#sweetheartofthepines

[sculderlaw-blog]

I am happy to see you back on here!!! :)

Aw, thank you so much! MUAH!

[distinctamongstsnowflakes-blog]

nerdismysuperpower:

You can tell a lot about someone by the type of music they listen to. Hit shuffle on your ipod, phone, itunes, media player etc and write down the first 20 songs, then pass this on to 10 people.

I know I'm a bit late but I was tagged by the lovely Annelise

And Your Bird Can Sing - The Beatles

Our song - The xx

Drain You - Nirvana

Tout L'Monde - Les Colocs

Prove Yourself - Radiohead

After The Gold Rush - Neil Young

Now I'm Here - Queen

Troublemaker - Beach House

Electrical Storm - U2

Chop Suey! - System of a Down

Recommencer - Jean Leloup

X&Y - Coldplay

Father And Son - Cat Stevens

Imparfait - Daniel Bélanger

Nothing Compares 2 U - Sinead O'Connor

Breathe - Pink Floyd

La Fuite - Karkwa

Lève Les Voiles - Coeur de Pirate

Je ne sais pas - Dumas

La Question à 100 Piasses - Bernard Adamus

[quitnow-theywin]

Guys. The other day, I tagged two mutuals on a post and now they mutually follow each other.

Isn’t that the cutest thing ever!?

[sageandsynchronicity]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JENNA!!!! <3 Hope your day is filled with fun and happiness :)

Eeeeee thank you so much! I wish I was celebrating in my fav city where you are! I think its a whole lot nicer there today. Wave hello to NYC for me :) 

[monicareyes]

3, 7, 12, 34

3:Talk about the person you've had the most intense romantic feelings for.

I swear to god the only time is when I was at Florence and the Machine and she looked in my direction there is no other time I have honestly gone 'i would bang' :')

7:Talk about your biggest insecurity.

The feeling that I have completely fucked up my life by choosing not to go to uni yet which I know isn't true because I don't need to be 27k in debt and not end up getting a job and the end. It comes at unreasonable times it is v annoying

12:Talk about the worst dream you've ever had.

I hardly ever remember dreams its sad. There was one where I lived like a whole day in it and I woke up and I nearly cried because I thought I was late for work and no one had tried to wake me up and then I realised it was Sunday and also nearly cried :')

34:Talk about the worst physical pain you've endured.

God my life has literally consisted of nothing  maybe um when I got a twig embedded into my knee and they were pulling it out with tweezers which was a+ fun would recommend and then I had to get like shrapnel out for the next couple of weeks actually yeah that was really bad damn  

[cneasaigh]

16, 24, 40!! :)

16:Talk about the best party you’ve ever been to.

I have to say the best party I’ve ever been to would probably be my graduation party. I just love all of my friends and family so much and it was such a wonderful 48 hours, starting with my actual graduation and ending with a drunken me singing karaoke with my wonderful neighborhood. =]

24:Talk about something someone told you that meant a lot.

In 7th grade when I had pretty much just met/started to get to know my now-best-friend Carson, we barely even knew each other and yet on our bus home from a nighttime field trip with our grade, we sat in our seats, kind of folded ourselves into the smallest we could be so no one would pay attention to us (it was really dark) and she told me pretty much all of her really big secrets with her family and the hard times she has been through. I also opened up to her that night, but looking back on it now and knowing how carefully she guards those secrets and how much she truly values trust it makes me realize even more how much that night meant for the two of us and our friendship.

40:Talk about the end of something in your life.

As cliche as this is, I’m going to talk about graduation. Actually, not so much graduation but more the end of the era in my life that was high school. Not only was that the end of my theatrical pursuits (however tiny they were) but it was also the end of what my friends affectionately call the C Commons Cult. Now I’m not saying we aren’t friends anymore, of course we are, in fact one of our members is the girl who asked me these questions (luvya annelise!). But I’d be lying if I said it isn’t different now. Romantic relationships have ended, some friends grew distant, and really, if you take into account the big number of people we had in that group, we pretty much have split it in half in regards to people that still actively socialize with our group. Part of me hates it. Part of me wishes I could jump back just once or twice to sitting in C Commons, surrounded by all of those loving people. But yet another part of me is glad that things are the way they are now. I now truly know who my friends forever will be. And I love them all so dearly. Okay wow that went on for forever. 

