#FoG Realism

[bondilluns]

i'm turnin into some dust, i'm turnin into some bats!!!1 🦇🦇🦇

HI! my comissions are open so check out my pinned post if you're interested ^^

[ID: A digital painting of Gerard Way wearing their bat costume. They are holding the microphone over their mouth, and they're looking to the left. They're surrounded by fog, which is drawn in messy spiraling lines. The color palette consists of various shades of teal, and they have a pink heart drawn in each cheek. End ID]

[marejadilla]

Francine Van Hove, “Quai des brumes / The quay of fog”, 2012, oil on canvas. B. 1942, Saint-Mandé, Seine, France.

“There is no Frigate like a Book To take us Lands away Nor any Coursers like a Page Of prancing Poetry..."

― Emily Dickinson, Selected Poems. 

[yourhelenwolf]

Broken World II. Fog (2021)

[platosshadowpuppet]

The fog changes things. Haar, or sea fret, is a common autumn phenomena in Edinburgh. It pours thickly from the Forth to swathe the city in milk white salt smelling clouds.

It stays for days, blocking out the sky and deadening sound. Its insidious chill seeping in everywhere.

When it lifts, the city is reborn. But each time little things have changed. Colours have shifted, streets have twisted, and the crags seem to loom somehow closer than before.

I always wonder which it is the fog has changed; the world, or me?

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

my beloved, summarizing a headline: bodies mysteriously mummifying and not decomposing--

me: oh, wow, horror movie shit.

my beloved: --in small Colombian mountain town.

me: oh, those? that's fine. Our mountains are just like that.

[romanticpoetsblog]

Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog.

[kyleheslop]

b l u r #monochrome #streetphotography #slowshutter #fujix100f #fujifilm #fineartphotography #abstract #35mm #cinematographer #cinematography #dop #man #road #cars #lightstreaks #poetic #realism #winter #fog #city #life #newcastleupontyne #bnwdark #bnw_dark (at Newcastle upon Tyne) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmOfNo1Kp7X/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[lovesickgoose]

Maybe this is a new artist thing, or maybe it's the fact I can't visualise things in my head, but I really struggle to draw things unless I have a reference image

[demo-ness]

me when i know what my game should look like by default

[wixa-exe]

[mawziee]

i love in shows and movies when theres a scene involving water sometimes at nnight like a rain scene or a pool or something and u cn see the steam from the water / actors that are being kept warm like it just warms my heart tk know people are being kept warm and safe while doing a scene that cld give em a cold or something idc abt immersion i wanna know that people are being kept safe and warm

[lavender-evening-fog-podcast]

Teavent Day 23: Wakoucha Black Tea

Genre:  Magical Realism

[Image Description: Card reading “Wakoucha Black Tea, A unique and very smooth organic black tea from the Kagoshima Prefecture in Japan.”]

The girl woke up one morning to discover the ends of her hair started glowing like fairy lights. Nothing else had substantively changed. The room was the same, and the rest of her body was the same, and the rest of her hair was the same, just the fairy light glow at the end of it. She noticed that it shifted colors slightly in the light, but she tried to change the color by thinking “purple,” but it did not work. As much as she wanted to investigate the change more, she still had to go to school, so she bundled her hair into a hat and left the house...

[robinsfilm]

16, CLUMSY AND SHY 01

PAIRING: jason todd ✗ gn!reader ;

SYNOPSIS: jason todd and you try and navigate young puppy love ;

WARNINGS: none at all, maybe me rambling a bit about emma and eli (boule de suif) ;

WORD COUNT: 2.0k ;

NOTES: this was inspired by @jteime 's asks. haven't added the marvel crossover part, but i enjoyed writing this kind of teen au so much that i might add a second part. it's just i've never done a crossover so bear with me here 🐻

── .✦ MASTERLIST & NAVIGATION & AO3.

THE LINGERING HINT OF CHALK AND DRY ERASE MARKERS DO NOTHING TO SOOTHE JASON'S NERVES. Instead, they leave an uncomfortable taste on his tongue. The smell is a heavy one, just like the weight in the pit of his stomach. It's like an anchor, bringing him down into the dark sea with nothing to cling onto.

