Tumgik
#black seas and gunmetal skies
Text
100 years went by
as i swallowed fireflies
left out in the yard
gripping metal bars
Find my teeth in the sand, with scattered remains,
entombed in the Information Age. The beach is my grave
and the sand dunes held me close as i spun away, leaving
behind a scrawled message in a drained whiskey bottle.
It said,
You can only find my spirit in seas that are green.
You can only call upon me from the froth of the waves.
Society punctured the girl.
She was me, dying in an ashtray. Welcoming distant dimensions as the cold sun lit up my blood.
It spilled under gunmetal skies and it nourished vampires. It was red poppies in the sand.
Limbs like mannequins.
My heart was emerald rot
My mind was black inkblots
I was erased by knives
I was a wall, vandalized
- Vivica Salem
4 notes · View notes
parallaxedcaptain · 3 years
Text
F I V E   T H I N G S .
fill in the categories with 5 things that your character can be identified by. repost, do not reblog !
i. emotions/feelings
01 | Resilience: pushing against the challenges, against the odds. 02 | Compassion: you understand, you’ve been there before. 03 | Personable: known to be approachable, a golden glow. 04 | Quick-witted: with a renegade streak, some call it impulsivity; you call it cleverness. 05 | Loneliness: the kind you internalize, but it’s like drowning.
ii. greetings
01 | A soft, searching that says everything yet nothing. 02 | A curt nod. 03 | A clasp to the shoulder, a grip to the curve of your upper arm. 04 | A wry grin. 05 | A quick comeback: clever is as clever does. 
iii. colors
01 | Ruby red, the color of command 02 | Gunmetal blue. 03 | Grey for stormy skies and cloudy weather 04 | The dark black stretch of space’s infinitude. 05 | Copper: you swear you can taste blood.
iv. scents
01 | Freshly brewed coffee. 02 | The salt of the ocean waves, the sea’s breeze. 03 | Red roses, plucked and trimmed, a reminder of the beloved gardener, Boothby. 04 | Clean laundry, the sheets left to dry on the clothesline - a memory of home. 05 | Whiskey’s bite: the musk and the burn palpable.
v. clothing
01 | Four silver pips, gleaming bright, fixed to the collar of her shirt. 02 | The grey undershirt that hugs her biceps, stripped of the uniform off-duty. 03 | Starfleet’s command uniform: red for her station, form-fitting. 04 | Black heels to give her an ample, little boost. 05 | Although you were not quite yourself, the vision of that white tuxedo remains.
vi. objects
01 | Her silver coffee cup to warm her hands and spirits. 02 | Comm badge, pinned to her chest, a reminder of the weight of her station. 03 | A collection of Leonardo da Vinci's sketches, a dear treasure. 04 | A globe in her ready room, glossy and brass; it’s a grounding sight. 05 | A small pocketwatch, given by Chakotay, during the insidious Year of Hell.
vii. vices/bad habits
01 | Long hours, longer days, the making of a workaholic. 02 | Caffeine fiend: will drink coffee at all hours. 03 | Impulsivity: some consider your trigger finger just a bit too quick. 04 | Contradictory: you say one thing and do another. 05 | Recklessness: it costs you far more than you care to admit.
viii. body language
01 | Hand on the curve of her waist. 02 | Thumb and finger pinching her jawline. 03 | Two fingers held up, mid-air, when she’s deeply contemplative or about to make a point. 04 | Knuckles propped beneath her proud chin, ever the thinker. 05 | A clenched jaw, though she stands tall, proud.
ix. aesthetics
01 | Coffee stains upon an old book split open, the words still legible, the story still told. 02 | The hungry waves that churn and turn. 03 | Stars splattering the sky: it’s where you belong, it’s your home away from home. 04 | A marble statue with an outstretched hand; she calls to you, like the story of Pygmalion. 05 | Wine-colored lips, split into a grin.
x. songs
01 | Whisky Lullabies - Janet Devlin 02 |  Velveteen - Kidneythieves 03 | The Scientist - Corinne Bailey Rae 04 | Cup of Coffee - Garbage 05 | Crucify - Tori Amos
Tagged by: Yeeted from @afraidofchange >:)
Tagging: Feel free to steal!
2 notes · View notes
yshai-tia · 5 years
Photo
Tumblr media
character aesthetics // y’shai tia
Fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. Repost and tag away!
EMOTIONS/FEELINGS: pride  -  mischief  -  protective -  curiosity -  anger
GREETINGS: “Yo!”  -   “Mornin’... wait, wha’ time is it?”  -  “Got somethin’ good fer me?”  -  “Aye, howzit go?”
COLORS: black  -  scarlet -  gold  -  silver  -  electric blue
SCENTS: ozone  -  rain  -  worn leather  -  gunmetal  -  sea salt
CLOTHING: leather jacket  -  leather fingerless gloves  -  leather boots  -  silver hoops  -  goggles
OBJECTS: blued glossy black metal  -  well-used screwdriver  -  oily rags  -  black pearls  - tool belt
VICES & BAD HABITS: drinking  -  cursing  -  thieving  -  fucking  -  fighting
BODY LANGUAGE: puffed out chest  -  crooked, wicked grin  -  clenched fists  -  jaw tilted upwards  -  bared teeth
AESTHETIC: strikes of lightning  -  open skies  -  black cats  -   eclipses  -  bruises & split lips & scars
tagged by: no one! stole it from @thefreelanceangel​ tagging: YOU !
