monet prints

4

just doin some summer sketchbookin (aka my wallet was too thicc bc of movie tickets so i decided to just stick it in an empty ntbk) found some old papers abt school n crushes n shiz n decided to just throw in monet & papemelroti prints ✌️😊💕

Author’s Note: This is possibly the most fucked up scenario I’ve ever written. Please don’t judge me. Inspired by the song of the same title by My Chemical Romance. Credit goes to baekby for the edit above. Anyways, enjoy~

Mama 

The tiles and wallpaper somehow seemed always to be ridden with dirt, despite the overwhelming scent of pine and disinfectant that clung to the foundations of the institution. Your eyes wandered widely over the disturbingly silent hallway, taking in the various shades of white, the plastic rails, and slightly off-putting thrift shop Monet prints hanging at every turn of the corner. You decided that perhaps it wasn’t so much that the walls seemed dirty, but that they somehow clung onto the fingerprints of those who’d touched them, or rather, dragged themselves across the faded floral paneling. A short scream sounded from within one of the rooms.

“Miss?”

You looked up quickly, noticing the nurse grimace before flashing an almost mocking smile your way. “This is the room you asked for, I believe? Jongin, it was… correct?”

You nodded, mumbling a short thank you as you hurried to take a hold of the door handle.

“Uhm-” the woman cleared her throat, holding her hands out as if to pry your fingers away from the knob, “Before you go in, I just have to make sure everything is… all right in there.”

You nodded slowly, letting your hand fall from the door as she snuck in, hardly allowing you a moment to glance inside before the thick wood slammed back into place.

You lingered by the door, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you wrung your hands together. Your stomach had been churning since you’d arrived through the main gate and now, being alone in the hall, you felt almost in danger, as if, in any moment, you’d be dragged away to the confines of some solitary chamber within the depths of the building. Although it was far from the first time you’d been in the institution, it was certainly not something you’d ever grown accustomed to. You folded your arms over your chest, glancing down the barren hallway as another scream sounded from afar. You wondered if perhaps the patients felt the same.

You wondered if perhaps he felt the same.

“She’s here?” someone exclaimed from within the room, the familiar baritone voice sending your heart into cartwheels.

Immediately, you straightened up, your fingers resting on the wood tentatively as you leaned against it to hear. The nurse responded quickly and harshly, her voice too low to make out the exact words. You leaned closer, your ear pressing against the door, when the surface pulled away from you, the door swinging ajar. Your feet faltered as you stumbled to regain your balance, a soft flush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks.

“He’s ready to see you.” the nurse smiled tightly, moving aside to allow you in.

Hesitantly, you stepped past the threshold of the door, your eyes focused on the pristine tiled floor.

“The doctor will just finish his paperwork and be with you momentarily.”

You hummed, turning to catch a glimpse of her skirt as she disappeared behind the door, leaving the two of you alone.

“_____?”

Your skin chilled at the sound of that voice again, coating the syllables of your name in a sort of devout adoration. You turned to face the small bed, your breath hitching at the sight of him. He sat facing you, his feet resting upon the bed frame, his knees slightly tucked into his stomach. He stared up at you affectionately, the large onyx discs of his irises dancing over your figure quickly, as if perhaps you might vanish without a moment’s notice . The oversized sweater he wore, along with the muss of autumn bronzed hair falling over his forehead lent his features a childish naivety, accentuated even more by the boyish smile stretching his beautifully plump, pink lips.

“Kai.” you sighed, your heart swelling as his grin widened at the sound of his nickname.

“I missed you.” he mumbled, slipping from the bed, his bare feet making their way across the tiles towards you. Before you could respond, his arms engulfed you, wrapping themselves around your waist as if it were the most natural thing on Earth. He pulled you close, pressing your small figure against the hard muscles of his chest, his face buried against the crook of your neck as he softly inhaled your scent, a sigh of contentment drifting from his lips. You closed your eyes, leaning into the warm cinnamon cologne clinging to his sweater, your fingers clutching at the fabric falling over his back.

“I missed you too.” you muttered against his chest, feeling his arms pull you closer, almost longing to pull you into him.

“You stopped coming.” he shifted from your neck, resting his chin upon your head, “Why didn’t you come?”

“I couldn’t.” you sighed, pausing to choose your words more carefully. “I had… to get away for bit. And you needed some time to yourself too.”

Something along the lines of a scoff escaped his lips as he pulled away, his eyes dark. “I had enough time alone here.”

You bit your lip, recalling the creeping sense of fear lingering over your shoulder when you’d been left in the hall earlier. Something in the way he looked down at you, his lips pressed together, his eyelashes casting shadows over his irises, suggested he’d known the feeling as well. Perhaps more than he’d care to admit. A wave of guilt washed over your heart.