Jason threw the idea of trying to compose himself out of the window as soon as he entered the rather small classroom. His hands gripped the dense books and slightly crumpled papers close to his chest, fingers awkwardly wrapped around his pencil so as to not drop it.

Walk into the room with your head held high, babybird. Confidence is key, he remembers Dick saying.

Well, he isn't like Dick, nor Bruce. He can't help but feel the thousands of pairs of eyes on his back, scrutinizing every step he takes.

Comparative Literature.

This is supposed to be a course Jason enjoys, not one that makes him feel as if he's walking on needles, not one that makes the air feel to heavy and the hours spent in the classroom too long and miserable.

Jason speeds to his desk near the corner of the room, next to the window. His eyes often wander to it, watching the same part of the courtyard staring back at him through the window. He settles his supplies on his desk.

The Art of Realism: Depicting Social Class and Individual Morality in 19th-Century Literature.

The title of the essay states back at him. The review session is creeping up closely and the horrid anticipation of it feels as if it's going to eat him whole.

Jason knows it's silly, it's just a classroom, not the streets of Gotham at the dead of night. Hell, he'd be more comfortable in some run down alley than he is now in this room, with it's grating sound of the chalk and suffocating smell of the markers.

His thoughts threaten to drown out the rest of the world, until the sound of the chair next to him being moved catches him off guard.

The sound makes him tear his gaze away from his papers to the stranger sitting down next to him. A new student, maybe?

By the way your knuckles are turning white from gripping the chair to hard, Jason can tell you're nervous too.

“I’m sorry,” you stammer, “I didn't mean to interrupt you.”

He moves closer to the wall next to him to offer you more space, a bit perplexed on why you'd choose to sit with him.

“N–no, it's alright.” He responds, ducking his head down and facing the window. He catches the little frown on your face reflected on the window glass, fogged from the cold air outside. He sees the way the corner of your lips drop as he turns away.

Shit. He's being rude. This is totally not what Dick taught him.

“Uh,” he hesitates, searching for something to say, “are you new here? It's just I haven't seen you around.”

Jason hopes he's right. If not, he's made himself look like more of a jerk in front of you for basically saying he's never noticed your presence.

You nod as you answer. “Yep! I'm really glad I got in.” A small smile dances on your lips in a way that has Jason paying attention with the way your cheeks rise up when you grin, making your eyes smile alongside you.

They smile with their eyes.

He gets caught off guard again when you shuffle closer to take a look at the papers scattered around his part of the shared desk.

‘...wept, and sometimes a sob she could not restrain was heard in the darkness between two verses of the song.’

Your quiet but melodic voice carries the words with a softness Jason only imagined in his mind. The same way he read the words on worn-out papers during the countless nights he spent in the manor library, tucked away, sure of the fact he'd never hear it from another person.

The world has a funny way of proving Jason wrong. He's staring at your lips, thinned in concentration just like your furrowed brows.

“Boule de Suif!—” You exclaim, before your eyes go wide and you muffle your words with a hand over your mouth. “—Sorry!”

Jason chuckles before relaxing into the chair. “It's okay.” He shuffles closer to you, peering down at your own essay written on neat paper, so unlike his own. The words on the pages are all too familiar to him.

‘There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart,’—’

Jason can't help but smile as he whispers to you, “—There is nothing to be compared to it. Warmth and tenderness of heart,” he doesn't even notice the proximity of the two of you, the warmth of your presence wafts around him like the sun after a rainy day, “‘Emma’?”

You smile again, the twinkle in your eye appearing again. “Yes,” You breathe out, before your eyes go wide just like last time.

“I didn't even introduce myself.” Your name leaves your lips like a secret whispered to only him.

He thinks of your name, every syllable dances around his mind before he gives you his.

“Jason— Jason Todd.”

Maybe this classroom isn't so horrible after all, he thinks.

*****

The stadium is too loud, Jason concludes after being stuck in there for about thirty minutes. More precisely – thirty-five minutes and forty seconds, now forty-one, since he keeps checking the time and counting down to the moment when the bell rings and he can finally leave.

The air is too heavy, it feels too warm. The gym clothes are sticking and moving across his skin in such an uncomfortable way, he can't think straight. Standing all alone and leaning against the grainy surface of the wall isn't helping either.

