. But then you had to make your way in the world and all the world offered was a factory line, a small dark room, and the weather. It’s hard to believe in anything magnificent at the bottom of a hole.

**

You live in sparsely-furnished rooms in cheap apartments near the ocean. On weekdays, you make your bed, eat breakfast (eggs, toast, coffee with cream), shave, dress, go to work (screw, screw, screw), come home and turn on the radio (evening news, then whatever entertainment strikes your fancy, usually action and adventure programs), drink a beer while completing the evening ablutions (wash dishes, pack lunch for tomorrow, shower, set alarm clock, read evening edition in bed until you get tired).

Sometimes you go to your neighbor’s to watch their television in exchange for a beer; you sit side by side and quietly drink as Lucy gambols and the laugh track rolls. On Saturdays, you go shopping for the household essentials and stand in lines while the grocer bags produce and the butcher cuts your lunch meat.

If it’s nice enough, you walk down to the ocean to stretch your legs. It’s not a pretty place by any means; a sodden gray beach where colorless rushes thrust insistent heads and sun-bleached shells lie. In winter, it’s even more dreary; the Atlantic is a sullen gray sweep and the nasty cold steals your breath. It’s the kind of cold that makes you feel wet and heavy even if you haven’t touched water.

You have never felt as though the sea is a nice place; you distinctly remember deciding this back when you first entered the town. Even in the summer, when the water is glassy green and the beach crowded with tourists, you feel as though the sea is a vast and apathetic monster—apocalyptic in size, in scale, in potential. Apocalyptic: you don’t go to church, but that’s the word that comes to you. The sea feels as though it should be the focus of worship, the kind of thing you sacrifice to; you’ve never held much by spiritual claptrap, but you will grant one place worthy of godhood.

You did not grow up near the sea. You grew up in Kansas, a land so flat you used to roll up papers like spyglasses and try to see Japan. You moved to the coast of New Jersey because you’d wanted to see the ocean. No—no, it may well have been because of the factory job. They do pay well and they probably printed something in the help ads. A family friend in New York often sends newspaper clippings with his letters just to be of service. Yes, that would make a great deal more sense: “I heard Jack is looking for a job,” he’d say. “Here are some local ones that are right up his alley.”

Yes, now that you think about it, that’s exactly what happened. The sea was a bonus—until you saw it. But how were you to know what the sea was really like until you went there? It’s too bad someone couldn’t have told you.

Sometimes you think you should move away, but learning new routines is such a pain that you just put up with it. Someday you’ll probably get tired enough to leave. The way the cold weaponizes itself with humidity tires you down to your bones.

You know, you haven’t thought of the family friend in a while. What was his name again? Joe? Jim? John? One of those common names. You’ll have to check your address book. It’s been a while since you’ve heard from him. You should write sometime to make sure he’s all right.

For that matter, you haven’t heard from your parents. When did they last write? Hell! Maybe it’s your turn to write. Yes, it’s your turn to write for certain; that would explain why you haven’t received any letters recently. You do tend to forget minutiae with the humdrum flow of everyday life. Your parents are older now; you know better than to leave them without a word every now and then. Your mother must be worried sick.

You decide to purchase some stationery and stamps that weekend, but you forget until the invitation comes, and by that time, it’s far too late. You didn’t know that then, of course. You didn’t know much of anything, if you have to be honest.

UPRISING: BLACK SCRAPBOOK HUB

#bioshock #fanfiction #jack wynand #vvatchword #uprising #part iv #chapter 1 first section #first draft subject to change #been hamstrung by video game mechanics because while in-game they make a lot of sense in-literature it sounds like a video game #another big challenge is to make it stand out in a horde of similar attempts and give it unique concepts that make it a worthwhile companion #big theme in uprising is bodily autonomy and how it is one of the most essential parts of human experience and yet so commonly reviled #kill yourself any number of ways but don't you dare fucking live #ive written some brutal shit before but this is going places my bitches

[big-ronnev-fan]

Okay, I wrote a fic and I want it beta read. It's mostly Ron/Neville, but with Drarry, Pansmione, and Blaise/Theo. It's a quick one shot, so yeah. If anyone's interested in beta reading, let me know.

