Bloody Painter X Puppeteer Novels & Stories

Hunter tore into the puppets, his awakened power surging through him, cutting them down with terrifying efficiency. I turned to the nearest enemy, blade in hand, rage burning through me. The battle erupted in full force. The chamber rang with the clash of steel, the roar of warriors, and the shrieks of Evelyn’s puppets as they lunged with eerie precision. Lennon’s sword gleamed in the torchlight as he cut through the nearest puppet, its body jerking unnaturally before collapsing. Lennon moved with brutal efficiency, his twin daggers slicing through enemies like a shadow weaving through the fray. Xavier and Ralph fought side by side, their coordinated strikes a testament to years of training

Cheeks wet from the tears a soft sob escaping from her lips only to be unheard even by the guy who is in the same room or a basement she assumed as there was no window around. One after the other the drop of blood dripped on the bucket as the boy with the grey eyes kept on painting over the canvas. The canvas is painted with deep red as the same replica of the women tied on the chair. The only colour that was upon it was red of different shades with its background in black colour. “Naa~naa~na~na~na~Naaa~Naaa~Na~” the smile turns into a smirk as he takes a deep breathtaking scent of blood. Making him cover his mouth with the back of his hand still holding the brush.

As Ace flipped through the pages, the soft crackling of the paper filled the space. Ace's fingers moved skillfully over the pages, his eyes scanning each drawing with a mix of pain and yearning. As he turned the pages, I leaned in closer, mesmerized by his talent, my gaze fixed on his strong fingers gently handling each page. Each one unveiled a new design, a new narrative. On one page, I saw a boy gazing at a river, his face reflecting deep sorrow.

I have always heard rumors of Daphne and her crew placing bets and wagers on people but never in my wildest dreams did it occur to me that I would be a puppet in one of their games. "You monsters! You're monsters!" I let out a sound of pure, unadulterated agony. I tried to launch myself at her, to claw that smug, knowing smile off her face, but my body betrayed me at the last minute. My legs buckled and I hit the floor hard, air ripping from my lungs as I choked, coughing until warm blood sprayed across the pristine white carpet beneath me. "Don't get it on the rug, darling," Xavier said, finally standing up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, shimmering vial and a syringe. "

she snapped, “I need to get back the shop before the boss has my head. Is this about the Bloody Barbies again?” Bloody Barbie was the nickname Maria gave to the murders ever since she’d gotten involved as a suspect. It was an apt name. Each crime scene that had been investigated was painted red with each victim’s blood, and in each one there would be a bloody doll left behind (though, not exactly a Barbie), no less than three feet away from the body.

They hadn't been gentle with the restraints and that spelled that my life did not entirely matter. "Don't try to struggle." The woman from before warned. She walked up to me with a clay bowl the size of a teacup. There was a brush dancing at the edge of it and it was filled to the brim with a thick dark liquid that resembled blood in the dim light. A few feet from me was another bound victim. A man who laid unconscious as he dangled from a rope. His feet barely touched the floor and his palms where the ropes were fastened on to bled crimson. His hair, wet and slick covered half his face but I didn't miss the monolids hidden behind his hair and that familiar chin. The witch kneeled before me

She moaned hard from pleasure and pain. He grinded her slowly and then increased his pace again, this time he squeezed her breast and she cried out in pain. “You’re mine,” he kept on saying as he fucked her. He didn’t stop at you’re mine, he called her his slave, his pleasure, his treasure and the one that made her gasps was when he called her his puppet. So Carla was right? She thought to herself. When he was done, he released his seeds inside her and brought her down on her knees. “Suck it.” He ordered her.

Baxter's eyes glazed over and he grabbed my hands like an automaton. “Baxter, are you okay?” I panicked. We launched into a series of twists and spins I didn't know existed. His eyes were dead, and a dreamy smile haunted his face. Our peers cackled, embracing the mania that seized the room. The music filled us, making us move in ridiculous ways. Puck roared with laughter, leading the crowd. Even Damien swayed behind the bar, his partner a broken broom. “I've been a puppet, a pauper

The artist didn’t notice the tears that were on the edge of Sofia's eyes that were now in the painting. Gregorio approached another painting, where Miguel's face was. He stared at it intently. "What a nice masterpiece!" Gregorio left the room. Where the room witnessed what happened to the two teenagers. He went to his bedroom while carrying the two paintings. The artist approached the large black cabinet, where he kept the paintings of his victims. He opened the cabinet, flicked the switch and when the inside of the cabinet lit up, layers of paintings could be seen, placed under the feet of a small statue of Satan.

The blood was painted on the dirty blood-stained floor, fresh. " I'm such a brilliant artist. " He took his time staring at the dead body with a satisfied grin. When finally his eyes fell on the pale and silently crying doll. Her lips were blue even her nails, this freezing temperature was too much for the fragile like her but the thing was turning even white it was his presence. " Did you enjoy it, my love? " He asked me to come closer to her and sit on the floor with his legs folded comfortably. She kept her mouth shut but her eyes were hollow, feeling him near.