THANKS ANNELISE FOR TAGGING ME I LOVE YOUUUUU

[sculderlaw-blog]

sweetheartofthepines replied to your photo:I’m cracking up, y’all. I have teenage nieces. I...

Yes the hair. I love the hair. You look lovely 

THANKS! I'm glad I can look lovely while being a goof. My hair is being real frizzy today, but I'm trying not to dry/straighten/curl it as much as I used to. Like, who decided one day that natural hair wasn't pretty no more? That person sucks.

[elephantsneedwater]

Chapter 5 of Schnecke~ The Love I Did Not Need

I was in trouble.  He had seen the uniform coat and I stiffened. My body was hot with heat as I tried not to seem suspicious, but he knew. He could see the panic in my eyes.  "Ms? Are you alright?" The shorter one had asked.  I nodded pulling my eyes away from the other man, "Yes, I'm sorry, what do you need?"  "We know a few German soldiers frequent this shop. I'm sure they love your baking,"  "What is the purpose of this meeting?" I asked shifting slightly. I crossed my arms and tried to sound angry and large than they were-not scared.  "We want you to spy on one of the men. The SS Captain- we need insider information,"  "And since you seem to already be doing just that it wouldn't be hard to get information out of your German lover, no?" The man who had seen the uniform jacket had picked it up and I watched with wide eyes as he showed the other men.  "You are sleeping with the German captain." He accused.  I tried not to panic as I scrambled for an excuse, "No, sir! He had a tear in his coat and since the dressmaker down the street had left I offered to stitch it for him. I just finished it," I responded.  All three men studied me.  "And the second coffee cup?"  "That's from earlier. I hadn't realized I had already poured a cup, very careless of me. It's hard to concentrate with everything that's going on. You understand,"  The man with the long nose had scoffed not believing my story.  "Michael put down the coat. Don't ruin it- you'll get her killed. Ms.Gallagher, please sleep on our offer, we are getting stronger by the day- we will beat this occupation, but we need help. Your help,"  "I understand, I'll think on it. I promise,"  The men had left without finishing their coffee-eager to move on to the next checkpoint. I let out an exasperated sigh leaning against the door. I didn't think they'd believe my story of sewing the coat or that I was too absent minded to realize that I had already poured a cup of coffee. But they did and I was great full the issue wasn't pressed further.  Spying on Callan? I could never do that. That could and will get me killed for sure especially if his superiors find out. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants moving away from the door when it opened. Surprised, I turned to be face to face with Michael, the man who had found the coat.  "Michael, right? May I help you?" I asked stepping back a bit unsure of what he might need.  His face was hardened and I noticed two other men that weren't his friends, slip in behind him.  "Michael?" I questioned watching him. Since the nasty fall outside my shop I've had to use my back up glasses. They weren't as sturdy as my normal pair. I always had to push them back up my nose. Here I was pushing my glasses back in place when Michael spoke.  "You're lying,"  It hit me like a splash of cold water, his words stabbing into my flesh as they soaked into the air around me.  "What am I lying about?" I stammered out, "I've only been honest to you,"  The sound of my lock clicking made me jump. I tried to keep my breathing calm, but the closer Michael walked the further I backed up.  "Don't lie anymore; you're sleeping with that German man. Everyone else is too-all our women. They took our country and now they've weaseled their way into our women's skirts," He explained.  "I told you the truth; I'm not sleeping with the Captain." I stated with as much calmness I could muster. The two other men had moved behind the counter. They were messing with my supplies.  "Hey, you can't come in here and cause a russ, I have a business to maintain," I scolded the two men who just looked at me, chuckling as they continued on.  "What is this? Are you trying to scare me? Threaten me? For what? What do you want?" I spat at Michael. I was more angry than scared right now. These men were trashing my work. They had no right.  "I want you to tell me the truth. Are you sleeping with that German man?" Michael asked stepping up to me. He towered over by maybe three or four inches, but I suddenly felt so small.  "No, no I'm not," My voice wavered as his eyes turned darker then they were. His lip curled up into a sickening smile and I felt his hot clammy fingers wrap around my arm, next thing I know I'm on the floor.  "Boys, looks like we've got get to it before they do," He said.  I looked up at him confused, "What? What are you talking about?"  Suddenly my stomach dropped and a sickening feeling swam through my body as the weight of his words made sense. My body reacted. My eyes filled with tears. My breath grew heavy and ragged. I began to shake. I needed to get off the floor.  I was pushed to the wall by his two goons. Michael closed the space between us. His body pressing uncomfortably against mine. I watched Michael smile and his hand slipped into his pocket pulling out a small jagged edged knife.  He stood beside me trailing the sharp edge along my neck.  "Make a sound and I'll kill you right here, do we have an understanding, Imogen?" He asked before taking the knife and slashing my shirt open, "Oh, look here boys, no bra. Naughty little slut are ya,"  His hands roughly grabbed at me sliding past the ripped fabric to touch my flesh.  I whimpered.  "Get off of me,"  "Aha, I don't want to spoil our fun by slicing your throat open, now stay still, bitch," Michael's mouth crashed down into mine. His tongue smacking against my closed lips as his hands fell to my waist. I tried to move my head away-tried to get his lips off mine, but my neck met his knife.  My hands were shoving against him-digging into his skin. I felt like I was watching from above in slow motion only the slow motion was too fast to be slow motion. It was almost surreal. Like a dream. Like I could wake up any moment and be safe.  "Please-," "Eager aren't we?" His voiced ate at my skin as the vibration slithered down my neck and his fingers worked on my pant buttons.  "No-," I couldn't find my voice. It was stuck in my throat rattling around so hard it hurt.  He moved his hand down my pants. He unzipped my pants. His tongue was down my neck. His breath scratched against my cheek as he laughed. I heard the rip of fabric. My pants. He shifted-moved against me. I could feel him.  I heard the loud sound of his zipper and my body that was watching from above was shoved back to reality. Everything was so loud above me. His voice. His breath. His movement. It was real. This was happening. His hand was between my legs-when-when did that happen? Why am I not fighting back? Why am I letting them do this? My mind was hollow. Dead. Deprived of all the good I had know just twenty minutes ago. It was dead. It wasn't his hand that made me freak out-it was a memory-a memory of my uncle. So fresh like it happened yesterday and not on my eleventh birthday or every birthday after that for the next five years. I never fought back not after the first time. Not after he threatened to kill me. I would just lay there and let him have his way with me. I let him steal my life for five years. The nightmare I had suppressed-locked away for twelve years came crashing back.  "No, no. Stop, please-I'll do anything," I sobbed.  "This is anything," he whispered.  "No!" I cried thrashing hard against him, "Get off-" his hand flew from my panties to slap hard against my mouth.  "Don't say another word,"  The knife pressed hard against my throat and I inched away from it.  "Not another word," he hissed.  "Hurry up, man," One if his goons demanded, "We're waiting,"  I fought against Michael and my teeth broke free and clamped down hard onto the flesh between his thumb. He cried out slapping me hard across the face. My glasses flew off my face and I slammed into the man beside me in an attempt to run. He held on tightly yielding my frantic movement with a strong grip. Michael glared at me and spit in my face. His fist connected with my jaw and tears emptied from my eyes as the pain pulsed. He hit me again. My neck snapping to the right and again- my neck snapped to the left. It was the blow to my stomach that got a sound from me. My voice choked out past the crimson that was leaking down my chin," Stop," I gasped. Michael roughly grabbed my swollen jaw shoving my head up hard, "Tell me where he is," "Who?" I smartly asked. His answer was another blow to the face. "Tell me where the German is and I'll let you go," "Why do you want him? You weren't interested in him before," "It's come to my realization that killing a German Captain will send a better message than raping a French woman and I know he's in here," Michael stated, "Is he upstairs?" He was. Locked in my bedroom. I had locked him in...The door locked from