#ron weasley #neville longbottom #reville #ron x neville #neville x ron #hp fanfic #blaise zabini #harry potter #theodore nott #harry potter fanfiction #hermione granger #draco malfoy #pansy parkinson #pansmione #drarry #blaise x theo #beta reader

[frownyalfred]

(In no way meant to be pressurizing) but I cannot stop thinking about the world of Borderline and the repercussions for the batfamily. They must be inundated with new facts about themselves (on the tuna sandwich level of nicknames they revile or secretly adore) and the breakdown of past beliefs about each other when accidental memories or anger lashes out (irrationally) but it must still be shocking to cope with, and try to force yourself to be rational, both of you stung by the thoughts alone. Also considering that these guys are so busy and independent it must be a shock to their systems to be close and then be unable to escape one another. I don't know, you've created such a compelling narrative that I'm waiting for the fanfiction of the fanfiction.

The possibilities are so chilling but so intriguing, right? borderline takes up like 20% of my writing thoughts on a good day. The idea of someone knowing you just as well as you know yourself makes me physically shiver, but there's also something so reassuring about it. You can depend on them for anything -- and eventually that turns into outright dependence. You become so intertwined and linked that beliefs, memories, and even present emotions aren't wholly yours or theirs.

What compels me about their bond specifically is that they can't break it, despite their best efforts. And as time goes on, they don't want to. Or, at least, that strange kind of protectiveness/possessiveness starts to overtake the urge to be discrete. Despite the obvious drawbacks, such as a lack of intimacy, of true privacy, of personhood. It's an inevitable meshing of people and minds, and it's hard to tell where it will stop.

You will eventually crave what hurts you and takes away from you. And by the time you notice how much the bond has taken away from you, it's too late. Because you won't care anymore. It's a self sustaining cycle of horror and resignation.

It's freaky, and I don't mean to get too ominous about future sequels because I don't think it'll all be doom and gloom. The moments of euphoria they have in borderline are so high, right? So beautiful. They work better than they ever have. They've crossed years of trauma and resignation in a single week. Gotham is at their fingertips, instead of hanging in the periphery.

But how do you decide when things have gone too far? How do you stave off what feels inevitable? How does Jason pull Dick back from the edge of talonization without knowing him better than Barbara? How does Alfred stand on the periphery and watch Bruce absorb into his children and vice versa? Do the opinions of others even matter, when they always have their web?

#sorry for the rambling #just some guiding questions for me to come back to #if anyone would like to write fics off of borderline please lmk!! #I want to read them haha #borderline #myfic #theresurrectionist #batfamily #bruce wayne #dc #dc comics

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

now does appropriating a post about fanfiction to talk about fandom’s number one most reviled plagiarizer feel right. does it.

#for all i know CC has been a perfectly well behaved person for like twenty years now which is one reason this is unrebloggable #but like…… come on. know your herstory

[romana-after-dark]

Can I please get railed by Joel, Tommy and Lorenzo? I need them all to fill me up! Is there a sign up sheet???

Okay I wrote this while reheating my shitty food so

This is NOT canon to The Wrong Way, it's simply a lil thing for my friend bc we have fun and angela wanted to be dicked down by out boys. Just for funsies. This is not a situation with Little One bc Lorenzo would never, that's his siser and best friend.

I need y'all to know i looked up foursome positions for this and had to consult one of my group chats lololololol.

Joel Miller x Reader x bi!Lorenzo X bi!Tommy Miller

Warnings and Content: MMMF foursome, lil gay shit, ass, mouth, pussy action, some gay sex bc funsies, bukkake

********

You had never felt so goddamn full in your entire life.

You were on top of Lorenzo, his cock thusting up into you, working in tandem to where Joel split open your ass, both of them working in time to create sparks in your vision and you attempt to moan. Attempt, you gotta emphasize. It's hard with Tommy's dick in your mouth.

"That's a pretty girl, choke on my cock, wanna hear you gag."

Your make-up had long run off your eyes from when Lorenzo had you on your knees for him, and the black and red was all over your face.

