Bleed Out (Nao x Reika)

original

“Nao!”

The scream tore through the air, piercing and heart-wrenching. Or rather, more accurately, as blood tore through flesh and inspired desperation. The thought caused a morbid, amused chuckle to escape through her dry lips, and she leaned against the wall of the school building and slid down to the ground, legs finally giving out.

“Nao! No!”

No, she wanted to say in return. I should be saying no. Don’t scream for me. It’s not that bad. But her lungs were tired, her mind was fading, and words could not escape from her throat.

“No. No. No. No–”

A trembling form disturbed the dirt between her legs, and the sound reached her ears and her eyes weakly fluttered open. She took in wide blue eyes, panicked, pained, wild with fear, and only managed to summon energy from some deep unknown abyss inside herself once she saw the tears.

Her jaw fell open, and she croaked, “It’s okay.” Dragging her arm up from her side, she laid a bloody hand on Reika’s cheek and gently brushed a few blue locks back behind delicate ears. “It’s okay. Shh.”

“It’s not,” Reika sobbed. She clutched Nao’s green vest, so familiar and so alien, alien because she had never seen it stained with red. Raw emotion pulsing through her veins, pupils shrunk so deeply in fear, she cried, “How can anything be okay when you’re hurt like this?”

“Everything is okay as long as you’re safe, Reika,” Nao smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She wanted to put on a brave face, but god, her wounds hurt like hell and the blood was beginning to cake in her hair and down her forehead. Playing the martyr was supposed to be the epitome of being a hero, but it really, really sucked when it came right down to it.

“But how can I be okay when you’re not?” Reika whimpered. Warm wetness seeped through the green vest and dirtied her hands and sleeves, and the weight of finality set in her stomach. Too much blood had been lost. No one was around. There was no time. “How will I ever be able to be okay?” she whispered, and she stared deeply into Nao’s rapidly fading gaze.

“As long as you’re alive,” Nao wheezed out, her eyes open but nearly seeing nothing now, “you can learn to be okay. As long as you’re alive, fight. The others... should...”

“I understand.” Her forehead brushed against green bangs, and her eyes narrowed. “I understand, but I don’t think I can ever be okay without you.”

Her thumb caressed the skin under Reika’s eyes, and she spent the next few moments committing Reika’s beautiful visage, stricken as it was, to her mind. When she went out, she wanted to go out with love instead of pain. And so she asked, “Can you promise me one thing, then?”

Nodding, Reika fought to keep her lips from shaking.

“At least try for your chance at happiness,” Nao gasped out. “Just try.”

Their gazes locked, but Nao could not see anymore. Heart breaking, she let her tears fall, comforted that Nao couldn’t see her lose to her pain. With no strength left, she said, “I promise.”

Her hand fell to the ground with a quiet, final thud and stilled.

So...

Instead of my scheduled oneshot today as part of the ACP project, I wrote just a general oneshot for Ymir and Krista from Shingeki no Kyojin (Attack on Titan).

You can read it here.

Thank you!

Future Gazer (Mikoto x Kuroko)

original

Technology was amazing, Mikoto decided. Amazing and wondrous. Nevermind the fact that her status as electromaster of the city was given to her through technology. Nevermind the fact that many of her problems and such were caused by technology. Nevermind the fact that technology had nearly killed her and all her precious friends so many times.

Because, she thought warmly, because in the end technology had helped her create the tiny bundle of life that lay in Kuroko’s arms, squirming and opening and closing her mouth in silent phrases punctuated by soft breathing.

“She’s so... so...” Mikoto whispered, struggling for words. The familiar desire to articulate the squirming of excitement in her chest resurfaced through the mature facade she had learned to keep on. So unbearable was her desire that Kuroko looked up from the baby in her arms and gave Mikoto a knowing look.

“You can go ahead and say what you want to say, Mikoto,” she giggled. Mikoto shuddered at the way Kuroko said her name, unaccustomed still to the intimate form of address they shared with one another, and decided, to hell with it. She could revert to her middle-school self once more, if only for a few moments.

“She’s so cute!” she squealed. “She’s so adorable and beautiful and I can’t believe she’s ours...” Her voice trailed off into reverential silence, and she regarded the sight of her beloved and their child in the warm morning sunlight.

“A month has passed and yet you still have not lost your bubbling excitement,” Kuroko laughed lightly to herself. “But that is one aspect of many that I love about you, Onee-sama,” she jokingly continued. The jab at their past reawakened a can of memories she had stored away, and the electromaster swallowed nervously.

“I love everything about you too, Kuroko.” She looked directly at peach-colored eyes and recalled, with burning intensity, the many amount of years she had spent denying the endless love that had been thrown her way constantly and devotedly. But they were not ready then. Neither of them were. Herself too naive and innocent, Kuroko too obsessed and uncontrollable.

However, the child cooing and waving her small arms around in Kuroko’s arms caught her attention once more, and she struggled to tone down the wide smile that stretched from cheek to cheek on her face. Her hand reached out to touch the baby, but the baby swatted her finger and began to squirm even more intensely. Mikoto frowned in mock hurt.

“Now now, Mikoto, she’s just hungry and your finger is hardly an appropriate meal for our growing child,” Kuroko smirked. “Shall we head to the kitchen?”

Mikoto leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Kuroko’s lips before pulling away and nodding her agreement.

Closer (Konoka x Setsuna)

original

“This is nice, isn’t it?”

“Hmm?” Setsuna responded absent-mindedly, blinking herself out of her stupor. She’d never relaxed to such an extent before, had never stopped and sat down in the grass to look at the blue, blue sky and the white airy clouds and let her guard down for an afternoon and... reveled in the feeling of peace and safety she felt. There had never been a day such as this one.

“I said, ‘This is nice.’ You look happy,” Konoka giggled, tilting her head back against Setsuna’s chest. A shy smile twitched at Setsuna’s lips as she looked down at Konoka’s beaming hazel eyes, a warm and powerful thrum of emotion spreading throughout her chest as she did so.

