by the seabed.

[sangerinde-blog]

I OWE @synkend AND @soefarende ESPECIALLY AN APOLOGY FOR BLIPPING OFF LIKE I DID..... i literally have no excuse but i’m trying to get back on now i’m so sorry

[sangerinde-blog]

                  Maren smiled wryly at Christoph for only a moment before her eyes dropped to her hands, busying them by scraping at paint under her fingernails. Most of the reason she’s ceased being talkative is the fear that she was treading into too many unknowns; but those anxieties were subsiding, now that she’s had time to adjust.                  

                  “I’m kind of getting the sense of the kind of man you are,” even under all that grief, “and who I was. I’m not sure I remember specific things, but... a lot more is starting to feel familiar. Kinda like déjà vu.”

                  Her cheeks flush lightly then, deciding that what’s really riding on her mind has to come out plain and simple. “That said... I want to share a bed with you again.” 

                  Blue eyes meet his again under her lashes, looking and feeling almost bashful at the suggestion. “I just- thought it might help with remembering if things returned the way they were. If you’re not alright with that yet...”

@soefarende​ x.

[soefarende]

           THERE WAS A PATCH of dry skin on the back of his hand and while Christoph sat on the edge of the bed he scratched at it nervously. The room was silent save for the sound of running water from the other side of door. He… wasn’t expecting to find Maren.. in a place like this…doing.. well…He sighed, the same hand coming up to drag down the bottom of his face.

Keep reading

[sangerinde-blog]

              There must have been an inkling of hope leftover in the whirlpool of emotions ravaging her chest, because something is causing this crumbling feeling that aches her to her core.

              “...This is a joke, right?” Maren’s voice is small and wavering, and she doesn’t have the strength to hide it. Hes so thoughtless, so insensitive, that she can’t even find it in her to be angry like she wanted to be. She’s just fucking sad, and that’s not fucking okay.

              “You’re getting some kind of kick out of this. Trying to make me give up what’s left of my family’s dignity for some cash...? You-” Her voice breaks and she’s shaking. The strength of the last several years, gritting her teeth through long hours and financial scares- it falls apart in the place where she least wants it to. 

              She whips her head away and rubs furiously at her eyes, because he doesn’t get to see her cry. “I’m not fucking desperate, and I’m not gonna be your whore, Christoph!” The rest of Maren’s body turns with her head, starting toward the door, though every inch of her is craving his embrace-

[soefarende]

          A WARM RUMBLE THRUMMED through his chest, the first notes of a laugh escaping him. Oh this was the game that Mari wanted to play then? Thin lips curved upwards, as Christoph allowed a hand to snake around his wife’s waist to pull her close.

“Oh really now?… Is that why you buy me all those aftershaves for Christmas, I get the hint.” He’s joking of course.

[sangerinde-blog]

               "Shit, there goes my birthday gift."

                She can’t keep a straight face for long, splitting easily into a wide grin while her hand searches for his free one. Her fingers slot perfectly between his, like they always have. “You’re being awfully sweet today, Mr. Andersen. Care to explain?”

[onceland]

[sangerinde-blog]

                 "Oh yeah?” Her teeth clamp onto her lower lip, sizing her husband up for a suitable amount of time with a deeply contemplative look on her face before responding. Two can play at that game, mister.

                 “Well, you... smell kinda good. For a guy who works with fishing stuff, anyway.”

@soefarende

[sangerinde-blog]

"Mom", she's about to say something important — it will not sound like it to an adult's ears, but these are words a child's mind forms carefully. "You're the best mom in the whole world. I wanna play the piano just like you one day". She dreams big — deep down she knows she could never be quite that good. "I wanna be just like you one day".

                Children speak in hyperbole, exaggerate every minute detail of their lives- but that doesn’t stop them from meaning everything to them. Their world is small, so it may as well be the whole truth.

                 Maren can’t contain her grin, nor can she stop herself from scooping her little girl up into her arms and planting a firm kiss to her cheek. “And you’re the best daughter in the whole world.” She pull back and kisses Morgan’s freckled nose next. “You can be anything you want to be, and I’m gonna be proud of you no matter what. That’s a promise.”