If Jason hears the damn ball hit the stadium wall one more time, he swears he'll walk out that door himself–

“Hey!” A nervous voice calls out to him. Surprisingly, it doesn't feel as grating as the sounds of the gym.

It's you. It's you, with your hair, messy in a perfectly imperfect way. A light volleyball rests between your arm and side. Your chest rises with every breath.

Jason feels his own breath get caught in his chest as he stumbled to say something to you.

The class isn't practicing volleyball right now. So, where did you come from?

You don't wait for him to say something. “I was wondering if—” you grip the light ball in your hands, offering it to him“—you’d like to give it a try?” You zip your mouth shut as fast as you say those words.

Jason blinks. Someone wants me to join them, to hang out with them. And hell, that someone is you.

“Best of three?” He suggests.

“Prepare for utter defeat, Todd.”

“I'd like to see you try.”

*****

The courtyard is a little too quiet for Jason's liking. He should be happy, he can finally gather his thoughts without anything getting in his way.

For some reason those thoughts are only occupied by a certain someone who shows up just at the right time, saving him from the utter boredom and misery of Gotham Academy life.

He wishes he could hear you call out to him again. The way his last name sounds so natural on your tongue. How you're so unafraid of speaking it.

Jason thinks you're brave. Probably much braver than him. He still can feel his breath get ripped right out of his lungs when he tries to get your attention. The way your name gets stuck in his mouth, kept inside him just like his wishes and attempts to spend time with you.

The first step is always difficult, Bruce had said to him a few days back, after that it gets easier.

Gets easier? Jason thinks Bruce was lying to him somehow. He feels his face warm up and brows furrowing. Why was the thought of approaching you getting him so worked up?

It's not like you had felt any different. You were nervous too, right? Or did he imagine that? He should ask, right? Yes, he should.

Jason knows exactly where you settle down to eat your lunch— that almost abandoned side of the garden west of the Academy. If he's quick enough, he can make it to you before the bell rings.

He's about to sprint out of the courtyard when he hears the same soothing voice call out to him.

“Todd!”

He doesn't know why it calms him down so quickly.

“There you are.” You say as you walk to him with a lunchbox in your hand.

“Here.” You push it forwards to him, the chocolate chip cookies smell waft in the air and it almost distracts him from the way your free hand is tucking the loose hair strands away from your face. “My dad made extra.”

“Oh—” he stutters while a shy smile appears on his lips. “—thank you.”

“No problem.” You smile at him and he watches the way your cheeks rise up just like the day in the corner of the classroom.

They smile with their eyes.

Jason wonders if you ever notice how he only smiles when he's with you. Do you notice how he only talks with you?

Silly, isn't it?

*****

The sun is staring down at Jason as he walks down the cobblestone road to the gate. Just beyond that Bruce sits in the car waiting.

Jason's gripping his backpack closer to his body. He tried to slow down his steps. His eyes dart around him, trying to find you, with your perfectly imperfect messy hair tied back, neat papers and folders in your arms as you walk home.

He isn't going to back down from this. Jason hasn't backed down from facing robbers and all kinds of criminals in the darkest parts of Gotham and he won't be frightened by this either.

By this, he means asking for your number.

His fingers wrap around the cold car door handle as he glances one more time around the yard, eyes looking for you.

“Searching for something?—”

Jason's ears perk up as he hears Bruce's calculated words. Calculated in a way he knows that his dad is trying not to sound obvious that he has figured out the fact that something or a certain someone is tugging at his son's heart.

“—or someone?”

Maybe Bruce noticed it when his son came back considerably more relaxed and happy after School, or maybe, it was when Dick told him that Jason seemed very interested in learning how to approach someone and ask them to hang out.

Jason scolds himself for being so obvious. His palms start to sweat.

“No—” the words die on his tongue as he spots you leaving the gates of the Academy.

Jason leaves Bruce waiting in the car as he runs up to you, yelling out your name.

He can see how quickly you recognise his voice, how quickly you snap out of what reverie you were lost in and how your eyes search across the yard to find him. Jason's heart aches when he sees how your eyes smile just like last time when you finally spot him.

You say his name, the sound is too sweet with your voice. He wonders how it would sound when talking on the phone. Jason concludes it doesn't matter if it's in person or on the phone, miles away.