17 notes · View notes
larrysaiditwasfine · 7 years
Text
Okay Ereri fans, I need your help.
This is the first chapter of my story and I just need you're guys opinion, if I should continue or not. Or if it's even any good. So Eren, is the short one, and Levi is the tall one. I love me some reverse height au's.          The warm sand stuck between the toes of a boy who looked out at the cerulean sea, the sounds of waves crashing about around him. It quieted out the sobbing that was coming from the boy, though if you looked closely you could see the shaking of his shoulders and hands that were wound up in tight fist by his sides alerting you to know he was crying. The boy took a small step towards the roaring sea, the shaking of his body only increasing every step he took closer to the ocean. If you looked you could tell a huge storm was coming, the skies were a dark angry gray and the water that made up the ocean crashed angrily against the dock and the beach. That didn't detour the boy, he knew that this was the best time to sink into the ocean and never emerge until the storm was long gone. The icy water nipped at the sun kissed skin of the boy who had tear stains on his cheeks, a loud boom went off above him. He was half way in the water, it about up to his waist before he felt arms wrap around his mid-section and yanking him out of the water. The scream the boy let out was ear piercing, wet legs and arms flailing around him and the mystery person who pulled him out. When he was brought to the bench and set down he felt a jacket being placed around his shoulders. If he wasn't already crying, he would be right this second. His wide tear filled eyes went up to the person who stopped him from ending it all. "W-w-why? W-why did y-you do t-that?" The boy's eyes filled up with anger alongside his tears. The stranger has jet black hair, bangs divided down the middle and hair styled in an undercut. Gunmetal eyes met a dull but angry blue and gold, face completely blank of emotion. "No man or women in their right mind would allow some brat kill themselves." The man, skin as pale as snow said with a voice too monotoned and lips pulled into a thin line. The boy wanted to scream that it wasn't the man's decision, but he was so numb and done to scream and argue. The boy sunk down into the man's long black trench coat, pulling it more around him and bawling his lungs out. The man sat next to the kid, not saying anything and not doing anything. He allowed the brat to cry, it seemed like the kid needed it. And soon the kid was just left with sniffles and a chill that just wouldn't go away. And being wet didn't help any. His mismatched colored eyes now red and puffy looked up at the man next to him, his hands holding on tight to the lapels of the man's jacket. "You shouldn't have saved me regardless that you felt the need too. The world is better place without me being in it." The boy hoarsely spit out. "I'm disgusting and just filth, why couldn't you let the ocean swallow me up like all the other trash." He hissed out, the boy felt like he was going to cry again. "Okay, I'll tell you what. I'll leave you be and if you still feel the need to end it all after I'm gone the go ahead. But I want you to listen to me first, as cliché as it sounds it does get better. Maybe not now or maybe not for another few years but it will get better kid." The man reached his hand up and ruffled up the kids' hair. He then stood up, dusting the sand off his slacks. "Keep the jacket." With that the man walked away, and the boy just dully looked after him. But after he was no longer in sight the kid got up and walked back over to the ocean, the water nipping at his feet once again. But this time he didn't take any more steps into the sea but instead looked on, thinking back to the man's words. The boy decided that maybe there is more to his life, maybe even after what happened to him he could move on. So, he brought the trench coat closer to his body and wondered home. ---o---o---o---o---o---o--- So, let's skip a few years, let's say about six because that's when the boy is no longer a boy but a nineteen-year-old man. His life never really did get any better, not even when the man that called himself his father died of an "heart attack" when he was fifteen. The boy moved from one foster home to another, some reasons were because he was too quick to anger. He was almost dumped into juive for kicking in a foster parent privates, but the other foster kids stepped in and explained that it was self-defense. Though he was court order anger management and weekly therapy sessions. The boy wasn't going to let anyone ever touch him wrongly ever again, he vowed to himself the day his "father" died that he would beat anyone's face in if they dared. The boy may be short for his age but he was all by means not weak. He trained, he trained hard all through his youth after that day he met the man who saved his life. His skin may be marred with scars to prove that life was against him and his eyes still may be dull but he greeted every new day with open arms. Though he only could when his mind was induced in Alprazolam, Ambien, Vicodin. It never effected his art though, his calloused fingers moved graciously across the canvas to only leave behind intricate art of beautiful lines of dark reds, blues, greens, grays, and blacks. The drugs never had him dull enough not to paint or sketch or anything remotely considered art. It also didn't affect the way he played his guitar or piano or any other instrument he considered playing. He never had trouble turning in work on time or even paying attention in any of his classes. They were taken to keep the memories at bay and the demons asleep, it helped him not want to beat in anyone's skull that looked at him wrongly.                 