Joel slaps your ass hard enough to leave a mark to match the bite marks from when Tommy ate your ass and reviled in watching it jiggle.

Lorenzo spoke from below you. "Fuck, her pussy likes that Joel, keep at it, bout fucking choked my dick."

Joel obliged, and he felt the clenching from his end too. "My little slut likes when I hurt her in front on my men while whoring her out, huh? Acting like such a sweet thing, not so sweet with that make all fucked off you, huh?"

"Oh Joel, fuck off" Tommy chastised, stroking your cheek as he looked down at you. "She's never looked prettier, you should see her from my view"

"Fine, if you insist"

Next thing you know, Joel was picking you up and off all of them, instructing Lorenzo to move away, manhandling you so that you flopped back on the bed on your back. Joel adjusted you until your head hung off the bed. "I don't care what y'all do on that end, but I wanna see my girl's throat bulging with my cock."

He made good on that, and soon enough Joel was protruding out of your throat as your face covered in bile and spit adding to the mess on your face. Between your legs, Tommy was fucking into you like a rabid dog, bent over enough to suck into your breasts, leaving his ass open access for Lorenzo to enter. You couldn't help but cum at the sight in front of you, Lorenzo claiming Tommy's hole and Tommy's subby, lust-filled eyes clouding over. Tommy's moans filled the room, loud and unrestrained and breathy as he fucked you, the sensation of fucking and being fucked at the same time too much for the sweet boy to handle.

"Fuck! If we're doing this, we're doing it now."

You don't even know who exactly, but multiple hands were pulling you off the bed and throwing you onto your knees. You knelt before Tommy, Joel and Lorenzo and they jerked off in front of you, hot spurts of cum beginning to cover your face as the three men emptied their balls on you. Between the spit, smeared make up and cum, they thought you just made the prettiest little picture they ever saw.

**************

Did I just write fanfiction of my own story? Yeah what tf about it.

tagging @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction bc they're the president of the lorenzo fan club

#tommy miller #joel miller #lorenzo tag #the wrong way series #my roommate asked what i was doing #how do i explain this?

[droughtofapathy]

The Gilded Age's Broadway Divas: Anne Morris (Katie Finneran)

Everyone's favorite unlikable snob, Anne Morris was last seen in season one, storming out of Aurora Fane's drawing room in full mourning regalia. Though Katie Finneran's husband may have found his way on the union strikes, she has not been seen on the show since, much to my eternal dismay.

Though seen here as the upright and haughty Anne without a humorous bone in her body, Katie Finneran is Broadway's gift to comedy. Yet another Diva with two Tonys to her name, she transcends categories. Best Featured Actress in a Play (Noises Off), and Best Featured Actress in a Musical (Promises, Promises), both knee-slapping comedies--a particular achievement when statistically dramatic roles are more likely to net awards.

Other notable stage roles include: It's Only a Play (Julie), Annie (Miss Hannigan), and one of the many Sally Bowles replacements in Cabaret, for which, alas, I have found no footage, and only one production still (but I think about it a lot). Most recently, she was in The Thanksgiving Play on Broadway this past spring. I saw it three times. It is quintessentially Katie Finneran unhinged. (And you should all read my fanfiction HERE)

#1: "Getting Married Today," Company (2011)

Starting off strong with yet another Sondheim, Katie Finneran tackled the hardest Sondheim number to master just a few months after giving birth. Playing Amy, a bride-to-be with pre-wedding jitters, Katie delivers comedy gold with her breakdown performance. Anyone who has attempted this nightmare of a number knows that there is no recovering if you get tripped up.

While my favorite rendition of this song remains Madelaine Kahn, now and forever, Katie has the honor of taking second place. This is a mesmerizing performance, and I am terrified for her.

Katie has previously discussed the abject fear of performing this song, compounded with the trials and tribulations of having given birth, and leaking breast milk into the white dress.

#2: "Little Girls," Annie (2013)

Continuing with Katie Finneran's musical theatre comedy breakdown, here she is as reviled woman and beloved character Miss Hannigan from Annie in the 2012 revival. Reviews were largely mixed, and Katie's personal experience was largely overshadowed by having an infant child to take care of, but it's a hell of a number nonetheless.