He just wants to hear you.

“I was wondering if—” he stops to look into your eyes, the twinkle in them remind him of the lone star in the obsidian midnight sky. “—if I could get your number?”

Jason sees the surprise on your face, the faint pink hue on your cheeks, the fidgeting of your fingers.

“Y’know,” he stammers, “for school work and such.” He's lying. He's sure you know as well, because the warmth of his cheeks is probably caused by the same pink hue on them just like the one on yours.

“Of course.” You blurt out, “why didn't I think of that?” You giggle, the sound of it like a song to his ears.

“Let me be the one who asks this,” He says with a smile, “you always manage to surprise me, so…”

Your eyes nervously dart from his face to the ground near your shoes. “Well—,” you click your tongue, “—you just have to try harder next time, Todd.”

“Next time, huh?”

“Yes.”

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[barefoothighlander]

deluminate

summary: kylo ren stops at nothing to capture his target

kylo ren x fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), unprotected pinv, slight hunter/prey, force bondage, choking, dub con, mind reading?, creampie, idk how the force works, kidnapping?

a/n: having kylo ren brain rot so i needed to write this, i want to hear nothing about realism none of this makes sense, not proofread

Where are you.

His voice rings clear and heavy in your head, a tidal wave through the hazy ocean that was your mind, fogged and weary from his preferred methods of interrogation.

It was purely chance that you had gotten out, a fluke in timing on the account of the troopers that usually haunted your room, one small mixup in shift change and you were left unguarded for invaluable seconds.

You had no idea where you were going, simply letting your legs carry you on their own accord, twisting down hallways and turning the sharp corners of the black metal walls that made up the labyrinth of his ship.

It felt like weeks you had been locked in that room, the days fading into eachother as he searched your mind for any piece of information that could help him, reaching deep into your thoughts and fears, urging you to give up the location of the map.

Truth be told you were the last person he should’ve been asking, a minor ship technician that aided the rebellion with not the slightest inclination as to where the forces were keeping such a lucrative item.

I will find you.

The husk of his voice vibrates in you as fear sweeps your nerves, even if you did somehow outrun him, there was nowhere to go, you had no idea of the ship had landed somewhere or if it was simply tumbling through hyperspace, an eerie quiet settled in the air of the halls, only broken by the sudden hissing of pipes or clanging of armour as patrols made their way.

It didn’t make sense, how he was able to see into your mind, control your body the way he did, a simple twitch of his finger and your limbs were frozen, a nudge of his chin and he could see into your darkest thoughts, the most private and secret, held deep in your psyche for only you to see.

Why run? Come back to me and I’ll give you what you want.

A taunt, emphasized by the honey dripping from his tongue, even through the mask you can hear it. There was no trying to hide behind it, he saw right through you, that obscure primal attraction you held for him, the longing to see him beneath the cloak and mask, to feel that power on other parts of your body.

He was using it against you, like somehow he course sense the throb between your legs as his voice spoke to you, the heat that pooled as he used only his mind to restrain your body.

Sweat beaded your skin, falling in drops down your spine as you rest against a wall, legs screaming in pain, how far had you ran? There was no way to tell if you’d even gotten far, every hallway turning into another, every corner identical.

The conversation of troopers has you holding your breath, careful to keep quiet as they pass by, praying to the maker they were truly as stupid as people made them out to be.

You’re near, I can feel you.

Clasping your hand over your mouth and breathing through your nose, you turn a quick glance around the corner, no sight of the massive cloaked figure, there was no way he knew where you were, he couldn’t.

Down the hall you can see a pair of doors, if you could get in you could lock them, you’d worked on ships similar, nothing this large and nothing from the new empire but they had to have similar wiring.

You will your aching limbs to carry you the few feet toward them, slamming a palm to the panel, a whimper escaping your lips as the screen flashes red.

You drive your fist against the metal doors, willing them to open, to let you in but they don’t budge, a deferred breath falls as you rest your head against it, the cold bite of them cooling your skin.

It’s a gasp of shock that falls from your lips as the doors part, cool air rushing against your skin, how did they-

“There you are pet”

Fear strikes through your body like lightning, this time his voice sounded to close, the crackle of the mask like sparks in your ears. His presence is heavy enough that it sucks the air from your chest, a tear falling from your eye as you slump your shoulders, refusing to turn and face him.

