Novel & Cerita Bloody Painter Fanart

Dave pleaded in a hurry. "Alright, alright, I agree. Are you satisfied now? I'll go home and come with you. I'll be your assistant. Only your assistant until my sister is cured!" said Aleta, clarifying the agreement between them. A big decision had been made by the girl, without her knowing the truth. Aleta, who was so afraid of blood, would be living with someone who dealt with blood every day. Can Aleta overcome her fear if she has to deal with sadistic violence and bloodshed again?

Greetings to all my wonderful readers! As you've likely noticed, I have actual artwork of my characters for the cover of my book now. This was a commission I paid for from a very dear artist friend by the name of Rydi on DeviantART also known as lucia-garcia on ArtCorgi. We've known each other for a long time now, and I was super happy she gave me permission to use the old commissions in this way, so if you like her style, feel free to check her out.

She has so many paintings, I think she is a lover of art. There is a particular painting in her collection that scares the shit out of me. It is an alien with three heads, the head at the left has an angry face with two protrusions on his head, the head at the center has a clown make up on with a hand dripping blood in its mouth—I think it is feeding on the hand, then the last head which was on the right was crying and the right hand was badly bitten off with blood running out. What a scary painting. "What are you doing standing after I told you to sit and wait for me?"

Alexander He gritted his teeth as he studied the image of his lycan above the marbled mantlepiece. The painting was done by a royal pack member, Paul Cezanne in 1858. The worth of the art was invaluable like the artist himself. No matter how much he tried to relax, it was impossible. His wolf was snarling and roaring in his head, wanting blood on his sharp canines. The blood of the enemy. A fucking necromancer. He will tear him piece by piece by nightfall tomorrow.

The exquisite mix of pain and pleasure making me ache deep within. "You're a perfect canvas to paint a masterpiece on," he says, sounding almost absent or far away. My brow furrows. "What do you mean?" Blaine tears his eyes from my body and meets my gaze, and the look in them makes me shudder. It's dark and sadistic as he squeezes my left nipple even harder, making me yelp in surprise. "Cutting is an art form." His other hand digs into my right hip as he yanks me forward so I can feel the cold metal of the blade in his belt pressing into my skin. "Blood is my paint and skin is my canvas, Azira. And I've never seen a more beautiful canvas."

“Do your worst.” “You hush,” I scolded him, dipping my finger in black paint before catching his bottom lip, dragging it through his stubble and down his chin. “I’m working.” Evan chuckled, but didn’t say anything more as I dipped my brush in the shade of vermilion I’d picked for the base. Across his chest, I painted a red sky, blending darker and lighter reds to create angry, ominous storm clouds above an inky black sea that spanned his abdomen.

He had been one of the most wanted serial killers in history, which alone was a significant title, judging by the lengths he had gone. "I need the image fast, Malcolm. I need to find whoever had done this..." I said as Malcolm nodded, sketching the man's image further. I sat down as some minutes passed by, with my eyes glancing around the paintings, knowing they were made with the victims' blood and were still the bestsellers on the market, with the buyers craving such paintings. "I'm done." A voice jolted me back as I watched Malcolm approach my side. "He seems really great for my taste, but it's sad that i can't have him, or can I, Dominic?" Malcolm questioned. But this man, whoever he was

Void rolled his dancing eyes at me “and you dragged the Blood Demon into it too?” “Oh, I’m nowhere near done” Neeb grinned “it was just to stop me from eating you.” Echo chuckled at Void, who made himself scarce. She had a wooden bowl between her crossed legs, that she smeared the contents of across Mace’s eyes and down its beak. It was red like blood, but lumpy like dirt. Mace accepted the paint graciously, never flinching as it was smeared over the glorious feathers. I sat beside Echo and watched her work on Mace. The warriors paint was beautiful to look at; turning Mace into an expressionless work of art.

Shades of red, brown and black diademed the canvas, yet not getting mixed together, as if they harboured misogyny. The form became more vivid as the lifeless colours brought life in the painting. And then, like a gentle stroke of a fine paintbrush on the canvas, an obnoxiously metallic smell of blood wafted in my nostrils. Blood! The colours swirled and turned into something more vivid. I could see the form clearly now. I scrunched up my nose as the smell of fresh blood became more intense, almost unbearable. I walked to the figure through the blur and hollow, my instinct telling me to stop.

And the best ones are always the BL girlies. They post fanart. Edits. Soft-core music videos of us with K-drama OSTs in the background. Sometimes Lucian sees them and mutters, “I don’t know whether to sue them or hire them.” And then proceeds to scroll through all of it anyway. He pretends to hate the attention, but I know he secretly loves being the villain in our love story. Because that’s what we are. Villain and chaos. Cold and color. Blood and brushstroke.