The show only received one Tony nomination for Best Revival, and lost to Pippin. And yeah, that tracks. After seven months into her run, Katie left the show to pursue a television role, and was replaced by Jane Lynch, who performed at the Tonys, and was then replaced by Faith Prince to close the show.

#3: "The Boy From..." The Lilly Awards Cabaret (2014)

If you're sensing a theme, good. A character actress through and through, Katie enjoys songs she can sink her teeth into, and Sondheim always delivers. This particular number is the most well-known song from a little-known off-Broadway revue called The Mad Show with lyrics semi-anonymously written by Sondheim.

The song is a direct parody of "The Girl From Ipanema," and every character cabaret artist has covered it at some point. It's just a delight.

Katie also performed this song during a mini Gilded Age reunion on Stars in the House during their marathon Ukraine fundraiser. During the course of her time on the show, she flirted with Norman Lear, made out with Seth Rudetsky's husband, and proposed Anne, Dorothy Scott, and Agnes van Rhijn have a threesome in The Gilded Age season two. And I beg you to watch that clip HERE.

#4: "A Fact Can Be a Beautiful Thing," Promises, Promises (2013)

No full clip of this number can be found online, and that was both a massive mistake on the marketing team's part, and a devastation to me personally.

Thirteen years after Christine Baranski delighted Encores! audiences, Katie Finneran stepped up to the plate to deliver a truly unhinged performance which netted her a second Tony. The actress who originated the role in 1968 also won a Tony.

Here Marge MacDougall is a drunk, bold, and leggy barfly who dances on bars, and lifts Sean Hayes up and carries him around whilst dancing in heels. Yeah, Katie Finneran is also very strong. Unfortunately, the wildest parts of her fifteen-minute show-stealing time aren't in this clip. There is a bootleg out there somewhere, I've seen it, and I will dutifully keep looking for it.

#5: "Go To Jail," Broadway Bares XX (2010)

Veering from musical theatre just a little, please enjoy this hammy sketch from the BC/EFA Broadway Bares XX Strip-opoly show of 2010. Though Katie keeps her clothes on, we're treated to a little surprise curtesy of fellow comedy legend Jackie Hoffman.

LINK TO MASTERPOST

#the gilded age #anne morris #katie finneran #promises promises #annie #sondheim #company 2011 #broadway #musical theatre

[waffliesinyoface]

my spiciest and most controversial naruto opinion is that i dont think jinchuuriki  were even a thing until shippuden.

like, for starters: nine-tailed foxes are like. thats just a thing? that dates back to the actual real life warring states period, 2400 years ago. If the series never had the other 8, it would not have been even slightly notable.

secondly, we have gaara. Yes, I will argue that gaara pre-dates jinchuuriki, despite being the second example of such. Here’s the initial reveal:

I’m pretty sure the official explanation for this is either “oh, suna forgot the rest of the tailed beasts were a thing and they conflated the ichibi with one of the previous jinchuuriki,” or, more charitably, “they just lied to him about what shukaku was”

This is whats known as “blatant retconning”. At this point, Shukaku wasn’t a “tailed beast” because the “tailed beasts™” didn’t exist. The reason for him only having one tail wasn’t because he was the weakest, it was because "more tails = older & stronger” is specifically a fox thing. They don’t even mention its tail. It’s irrelevant. He’s just another equally powerful demon. There is no relation between Shukaku and Kurama aside from circumstance. Naruto and Gaara’s relationship is not written as “fellow jinchuuriki,” it’s “this world sucks because children being turned into living weapons who are then reviled is depressingly commonplace.”

Like, yes, they establish later (way later. its chapter 648 out of 700) that suna got hold of shukaku well before hashirama went around stuffing them into jars at the end of the first war, and thats why people forgot it’s origin, but given hiruzen fought in the first war, that means that the majority of them were running around free less than a century ago. Even in a world run by ninja-enforced secrecy, cultural memory doesn’t fade that fast. 