“That’s because I am,” Setsuna quietly responded. Shifting her hands in the grass, she leaned forward and dipped her head gently on top of Konoka’s, breathing in the scent of the girl’s shampoo. Familiar and comforting, her shoulders almost seemed to ache at the absence of tension in the wake of such utter bliss.

“That’s good,” Konoka hummed. Without really thinking, her hands reached behind her ear and grasped the red tie that adorned Setsuna’s uniform. Her fingers playfully teased the soft material before a sudden thought struck her brilliant mind, and then her lips curved dangerously upward. Setsuna, caught up in listening to the birds chirp and the wind slowly rustle through the grass and leaves of a nearby tree, was therefore completely unprepared for the sudden tug at her collar that sent her neck bending down to be level with Konoka’s mischievously shining eyes.

“Wha-”

“Shh,” Konoka breathed hotly. Her lips pressed gently against the strong curve of her protector’s jaw and trailed down to the tight muscle of neck, leaving Setsuna breathless and stunned. When she separated from the contact of skin, her mouth hung there, barely open to let out burning puffs of air that caressed Setsuna’s flesh and made her eyes flash dangerously with want.

“Konoka,” Setsuna choked out. “Konoka.”

“Yes?” Konoka huskily exhaled.

“You shouldn’t do that,” came the reply, but the reprimand was extremely half-hearted and weak. They both knew she really shouldn’t do things like that, but they were both so tired of holding back, being kept in check by rules they didn’t really care anymore for. The war was over. The world was changing, expanding, adapting, and thus their burdens were temporarily on hold, and with them, the invisible wall preventing affection had dissipated. If only for a little while, the wall was gone. Setsuna swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I think I can decide what I should and shouldn’t do for myself, Secchan,” Konoka countered, lips brushing against the twitching underside of Setsuna’s throat. She smiled when Setsuna swallowed thickly once more and struggled to control her breathing, if the convulsing in her chest and well-toned muscle was anything to go by. Feeling rather hot and bothered herself, Konoka pressed herself more thoroughly into Setsuna’s front, wanting, needing to feel the body writhe against her back or, even better, her front. But she didn’t dare turn around. That was too far. Far too far.

“Then do as you please, Konochan,” Setsuna sighed in mock defeat. Shaking her head, she grinned wryly into Konoka’s hair and closed her eyes. “Please.”

Don't Go (Nao x Reika)

original

“I’m sorry,” she hoarsely whispered, hot tears forming at the corner of her eyes. Refusing to let them fall, she clenched her jaw tight and squeezed her eyes shut, tilted her head down and breathed in deeply, took in the comforting smell of her friend and shuddered at the familiarity with which she recognized it.

“Nao.”

She swallowed. Reika never used honorifics with her name, and for a brief, horrifying moment, she thought she would hear one added on. Pause. Silence. Nothing. Comforting nothingness, and yet disturbing as well. “Yes?”

“You should let go,” Reika softly suggested. Nao only squeezed her arms tighter around the blue-haired girl, fidgeting with the tension in the muscle as she brought herself close but never touching her friend’s back. Too intimate. Entirely too intimate that way.

“Why?” she asked instead of obeying. Reika shifted slightly in an attempt to dislodge herself from Nao’s grip, but Nao was the athletic powerhouse, and Nao was the one who won the fight for physical dominance. Her embrace was iron. Unyielding, trapping and weighing her down. Warm iron. Heat radiating off her form, flexible and lithe.

“You know why,” Reika quietly spoke. She gave up her futile attempts to leave. Escape. “This won’t end well for anyone, Nao. No one at all.”

“I don’t care.” Her voice came out childish and whiny and immature and foolish and she cursed herself for never growing up when she could have. Growing up in the ways that counted, beyond taking care of her siblings and learning household chores and dealing with monsters and villains. Growing up everywhere but where it counted. She had never outgrown her feelings. “I don’t care.”

“Don’t.” Reika sucked in a hard breath. “Nao, don’t.”

She didn’t listen. Nao leaned her head in closer and laid her forehead to rest on soft blue hair and familiarity and memories of the days where all that mattered was having fun and seeing blue eyes and wide smiles. When being with her was enough. When feelings were simple and innocent. Voice shaking, mouth trembling, she said the only thing she could. “Please,” she softly, ever so softly, whispered.

Reika said nothing. Only heard the sound of Nao’s heart breaking behind her in the walls of hot iron.

She concentrated on keeping her own tears as silent as the ones dropping onto her neck.

Delinquent Valentine (Nanoha x Fate)

original

“Back off!” Fate growled, hands clenching into fists and shaking with fury. Her red eyes burned with pure hatred, practically set fire to the room for all of its intensity. “That’s mine. She’s mine.”

“What, you mean this?” the boy scoffed, dangling the box by a flimsy red ribbon. The contents inside shifted, and her red eyes flashed with killing intent. “Sorry, is this important? Looks like cheap chocolate to me. Bet it even tastes like shit.”

That was the tipping point. Fate lunged forward and punched the boy square in the face, but not before his lackeys returned the favor and pounded her skull from the side and knocked her into a desk, stars flying in her vision, the sound of screaming filling her ears as if she were underwater; she paid none of this any mind, only focused on catching the box before it hit the ground. She caught it.

She relaxed once the prize was in her hand and waited for the kicks and finishing blows to come. They never came. Head pounding, she opened her eyes and looked up from the floor to see pink panties peeking out from underneath a blue skirt. Childish, by any standards. “Nanoha,” she groaned. “Why pink?”

The girl froze when her name was called, her fists frozen in preparation to throw punches and defend her girlfriend. Then her face flared scarlet. “Are you peeking at my panties when we’re surrounded by a bunch of goons who want to beat you to a pulp?!” Frustration and exasperation tinted her voice, and Fate thought she sounded as lovely as she always was. Chuckling, she pushed herself off the ground and ignored the way the room swam in her vision.

“It’s okay, they won’t do anything to a girl,” she beamed. Nanoha frowned.