He may have been brought up in foster care but once he hit the age eighteen he was accepted into a college of his choice on a full ride scholarship. It was his second year at Parsons New School for Design and Eugene Lang College, his major is in BA/BFA dual degree. Or BAFA for short. BAFA was for students who wanted a comprehensive education in liberal arts and music or arts. He still had three more years of school before he was done. With the black trench coat securely wrapped around his lean frame he trudged up the steps with a permeant scowl secured tightly on his face, his fingertips slightly numbed by the cold weather that seemed like was a constant for New York. His Anthropology class didn't start until at least another hour but the heat was cut off at his apartment so he decided to take warmth from the university's library. His bag laid limp against his hip but bounced whenever he took another step up the stairs. The sound of his named being called had him stopping short on the top step, his head turning to look over his shoulder to see who called. "Ah, hello Armin." The man bounced up the steps until he was right in front of him, his bright blonde hair pulled into a neat bun with his hair falling slightly in his face and grin across his lips. Even a step below him he was still taller. "How are you this morning?" "I'm great! Ah right," Armin rose his hand that held a large coffee cup, steam bellowing out from the small drinking hole. "I brought you a coffee. I had a feeling you might be coming to school early." Armin didn't attend either of the man's universities and they only met because his cousin Krista attends Parsons and has a class with the man. They had gotten lunch and he was there as well, they clicked instantly, seemed like they've been best friends for years. Though Armin was more open and cheerful than him and he was more reserved and a bit bitter they got along swimmingly. Krista was surprised, the boys not so much. Though the man was majoring in BAFA he still knew quite a bit about chemistry and biomechanics and medicine. That was the man's first choice to be honest, biomechanics. But he loved art way more than anything so he pursued what made him happy when he didn't believe he deserved it. They had much to talk about that wasn't just science though, they talked about some of the same shows they watched and the same books they seemed to enjoy. So, then on they were the best of friends. That was last year. "Jean told me the heater was out in the apartment so, here you go Eren. Just the way you like it." Ah right, I haven't introduced are lovely shorty here have I? This is Eren Jaeger, born in Massachusetts but lived in California until he was fifteen in a half. "Thanks Ar, I always knew I liked you." Eren grinned mischievously, his long numb fingers wrapping around the hot cup of joe that was already warming him up immensely. Even if he had yet to take a drink of it. "Though that douchey horse faced boyfriend of yours makes me consider your sanity." From the slight insult about his boyfriend had the blonde frowning and reaching for the cup of coffee to take back. Eren was fast though and moved up the rest of the step and headed for the glass doors. "That's mean, you know. You shouldn't talk so lowly of Jean, he's sweet and doesn't have a horse face. There's no need for you to question my sanity for loving him." Armin tersely said, blue eyes barely seen through the slits of eyelids as he glared at Eren. "And if you don't like him so much why did you agree to be his roommate?" The blonde was soon by his side as they walked through the halls of the school, dodging just a few of other students that happened to be there as well. Eren turned his gaze from the coffee cup in his hand up to his best friend with a raised brow. "I may not like the guy but he doesn't bother me so I'm able pretend I live alone." Armin's frown just deepens more, his eyes filling up with disbelief. "We don't fight any longer if that makes you feel better, I keep to myself and he does the same. We coexist with each other without actually talking to one an another. That should be enough, I don't need to be friends with him Ar." That didn't fend well with the blonde though, the blonde wanted his boyfriend and best friend to get along not just tolerate the others existence. It left the blonde feeling upset with the situation but he knew there wasn't any more he could do and Eren's right at least they're not fighting any longer. "Okay, fine. I guess that's all I'm gonna get from the both of you." Eren returned his gaze to his coffee satisfied with Armin accepting that and took a drink. The hot black coffee burning his throat just right, it would be way too hot for anyone else but it was just right to Eren. "Well, I'm going to go meet up with Jean before his class. We're still on for tonight right?" Eren raised his cup in silent agreement and continued his way to the library. The blonde heading to the opposite direction with a shake of his head and a fond smile on his lips. ---o---o---o---o---o---o---                 Eren found himself dressed slightly different from his dark attire in a restaurant that made him more uncomfortable than he wanted to feel. The dark washed skinny jeans he had on and slightly faded green Henley seemed way to causal for this place Armin decided to drag him too. Eren had to ask for the night off from work to be here and it better be worth it. Eren sat nervously in the booth, waiting impatiently for Armin to show up, though he wasn't going to be alone so he was told before. Eren was going to decline when learned of that but the look on the blonde's face, that hopeful look had Eren holding his tongue and agreeing. Though now he wished he made an excuse up for not being able to make it. The sound of multiple footsteps approaching him had him lifting his gaze from the weirdly designed table top and in that direction. Armin, Krista, and Jean were the only faces he had a name for. He seen the girl with black hair pulled into a ponytail and freckles that littered her face before with Krista, but he has never seen the girl with ebony black hair and a vibrant red scarf or the man with freckles that dusted his cheeks that looked a little like the girl with freckles also. There also was a guy slightly shorter than him with a bald head that was holding a girls hand that seemed to be drooling profusely.                 "Eren!" Armin released Jean's hand and scooped the short man from the booth, though Eren had to help him do so. His arms timidly wrapping around Armin's shoulders before he pulled away completely. Eren then sent a small smile and a nod over to Krista and just looked in Jean's direction before looking back at Armin. He was silently asking for an introduction to the people that tagged along. "AH, right! Let me introduce you to everyone." He first turned towards the girl with the red scarf and a dopey grin across his lips. "This is Mikasa, Mikasa this is Eren." They both shared a curt nod with each other though she had added a slight wave at the end. Armin then turned to the girl hanging off Krista with an amused look because the girl was grinning devilishly. "And this lovely woman here is Ymir, Krista's girlfriend. Ymir, this is Eren."                 "I've heard so much about you Eren, from Krista and Armin alike. Though I got to say, your eyes look even more amazing in person. I didn't actually believe them when they said you had two different colored eyes until Krista brought up a picture she had taken with you." Eren gave a small chuckle at the compliment though it left him bothered and uncomfortable, not really used to favorable words about his mismatched eyes.                 "I think they look weird and a bit freaky." Came the reply he was used too. It was said by the bald guy, his lips pursed until he realized he was being glared at by five different sets of eyes. Which he then gaped like a fish at each of them. Eren didn't care, it didn't bother him anymore so he shrugged it off like it was no big deal.                 "Its fine, I'm used to the response. Yours not so much, but thank you regardless." He nodded at Ymir and shrugged again towards the baldly. Armin didn't seem to care though, he was so disappointed at the response Connie gave that he was still glaring at him so much so he could be burning holes in the man's forehead.                 "It's not okay Eren, that was rude and uncalled for." Eren just waved it off and Armin sighed and continued on with his introductions. "Well, this rude guy right here is Connie, and the lovely lady by his side that seems to be drooling still is Sasha." Said girl waved enthusiastically, Connie rose his hand to wipe away the drool and grimacing all the while. It was quite disgusting and unsanitary to Eren, he also didn't understand how someone could drool that much.                 "Can we eat now?" Sasha boomed out, her eyes wide with hunger that had Eren chuckling and afraid if they didn't feed her now she'll start eating peoples hands instead. But Armin glared over at her with an unamused eyebrow raised and arms crossed tightly over his chest.                 "I'm not done introducing everyone yet Potato girl." Armin sighed again and turned towards the boy that seem too pure and innocent to be in a group that had Jean in it. "Anyways, this freckled jesus right here is our saint Marco." So Eren wasn't the only one that seen the pureness from the freckled man. "Also, to be related to Ymir, twins actually." Eren nodded in the saint's direction, receiving an even brighter grin. The man reached his hand out and Eren felt like he would be dirtying the man if he touched but did so anyways. Giving a quick shake before releasing it and allowing his hand to fall back to his side.                 "Hello Eren, it's great to finally meet you." Marco beamed and Eren had to squint his eyes from the brightness of it. He didn't understand how someone could be so damn bright and happy.                 "Nice to meet you all." Eren made eye contact with each person he met today and then slid back into the booth, Armin sliding in next him, then Jean and Mikasa. Krista was the first to slid in on the other side, Ymir right next her and then Marco. Connie and Sasha brought chairs from a nearby table and sat at the end of theirs. The waiter came by soon after that, taking all their drink orders before scurrying off to put them in. They all talked animatingly with each other, Eren putting in his two cents here and there. He found himself smiling a little more around his new friends and it seemed like Mikasa and him hit off just as well as he had with Armin. It felt nice to seem like he belonged, even if it was just for a little while. ---o---o---o---o---o---o---                 Soon the dinner was over and they all found themselves out in the cool brisk air of New York, all saying their goodbyes. Jean going with Armin though and Eren was glad for that, he needed the apartment to himself. Mikasa brought him into a hug before going their separate ways and giving him her number. He thanked her and said his goodbyes to everyone else before slowly making his way back to the apartment. Mikasa's number laid heavily in his pocket though as he walked home, she was so different from Armin. She was more reserved and quiet, she reminded him of himself. He felt like this girl might have went through things like him, maybe not exactly like him but close enough. Even so he knew he would never be able to open up with the raven women. He found himself in front of his apartment faster than he thought, the keys in the keyhole already. He spent too much time in his mind and he didn't like that. He quickly made his way into his own room, pulling open his nightstand drawl and taking out his medicine bottles. After having one of each in his palm he took the pills dry, plopping down on his bed and blankly staring at the popcorned ceiling. His eyes slipped closed soon after that but snapped open when his phone let off a shrill ring from his pocket. Eren clumsily pulled it from his pocket and answered it without looking at the Id.                 "Hello?" A shrill form of his name was what he was greeted with. "Ah, Hello Dr. Zoe"                 "How many times should I tell you, call me Hanji. How was dinner with Armin and all his friends? Did you meet anyone that caught your fancy? Any new friends? Any new enemies? Did you have fun?" All that was said in one breath, which caused Eren to roll his eyes in fondness. But then he heard a voice in the background that sounded like someone he knew, who? He had no idea. "Shitty glasses, you expect whoever you're talking to too understand what you're saying? Slow the fuck down, you dimwit." That voice sent shivers up and down his spine that were pleasant and unpleasant at the same time. Dr. Zoe cackled on the other end of the phone that always seemed to freak him out more than it should. "Oh, stop being such a grump Levi, he can understand me just fine. Right my sweet cinnamon roll?" Eren sighed and just hung up, he was already done with this conversation and plus he needed to start on his new piece for class. He begrudgingly got up and out of bed, dragging his feet to the art easel in front of the bay windows in his room and got to work.
