Artwork Dump Novels & Stories

My boyfriend, Sean Conway, tells me he wants to get married and asks me to wear a wedding dress to the company's annual party. I think he's finally going to propose. So I show up in the most beautiful wedding gown I can find, bouquet in hand, and confess my love to him in front of the entire company. Suddenly, his sweet, innocent-looking secretary, Hannah Sloan, storms over and dumps an entire cup of coffee on me. "You shameless, ugly bitch! Just because you landed a nine-figure deal, you think you can steal my husband? You slut! Keep running your mouth, and I'll shut it for you!" Sean has always been a stickler for the rules, but instead of standing up for me, he accuses me of violating

I asked. "No, just strange, he collects items from the black market aswell and moves them over the water. He favours rare artifacts, magical potions, some art, anything really. If I were a betting man, I'd start with him." Arthur replied dropping the second file onto the desk between us with the first page open as I looked down at the face staring back from the surveillance style photo and the name printed on the sheet confirmed my horror. "Well Fuck me." I gasped as Cadmus Drakos was depicted in the photo clear as day.

However, he had underestimated Elaine's assistant, who had wrapped up the investigation and headed back before he could even make the call. Elaine's assistant returned with far more than just answers; she also brought back a collection of deeply horrifying, graphic videos. Elaine's hand trembled as she took the flash drive and plugged it into her laptop. The footage that loaded on the screen made it almost impossible for her to breathe. The video showed Rowan in filthy rags, surrounded and ganged up on by the villagers. It was stomach-churning. His bone-thin body was curled up on the ground like a dying animal, whimpering in utter despair.

I suggested and not having any other option he agreed and then gave me a chance. "But, as the function is in 2 days we don't have much time. I will give you time till tomorrow morning so draw all the plans you have and then show me by 9a.m," dad gave me a time limit and I agreed for it. Adeep, Aadhav, Ishaan and Jagat also came to my room and they also want to do it. I suggested,

“I bet his workshop is right on my route to the Art Den.” He chuckled, holding the painting up so the morning sun hit the curves I’d rendered in oil. “I’d like to spend a few days going through this entire vault when we aren't prepping for a territorial takeover.” “Most of it is trash, honestly,” I said, locking the heavy bolt on the unit. “Half-finished sketches and sculptures that lacked the proper bite.” “This one has plenty of bite.” He frowned at the canvas, his thumb hovering near the edge. “You only like it because it’s my chest, Rowan,” I teased. He didn't even try to deny it, merely shrugging with a grin that made my pulse skip.

My next appointment with death. I swiped into the Inventory first. Points: 1888. Artifacts: S-Tier ‘Shroud of Unseeing’, S-Tier ‘Warrior’s Aegis’, A-Tier ‘Purifier’s Tears’ (Consumable). Three prizes. Two for surviving, one for breaking the game’s toy. The ‘Tears’ still sat in my mental periphery, that phantom scent of pine and frost clinging to them. A memory I couldn’t grasp. Frustration itched under my skin. I needed data. I booted up my old laptop, pulling up the public forums where normies and anonymous players gossiped and panicked. I scrolled, searching for anything on artifact classifications, on void spaces, on memory triggers.

Chapter Twelve The rain had been relentless all Friday. Sheets of water fell from the sky, drumming against windows and rooftops, as if the heavens themselves were mourning or warning. Nora sat in the art studio, trying desperately to focus on her presentation, but her brush hovered uselessly over the canvas. The colours and lines felt meaningless. Every stroke of paint blurred, smudged by the storm of emotions inside her.

Someone immediately took a screenshot and sent it privately to Harvey. [@Harvey Holy shit, man, what's going on with your girlfriend?] [You haven't even left yet, and she's already celebrating being single?] [Damn, her new guy doesn't look simple. That booth alone must cost six figures for the night, right?] [That watch—Patek Philippe? Am I seeing things? That's worth millions!] [Harvey, are you getting cheated on? Go check it out before someone steals your girl!] Message after message flooded the chat, filled with jeers, speculation, and people enjoying the drama.

Alex and Zane had a good conversation, engaging in a back-and-forth where both parties understood each other's intentions. Candice remained silent until Zane suddenly noticed the file booklet she was holding. He exclaimed, "Ms. Renault, have you also been paying attention to Blue Artifact before?" In Candice's hands was an art catalog from Blue Artifact, and the first page on the cover featured a relatively obscure series from a couple of years ago. Zane’s interest was piqued. "The products from this series are not considered popular, nor are they cultural relics. It was just an inspiration from a small studio under us at the time. The popularity has always been low. How would Ms. Renault kn

Trapped in wood and resin. "I don't know," she admitted. "It feels like... like opening a diary and taping the pages to the wall." "That is what art is, Hope," Marchetti said. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "It is the act of turning the inside out. It is terrifying. And it is necessary." He handed her a drive. A sleek, silver rectangle. "The high-resolution scans," he said. "For the catalog. And the digital archive. We need them uploaded to the gallery server by midnight. The printer in Milan is waiting."