People also routinely point out the fact that Naruto’s treatment at the beginning of the series makes no goddamn sense when other jinchuuriki are a thing. The tailed beasts cannot fucking die, killing the host just makes them pop up again a couple years later. 

In an attempt to try and hammer some semblance of consistency onto canon, fans have latched onto the idea that it was only the civilians/civilian-raised ninja who were especially shitty to naruto. Which is nice and all, but, uh.

Hi Mr. Akimichi, you sure are a blatant example of a clan ninja huh

My final example is that kishimoto has repeatedly gone on record and said things that make it clear he’s flying by the seat of his pants: 

Chuunin exams were a thing because Shonen Jump editors wanted a tournament arc, and thought the original plan of introducing the other teams over time was too slow

Orochimaru showed up because the editors wanted an overarching villain

Sasuke left because he had no idea what to do with him plot-wise

Boruto doesnt have the byakugan because kishimoto forgot about neji’s backstory and the justification for the caged-bird-seal

Ninja shoes are like that because he likes drawing toes 

(bonus example: kaguya. just. everything about kaguya.)

Anyways. I like the other tailed beasts. I think they’re neat. They are free goddamn real estate for anyone making naruto fanfiction because they’re cool. But they were 100% a retcon when kishimoto realized he needed something for the akatsuki to do.

#naruto #i would like to also state that none of this is a bad thing. naruto's blatant retcons; ass-pulls; and plot holes give it charm. #fandom (and me) loves a fixer-upper #also in contrast to SOME writers (ie: jk rowling) kishimoto has acknowledged that he does this; instead of claiming he planned it all along

[angelasscribbles]

WIP Wednesday 05.31.23

Teasers and updates for my TRR fanfiction series.

As always, spoilers are under the cut.

Recent Chapters/Extras:

Artwork

1,000 Followers

You can find every chapter I’ve posted in May here.

Snippets:

In Your Room Chapter 10:

Leo’s eyes scanned the crowd of their loved ones. Friends and family. Everyone was there.

Well, almost everyone.

Not that he’d expected his father or his stepmother to attend. Constantine was still angry with him for…well, all of it. The abdication, the engagement to Drake, which the tabloids had picked up on. Even in America, the doings of a self-deposed prince were still fodder for the gossip mill.

The public at large couldn’t get enough of it.

His actions were reviled in the most repressive regimes and by the conservative half of his home country but celebrated by the rest of the world.

His adopted home, America, had been mostly welcoming, segments of it even rejoicing over the choices he had made for love. Love. His chest tightened as he glanced across the clearing at the man that would be his husband in less than an hour.

Heir Apparent Chapter 21:

Riley and Drake agreed to relocate temporarily to the palace as they awaited the birth of Cordonia’s heir. Because while tensions had eased between the three of them, the press had only ramped up their frenzy over the impending birth.

Riley couldn’t go anywhere without being set upon by the paparazzi, so she stopped going out. Everything and everyone came to her. It was both a perk of, and a restriction of, being mother to the heir apparent to the throne.

The De Facto Queen Chapter 3:

“I haven’t had time,” there was a slight edge to her voice as she peered at him from across the table, “Is that your plan? To keep me too busy to tell him?”

Liam sighed, “I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped somewhere. That was not my intention. Ruling is not a nine-to-five job, as you know by now. You’re basically on call twenty-four/seven. It’s what you agreed to.”

“Is it? Because I don’t remember agreeing to become queen, but let’s be honest here. That’s exactly what you’ve made me.”

Unexpected Chapter 6:

Riley glanced surreptitiously up and down the hall, ensuring no one was watching, before punching in the code to unlock the door to a room that wasn’t hers.

She slipped quietly inside, made sure the door shut, and locked it behind her, “You said you needed to see me?”

Leo x smut x nightlife ask from the prompt wheel event:

(as requested by @harleybeaumont)

Hot as hell didn’t begin to cover it. He was a fucking Greek God is what he was. Blond hair, blue eyes, muscular build, grey T-shirt straining across his chest.

Blond wasn’t her usual type, she tended toward dark and swarthy. But in his case, she’d make an exception.