18 notes · View notes
lunuanaki · 8 years
Note
〆 - So what was Meri's kidhood like, anyhoo?
-- It’s 2am and she’ll need to be back at the clinic by six. Hopefully it will be enough time. 
By the light of one lamp beside her bed, she can see the two old tape recorders set up across from her, on her tiny desk. She can see well enough to take a few notes on the notepad she’s had ready on her lap for the past half an hour. She must have chosen and re-chosen her pen four times already. Stalling, she knows. Highly unprofessional; this is nothing more than a medical experiment, she reminds herself, One that could be a blessing for some of our therapy patients.
Outside her window, the wind is picking up. Rain hits the glass and obscures the silhouette of the forest in the distance. Black land and gunmetal skies blend together, and leaves whip past as she stares out, wondering how rough the sea must be, how cold. Her own reflection, or the ghost of it, stares back at her. In here, she has warmth, comfort, this little pool of light. This is a tape recorder and a notepad, she thinks, I do not have to be afraid.
The tape recorder on the left is flashing a tiny red light, indicating that its contents have played out. She presses play on the other one, on the right, the one she rewound as soon as she woke up first thing that morning, and sits back, waiting.
The contents of the syringe feel cold as she presses the plunger, shuddering at the feel of it. Once it’s empty, she tosses it onto her bedside table, time being of the essence. She hits play on the left-recorder and settles back on her bed, eyes closed, legs crossed. 
She thinks she’s falling asleep, and perhaps she is; but she won’t make it all the way. Nothing plays from the recorder but static, and this on its own is enough to drag her down further into the grey. She feels strangely disconnected; cut free from her own body. Eventually, her own voice speaks from the recorder.
“Focus on a time before you came to Garden. Any. Find an anchor point. Move towards it.”
She’s not sure what that means, but she can see a light. 
“Keep going.”
She tries a step forward, anxious to keep up with the woman’s voice, and finds she can move. She’s standing in nothing, in total darkness, but she can see that light ahead, so she walks towards it. 
“Where are you?”
The light is tall and narrow, rectangular and familiar somehow. The door is open, of course! How could she have been confused about that? Silly girl.
“In the hallway,” she replies, slowly. “The living room door is open a little... somebody is still up. It must be dad.”
“Keep going.”
She inches toward the doorway, knowing she shouldn’t be up at this time. Her bare feet on the carpet make it easier to creep to the light’s edge and peek around. The living room is cluttered but clean, and only one lamp beside the couch is lit. Her father is there, in a chair opposite the lamp. A woman sits on the couch, blocking some of the glow, her face in shadow.
“Aunt--!” Meri gasps, then claps a hand over her mouth.
“Describe your surroundings,” says the lady’s voice.
Meri squints. “Dad is... he looks tired... he’s down, like? With, with his head in his hands. He must be tired, he should go to bed, it’s very late! I’ll tell him--”
She stops. Her aunt is saying something in a low voice, and her father shakes his head.
“They’re talking in their language,” Meri tells the lady. She can’t see the lady, but she sounds friendly enough. Her hand absently takes hold of her own braid over her shoulder and pulls it anxiously. “Dad said she would teach me when I got older. Why did he say she would teach me? Doesn’t he want to? Does he have a lot of work to do?”
The lady doesn’t answer, and Meri ducks behind the doorframe as her aunt moves. When no one comes near, she peeks out again. Her aunt has only leaned forward, as if trying to be heard better.
“... Are you sure?” Meri’s aunt says - but the sound comes from Meri’s mouth, and the lady hears it perfectly well. “It might not be that... it might...”
Meri can’t hear what she says next, and it’s in their language anyway. She shifts from one foot to the other impatiently. 
“What’s happening now?” the lady asks.
Nothing is happening, but Meri wants to tell the lady something, so she begins to step out into the light, but her father sits up straight and she freezes in place.
“Oh no... why is he crying? Daddy, why are... did you hurt yourself? He can’t hear me...”
Her feet are rooted to the spot, and the lady knows it’s because she didn’t move then, so she can’t move now; because the lady knows it, Meri knows it too, but that doesn’t stop her from yelling in an attempt to catch his attention. Neither he nor her aunt look up. 
“He’s talking in their language again, I don’t know what he’s saying... I’m not sposed to listen, nobody ever said that, but the grownups do it when they’re talking about serious stuff sometimes...” 
Her eyes burn and she sniffs, wipes her eyes on her sleeve. 
“I can make it better, I practised...” she whines. Still, no one hears her.
Her aunt is crying now, too, but quietly, like she doesn’t want to be more sad than he is. The lady listens in silent indifference as Meri describes this, then goes on to describe her aunt as she slides off the couch and sits at her father’s feet, takes his hands and leans close to his head head, even though he’s bent forward again and won’t look up at her. She pulls one hand away and uses it to tilt his head up, then kisses him. She’s still crying, and Meri is confused, because she’s never seen anyone kiss him like that, it seems like something her mom should do, but she isn’t here. Maybe that’s why, maybe she’s trying to help because mom isn’t here. 
“Don’t worry about Ri,” her aunt says in a low whisper, “I’ll take care of her.”
“You don’t have to do that--”
“But I will.” Meri’s aunt says. 
The lady speaks again.