He places a firm hand to your back, walking you forward into the room as the doors close behind you, the tell tale sound of a lock snapping into place as your legs give out, knees buckling sending you toward the hard ground.

You can hear the echo of his steps as he paces the room, damn him if he wanted to read your mind, there were no thoughts to be seen.

“It was a good effort”

Invisible arms will your body up, weak legs trying to regain balance as he emerges in front of you, dwarfing your figure.

His form sucks the life from the room, forcing you backward till your spine connects with the wall, harsh steel biting into your skin as he braces an arm beside your head.

“Are you ready to give me up?”

You shake your head, eyes refusing to look up at him,

“You know I can take whatever I want”

His gloved hand presses to your throat, holding you to the wall as an unseen force binds your hands above your head, leaving you at his will.

“Is this not what you wanted? I’ve heard every thought you’ve had, they’re very loud”

You squeeze your eyes shut at the words, your throat bobbing under his grip.

“I’ve seen what you dream of, how you want to be touched by me, it’s.. obscene, the way you offer yourself up on a platter”

There’s nothing you can do, he has you at his will, a simple prayer to the maker that he’d atleast bestow some form of mercy upon you.

“Do you want to see what I think about?”

His voice is gruff, laced with threat as his fingers squeeze your pulse point.

“Open your eyes”

You obey, parting your wet lashes to look at him, staring deep into the black visor as he watches you, you struggle in his grip as the force on your hands tightens.

He reaches his free hand to his neck, a hissing sound filling the air as the chin of the mask parts, the black helmet rising on his form to reveal his face.

Every sense in your body betrays you at the sight of him, obsidian hair that curls around his pale face, his cheeks flush from the exertion of power as plush lips and dark eyes stare back at you.

He closes his eyes, tilting his chin toward you as he wills his thoughts to yours, flooding your mind with images.

He too had thought about you, your naked body in front of him, legs parted and sex on display as you writhe against the sheets, the tip of his nose nudging against your swollen bud as he feasts on you.

The image sense shockwaves to your core, heat pooling as he continues to show you yourself, bent over a table, your ass arched in the air for him as his cock drives deep into you, practically forcing the air from your lungs with every thrust.

It’s too much, the visions, it feels too real, your skin flushing as he pulls back, his dark gaze glued to you.

“Do you see pet, what you do to me, why I could never let you run away”

He releases one of your hands, gripping your wrist as he drags it to his groin, forcing your digits to cup his length as he grunts. Even through the thick cloth of his pants you can feel his size, massive and pulsing, like pure iron in your weak grip.

You part your lips in shock as he grinds his hips into your palm, his hand on your throat tensing.

“Don’t shy away now, not when you’re so close to getting what you want”

Another grind of his hips has your fingers squeezing his bulge, a primal grin forming on his lips as he ducks his head next to yours.

“That’s it, give yourself over”

His breath ghosts over your ear, tingling the hair on your neck as his teeth dig into your earlobe, nipping at the skin.

His fingers creep over your stomach, inching down toward the pulse that’s settled between your thighs, strong hands tugging at your bottoms as the skin of your ass is revealed, the cool air hitting it.

He cups your sex with his palm, grinding the leather of his glove against your aching bud, cheeks heating as the sound of your slick fills the room.

“So wet for me already”

His words give rise to a tinge of embarrassment in your face as you roll your hips into his hand, searching for the contact against your clit as his cock strains against his pants.

“M’gonna drive my cock so deep into you, there won’t be any thoughts for me to read”

The threat has your core aching, clenching around nothing as he rips his hand from you, the black fabric of his gloves glistening in your slick as he raises a hand.

His free hand moves to loosen his pants, biting back a groan as his cock springs free from the fabric, keeping his eyes on yours as he fists it, the harsh rub of his glove rough against the skin of his shaft.

“Open your mouth”

You move to reach a hand for him but it’s pulls to the wall with that same invisible force, keeping you flat to the metal as it digs into your spine.

“I said open”

You obey, parting your lips slightly to allow his fingers to tease around the flesh, pushing past your teeth to flatten against your tongue.