“I’m sorry.” you frowned, “I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long.”

He nodded shortly, already prepared to forgive you, the grimace on his features slowly vanishing. “I know.”

“But I’ll take you out of here now,” you smiled, taking one of his hands in your own, “You’ll come home.”

He grinned, looking down bashfully as his fingers laced with yours, “Yeah.”

“Are you excited?” you asked, searching for his gaze.

Again, he nodded, his smile faltering for a moment. “I am. I think I’m a lot better now.”

The words eased a weight on your shoulders you hadn’t known was there. He glanced up to watch as your chest heaved with a sigh. “That’s great, Kai.”

“You don’t believe me?” he furrowed his brow, his lip protruding in a semi pout. Again, his features distorted into a childlike innocence, the expression sending a short shiver down your spine.

“I-I do.” you stammered, avoiding his gaze as you focused on his fingers clutching at your hand, “It’s just- I don’t know-”

“Don’t worry, _____.” he urged, taking a hold of your other hand, “I’ll be good. I promise. I really did get a lot of help here. The nurses-”

He tilted his head over your shoulder towards the door, “-they took care of all the problems I had, and the doctors talked to me about everything and I’m better now, I promise. I won’t be bad again.”

Your eyes shifted between his uncertainly, the onyx shade swirling with determination and devotion and affection, as they always did. However, something was missing. Your stomach churned at the complete absence of it, the dark shadow that should surely have been haunting his gaze for years to come.

“You’re sure about that, Kai?” you mumbled, cautious to not alarm him with your doubt. He nodded vigorously, the tangle of hair on his head frizzing even further, “I promise." 

Before you could respond, he unlatched himself from your hold, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks. A flash of something, perhaps conviction, colored his grayish eyes, disappearing in an instant.

"Please,” he clenched his jaw, his fingers almost digging into your skin, “Just get me out of here.”

Softly, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours, light as a feather in contrast to his grip on your face. He pulled away slowly, resting his forehead against your own as he breathed, “I’ll be good.”

A loud click sounded throughout the room as the door swung open. Kai looked up, letting his hands fall from your cheeks, stuffing them into the pockets of his jeans, his gaze falling to floor as the nurse approached.

“Here are his release forms,” she handed them to you, “The doctor will finish his last checkup once you sign the bottom, then he’ll be good to go.”

You took the clipboard with the forms, turning around to glance at the boy as he stared back, his lips pressed together, his eyes almost begging. You pulled in your bottom lip, turning back to the forms and signing your name quickly beside the small black “x.”

Keep reading

2

Vincent Van Gogh x Claude Monet These are printed paintings. (I’m not 100% sure if the second painting is Monet. I just guessed. If anyone knows the right artist, please correct me. Thank you.)

Giverny Monet’s garden

There are two parts in Monet’s garden: a flower garden called Clos Normand in front of the house and a Japanese inspired water garden on the other side of the road. The two parts of Monet’s garden contrast and complement one another.

The water garden

In 1893, ten years after his arrival at Giverny, Monet bought the piece of land neighbouring his property on the other side of the railway. It was crossed by a small brook, the Ru, which is a diversion of the Epte, a tributary of the Seine River. With the support of the prefecture, Monet had the first small pond dug ; even though his peasant neighbours were opposed. They were afraid that his strange plants would poison the water.

Later on the pond would be enlarged to its present day size. The water garden is full of asymmetries and curves. It is inspired by the Japanese gardens that Monet knew from the prints he collected avidly.

In this water garden you will find the famous Japanese bridge covered with wisterias, other smaller bridges, weeping willows, a bamboo wood and above all the famous nympheas which bloom all summer long. The pond and the surrounding vegetation form an enclosure separated from the surrounding countryside.

Never before had a painter so shaped his subjects in nature before painting them. And so he created his works twice. Monet would find his inspiration in this water garden for more than twenty years. After the Japanese bridge series, he would devote himself to the giant decorations of the Orangerie.

Always looking for mist and transparencies, Monet would dedicate himself less to flowers than to reflections in water, a kind of inverted world transfigured by the liquid element.

i’m too young to drink cheap wine and live in a crappy apartment furnished with prints of monet paintings and i’m too old for chuck e cheese and pretending i’m asleep to be carried in from the car but i’m the perfect age for wasting all my time on the internet and hating myself

Precarious (a poem)

Precarious


All the paintings
and photographs
dangling from your walls

the framed poster
from the movie Vertigo
tormented and already
afraid of heights

Aunt Ida clinging
to her new husband
both staring wide-eyed
at the carpet below
hoping the nail
is sunk well

your Monet print
sharing sunrise jokes
you wouldn’t get
over by the corner
that lights up
first thing in the morning.