Cursed Rapper Images Novels & Stories

But with it comes the putrid stink of death. Two dead are lurching toward us, the tall guy sporting only one arm, both seemingly missing lips. Their yellow, broken teeth chatter with their desperate need to eat. Torn and filthy clothes hang off their frail forms. Pasty, gaunt faces make their eyes look bigger. They are ugly things.

Zachary didn't flinch, didn't look away, just watched his own wrist with the same expression he wore reading quarterly earnings, which made Caden laugh so hard he had to sit down. "I don't know what I expected," Caden said, wiping his eyes, "but it wasn't this. Zero reaction. None." "What did you want. Screaming?" "A little wince. Something. You're inhuman." "I've been shot at with worse odds than a tattoo needle." "That's not a normal thing to say." Fifteen minutes later it was done, small and clean, her initials sitting quiet on the inside of his wrist, and the artist wiped it down and taped a bandage over it.

He cursed again, faster now, chair creaking. He held something in his other hand—a picture, clutched tight. The chair blocked the image, but I had to know. Curiosity clawed at me, sharp and stupid. Who could crack this man? Who made him this weak? I edged forward, one silent step, then another. Heart slamming so loud I swore he'd hear. His grunts grew frantic—short, desperate bursts. Sweat gleamed on his skin. He was close. So close. He brought it closer, staring at it like it burned him. "Why... why won't you fucking see me?" His voice cracked, raw need lacing the words. He cursed again, hand flying faster, hips bucking into his fist. "Shit... oh shit..."

I walked with him, dodging potholes He came to a stop and exhaled. "This it babe" gladness written all over his face as his smile widened. "Are you sure we should be here?" I bit my bottom lip in anxiety. The building was like an old box house, covered with wallpapers of legendary rappers like Tupac Shakur, Jay-Z, 50 cent, Notorious B.I.G and one side of the wall was a painting of Pokemon. We tilted our head sideways to look at each other. He clasped my hand, then I swallowed saliva, holding his even tighter.

I stop abruptly and the man stops with me, his hand grabbing my arm and pulling me close. "Did not think someone like you would be this shy-" he traces my face with the back of his fingers and I slap his hand away from my face, shaking lightly. "Someone like me?!" I hiss between my teeth and it seems that my rage only fuels something within the man as he smirks at me, showing off his disgustingly yellow teeth. Up close, Father Cassimir is even more disgusting. Maybe if he took better care of himself... no! It was a matter of the heart! his heart was tainted and no amount of water and soap would wash that away!

I slammed my fridge shut and pulled my phone out of my pocket, doing frantic internet searches for anything that might bring up a popular young shifter. I was about to chuck my phone across the room when I finally spotted a familiar name in a headline. Curt Fowler Opens Showing of Controversial New Collection in New York. My heart rammed against my ribcage as I opened the article and scrolled through it, not even bothering to read it—I just needed to find the artist’s photo. Then I saw it. I saw him. Messy hair, black beanie, skinny jeans, and a smug smile with black, hateful eyes.

I was just about to push the door open and announce my presence when a sudden turn of events left me frozen in horror. Rylan suddenly burst out laughing as if he'd gone hysterical. When he finally stopped, he turned to his father with a devilish grin and spoke again. "Is that what you expected to hear? No father, no. I don't give two shits about that ignorant little bitch. She's nothing more to me than a prize. We both know that she's cursed but she could bring so much greatness to me and our pack so I'm willing to take that risk. We both know what she is and we know the great power that she possesses. Normally, she would be a very powerful foe but luck happens to be on our side at this time

● Philip Bassett He is one of the four who are cursed and also one of the main male leads of the story. He is a nineteen (19) year old high schooler of lean build with chocolate brown hair and matching eyes. He's a lycanthrope, a werewolf subclass; his abilities include speed, superhuman strength and an increased sense of smell. He possesses no special ability. ● Jude Carson He is a delinquent. The wild, crazy and wreckless one of the four with a devil may care

The ruler at that time was Draco Vahemir - the strongest Vahemir there is to exist. Each and every member of the Infernal bloodbath pack is born with a special ability, their teeth contains poison strong enough to kill a person within seconds. They are not like every regular werewolf out there. They are stronger, faster than the usual werewolf. I flip through the pages and stop at a prophesy. It is a drawing. A stake in a lady's chest, she is in the arms of a man, his head buried on her chest. I flip to the next page, there is another drawing. The woman is in his arms, his head is backwards, his mouth is widened- he should be screaming. There is no caption in either of the picture. The drawi

I was determined to let Ethan realize the consequences of his actions. Before long, Ethan strode in, looking impatient. He said, "It's about time you apologized. Why haven't you just done this before? How many times do I have to tell you that Mandy and I are just like siblings? And what are you doing in this dump? It's so depressing." His words trailed off as his gaze was drawn to a photograph on the wall—an enlarged portrait of Heidi smiling radiantly. Ethan froze, his expression a mix of disbelief and horror. After a few seconds, he snapped out of it and flew into a rage.