“Step backward on each count. Three.”
Meri moved back, but she was hardly conscious of stepping back herself. She panicked, reaching for the doorframe, but it was already too far away.
“Two.”
“No!! No, wait--”
“One.”“Wait!!”
“Wake.”
Silence. The recorder hisses static for a few minutes more, then clicks off. All that can be heard now is the faint whistle of the wind and the occasional, barely audible sob of Meri as she cries in her sleep.
Meri hasn’t taken any notes. She’s open mouthed, tearful, her pen held too tight in her hand, the echoing fear of the little girl’s voice, her voice, ringing in her ears. She wants to take hold of the calm woman who counted her back to the present and shake her, ask her why she couldn’t just leave her where she was.
Meri’s hand reaches up and presses to her mouth to hold back a sob. She paces her breathing, blinks her eyes clear. Her grip on her pen loosens; she looks down and begins to write.
“attempt #14. still no names & no id for language spoken. subject unwilling or unable to provide clear description of surroundings. therapists may find voice imitation somewhat disturbing at first; subject has no prior skill at impressions or accents. two notable events; one. i had an aunt. two. my father knew he was dying.”
5 notes · View notes
beyondforks · 7 years
Text
Book Reviews! Absolute Surrender and Echo, Mine by Georgia Lyn Hunter
Absolute Surrender (Fallen Guardians #1) by Georgia Lyn Hunter Genre: Adult Fiction (Paranormal Romance) First Published: March 19, 2013 Publisher: GL Hunter
Born in the flames of Heaven’s wrath, he’s all things sinful and too dangerous to love. 
An immortal Guardian of the mortal realm, Aethan has walked alone for millennia, trapped in a hell of his own. Until a feisty mortal crosses his path. A female he shouldn’t even look at, one who shakes the precarious foundations of all that he is, and one who’s determined to walk the edge of danger.
All her life, Echo Carter wanted “normal”, an impossible feat given that she can see demons. Drawn back to the alleys of New York, she’s determined to hunt down the one responsible for the death of her friend. And no man, no matter how sexy, will stop her. Until she discovers a horrifying truth about herself, forcing her to turn to the one man she should avoid. Aethan. 
But when two stubborn wills collide, a dangerous passion ignites…
As evil closes in, Aethan has to overcome his darkest fears and claim Echo as his. If he doesn't, he just could lose her to a far more sinister fate…
Absolute Surrender is the first book in the Fallen Guardians series by Georgia Lyn Hunter. There were many point of views given through this story. We definitely needed some. Others? Not so much, and I got characters confused with one another, especially in the beginning. Some had similar names, some had more than one name, some changed into the appearance of others, and there were so many of them thrown at you at once. So, it took me several chapters to get everyone straight. The story itself was pretty darn good though. Situations and places were described vividly, making it so easy to visualize, and it did this without being wordy, which I loved.
 I'm not too sold on Echo. She can kick some major butt, but at the same time, she has absolutely no sense of self preservation and kept putting herself in danger whenever she had a hissy fit, which was often. 
Aethan was a fantastic character. He had strength and brains. I loved how he cared for Echo no matter what.  I'm still not sure what he is supposed to be. Angel? Demon? Something entirely different? Alien? I'm interested in knowing more about some of his friends too. 
This was one of those books that is drenched in tension and anticipation. There was so much heat between Echo and  Aethan ... my goodness! Be ready to take many cold showers or keep your significant other close by. You'll need them, and they'll thank you for it.
Echo Carter wrapped her arms around her waist and paced along the top step in front of the well-lit cathedral, trying to keep warm while she waited for Kira. The chilly sea breeze stung her nostrils as she debated going back to her car and cranking up the heater to full blast. But being trapped in the vehicle for a half hour? Ugh. She far preferred the cold. It helped ease the dull ache in her temples. Her head still felt heavy and fuzzy from her restless night. Dreams she didn’t want to remember throbbed in her mind, so she concentrated on a tugboat gliding over the ominous waters of the East River. A streak of lightning raced across the dark skies, briefly enveloping everything in a portentous silver light. The night wind stole under her denim jacket and beneath her sweater like an icy caress. She buttoned up the front and slid her hands into her pockets. Her fingers wrapped around the two stones she carried around like talismans, their warmth seeping into her. But it wasn’t enough. She seriously needed a distraction to clear her head and rid her body of the chill. Her cell beeped. Eagerly, she retrieved the phone from her pocket and sat on her backpack, avoiding the cold cement step, only to find it was a text from Damon. Away on business. Get Kira to stay with you. You know why. Call if you need me. P.S. Don’t do anything stupid. She rolled her eyes. Everyone had bad dreams. It didn’t mean she needed a babysitter. Damon’s postscripts, however, never changed, even if his messages did. The way her guardian hovered, you’d think she was thirteen instead of twenty-three and living on her own. But she couldn’t blame him. All that mattered to her was finding Tamsyn’s killer and ending the son of a bitch. That had to be the stupid thing Damon worried about. A man, rushing past her, snagged her attention. Echo watched him skid to a halt. Above average height, this one embodied the perfect male, with bronzed skin, dark, wavy hair, and a sculptured jaw. Black shades covered his eyes. He made a U-turn, giving her a closed mouthed