Swirling the muscle around the digits, the bitter taste of leather mixed with the sweetness of your own slick dripping down your throat as he forces the fingers deeper.

He teases the head of his cock through your folds forcing your eyes shut as you hum around his fingers.

“You’re gonna take every last inch, and you’re gonna keep your eyes on me”

Parting your lids in a haze your teeth dig into his fingers as he pushes in, one swift motion has his cock stuffing you full, forcing your cunt to adapt to the stretch of him.

The angle has him dipping below you, forcing his cock upward as he thrusts, the head of it grinding against that sweet spot into you as it drags against your soaked walls.

“That’s it, eyes on me pet”

His fingers tilt your chin to face him, eyes clouded in lust as you watch him bite back his grunts. His hand grips at your thighs, tugging them around his waist as he lifts you higher against the wall, length driving into you, forcing your body to collide with the hard metal behind you with every thrust.

“Wanted this since I first saw you”

The words come through gritted teeth, your eyes drifting to where the two of you meet, his hand withdrawals from your mouth allowing you to suck in a breath before it makes contact with your throat, pinning your neck to the wall.

“I said eyes on me”

It’s a struggle to even keep them open as his cock splits you in half, feeling impossibly full from him, the base of his length grinding against your clot with every stroke.

Your legs lock around his back, holding him to you as you roll your hips into him, meeting every thrust. A grin plasters his face at the sight, using his hand to tear at your shirt, the lose fabric falling around you as your breasts are revealed, nipples peaked from the cold air.

Like a beast to its prey he eyes your form, bound and free for his taking, he leans down, his teeth closing around a nipple eliciting a yelp from you as he nips at the skin, flicking his tongue over it.

“So good for me, letting me take you however I want”

Heat rises in your chest, it was true, he could have you, the sight of him alone that first day had your thoughts betraying you, his form oozing power and command.

You snap from your thoughts as an unseen pressure hits your clit, rubbing against the bud in a perfect pressure that has your back arching against the wall, pushing your breasts further into him.

It’s obscene the noises the flood the room, the sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed with the wracked moans that escape you, he peers down, his jaw slack at the sight of your pussy swallowing him whole with every thrust.

“Never gonna let you go pet, you’ll stay here with me, as my little play thing”

The words sting your chest, the thought of remaining captive to the man who could invade your very soul, but the feeling of his cock driving into you is too tempting, feels to good, the pleasure blooming from your core has you nodding”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, letting me stuff this little pussy everynight, getting used by me, fucking slut”

That invisible hand flicks against your clit as his cock drives deep into your walls, your legs tightening around him as your push squeezes him, keeping him inside you, letting your orgasm rip through your bones.

As your high lowers you open your eyes, straight to his gaze, his hair sticking to his forehead in a sheen of sweat as the slightest pink tints his cheeks, his cock sliding into your drenched walls.

In a second he slams his lips to yours, swallowing your moans as he pounds into you, hard enough that the grind of your back against the wall was sure to leave you sore.

His hand meets the flesh of your ass, squeezing the muscle with force as he holds your body to him, allowing his cock impossibly deep as he buries it inside you, his hips staggering with each thrust.

“Say you’re mine, fuck, say it”

He leans his head back, lowering it to your shoulder as his teeth dig into the flesh, tears pricking your eyes as your muscles scream.

“I’m yours”

The words trigger something in him, a growl from his chest vibrates against your skin as he spills inside you, the warmth spreading in your core as he moves his coco slowly inside you, shallow thrusts to force his cum deeper.

He holds your body to him, the force on your hands gone, allowing the now sleeping muscles to drop to his shoulders, your fingers splayed over the rough fabric of his cape as his breaths ghost over your skin.

“You’re mine”

The haze of it wares on you, your mind weakened from the combination of everything as your body fights to regain its strength, held up only by his body.

Slowly he pulls his cock from you, allowing his spend to drop down your thighs as his hands keep you still. His eyes glued to yours as he watches you wince from the loss of contact, a hand settling on your cheek, the leather dragging against the thin layer of sweat on the flesh.

He bites back the words in his throat as he closes his eyes, his fingers flexing against your skin as your mind goes blank.

