Novel & Cerita Artistic Outcast

Jenny gave the tip of her hat gesture at Sly as a sign of thank you for the amusement which Sly answered her with a smug face. Aidan, who watched everything in the front row, couldn't help but be impressed. They acted as real siblings. Bickering something useless, talking lightly, making fun of each other, and walking away with anger yet with clear air. They acted like they were family. “The Outcast is my real family. We have been through a lot, surviving as a family. We are family. Hyena, Wild Bunny, Mandrill Monkey, Vampire, Zombie, and some people from SO… they are my family. As much as you are my family, brother Aidan.”

At the start of graduation season, my boyfriend took more than two hundred photos of Madison Vale. Chase Whitman was president of Westbridge University’s photography club. He knew how to find flattering light and how to coax people out of stiff smiles. Madison stood beneath the maples outside the library in a white dress, her graduation cap tucked under one arm. “Am I taking up too much of your time?” she asked. Chase checked the last few shots and smiled. “You make my job easy.” When it was finally my turn, he barely looked at me. “Stand by the tree.” He clicked the shutter twice and lowered the camera. “Done.” I stared at him. “That’s it?” He turned the screen toward me. In one photo my ey

The fingers of his other hand were still hovering over her skin. "I... I was correcting her pose." The moment he spoke, I slapped him across the face. "Julian, you're disgusting!" The slap was not even that hard, but Julian froze. Panic surfaced in his eyes. The others did not think anything was wrong. Instead, they accused me of not understanding art and called me a hysterical shrew. My whole body was trembling. My hair was a mess. I probably looked ridiculous. Vivian quickly wrapped herself in a coat and put on the pitiful expression of a victim.

The other side of his face was stuck in a demonlike form a red eye, charred skin, and jagged teeth that couldn’t be covered by his lips. People stepped out of his way and made it a point to avoid him altogether, as if he had some sort of disease. Most demons that I had met could usually switch in and out of their demon forms, but he seemed to be stuck like this. Thayer eyed him for a long time, then nodded to Asher, as if he accepted him unlike everyone else. Demons seemed to stick with their own kind sex demons with sex demons, wrathful demons with wrathful demons. I guessed, being a half-wolf, half-demon mix made Tyler an outcast too, just like Gregor seemed to be.

Fred said, his playful tone dropping into something more serious. "I need them more!" Cassandra snapped. She felt a surge of protectiveness over her patient. "Your sister just came out of prison, and she’s developed a stress-rash. I need to formulate a new cream for her skin before it gets worse!" The playfulness vanished from Fred’s face instantly. He straightened up, his eyes widening. "W-What? Aubrey... was in prison?" Cassandra crossed her arms, her finger pointing accusingly at Fred’s chest. "So the rumors are true? You really treated her like an outcast in the BloodMoon Pack? You didn't even know?"

Snow crunched under my boots as I stumbled through the blizzard, the world a white blur that swallowed my escape. I'd run from the city lights, from the gallery that chewed me up and spat me out, from debts and doubts that clawed at my chest. Celyn Rodriguez, artist with nothing but a sketchpad and a backpack, seeking refuge anywhere warm. That's when I spotted the estate, massive, shadowed pines guarding iron gates half-buried in drifts. No lights, no welcome, but a flicker in an upper window promised life. I climbed the fence, thorns snagging my coat, heart pounding with desperation and defiance.

They sat me in the middle and took turns feeding me bites from their plates, making me laugh when Kai pretended to steal a strawberry from my lips. “So tell us,” Tate said, leaning back in his chair, “what kind of art do you want to make while you’re here? We cleared out the entire west wing for your studio. Skylights, the best supplies money can buy, whatever you need.” I took a sip of coffee and thought for a moment. “I’ve always wanted to paint something big and bold. Something that feels alive. Maybe abstracts inspired by the ocean… or by how I feel when I’m with all of you.”

“Ah! Mommy, help! Daddy’s turning into a big monster and he’s gonna eat me!” Watching them wreak playful havoc, I couldn’t help but laugh. The sunlight streamed through the window, and the wind chimes tinkled melodiously. The last few comments drifted past my eyes. “The End!” “You two must be happy!” “This is the sweetest story I’ve ever witnessed! Henry truly carved gentleness into his bones.” “Farewell, the feral tattoo artist and his soft, adorable female lead.” Yes. Farewell, my audience. But I knew our story was far from over.

“She’s absolutely disgusting! How can someone this manipulative and toxic call herself an artist? Who even started hyping up her paintings?” “Emma Xander is so pitiful. Not only did she lose her baby, now she’s lost her boyfriend too.” “And she had the audacity to attend an art exhibition in Haven State? Why should someone like her be allowed to make money here? She should be kicked out!” “She deserved that car explosion—too bad it didn’t kill her!” “Get her out of Haven State! We don’t want her here!”