smile. Well now, she had asked for a distraction. Sliding the phone back into her pocket, she rose to her feet. She’d deal with this before Kira got back, and she knew the perfect spot for this little rendezvous. With a casual, seductive sway of her hips, she tossed him a sultry look over her shoulder and glided toward the back of the cathedral. He followed. Of course he’d follow. They always did. She popped her jacket buttons free as she rounded the rear of the building and headed for the alcove where the statue of an angel with massive wings stood. When he grabbed her from behind and slammed her against the cathedral wall, she sucked in a breath, pain jarring up her arm to her shoulder. She twisted around. The acrid stink of sulfur flooded her nostrils. Bile rushed to her throat, telling her exactly what this thing was. “Ah, little mortal. So good of you to choose this place—” He stopped, confusion flickering across his face, frowned, and leaned in to sniff her. Oh yeah, her cursed pheromones always worked in her favor. They threw them off track and gave her the crucial edge she needed. But the black sludge that coated her hands as she held him off warned her this one had been wounded. “You smell different. Must taste.” His tone slurred. Something wet and rough slithered along her neck. Crap! The slimy saliva on her skin sent a shudder of revulsion through her. But she didn’t let that distract her. Once his foul-breathed mouth claimed hers, life as she knew it would be over. Nope, not happening. She had no plans to die at the hands of this fiend. “Pity I have to cut our fun short.” His face cracked into a menacing smile to reveal pointy canines. “Your light’s mine.” That’s what he thought. “If you want it, come and claim it.” The familiar words rolled out of her mouth. Darn, she had to stop watching The Lord of the Rings. But Aragon was so— Argh, kill first, then think about the sexy Aragon—she kneed the demonii hard in the crotch, breaking his hold. Spinning around, she kicked out her leg in a fast sweep, knocking his feet out from under him. He stumbled to the ground. About to go in for what would have been a routine kill, the demonii sprang up. He flung his shades aside. Eerily red eyes flamed with fury. “I’ll drain every drop of your blood before I rip out your soul!” “Promises—promises,” she taunted. He came at her. Echo palmed her dagger and met him head-on. She went in low and rammed the blade into his sternum. The demonii fell to his knees, eyes widening in surprise. “Didn’t see that one coming, did ya?” Vengeance burned in her as she grabbed him by the hair and slashed his exposed throat, severing the carotid artery. Blood, black and thick, gushed out. Her breathing harsh, she let the body fall to the ground. Disappointment burned through her. This fiend hadn’t killed Tamsyn. The stink of the sulfur now coating her skin lacked the coppery, sweet odor of vanilla she was after. No matter. It meant one less evil fiend roaming the streets and robbing the innocents of their souls. The body decomposed and vanished within seconds. No sign remained that the demonii had ever existed. The oily ooze on her dagger had disappeared, too, when a frisson shot through her. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose in warning. Oh, hell. More of them. Survival mode on high alert, Echo whipped around in a defensive strike and met steel with steel. The metallic sound reverberated through the cathedral’s garden. The sheer power of the blow vibrated up her hand to her injured shoulder. Pain streaked through her but didn’t slow her down. She attacked. He countered. This one was too strong, too canny. She lunged at him, but he grabbed her in a move that made her head spin and imprisoned her in an ironclad grip against a wall of muscle. It took her a second to realize the stranger had no intention of disarming or hurting her. He merely shielded himself from her attack. Irritated, she glared up. The impact of the man facing her over their crossed daggers hit her like a blow to the stomach. She stumbled back, dragging in lungfuls of air. Wild as rainstorms and earthy as sin, his scent crowded her. She blinked, sure the vision before her was a fantasy induced by her sleep-starved brain. He was so tall, he had to be at least six-seven. His long, leather duster parted to reveal muscular, leather-covered legs. All that black he wore was the perfect backdrop for a wickedly handsome face. The hard, sensual curve of his lips and that focused way he studied her told her he would know every carnal pleasure there was. A tiny shiver of awareness darted up her spine, but she brutally clamped it down. The chilly breeze tossed back strands of his long hair to reveal the glitter of small silver hoops in his ears. But his hair—she’d never seen anything like it. It was as if nature had stroked it with every shade of the blue spectrum then laid a careless dash of ebony between those strands. The air around him shifted. Power rolled off him in aggressive waves. But his eyes held her spellbound—gunmetal gray irises took on streaks of white—a caveat, a warning not to attack him again. Oh, Mr. Goth-man could send out all the signals he liked. She wasn’t easy to intimidate. “Who the hell are you?” she snapped.
Echo Mine (Fallen Guardians #1.5) by Georgia Lyn Hunter Genre: Adult Fiction (Paranormal Romance) First Published:  August 4, 2015 Publisher: GL Hunter
A Fallen Guardian Novella--companion book to Absolute Surrender
After a horrifying incident that left her in a coma for several long months, Echo now has to get used to a different life. As a descendant of a powerful angel, her days waver between training as the new Healer and convincing her mate she’s strong enough to match him in life and in bed. 
A surprise date night gives her the perfect opportunity to do both. But plans have a way of coming unraveled. One disaster leads to another, and Echo accepts that nothing in their lives will ever be normal.