“You’re a girl too, you know,” she pointed out, eyes briefly flickering down at Fate’s ample chest even though it was bound.

Black jacket fluttering, chain on her pants clinking, Fate scooped Nanoha up in her arms without any obvious effort, chuckling at the small “eep!” she gave, and bore her fangs at the boys who were watching the scene with hesitance, armed with the knowledge that the last gang who tried to mess with Fate’s woman was sent to the hospital and transferred to another school out of self-preservation. “I know,” she grinned and winked. “You remind me every day.”

Nanoha had the decency to blush an even darker shade of red.

Fate walked briskly to the door and smirked to herself as the boys parted silently for her, kicking the door open with force and relishing the way that Nanoha’s hands clung to her shirt.  Without turning around, she said, “Don’t ever fuck with me or Nanoha again, you hear?”, and left.

“Language,” Nanoha scolded. “And really, did you need to go through all that just for some chocolate?”

“Only if it’s yours,” Fate smiled. “Always if it’s yours.”

Hug (Mio x Ritsu)

original here

“Hey,” Ritsu spoke up. She shifted from her position on the bed, legs dangling over the edge, back flat against her covers, eyes staring at the blank ceiling. “Mio?”

“Yes, Ritsu?” Mio inquired. She was leaned against the bed on the floor and looked up from the homework in her lap. Curious, she waited.

“Do you ever think about the future?” the drummer asked.

“Quite often,” Mio responded. “After all, once we graduate, we’ll have a lot more worries than we do now and our lives will only get busier.”

“No, I mean, beyond all that unimportant stuff,” Ritsu sighed. “You know, like... ‘Will I be happy?’ and things like that.”

“So nothing to do with getting a job, paying the bills, and living on your own?” Mio teased. Ritsu didn’t take the bait. Mio was slightly afraid that she had offended the girl before Ritsu slid down from her bed and landed next to her.

“Well, sure, I mean. Yeah, you can think about those things, but do you ever wonder if there’s more than that?” Ritsu insisted. “It seems really boring if that’s all there is waiting for us.”

Mio’s dark eyebrows scrunched together in concern. “Of course there’s more than that,” she told her. “You’ll still have your drumming, your friends and tea and cake. None of that will change if you don't want it to. You might even have a husband and a few kids–”

“But that’s not what I want!” Ritsu growled, suddenly snapping her neck to gaze fiercely at the bassist. Mio flinched at the sudden motion. “That’s not what I want,” she continued, voice dropping to a soft pitch. Her amber eyes burned. “Is that what you want?”

“I-I guess,” Mio stuttered. She was confused and slightly scared at Ritsu’s behavior. What was wrong with her?

“I see.” Ritsu said this in a neutral tone and turned away. “Hey.”

“Yes, Ritsu?” Mio responded. She watched as Ritsu held her arms out and hung them there, waiting. "Ritsu?"
She leaned forward and wrapped her lanky arms tight around Mio's torso, squeezed her so hard that the bassist forgot to breathe.

"Mio." The hot breath tickled her ear. A whisper.

"Yes?" Another. Her shoulders were starting to hirt from the cut-off circulation. "Ritsu?" A more painful plead.

They sat there, tense, unmoving. Mio wondered what was going through her head. Five years ago she would have instantly known Ritsu's train of thought. Now she could only blindly guess, after the change her friend had gone through in the past few years, her ever-present silliness giving way to a more contemplative demeanor in what she thought was maturity. Now she thought it was something else entirely. Something deeper and more emotional. Troubled.

Ritsu seemed to realize what she was doing and stiffened before her arms slipped down and slid to a stop around Mio's waist, embrace turned gentle and loose. "Can we... Stay like this for a while?" she asked. And Mio heard the child she had grown up with and fought with and smiled and laughed with and cried with in that single request, and she knew that she could not deny her even if she wanted to.

"Yes," she sighed. Her gaze stared blankly at the bed. "Yes."

She sensed, rather than saw, Ritsu's eyes droop into a close, and when even breathing bathed her neck in nervous goosebumps, only then did she acknowledge the worry gnawing in her throat.

Afternoon (Nanoha x Fate)

“Fate?” Nanoha’s voice echoed around the entrance hall of the modest home. Hearing no response, she hesitantly bent over and pulled at the back of her shoe, wrenching the footwear off in a matter of seconds and followed the motion on her other foot. She clapped her hands together and squeezed her eyes shut. “Excuse me,” she muttered.

Normally, she wouldn’t trespass without permission despite the fact that Lindy had given her a key to the home and invited her to come and go as she pleased. A small amount of guilt crawled up her throat, but the desire to see her friend overtook the guilt and she let her feet lead her to the base of the stairs. She looked up then around.

The house was alight with the color of the setting sun, and a peaceful, fragile atmosphere settled over her mind. Inhaling deeply, she forced the guilt out of her mind completely and placed one foot on a wooden step, then another, until she was at the top of the stairs and a few paces away from the room that she knew very well.

She knew it far too well. She knew that when she opened the door, the room would be very neat, very bare, sparsely decorated save for a bed and a desk, a calendar on the wall and a bulletin board behind the bed that it hung on. So when her fingers curled on the doorknob and twisted, when the door opened soundlessly and smoothly, when her eyes followed the streams of golden orange light from the window to the bed, she was struck dumb by the unexpected sight of an ample chest rising and falling in deep slumber, blond hair splayed out across white sheets and arms folded underneath a relaxed head.

Fate hadn’t even changed out of her school uniform. Her brown jacket was thrown haphazardly on the chair nearby, Nanoha noted discontentedly. She walked quietly over and adjusted the jacket so that it hung neatly on the back of the chair. Her eyes sought out her sleeping friend almost instinctively, roamed reverently across the folds of her white uniform shirt, down to the crinkled skirt and back up to the beautiful face framed by her mussed hair.

Before she knew what she was doing, before she could control her impulses, she was next to the bed and leaning down, gazing at the slightly parted lips that exhaled ever so slightly with her steady breathing. Her eyes closed.

