Novel & Cerita Black Swan Fan Art

“Rest. You’ll need your strength for the Blackmoor board meeting.” I watched the door click shut and immediately moved to my desk. I grabbed my charcoal pencils and my sketching tablet. My mind wasn't on pack wars or mating bonds—it was on the sharp lines of hockey jerseys and the branding of the Blackmoor Wolves. I sketched until my fingers went numb, pouring every ounce of the betrayal I felt into the aggressive, dark designs of the team’s new armor. The portfolio was finished within the week. I sent it to Apex Syndicate, the elite design firm that handled the visual identity of the Mafia-league hockey teams.

He pointed to the blue potato. “He says he doesn’t look like that,” I said. “He’s considering legal action against the artist.” “Who’s the artist?” “Me.” His gaze dropped to the drawing of Al again, then returned to my face. “Your skill level is inconsistent.” “I’m a wedding planner, not Michelangelo.” “He’s holding a whale shark.” “He always carries the whale shark.” Rafael looked at the picture a little longer. His thumb shifted near the blue outline of the whale shark but didn’t touch the crayon. Like he was afraid the color might rub off.

It was sweet, but at the same time, it seemed as if the man was declaring that she was his, that the woman belonged entirely to him, and no one could ever take her away. The black-and-white erotic portraits were spectacular! I had never seen artworks like these in my entire life. All of them were drawn in charcoal, just like when Jack sketched Rose naked in the Titanic movie. The artist was insanely talented. I suddenly wanted to have something like this made, one of me and Arthur. Just imagining it made me giddy. Oh, I wonder if it could even be filmed?

fan club into a global phenomenon, she decided to capitalize on the craze by launching a series of NFTs (Non-Fungible Tokens) based on her "Alpha-in-law." She commissioned a notoriously eccentric digital artist who specialized in "abstract emotionalism." The resulting NFTs were a series of bizarre, vaguely wolf-shaped blobs of clashing neon colors that looked nothing like Jack. They were, by all objective standards, hideous. The launch was widely considered a flop.

The cool afternoon breeze swept my curly hair into my face. A group of seniors were playing football nearby. I sat alone, headphones on my ears, staring at the face I had sketched in my sketchbook five years ago. A face I liked to stare at to fuel my anger and hatred for people.

Jaxon chuckled loudly, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes. He loved how she could get possessive about little insignificant things. “Enjoy your little sex toys, Lexi.” He sent a mind link to her. Lexi just grinned drily. “Thank you for your care,” she rolled her eyes, then returned to Light’s lap. Mike noticed dark shadows moving slowly along the wall and the creepy art piece hanging on it. The painting showed tall, monstrous figures with bull-like horns, and wings made of swirling black smoke. Their disfigured faces twisted with pleasure. They were dressed in flowing red and their dark eyes were similar to the Blackwoods brothers.

I was drawn to him with an inexplicable force that made my heart stumble. He stepped closer, lowering himself to my height. A fleeting smile ghosted across his lips. “So you’re the girl hiding in the woods,” he said, his voice low and rasped. “I’ve heard the rumors, the black wolf that haunts the full moon.” I said nothing. My voice unused for years, maybe I've forgotten how to speak. I only stared. “No need to fear, my dear,” he murmured. “While they see disaster, I see potential. I am Alpha Xareth Morryn. Alpha of Crimson Dusk.”

'No matter how evil you are, Elixier my love, I'll always love you' I'm a black canvas. A paper pure white. And yes, I wanted to have color. I wanted somebody to paint me. Elixier did. But instead of coloring me with paint, he painted me with blood. Well I don't regret letting him do that. Red is a powerful color. Red stands out. Red is fierce. But fire is also red. That if it burns you, you'll turn black. Life is meaningless without him. I'd rather burn myself in the color of red in the flames as long as I'm with him, than be safe as a colorless canvas.

I also slice a melon fruit and apple before I settle myself on the dining table. Eating silently I notice the huge painting across the glass wall here in the dining room. I stop chewing my food and tilted my head. It was an image of a black swan that has a white reflection on the water... "There will be no ugly duckling story in real life" I whisper to myself after a couple of minutes staring at the painting.

Seeing him out here in the middle of a massive crowd is undoubtedly the pinnacle of my week, but I don't focus the ink solely on his form; I make sure to trap the entire living landscape. I sketch in the wolves chasing the flying disc, the heavy oak branches swaying in the summer breeze, and the long, thin wisps of clouds drifting over the high-rise fortresses in the background. It feels almost like a hidden-target puzzle, but if my wolf had to brand the page, I'd name it Where is the Male Who Merely Stopped Time? I glance down at the corner of the paper, spotting his sharp profile in the lines, and a genuine smile breaks across my face. Right there. There he is.