the outside- the key above the bookcase by my bedroom. I was regretting locking him in now, but I didn't know this was going to happen. I didn't know. I looked up stairs and back at Michael who punched me hard in the stomach again. "Don't lie to me this time- I can do this all day," He demanded pressing the knife against my throat, "Is he upstairs?" I nodded, "Yes, he's upstairs," Michael pulled me from the men and pushed me up the stairs. "Hey, I can't see," I hissed. "Go," I climbed the stairs with trembling hands. I could hear Callan in my room, he was calling me. "Imogen?" Callan called, "You've seemed to have locked the door, I can't get out," He jiggled the door handle and I winced. He didn't know I wasn't alone- of course he didn't- he was locked in my room and they were being incredibly quiet. It didn't help that the door was really heavy and once inside my room with it shut you could hear barely anything downstairs. With grueling pain I reached up and got the key off the book case. My fingers trembled as I put the key in the lock. I glanced over my shoulder to see that the two men were standing on either side of Michael, who was standing in front of the stairs. With a deep breath I turned the key shoving the door open. Callan was standing by my bed a hand in his light locks his back to me. At the sound of my voice, "Callan," he spun around and the smile on his face fell as he took in my bloody state. I stepped aside to reveal the three men. Callan's eyes trailed slowly to the three men almost in a daze as he took in the situation. His normally calm and pleasant demeanor slowly changed and his face contorted in an all - consuming anger; His face was becoming more crimson, and his eyes seemed to spark with fury. He spit his hurtful words through clenched teeth, not giving them a moment's pause to interject. It didn't matter that they couldn't understand his sharp German tongue. His once passive features were consumed by rage and anger, resentment and fury. Callan's face was contorted into this image of perfect rage. His once-handsome face now resembled a gargoyle... fire flashed in his eyes as he stalked towards the three men. His lips curled downward into a hellish snarl. His face was beyond just red, and was turning different shades of crimson and even a tinge purple, while sort of an unearthly, demonic look over came him. That's when he struck. His fist collided with the goon on the right sending him into a crumpled mess on the floor. I watched as Michael spun around darting down the stairs, but the other man had already beaten him to it. They scrambled down the stairs as best they could in a frantic state. Both men were screaming and I watched Callan in an adrenaline induced rage pick up the unconscious man and toss him over the railing. The noise of the man crashing down on the two men caused me to jump. Callan stalked after the men as they struggled to untangle themselves from the dead weight. I ran to the railing to see one of the men had managed to pull himself to his feet he ran out the door, leaving Michael with a body.  Michael was struggling to shove the man off of him as Callan only grew closer with each angry step. I could see his shoulders rising with every angry breath he breathed in. In a blur off black iron I made my way down the stairs- Callan's image had grown blurry as he had moved towards the struggling man on the floor-I had to get closer to see.  Michael had pushed the man away, finally jumping to his feet; knife held with white knuckles in a shaking hand, he lashed at Callan. Callan moved from the swipe with such precise movement that Michael hadn't expected Callan to land a blow to his jaw. until it was too late. The knife that was held with such a foreboding darkness clattered to the floor. Surprised, Michael lunged at Callan. And Callan with his military training had skillfully anticipated the attack landing a hit to Michael's cheek.  