Hot breath tickled her lips.

And she moved.

Expanding on the Gunfighter and the Gear-Head

I didn't really want to touch on this subject in the review since it was honestly irrelevant to the review itself, but nonetheless, it is a subject I want to discuss.

Let's talk feminism.

Yuuuuuuuuuup, I heard groans everywhere. But stick around for a bit! I want to analyze this seriously!

To anyone who has read TGATGH (btw, spoilers, obviously), the mention of feminism should come as no surprise. Beyond the fact that almost every lead in the book is a female, barring Ramen and the enemies, of course, the theme of feminism is so overwhelming I honestly wtf'd to myself once I finished reading. There is the fact that all the males turned out to be enemies and betrayed the females. Or they died. Poor Daniel, RIP.  Then there are the small groups of male pilots who were important but not significant enough to give names and ultimately were just kind of there.

So males are not appreciated. Cool. Now to turn the feminism level up to eleven, we have the fact that the big new "government" ruling in the chaos after the apocalypse consists solely of females. Everybody high up is female.

What does this all say about feminism? Perhaps the author, Ms. Duffy, is saying that the world is better off ruled by women. After all, they bring stability and protection and peace to the lawlessness and chaos that would otherwise remain. But surely a group of men could do that as well? The women appear to be just as cruel as men were back in the past when colonization began and repeat the behavior of abuse on the opposite sex.

My take on it? Maybe she's saying nothing at all and simply wrote a book with this setting because that was what she wanted to have. Or maybe she's saying that equality is best for all? I honestly have no idea because the ending pretty much killed the major men characters off and focused solely on Gieo and Fiona.

Then again, there are more books in the series (which I do not plan on reading, because come on, fuck multiple books in one series: I'm done with aliens and guns and  post-apocalyptia) which means plenty of chances for her to build on this world where men are grasping for the reins and the women are laughing at them from their pedestals high above in the carriage.

Link to review of TGATGH

The 2 P's

There are two things in the world that absolute boggle me: politics and parents.

Now, I'm not talking about both at once or related at all, but the combination of the two could also be a problem. But let's focus on the two topics separately.

First of all, we have politics. Oh, lovely, lovely politics. It wouldn't be so bad if some viewpoints weren't so obviously crazy or religiously ridiculous. It wouldn't be so bad if there wasn't as much corruption as there was in the system. It's all about who gets the most money. That's all it comes to, really. I think a rather small percentage of the population actually cares about things like human rights, preserving the environment, gay marriage, worker's rights, improving public education, and so on and so forth. Lately, it's only been about public aid and unemployment and things that generally just revolve around money.

It's frustrating. So frustrating. There are good people in the world, obviously, but sometimes I feel as if the amount of good is far overshadowed by the bad.

In any case, it's worth noting that Obama is almost as far right as Romney is when you look at his policies. Funny thing, politics. Very funny.

(also I am slightly worried about foreign policies and stuff as well because "goodbye Hillary" and potential "hello disaster")

However, let's not delve too deeply into that mess, because it is just... a goddamn mess and I have no intentions of being tangled up right now.

BUT NOW!

Parents. Ah, parents. You have good, kind and caring parents. You have abusive, horrible, what-the-hell-are-doing parents. Then of course they all think they're always right.

Sometimes, I am one push away from walking out of the house and saying goodbye to my college funds, but at those times, the money is irrelevant and I want my own freedom and I want respect. I want peace in the place I live in. I want my home to be a home.

Then sometimes I know my parents are right. But I can't bring myself to change.

Then I wonder if I even love my parents at all. Sure, I do. But to what extent? I watched a dad playfully run out of the office the other day with his young son racing him. Not a smart move in an office building, but they were having so much fun and being affectionate that nobody would have said anything anyway. Is that what real parenting is like? Having fun with your kids? It seems like all I do with my parents is get into verbal debates. Our views are so different. Although it's not like we hate each other either.

'course, my good ol' man is just indifferent about everything. So I guess it's just my mother.

Ah, ramblings. Ramblingssssss

Here, have some yuri as an apology.

original

original

The Gunfighter and the Gear-Head

An apocalyptic alien invasion set humanity on the edge of extermination. Unable to match technology with the invaders, humanity bet their existence on their physical strength overcoming. In a desperate last stand by the world’s greatest scientists, the cataclysm electromagnetic pulse wiped out all technology on the planet, stranding the aliens on earth, effectively locking them in the cage with the beasts of humanity that remained. Using pre-industrial weapons of war, the surviving humans fought back…

Six years later, Gieo, the self-proclaimed last pilot on earth, was shot down yet again. She finds herself in the unwelcoming post apocalyptic old west town of Tombstone, the guest of the beautiful gunfighter Fiona with a turbulent history. Their budding romance hits an immediate snag when Fiona’s mysterious past finally catches up with her, bringing with it old flames, hot grudges, and a rekindling of the war with the aliens that had cooled to a stalemate.

Sky-captain Gieo and her fleet of steam-powered dirigibles are humanity’s best chance to turn the tide of the war against the alien invaders, but only if Fiona can protect her from blind cultists, jealous ex-girlfriends, and a town of apocalypse cowboys with suspect sanity.

---

Well uh... Started this book on a whim, picked it up, read it in about 4 hours, give or take some minutes here and there for distractions such as bathroom breaks and food and the internet in general. Fresh impression? Intriguing, entertaining, fresh, different, and... abrupt. But more on that later. For now, let us delve straight into the spoiler-free portion of this review.