You wake in a dark room, legs bare against the black sheets that have settled atop them, your chest covered only by the large cloth of a shirt, you can feel the soreness from earlier already settling into your body as you sit up, trying to look around.

There’s a stream of starts outside the large window, the only light in the room as you squint to see, it was some sort of bedroom, the furniture below you soft and cushioned, you were in a bed.

Turning to your left you can see the light shine on his pale skin, the expanse of his back visible, alongside the pink pines of scars the adorned it, his dark hair blending into the sheets as his body rised slightly with every breath.

You were in his bedroom, his private quarters, in his bed, shock hits you all at once, every nerve in your body telling you that you shouldn’t be there, but he had brought you there, changed your clothes as set you beside him in bed.

He had stripped off his cloak and leathers, tucked away the facade of Kylo Ren and went to bed, beside you.

Running a soft hand over the curve of his spine you feel him twitch, his breath remaining slow, he was still asleep, he didn’t look like that large beast that invaded your thoughts like this, he was softer, calmer.

The sheets are soft as you slip back below them, turning to your side to face him, watching his skin flow under the streaming stars as your eye slide grow heavier, drawing you back into sleep.

[sinligh]

It’s early summer,

the hopeless romantic in me found her way to the surface when the heat melted couple of my overprotective layers.

so here i am, allowing her a moment of spotlight and myself some vulnerability.

it’s past midnight, I’m sitting in floor of my kitchen eating fruits with a knife

wondering, if it’s really safe to romanticize life?

I indulge myself anyway, and think about how fruits can be considered a love language if you’re starved enough to taste love that’s throughly stained with muted apologies. 

I trust, that when the sun rises tomorrow all my attempts to romanticize life will sublimate and create a thick fog of melancholy that I’ll have no other option but to get lost into.

even so, tonight I’m tired enough to let it be and so i write this, my own report of pathology

officially it’s untitled, but I’m thinking: the pathology of love.

i start by resecting pieces of all the habits that i define my existence based on along with some of the heartache that i held onto for too long

deep down, i know some of it belongs to my mother

At least its mature flavor says so, that, balanced with the sweet essence of an overly ripe fruit that never belonged

Young and brash and an acquired taste.

it’s a poorly fixed microscopic tissue, preserved in a high percentage of feminine rage

Low expectations stained with love and paranoia alike and the question that asks itself:

is it benign or malignant?

is it infiltrating my soul, taking away from my potential to grow ?

It stays unanswered, an unforced error

because i always carry those little versions of me that vary in the percentage of their belief in my own bone marrow

a core biopsy will always show that i still believe.

•••

•Quotes: Anaïs Nin/ Sylvia Plath/ Virgina Woolf/ Franz Kafka/Marcel Proust/ Simone de Beauvoir/Anne Carson/ Andrea Gibson/Anaïs Nin

•Original context:

•Art reference:

1. British School - Head of a girl, c. 1850. 2. Painting ( details) by Richard E. Miller. 3. Paintings by Jen Mazza. 4. Neil Carroll Original Oil Painting Realism Impressionism. 5. The Gross Clinic (details), by Thomas Eakins 6. Wounds of the Earth by xis.lanyx. 7.painting by Herbert James Draper.

[jerirose]

Happy Lee Know Day 🩸

© Jeri Rose | INPRNT

[Image Description]

Digital Realism painting of Lee Know from Stray Kids as a vampire, blood dripping from his mouth, running down his chin and neck. Lee Know is resting his back up against a tree, his glowing red eyes looking towards the sky. He's painted from a side profile, his lips slightly parted with his sharp tooth on show. Lee Know has a labret piercing, septum ring and a gold snake that wraps around his pointed ear. On the shown side of his face, three (3) newer scars go from his forehead to his cheek, and under that, 2 older, healed scars go over his jaw line. His long, dark blue hair waves and wisps around his face behind two small bite marks peak out on his neck. Lee Know's cheeks are blushed with light purple, star feckles decorate them, along with light opaque stars that go down his neck, in purple and blue. Lee Know wears a black and grey shirt, covered in blood stains and splatter. The woods around him is still and foggy, a full moon shines behind the fog that wraps itself around the trees behind him. A gold wisp enters from the left side, wraps itself around Lee Know and the trees and exits on the right side. The image under the cut is the same image without the blood.