Deathstroke Drawing Novels & Stories

Celeste whispers, her minty breath brushing against my cheek as she pulls the phone away. I still don’t understand. Why show me this? “He didn’t kill his father,” I say quietly, the words fragile on my tongue. Drew laughs. “Of course he didn’t,” he says with a twisted grin. “He’s an idiot. A pathetic fool.” He steps closer again. From the corner of my eye, I see Celeste dragging a white bottle across the floor, pulling something metallic from it—something sharp. Like a syringe… Drew leans in, voice like poison.

I whispered, the name surfacing from a memory I didn't know I had. In the mirror, the King of Sorrows looked at me. It smiled. And then, it reached out from the silver surface, its hand passing through the glass as if it were water. It wasn't reaching for Julian. It was reaching for me. "No!" Julian gasped, his voice a strangled rasp. He managed to drive his silver dagger into his own thigh. The pain seemed to shock the system. The creature of Life Nine vanished into smoke. Julian fell to the floor, gasping for air, blood blooming red and real against his black trousers.

Dreygur got out of his car and slowly followed the niece. Sumire who received a gift from her uncle Chadwick wanted to pray at the shrine of Death and wish her life to end without killing herself. But her prayer was interrupted when she found a godlike man wearing an expensive all-black suit napping while his book was placed on his belly, wearing round black glasses. Sumire was hypnotized and approached closer to the long table of the shrine where the man was silently sleeping. She climbed up and sat next to his head and stared at him for a long time. Sumire unconsciously leaned and kissed the man on the lips. At the top of the man, she stole something from the shrine, bringing the bizarre p

Figures had been drawn and the sight of it made hhis heart leap out of his ches Skeletal figures with marks how to kill it. And then there was a passage below. How can you kill a dead Then, there was an answer written down. Burn the At least, he was right of burning the dead bodies before its skeletons would rie and joined the army of deat Then, later, he managed to see a familiar outline in the papers stocked near the board. He took it out folder and watched it closely

“The autopsy has been completed. Sidney is suffering from intracranial hemorrhage, a diffuse axonal injury caused by the mutation of the brain tissue. The conclusion is that there is diffuse damage to the brain and brain stem, and he died of a widespread acute death.” “What about Grimm?” Ross asked. In fact, everyone knew about Sidney’s death. After all, there were so many pencils stuck in his head, so it would be strange if he hadn’t died. As for Grimm, everyone felt that his death was very strange. Bowman slowly said, “Grimm’s death was divided into two processes. The first half of the process was when the stomach contents were inhaled into the respiratory tract and blocked the organ, caus

I don’t know why, but something is rotten in my gut and it’s never wrong. We storm through the building, Roddy’s being the last room at the end of the long ass hallway. The door is locked and Grouch sticks his ear to it, then backs up and kicks it open. The immediate stench of death I know all too well hits my nose and I can’t believe nobody has noticed it. It’s at least fifteen doors from mine. Missile and Grouch storm in, but I can already see the lifeless body of Ryan “Roddy” Grimes on the bed. I step in the room and see a needle sticking right out of his fucking arm. His skin is already discolored, he’s been dead a couple days. And nobody even realized it. Some brotherhood we are.

My vision blurred as I slowly faded away. In my final moments, I caught one last glimpse of the flowers he had placed before my grave. White hyacinths—symbols of unspoken love...

" I wondered who it was that had used my phone to send these messages after I died. I tried my best to recall what happened after I entered the basement. However, I could not remember anything else other than the sound of something heavy dropping onto the floor. The lights in the basement were kept on for the next few days. Layla was focused on carving a plaster head using a carving knife. She traced the eye on the head carefully with the sharp tip of the knife. The facial features on the plaster head felt so familiar that it made Layla pause. Her hands trembled slightly. Philip walked over to her and gave her a nod of approval. He pointed to the sculpture of a human figure standing in a cor