But the biggest revelation of the night comes after she kills a dangerous demonii. Sparks fly between her and her mate, proving that normal is most definitely overrated...
Echo, Mine is a novella companion to Absolute Surrender in the Fallen Guardians series by Georgia Lyn Hunter. This is giving us a peek at how Aethan and Echo's life is going since her coma. I don't feel like I got much more information from this story than I already knew from Absolute Surrender. It was almost like a shortened version of Absolute Surrender with them fighting Demonaii and Aethan trying not to touch Echo, but I missed steaminess they had in the first book. I didn't feel it as much. Where'd it go? You'll need to read Absolute Surrender first, otherwise you won't know who's who or what's what. 
Absolute Surrender and Echo, Mine by Georgia Lyn Hunter was kindly provided to me by the author for review. The opinions are my own.
Dim lights cast a sickly, pale glow over the dingy alley, adding to the portentous sensation crawling through Aethan. As if some disaster loomed, one he couldn’t quite get a grip on. He glanced at Blaéz, strolling at his side. The warrior’s calm demeanor revealed nothing. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shrug off his unease. “Something feels off.” “Indeed…” Blaéz murmured as they bypassed several dumpsters lined against the grimy brick wall. The things reeked as if a pack of rats had died there. “You made a decision yet?” “About what?” Blaéz cut him a cool, detached stare. A purple bruise marred his jaw. With his penchant for brutal underground fighting, Aethan wasn’t surprised. “Is it that you really don’t know, or that you haven’t decided?” Aethan frowned. His disquiet hiking in leaps now. “Celt, you talk in riddles. How the hell am I supposed to know what you’re talking about? Did you have a vision or what?” The male’s precog ability was unparalleled. Hell, everything he’d told Aethan several months ago when he’d first met his mate had transpired—shit. Fear twisted his gut. “Is it Echo?” “No.” Blaéz turned back to stare into the night. “No precog needed for this one. But it does indeed concern your mate.” Aethan stopped and pinned his fellow Guardian an annoyed glare. “Just spit it out, man. What the hell is it?” Blaéz slowly faced him. He was as tall as Aethan, a little on the leaner side, and deadlier than a detonating bazooka jammed into one’s mouth with his ability to kill with a thought. But dammit, any slower on the response, and Aethan would probably die of old age! “Heard the females talking. Your mate and her friend, Kira…” “Yeah?” Aethan prompted, clamping down on his teeth to stop from shaking the words out of the warrior. “It’s Echo’s big day next week. Her birthday. Females, from what I’ve seen on TV, get excited about the day. And presents.” Fuuccck! Suddenly feeling faint, Aethan inhaled a lungful of reeking air. This was worse than a damn demonii bolt striking him in the chest. What the hell did he do now? Echo had told him her birthdate some time ago when she’d asked him his, but he hadn’t put much stock into remembering it. Hell, when you live forever, birthdays no longer mattered. He slid his hands into his pants pockets and continued up the alley, trying to think of something amazing for his mate…and came up blank. He really didn’t want to screw this up. “Would you know—” “Google.” “Right—” Aethan broke off. A familiar insidious prickle slithered over his psyche. Demoniis. The turned brethren of demons were on the hunt again, trawling for prey, for mortal souls to replace the dying ones they’d already harvested from humans. Eyes narrowed, he scanned the night air for the source… His heightened hearing caught the faint, pained cry of a female. Trouble. Aethan dematerialized in a scattering of molecules and followed the distressed cry. He took form moments later in The Bowery and tore down the dimly lit alley, tracking the sensation, and skidded to a halt. Blaéz appeared beside him. The abandoned warehouse across the street sat too still, too dark. The icy, malevolent sensation abrading his psyche grew stronger. Beneath it, the darker, coppery odor of blood stung his nose…no, not humans. “What the hell are they up to now?”
Georgia Lyn Hunter loves to create characters who’ll take you to the far and beyond to unforgettable adventures, steamy encounters and heart-stopping love stories… She grew up in the tropical climate of South Africa and currently lives abroad with her family. An avid reader from a young age, she devoured every book she got her hands on. When she's not writing or plotting her next novel, she loves trolling flea markets, buying things because they're so pretty, travelling, and being with her supportive family. To learn more about Georgia Lyn Hunter and her books, visit her website.You can also find her on Goodreads, Facebook, and Twitter.
0 notes
Black Seas and Gunmetal Skies // Natasha & Bucky
He dreamed of red hair.
<Longing.>
Green eyes.
<Rusted.>
Pearl skin and...and warm hands...
<Seventeen.>
A searing heat behind his eyes,
<Daybreak.>
like a gunshot
<Furnace.>
eviscerating his tenuous hold on 
<Nine.>
Who?
<Benign.>
No one.
<Homecoming.>
A chair.
<One.>
A man.
<Freight car.>
A voice.
<Soldier?>
A command.
<Ready to comply.>
Within the hour, he was deployed to Odessa. His target was scheduled to arrive from the east along the coastal cliffs: single car, low-profile. Easy kill. He set up his rifle, set his sights, and waited -- waited -- until the nondescript sedan sluiced around a turn into his field of vision.
Two shots, and the driver’s side tires were out of commission. He watched the car careen over the cliff, then mounted his bike to confirm the kill.
12 notes · View notes