[musiisms]

Compliment my muse. Flatter them. Make their day.

[synkend]

                                       BETWEEN THE DEVIL & THE                                                 DEEP BLUE SEA.

                                                             indie & fandomless family.                                                            written by pear, harley & allie.

[stevenjackie]

[soefarende]

                             I’m BURNING my bridge to you.

original character // written by harley // sideblog to @aithreachas

[allloversbetray]

Paint mixing videos are nice to watch when I’m stressed

[sangerinde-blog]

               “Chris is an emotional guy. That’s not really news, Mad.” 

                Maren doesn’t actually do it, because it wouldn’t be fair when her sister’s only looking out for her safety, but there’s a verbal roll of her eyes behind her words anyway. “Besides, do I look like I’m crying for help here? I'm pretty sure he’d rather cut his hand off than hurt me.” 

                Nobody knew or understood Christoph like she did; they were joined at the hip since she was born, and the time they spent apart was the darkest time of her life. It’d been years since was she was so sure that she was perfectly content where she was.

@aholywrathincurred

[rihannafenty]

BEYONCÉ / LOVE DROUGHT

[crimescened]

last night i dreamed that i touched you; it hurt, your skin covered in thistles. you said - see, i told you this would be no good, i told you i am pain - but when i let go i stared down at my bleeding palms and they had stopped shaking. i dreamt that i loved you, and i woke up and it was still true; i’ll curl my fingers over the thorns jutting out from your hips, i’ll slice myself open, if you’ll kiss me and wear down the rock in my throat. i prayed to you, and in my dreams you answered, told me i was delusional, reckless, but you came to me anyway and i put your hands sharp like knives on my chest and pleaded, pleaded for you to slow my heart down, just for a moment. kiss me again, let me taste the blood, i prayed for you and you came, you came, let me taste you again.

on loving an angel of war // s.t. (via breadorflesh)

[jonathanohhey]

[sangerinde-blog]

@soefarende

                  It was distressingly difficult to tell what would have been worse in that moment, locked in the half-clean hotel bathroom with her childhood sweetheart on the other side of the door. 

                  Either he had no idea who she was, she was learning some disgusting secret of a man she once loved, and he was going to fuck her, just to slam the last nail in the coffin that was the Christensens’ dignity____ or he knew fully well who she was, and was making the latter point his mission.

                  Maren didn’t know why she didn’t just leave. She almost froze in place, because she knew those eyes. For years the memory of them haunted her, comforted her. No matter how she tried, there was no forgetting them. They angered and ignited her, peered right into her soul and she wasn’t sure how she could handle looking at them again.

                  And so, as calmly as she could manage, she asked for a light, and took her cigarette to the bathroom. She ran the sink to mask the sounds of her unsteady breathing, pretend she was washing up, and have an excuse to not answer right away if he called out to her.

                  It only took a few moments for her racing thoughts to burn the smoke right down to the filter. She stubbed out the cigarette on the damp sink counter and steeled her heart to any childhood feelings she may have had, breathing leftover smoke in (if her eyes watered or got red, she could blame it on that), and any affection and pretty memories she could out. The only acceptable response to this should be anger or indifference, and the latter was more fitting of her current working order.

                  Just to buy one precious second more away from that gaze, she turned and pressed the toilet handle to flush before shutting the sink off. She re-emerged with the remnants of her cigarette clouding behind her, and pretended to adjust a strap on her top so she wouldn’t have to look at him right away.

                  “It’s four-fifty an hour, per person.” Tobacco couldn’t mask how much more bitter those words tasted in that moment than the rest of the entire year she’s spent selling herself. She was showing him her price tag, what kind of place she, one of Mikkel’s daughters, was in - all thanks to Mr. Andersen. For all she knew, Christoph was gone and he was the new ‘Mr. Andersen’.

                  “You shower before, then I spot check for infections. We use a condom, no exceptions.” She needed an excuse to get away. Fast, but without alarming him.