Plot: [7/10]

Let us pick apart the convoluted mess that the plot appears to be before it turns into something recognizable and solid. The story begins with the introduction of Gieo, one of two main characters, and the story from there takes off into typical romance territory. And, oh my, the romance rapidly begins as soon as Gieo comes into contact with Fiona. We get character development, romance development, drama, but nothing solid save for the fact that these strange lizard aliens from space are still out in the desert and Fiona and other hunters slay these things for livelihood in a post-apocalyptic world. Slark, as they are called. Interestingly enough, this "enemy" of mankind is hardly the real enemy of the story, but I'll leave that for the spoilers section. That's the general gist of the plot, heavily dumbed down, but hey, there it is. Whether it is interesting to you or not, please note that it is quite different from any lesbian fiction plot I have touched yet. Which isn't much, but there it is. The fact that the setting is unique to any other lesbian work I have read, and the attention and the development the plot receives, is definitely a plus in its favor. Too often a lesbian novel will focus far too heavily on the romance, and in my opinion, TGATGH does a nice job of integrating what a reader wants: sex + romance + plot where the romance plays a rather twisted part.

Characters/Characterization: [9/10]

Boom. Yeah, I gave it that high of a score. From the very start, Gieo was an interesting figure, and not only because of the way she dressed. Her strange name, her wonky robot sidekick Ramen – I'll stop myself before I ruin the fun of discovery for you. In general, I have never seen anybody as unique as she was and so brutally realistic that I could definitely see her right now, in real life, existing in the world had it not gone to hell. Definitely a whole sea of depth was devoted to her, and I became attached to this Asian badass genius (and trust me when I say that there is quite a lot of depth, because that does not happen often in my experience). As for Fiona, Gieo's lover, I was instantly intrigued with her story. Never would I have imagined that the other half of the main couple would be a nearly psychotic, hardened, gunslinging Victoria's Secret model. Formely, of course, considering the world went to hell and lingerie hardly matters in a war against aliens.

The two form interesting contrasts against one another, and certainly because of Gieo's role as the inventor and sole genius of human society and Fiona's role in... well... beyond the fact that she's an incredibly unrealistically amazing shot.

The other characters are refreshing as well, and many of them play important, important roles. I was quite pleased with how the story was not centered on just the main couple, that almost everyone else who was given a name and mentioned more then 5 times reappeared with some action that would move the plot along considerably.

Prose/Writing Style/POV: [7/10]

Third-person, right away. Easy to tell, obviously, and it works because the view shifts between Fiona's perspective and Gieo's. While I normally have intense distaste for POV shifting between characters, it works in this novel because it serves to develop each character in their own right and help both of them grow without seeming too dependent on one another. It also serves to give insight to 2 very distinct people who obviously have their differences, and allows both of them to leave an impression on the reader. Too often a lesbian novel will focus entirely too much on one character and not the other, and it leaves this feeling of favoritism that often makes the relationship bland and uninteresting.

As for the prose, it's fairly short. Simple. Precise descriptions, to the point, and fits with the rather straightforward and blunt attitudes Gieo and Fiona harbor. There's a ton of description, and while that can be a bad thing, it leaves room open for imagination about the alien technology, the town they live in, and the different societies that are introduced. And, of course, Gieo's inventions, because that girl is the inventor. The inventor. The world was painted alive for me, and I had no trouble picturing various scenes whatsoever. In fact, my eyes slightly burn from the brightness of all the desert that I imagined in the past 4 hours. Or it could be from staring at my monitor. Who knows?

As for writing style, there was definitely a quirk to every sentence and certainly every piece of dialogue. The humor sometimes was genuinely laugh out loud, and I found myself wanting several times to share my joy with someone else only to realize they wouldn't get the joke outside the context. There's 21st century humor in there, my friend, and it is wonderful.

Besides that, the written sex is great. What more do you need to know, eh?

Final Verdict? [8/10] - If you don't read this, I don't know why you're even bothering with reading lesfic

Seriously, this is quite the piece of story-telling and writing. Unique setting, unique characters, unique everything, for the most part. I can't even begin to describe the hell of a trip the romance story took, let alone anything else for that matter. It was full of moments you didn't see coming, and even if you did, they were still amusing enough to fully enjoy even with the lack of surprise. There is depth to this novel. Surprising depth, for that matter, and so although the ending was abrupt and kind of slapped you in the face, the depth of everything in the novel made it worth the trip.

---Spoilers from this point on, read at your own risk---

Now, I know, I know. The first thing on your mind is going to be... WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT WITH THE ROMANCE? THE DEPTH? THE PLOT? IT WAS A CLUSTERFUCK AND YOU'RE LYING, YOU SACK OF SHIT.

If you look past some of the more unsavory parts of the novel, and past some of your own distaste, there was quite a lot of depth.

Starting from the beginning, Gieo is in some sort of blimp thing and shooting anti-aircraft artillery for god knows what reason and you're busy wondering what the hell is going on. It spirals into more confusion when she crash lands and is completely calm about it and simply radios in and waits for help. Then Fiona shows up and suddenly they're almost going straight to fucking.

WHAT DEVELOPMENT?! you might be screaming.

Oh, but there is. Almost immediately, you hear that Fiona is a former Victoria's Secret model and Gieo has been fantasizing about this woman for quite some time, so it should come as no surprise as when fate finally throws this woman at her, Gieo will fully take advantage of the situation. Then of course the romance gains depth as the story goes on, but the almost-rushed pacing of the romance can be said to mirror the rush of attachment people get for no apparent reason in real life when they suddenly fall for someone. Or it could just have been an executive decision to cut down on the falling for each other to the drama that occurs with Veronica and Carolyn later on.

And then the plot. Oh yes, the plot. It was always lurking there, always little things in the background you didn't really think about until it resurfaced later to kick our heroines in the butt somehow or make things more complicated or served to further the plot. That, in my opinion, is what makes a good plot. Subtle foreshadowing you don't realize until it happens. Romance integrated into the very core of the plot.

Examples: the huge men in the beginning who ask for tech help from Gieo turn out to be heavily prized pilots for their assault against the Slark. Fiona's past relationship with Carolyn nearly fucks Gieo over and indirectly causes Veronica's death by keeping her stationed at Tombstone. Zeke's presence and the methanol drinking cult end up causing mass destruction and are tied in together with the plot.