Michael's fist collided with Callan's check, I saw Callan wipe away blood, surprised he had landed a hit, but he raised his arms up in time to block his next punch. They fell to the ground, arms and legs entangled, and Michael's fists sunk once, twice into Callan's stomach. Callan wrapped his hands around his neck, digging his fingernails into his flesh. Michael made a chocking sound, and pulled back hard. Callan used his leverage to grab his head and slam his temple into the corner of the glass counter. He seemed to sway, dizzy, so Callan knocked him to the ground. Now, finally in a position to retaliate well, Callan proceeded to punch him repeatedly. Michael's hands raised sluggishly, slick with blood as he tried to grab Callan's wrists. It was easy to swat them aside, disorientated as he was, and Callan swung his elbow down with crushing force against his nose. There was a loud crunching sound, and Michael's nose began to spew blood. He laid there, his breath wheezing and eyes closed as a bubble of blood formed at the corner of his mouth and popped. Now, they were equal, their faces coated in the red liquid that was draining down onto their chests, staining their shirts. Callan pulled up, unwilling to continue beating an opponent who cannot fight back. As he crouched to stand, Michael lunged forward, tackling Callan backwards. I let out a cry fearful for Callan. Michael's breathing was rapid, his nostrils flaring, his eyes flashing and closing into slits, his mouth quivering and drooling, slurring words that were unintelligible came spewing into space like a volcano releasing it's pent up emotions into the darkness. Callan cried out as his hands neared his neck. He tightened his fingers around his throat, cutting off air supply. I could only watch as Callan gulped and gasped for breath, digging his fingernails into his wrists, trying to dislodge him. Desperation to breath overtook him, and he began to thrash and buck under Michael. I could see Callan was weakening his arms were loosening and his body wasn't fighting as hard. "Callan!" I screamed and his eyes opened and locked onto mine from across the room. It was like I had flicked a switch in him and with his last bit of strength he brought his knee up hard into Michael's groin. He cringed, but continued his steely grip. Callan repeated the process once more, then again, and his fingers loosened a bit, and he began shaking. Seeing his chance, Callan lunged forward and sunk his teeth into his neck. His skin popped under his jaws, his blood and Michael's blood mingling until they were one and the same. Callan used all the force he had to pierce deeply into his throat, and when his teeth ripped into his artery, the blood shot into his mouth. Callan jerked his head back triumphantly. Michael let go of him then, and grabbed his neck. He started backing away, but his life was already flowing out of him. He hit the ground on his bottom, leaning against the table leg in the lounge area of the bakery. His eyelids fluttered, but I could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Callan crawled to his feet, with blood still draining from his mouth, he walked by him. And I watched in horror as he turned to me. His face was bloody. His white shirt drenched in Michael's blood and his own blood from the large gash on his forehead. His breathing became strange, sort of ragged, I noticed, as he tried in vain to control himself, but his anger still sparked through the air, giving me a cold jolt in my chest - fear. All he saw was rage, but I saw everything else. His body swayed on loose feet and I made my way down the rest of the stairs as quickly as I could. I tried to catch Callan as he crumpled to the ground. I had managed to reach him in time. His heavy body tangling with mine as his bloody hands held me tightly. His blood stained face rested against my heaving chest as he cried. His hands held tightly onto me. I cradled his head in my chest, crying. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Callan sobbed and I stroked his crimson stained locks away from his eyes planting a kiss to his bloodied temple, but he kept sputtering the same thing over and over again. I didn't know what he was apologizing for. Anger is that feeling that drives us insane. It like a light switch. All you need is to push that wrong button and something sends electricity into your spine; like unwanted energy. An emotion so strong, so visible, yet to those who choose to see only what they want to, see only the flash of fire in your eyes, feel only a burn in the deepest depth of your souls, hear only the drop of one tear as it passes past your cheek, these signs catch those who care and they look only into your eyes with the power of ice, calm your soul with just one touch and dry the tear with just one word. My eyes fluttered over to the body of Michael. His eyes were heavy as his grip on his neck-his lifeline-fell to the blood soaked carpet. I heard Michael take his last, jagged breath, blood spread out in a wide pool around him. Goon Number One was splayed across the hard wood floor. His nose broken, the cartilage smashed into his brain.  There were two dead bodies on my floor.  I knew why Callan was apologizing now.