He looked like he worked out on the regular. He had dimples when he smiled. Broad at the shoulders, narrow at the hips, and barrel-chested. He definitely checked several of her boxes.

And that accent. Damn.

Other Projects/Events

@choicesprompts round robin: One Night in Cordonia

#wip wednesday #work in progress #angelasscribbles #trr fandom #trr fanfic

[margaret-hilda-thatcher]

Do you ever read Margaret Thatcher fanfiction?

One of the consequences of being interested in someone largely reviled ignored by stan culture is that you will latch onto any morsel of content you can dig up, which unfortunately includes fics... 🫣

Considering the literary caliber we have in her AO3 tag, I’d love to say I pay it no mind, but the truth is I have voraciously read every single one of them and will absolutely be reading any and all future ones 😭

That’s not to say I don’t occasionally (or frequently) pause halfway through to cringe or gag or audibly go “wait what???”, but if it’s out there, you best believe I’m devouring it.

#yes even the crack ones #i read a James Bond / MT fic once #and also one where she’s beating Geoffrey Howe with a cane for some reason #the fact that Margaret fics are so rare makes it that I just have to read them on the off chance that they will be good #i can only compare it to the feeling of being into a really obscure ship and finding a fic of that pairing #it's christmas morning

[starheartconstellations]

It's, uh. Been a while, huh?

IRL has been wrecking me to an unholy degree, my apologies. I didn't realize I never posted chapters 3-5 here when I decided to finally post 6. In my absence, I've revised all posted chapters of Ikigai, clearing out anything that was disjointed or would affect the turn of the story in a way that would contradict or conflict past chapters.

But here we are, chapters 3-6:

Chapter 3 - Wintercearig

Chapter 4 - A Match Made in Hell

Chapter 5 - Land Ho

Chapter 6 - In Sickness

And chapter 7 will not take 7 months to write, I promise you that.

🌟 Ko-fi / Linktree 🌟

#Starheart Illustrations #Starheart Scribblings #Ikigai #Ikigai Fic #resident evil #re #revil #Resident Evil Fic #Resident Evil FanFic #Resident Evil Fanfiction #Fic #FanFic #FanFiction #Alexia Ashford #Albert Wesker #Wesker #Code Veronica #CVX #Resident Evil Code Veronica #Weskerford #Alexia x Wesker #Wesker x Alexia #DBD Wesker #Albert Wesker DBD #Alfred Ashford #He's in here too! #Alongside: #Alex Wesker #William Birkin #Annette Birkin

[feverreaver]

I didn’t really get into ST until season four came out. I saw… two, maybe three episodes of the first season? And as is predictable for me, my attention wandered and I didn’t watch any more. As a side effect of this, I said I liked the show, but I was never involved in any fandom. Didn’t read any fanfiction of it, didn’t look for art, artists, blogs to follow. And since I mostly follow aesthetic boards on tumblr, I was entirely isolated out from ST fandom and all its trappings, both good and bad.

But then season four came out, and like many other people, I was immediately drawn in by Eddie. My friend and I watched season two - four over the course of a week. We both grew to like Eddie, sure, but ultimately it was Billy who drew me in, and eventually my friend, too.

I grew up in a broken home. My father was incredibly similar to Neil, and it’d be fair to say that I lashed out in ways very similar to Billy. And as can happen with abuse survivors— I internalized a lot of my father’s prejudices in a vein effort to protect myself; surely, if I became what he wanted, he would no longer hate or hurt me. That never turned out to be the case, but that’s a bit besides the point.

The point is, I nearly immediately sympathized with Billy. I had the benefit of being able to watch seasons two and three back to back. I got to see the things he did in season two, then almost immediately was provided the context for them in season three. It never occurred to me to hate him. How could I, when he resembles who I once was as an abuse survivor? Hell, how could anyone hate a teen who was clearly lashing out in pain, with no support system or care?

It never occurred to me, isolated as I was outside of the ST fandom, that Billy was a reviled character in at least some parts of fandom. Took me a bit by surprise when I finally dipped my toes in, honestly. A part of that may be because a fair amount of the fandom space watched season two without the immediate further context of season three. Even still, season two let us know, without question, Billy is abused.