The world is also another aspect that was filled with surprising depth. This will be the last thing I talk about, as I am getting exhausted. Each town and place in the novel serves as different examples of the kind of lives lived after the invasion of the Slark. You have Tombstone, run roughly like an old Wild West sort of town until the Ravens come in and domesticate the place. Then it turns into some strange WWII suburban area with a Fallout 3 vibe. There's Albuquerque, the exception amongst all other outposts of humanity: well-fortified, safe, filled with simple pleasures like hot showers and running water, and almost seemingly identical to life as it once was before. There's the barren land that Gieo rides her motorcycle over, showing the destruction the Slark caused, making the situation seem entirely real and dreadful at once. Etc.

Overall, I was quite pleased with this novel. There's a brutal, harsh reality to it all, something so twisted and yet so beautiful that I can see this exact scenario playing out in the case that lizard aliens from space ever came to earth to invade.

Oh! Which reminds me. I rather loved that we never get to see much of the Slark, only their corpses or them getting shot/beat to death. While they were the "enemy", they instead served to show the brutality of humans and bring out the brutality in humanity. The way they go down so easily while Fiona and the other Ravens are decimated at Tombstone by their own kind led by Zeke only further proves that humanity's greatest enemy is mankind itself. Most of the conflict in the novel occurs between humans. The important ones, at any rate. The conflict against the Slark was hardly the focus, only the motivating factor that spurred things into motion.

Clever, clever.

But that's enough out of me. Was I the only one who enjoyed TGATGH?

Link for purchase: at amazon

Edit 2/25/23

I forgot to mention that there was one problem with the novel. This contains semi-spoilers, so there's your warning.

The ending, unfortunately, for all its fanfare, ended far below expectations. In fact, it was terribly rushed and quite clearly so, lacking the elaborate detail the other scenes had and quickly jumping to the end. This, of course, can be attributed to deadlines and etc., but it's still a trap that many lesbian novels fall into. This is one of them. It's not a bad end, though, so take the disappointing end with a grain of salt. Is it disappointing? Certainly so. Does it make the book not worth reading? If you're in it for the happy end, then by all means, read it. If you're looking for something elaborate and quite clearly written well and thought out, then the ending might make the book a huge frustration for you.

Overall, I still recommend reading it. It's a gem in the desert storm that is known is lesfic.

And just when I thought everything was normal again!

I was having a perfectly average day. Floating through my first two periods, sleeping through my third, floating through the next, panicking in math class, going out to lunch...

Come gym period I am having a slightly above average day. Green and I are in giggling like mad from shenanigans (well, she giggled. I snickered. I'm not quite girly enough to giggle but not manly enough to chuckle either). Okay, fine, we're friends.

Then, as we go back up to the locker room to change (protip: never have the changing room locker NEXT TO THE PERSON YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO), she turns to me and says,"Oh! I have something to show you!"

Jokingly, I ask, "Does it involve clothes being thrown off?" Because, you know, we're going to the changing room. Duh.

I get a look of "really, Vanui, really?" and I shrug.

Turns out, she flips open her phone after we're both changed, and lo and behold, there's a picture of me on Santa's lap. My first reaction was to shout, at the top of my lungs, attracting all attention from the rest of the 50 or so girls crammed in there, "You took a picture?! Green!"

She giggles her way out of the locker room, telling me all the while how she had to go through so much trouble trying to get the company's phone to work and take a picture before finding time to text it to herself. Here I am going, "What the fuck why why why would you go through so much trouble to take a picture of me on Santa's lap" in my head.

So while we're on the subject of Santa, I learn that Santa told Green to "take care of Big Guy (oh lawd, he actually thought I was a dude)" and while I laughed it off, I really hope she didn't ask Santa, "Why do I need to take care of him/her?"

Because, well, uh...

If Santa revealed anything, Green would know it's her. And I really don't want to make things awkward like it was for us for the first 3 years of high school when I confessed to her 3 times. Jesus.

I don't even know. I just... I don't even.

Operation

He went to work as usual, of course. Woke up, brewed his coffee, brushed his teeth, patted his already balding head down, got in the car, parked the car, got out of the car, went inside the hospital, entered the elevator, exited the elevator, found his office, unlocked his office, set his laptop case down, took his laptop out, plugged the power source in, booted the laptop up, logged in. Nothing changed much that day. People gave him looks, tried to comfort him, but he dismissed them without pause. Only one operation was scheduled, and he got through that operation quickly and efficiently. Another woman’s face reconstructed, another couple thousand dollars for him. Perhaps the only thing that did change was the thought that his wife, for all her imperfections, could certainly have impressive timing and aim.

Time passed, and he reflected on what he could have done wrong. He treated all his possessions quite nicely, kept himself nicely shaven, did the dishes, cleaned the house when she asked, and he never dared risk his reputation by sleeping with the much prettier ladies he met at work. Really, he thought he was the model husband. Never once did he touch her if she did not touch him first, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized how little they touched if at all. Perhaps the occasional touch while they slept side by side, purely accidental in nature, was the extent of their physical relationship. Was that the problem, then? Was he not affectionate enough? But, he remembered, did he even know how to show affection at all?

The realization unsettled him for a day, but then he realized that he was being ridiculous, so he moved his mind onto other subjects. He had to. The ER called his mobile and let him know that they had to perform an emergency facial reconstruction on a woman, so he had no choice but to forget for a couple hours. The woman in question was involved in a severe car accident, a product of the drunk man who had died before the ambulance arrived, and nobody knew who she was or what she looked like (other than the bloody mass that the doctors salvaged). As he stared, he pondered what to do. Since a DNA check would take too long and they had no way of knowing who she was, he had to decide her appearance quickly and begin the operation. But who should he model her after? Would she want to look beautiful or average? More feminine or masculine?

Chewing his lip, he fingered a strand of dark, blood-stained hair and saw the vision of his wife lying in bed, sleeping peacefully and with a complete disregard for his presence. It was decided, then.

The operation lasted quite a while. There was more damage than he originally thought, but he was determined to mold the woman’s face perfectly even as his assistants grew tired and his hands shook. A touch here, a scalpel there, he concentrated until his eyes watered and his assistants pried him away to tell him that they were finished, that there was nothing more they could do. Only when he finally left the curtained-off area did he notice the stench of blood that followed wherever he went. Quickly, he stopped by the sinks and peeled his gloves off.

