Jevil Artwork Novels & Stories

[Editor Natasha: Yes, go ahead. [DSalcedo: Sent an image.] Attached to her message was the art that she had just drawn. On the other hand, when they opened it, they were shocked. “Do an image search, check if it’s an artwork by someone else..” Lisa said. Eva quickly worked on it. After a moment. “Nope. It’s nowhere to be found.” [Editor Natasha: Miss Aurora, you drew this one?] [DSalcedo: Yes. Then I used Photoshop and Illustrator.This look is actually on the book.]

“Inspect the tableware, Chika.” Confused by his focus on the porcelain, I stepped to the mahogany edge and picked up a heavy, custom-fired ceramic bowl. To my absolute disbelief, an elite graphic artist had printed a stylized, sharp-chinned cartoon image of my wolf form—complete with my distinct silver-tinted fur and arrogant scowl—directly onto the glaze of every plate and vessel. Thinking my vision was playing tricks due to the concussion, I picked up a platter, inspecting the border work three times.

“Thank you all so much for coming on short notice. Some of you probably heard what this ceremony is about and it might seem like a trivial thing, but it is important to me. For years, I've been staring at an empty canvas until I met a great and talented artist who made this day possible.” Jerry motioned for me to stand beside Kraven and I maintained my posture. “I would like you all to meet Elowen, the artist who created this masterpiece I called ‘In the Crowe's Nest’.” Kraven unveiled the mural and I heard gasps and people gushing and admiring the mural. They applauded and I bowed my head gratefully. I was not wearing anything special but my uniform. I am probably the weakest among these pe

ARIA’S POV The day of the event, The Horizon Art Gala, arrives, and everything is meticulously prepared. Julien has kept his plans close to the chest, but tonight, he will reveal the surprise he has been keeping from the media and the public; me and my artwork, "The Abyss," an abstract piece that captures the depths of human emotion.

Heavy stock, embossed lettering. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> Julian Harcourt. Fine Artist. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> My stomach dropped. This was the artist. The one whose work was currently hanging all around us. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "You're Harcourt," I said. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "I am. And you are?" _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "Adrian Volkov." _*]:min-w-0 gap-3">

The moment I clicked on it, rage surged through me like fire reaching my head. It was a life-sized ceramic figurine depicting a sensual, suggestive woman wearing nothing, with flushed cheeks and an amorous gaze. The shocking part? The woman’s face was unmistakably mine. This lewd piece was placed among other ceramic artworks featuring detailed landscapes, birds, flowers, and classic patterns, sticking out like a sore thumb. The piece had gone viral, making it to the top 10 trending topics.

The middle-aged man finished his painting and signed his name in one corner: Roland de Vaal. Satisfied, he passed the painting to Chayne. "This is my message to your enemy. Show him this, and he will stop. Or else." The painting was rather macabre. It depicted a man being tormented by what looked like black hounds emerging from hell. Regarding artistry, the painting sat neatly between masterful and average. Chayne, however, held it like it was a real piece of treasure.

"You're amazing. Aren't you worried about getting hit by the aphrodisiac?" "Worried? Why? If the chips go down, I might not be the one losing." Sylvie sighed nonchalantly as she entered. She examined the View of Fureno painting and could tell despite the plastic bag that it was a fake. As for the other scrolls and paintings, they were old, but the artists and authors were no one famous. Sylvie was therefore a little puzzled—everything in that other room was the good stuff, but everything here was sub-par?

Underneath them, a headline mockup blinked in bold red font: “THE FALL OF FIDELITY: THE ARTIST WHO COULDN’T CHOOSE BETWEEN LOVE AND GUILT.” Jordan’s pulse quickened. He hit record. Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Amara stood before a half-finished canvas colors melting into chaos. She didn’t know that the same image would soon be used in an upcoming feature titled “The Anatomy of Desperation.” She only knew that her art had begun to feel like a confession she hadn’t made.

"Oh, the first artwork, huh?" Jade’s tone stretched out with a hint of mockery. "That’s certainly meaningful. Not just a 1,000 dollars, it’s worth even 10,000 dollars. But..." Her voice sharpened abruptly as she continued. "What about this kind of painting?" Somehow, she produced another painting and thrust it in front of everyone. Everyone craned their necks to see and immediately burst into laughter. The painting in Jade’s hand was a chaotic splash of watercolors, a careless mess of colors resembling a child’s scribble, devoid of any artistic merit.