Then Runaway Max came out, and it was another glimpse into just how badly he was.

Since watching two through four, I got to talk about the show and its characters with friends offline. We’re all in our late twenties to mid thirties-forties. About half were apathetic to Billy as a character; they thought he didn’t deserve what happened, but they weren’t upset when he was killed either, because he wasn’t their favorite. The other half was vehement that Billy was a tragedy, and deserved to have a home that cared for him, and people who loved him. None in this group hated him.

Online fandom is typically a younger space. And younger me was certainly more black and white in how I judged people. And the online fandom is in the habit of seeing Billy for older than who he is; they forget he was a teenager, barely out of high school— their age.

Maybe that’s why it makes sense that a lot of Billy fans are older. They remember that Billy was, in the end, an abused teen, lashing out in pain, and how young and fragile being eighteen actually is.

Billy deserved kindness from the adults in his life. At least he gets it from a good amount of the adults in fandom.

#billy hargrove #tw abuse mention #fandom critical

[big-ronnev-fan]

Okay, I'm writing a longer Ron/Neville fic and I want to know if you guys want it with smut or without. I usually wouldn't, since I personally see both as ace, but if you guys want the smut than I'll add it.

#ron weasley #neville longbottom #reville #ron x neville #neville x ron #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #smut

[zot3-flopped]

https://www.tumblr.com/zot3-flopped/740844553457876992/re-tvshows-addict-again-this-is-how-she-tried-to

"protecting her closet"??? LMFAO tvshows-addict is STRAIGHT and married to a man. do larries think that writing gay fanfiction is equivalent to being queer or gay activism? i hate how larries try to act like some sort of oppressed minority, when they've done what straight women have done in fandom for years, write m/m fic. her grooming an underage girl doesn't make her gay either, just a creepy adult with no boundaries. she isn't the first larrie adult to act inappropriately with minors either, something about larry attracts adult creeps.

If there was a large group of males writing explicit f/f fiction about two female teen popstars (and making porn manips) they would be reviled and loathed.

#larries often lie about their sexuality #gina and amy for a start

[theharlotofferelden]

I haven’t seen this posted yet, but this YTer received a copy of Crown of Starlight and decided in light of Cait’s review bombing to give her book a review. So if you were curious about the book or her writing this is definitely worth checking out. But to summarize the video:

• There’s a lot of preamble leading up to when the main character meets Dionysus (the love interest) that the reviewer felt was boring and difficult to get through, and thinks should've been restructured to introduce Dionysus earlier in the story.

• The book has inconsistent world building that holds the reader at arms length. Stuff is mentioned but not fully elaborated on to contextualize the implications (esp regarding politics and religion, the latter of which the reviewer remarks the author failed at deconstructing with regards to purity culture).

• The writing itself is described by the reviewer as “cringe” and remarks that it's a style you see commonly in fanfiction. If you need an example start at the 13:00 mark.

• The motivations of the MC are unclear and inconsistent. There’s a plot point where she is marrying Dionysus as some sort of ruse, but there’s no conversation about what the long term plans are until way later in the story.

• As an extension of the previous point, the author tries to tackle the subject of purity culture in a very inconsistent manner. The MC wants to have and explore sex more broadly, but is reviled with being confronted with an orgy and as a result starts thinking negatively of people who have sex so freely.

• Despite the MC wanting to explore sex, the sex scenes are very vanilla, which is strange as this is supposed to be a book for adults. The reviewer said that she was surprised the MC didn't even participate in an orgy (which, despite not having read the book, I agree with as the narrative seems geared towards subverting the whole issue of purity culture and monogamy and whatnot).

• The sci-fi aspect of the book might as well not be in the book for how much it pertains to the story and worldbuilding.

• Overall reviewer feels it's generous to give the book a 2 star rating (out of 5).

#cait corrain #the cait corrain drama #books #booklr #reads with rachel #Youtube #ive been watching a lot of rachel's video recently #i don't agree with her on everything but a lot of her commentary about certain books resonates so hard