He thought this operation was his most successful yet.


“Excuse me, sir, but a woman wishes to see you,” a hesitant nurse asked. She was peeking into his office, body posture stiff and fingers white as a ghost from where they gripped the door.

“Who?”

“It’s the woman from the car accident. She just regained consciousness and began screaming after we brought food to her. Then she demanded a mirror, and, well, it seems as if the appearance you chose for her has sent her into a sort of shock.” Wetting her lips, the nurse shifted uneasily in the doorway. The surgeon unconsciously mimicked the same action and stood from his seat, the wheels rolling along the tiled white floor and sighed.

“Room 234?” The nurse nodded. She moved aside and allowed him to pass, eyes pressed into his back as he walked down the bleak hallways to the elevators. Although he appeared calm to the patients and nurses he passed, inwardly he was pondering the consequences of his decision. The foolishness of his actions struck him and he physically staggered into the elevator, weakly pressing the little button that read “2” and clutching his forehead, a sudden pain embedding itself into his skull. His fortune, his position in the hospital, everything! His wife was a replaceable loss, but if he lost his position at the hospital, then he would truly become nothing. A nobody.

He heard the screaming before he left the elevator. The sound pierced through the wall like nails and claws, and he wondered if he had summoned a banshee or stepped off into a different plane altogether. Knowing that he could not delay the inevitable, he hurried along to Room 234, entered through the open door, and brushed past the privacy curtains, the screaming never ending and steadily increasing in volume. What awaited him looked startlingly like a banshee,  he thought, but if this was the banshee he had summoned, he was quite alright with the end product for the sight that greeted him was not the patient from the car accident nor the bloody mass she had become, but it was his wife that lay curled up on the white hospital bed, shrieking, clutching at her injured face and paler than a ghost. She was every bit as beautiful as he remembered, right down to the fold of her eyelids and the curve of her porcelain lips.

To hell with his position at the hospital; it was worth everything to see her again.

“Excuse me, Doctor–”

He brushed the nurse off and waved her away, stepping closer to the bed and watching with curiosity as the screaming and writhing stopped when her eyes turned to focus on him. In a split second, they widened with something akin to terror, and she began trembling violently on the white bed, too paralyzed to scootch away and too terrified to do anything but tremble. All this he observed with scientific curiosity, and a fleeting question broke through his mental notes: was she really that upset with his choice in her appearance?

“She never loved you.”

Perhaps she did want a look more masculine and ferocious, rather than the weeping nature of his wife’s expression.

“They never loved me, but she loved me. But she never loved you.”

No, perhaps she wanted a look more fitting of a supermodel or an actress to compensate for the unfortunate accident that had fallen upon her.

“I can’t believe it’s you. She never loved you. Look at what you did to me!”

The sharp shriek brought him out of his ponderings and he blinked blankly back to the heart rate monitor on the other side of the bed before focusing his attention on the woman. The terror had been replaced by hatred, he noticed. He had no time to wonder at the reason why.

“She never loved you!” she howled.

“Who are you talking about?” he finally asked. The answer he received in return, however, put him into further silence. With surprising strength, the woman struck her hand out onto the tray in front of her and fumbled with a flash of silver and white, a flash that seemed, to his growing unease, like metal, and when she finally managed to get a good grip on the thing, she slipped it around the middle finger of her right hand and pointed the back of it toward him. It was a ring. A ring he recognized. A ring he knew quite well and had wondered, for the longest time, where he had misplaced it.

“You proposed to her with this ring,” she whispered, and then suddenly she wasn’t a banshee anymore but a frail and fragile human, “and you ruined everything.” Then her hand lowered and she was fingering the engagement ring with fondness and pain. “You ruined everything for my sister and I. And now you’ve ruined both of us again.”

“Your sister?” he hollowly echoed, finding his voice again. “Who?” He didn’t want to hear the answer, but he desperately needed to know. The confusion was too much for him, a foreign feeling of being in the dark and hopelessly lost. And yet–

“Your wife!” she yelled. “Your wife! My sister! My sister! The only one who ever loved me! The only one!”

For a moment, he was unable to move a muscle. Then he laughed. He laughed at the absurdity of it all. “Why,” he cried, “if she had a sister, then I would have seen her at the funeral! But not once did any of my in-laws mention a second daughter! You imposter! You liar! You dirty, filthy whore!”

He could not comprehend why, but to his irritation, she smiled, and the smile made him regret all the words he had ever spoken in his life. “She didn’t tell you many things, sir. I was disowned, if you must know. The black stain upon the family, and for what! Standing up for my sister in the first place. But nevermind that. Nevermind it at all."

“What?” His heart pounded against his ribcage. “You’re lying.”

“My sister was the liar,” she cackled with glee. “Tell me this, sir: did she ever kiss you? Did she ever let her lips touch yours after the one time she said ‘I do’? Did she ever tell you where she went every weekend when you worked double shifts and slept at the hospital? Did she? Did she ever tell you anything at all besides ‘Hello Husband’? ‘Goodbye Husband’? Hm?”

“What are you saying?” he angrily begged. “That she cheated on me? But how could she? Not once did I ever smell the scent of another man upon her!”

“And that is exactly it!” the woman cackled with glee. “You never smelled a man upon her! A man! A male! And that is the problem!”

It was as if a blanket had been lifted from over his head, a surgeon had removed his tumor, and scenes throughout his marriage assaulted his addled mind in rapid succession: it all made sense now. Every flinch, every twitch, every touch of their relationship, it was all a lie. So it wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to show affection! He had done nothing wrong, he happily realized. Only, he had been born the wrong gender. Surely this was a sign from God that he had a chance to start anew and find a wife that would faithfully not leap out the the side of an open building window.

A sudden thought struck him, and following the impulse he grabbed the sister’s hand, a hand that looked so much like his late wife’s, and fingered the ring. “I think,” he said, “the more important problem is whether or not you don’t prefer males as well.”

She looked at him with the same expression that his wife had given him when he proposed to her five years ago.

So here's what happened today...

This is... less thoughts and more of a post to the world about my life, but... Eh, maybe you all will derive some amusement from my day.

Let us begin with me going to the mall to buy Christmas gifts for my families and, of course, with the motive of seeing the girl I love (let's call her Green). It was convenient that she works the Santa photo visit thing in the mall for a job, and so I decided, "Hey, why not go give her some company. I know I sure as hell get bored at my job."

Here's some back-story: I've been in love with Green for 6 years. I've confessed already, and she's straight, so by all means, I should move on. My heart is stubborn and refuses to change, though, no matter how badly I want it to.

I tell you this because I ended up talking with her a lot longer than I should have. I'd go shop, get some stuff, stop by, chat for some amount of minutes, then go back to shopping. I did this until I had most of my shopping done, and then she still had an hour left of work. After picking up some stuff at Spencer's (nothing dirty, you pervs), I spent my last hour there with her at the Santa station.

Me, being me, jokingly joked about sitting in Santa's lap, even though I am well above the age that people should be for doing such things. Green told me to go for it. Then I told her I didn't really have anything to wish for. She still told me to go for it. I then thought of a wish and told her so, but I still didn't want to do it. She asked me what my wish was, and I couldn't tell her, but she went ahead and kept encouraging me to go for it.

Under her smile, I caved. Blushing like an idiot, embarrassed beyond embarrassed, I stood in line with kids a quarter of my size. The employee managing the line (Green was working the cash register) eyed me before asking me whether or not I wanted to take a picture or simply chat with Santa. She had seen me throughout the entire 4 hours I spent at the mall, and I knew she thought I was strange.

Still, Green smiled brightly and encouragingly over at the register, and I persevered.

"Just a chat," I said.

Finally, it was my turn. I awkwardly tried to sit to the side of Santa so I wouldn't crush him under my weight, but he chuckled and told me, "No no no, lad! You get to sit on Santa's lap!" So I did. I sat down, amused that he thought I was a guy (I'm androgynous, if I do think so myself). We exchanged pleasantries like two normal people. "Hello! How are you?" "I'm fine. How about you?" "Pretty good! Pretty good!" It was strange since I was sitting on his lap.

Eventually, I said, "Alright, I'll keep this quick since I know I'm heavy."

Santa looked at me curiously.

"I've been in love with someone I can't have. And... And it's been 6 years. All I wish for is... i-is for it to go away. "

"It's been what?" he asked. I was speaking too softly, I realized, deathly afraid that Green could hear us. I repeated my words and he made a noise of understanding. "Ah. How old are you?"

"17," I replied.

"Wow. Since you were 11, huh."

"Yup."

"So what's stopping you two from being together?" he asked me curiously. This made me pause. He thought I was a guy, but... I bit my lip, thought for a moment, and told him a vague, but true, answer.

"Many things. Things I can't control," I told Santa. He nodded. His eyes scrunched up a bit underneath the white fluffy fringe of his red hat, and he thought for a moment, struggling to come up with words. I was starting to get disappointed (what was I expecting in the first place? I don't know) when he spoke.

"Sometimes," he began, "relationships aren't meant to be. And then all you can do is move forward. Let time do the rest. Time heals all wounds." I looked at him. It seemed to be ordinary advice. Cliche. But it was true. I wasn't as disappointed as I was mere seconds ago, but I still wanted more. However, he had more to say. "When my mother died from cancer, I couldn't believe it for about 3 months. Sometimes I still feel like she's around. But, eventually, little by little, I got better, and well... That's how life goes. You just got to keep moving on."

From my close proximity, I could see that his eyes were red, and I felt a little guilty for somehow bringing up painful memories for him. It made me swallow thickly, and all I could concentrate on was Santa's watering eyes.

"If you two can't be together, then all you can do is let her go. Seperate," he gently told me. I nodded. I understood completely. It was what I had been hearing from my close friends thoughout the past 6 years, and although it was the same advice, it was somehow liberating to hear it from Santa, a man who was just as ordinary as I, thrust into a position of giving little children happiness and inspiring happiness even when his own situation was probably worse than the spoiled children he saw. His next few words earned my complete respect. "If you two were ever meant to be, she'll come back to you. If it happens, it does. If it doesn't, it doesn't."

"You're right," I said. "Completely. I understand. Thank you, Santa. Thank you." By this point, my voice was weak and shaky and I couldn't trust myself to say much more than thank you. I knew I had already talked too long, so I made my way out.

"Stay safe and out of trouble! No violence!" he hollered at me. I managed a small smile and wave and turned.

"Thanks, Santa."

"Hey!" Green shouted at me. I nearly jumped out of my skin. For a brief second, I thought she had heard every word I had spoke to Santa, but then: "You forgot your sticker!"

"Sticker?" I asked, confused and somehow relieved.

"For talking with Santa."

Laughing, I walked back and picked one up from the basket. I made my way over to her. "Better?" I peeled the sticker off and stuck it on her uniform. She smiled brightly at me, and my heart was racing from the combined stress of what I had done and how pretty she was even in such an ugly black apron.

Once she had adjusted the sticker elsewhere, she looked at me curiously. I raised an eyebrow back at her. "What did you talk with Santa about? You were there for a while."

"I can't tell you," I told her. She stared at me, and I felt like she had a notion of what I was talking with Santa about. But whether or not she knew I was talking about her in particular was a fact up for grabs. "I... It was interesting. You were right. This Santa's good."

I stayed with her for half an hour more, chatting about nothing and everything, both of us dead tired and me watching her back when she had to work. I thought she was brilliant when she acted so confident with the costumers and was so business like.

I felt Santa's eyes on me at times, and I wondered if he had figured out who I was talking about. For all  he knew, though, it could've been someone else. But if he guessed that it was Green, then he was truly the wisest Santa I've ever met.