Paintbrush X Lightbulb Novels & Stories

“Hi, Rayna. It is not exactly my first time, but it has been a while since I indulged in it.” She smiled sweetly, showing off her sparkly set of teeth. “Mind if I ask how long?” “Close to a decade,” I replied surprised at how easily I was opening up to her. I barely have conversations with strangers who aren’t business partners so smoothly. “That is long enough to tell you that there are new brush makers in the market. I can show you many just like this one that aids ease in painting. Are you getting other things too? I could guide you.” “I will really love that,” I said.

suggested Alex while grinning and looking so enthusiastic to open the birthday present he held. Ruby also nodded her head and excitedly Alex opened the first present he accepted. Alex paused and looked at the paintbrush and paint which was a present given by Ruby. His eyes sparkled and wet when he saw the paintbrush. Emotion and touch filled Alex's heart. He did not expect Ruby to give him a brush and paint to paint. This is the first time someone gave him such a present.

These memories blended together in her mind, forming an image that she wanted to capture in her painting. With brushes in hand, Luiza began to slide the colors over the canvas. She mixed shades of orange and pink to represent the warmth of the setting sun, light strokes of green and yellow to portray exuberant nature, and soft strokes of blue to symbolize the serenity of the sea. Each brushstroke was carefully placed, like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle falling into place. While working on her painting, Luiza felt in tune with her deepest self. She allowed herself to delve into her creativity and express herself without fear of being judged. Each brushstroke was a step towards her true identity,

Alissa peered in, she saw paint brushes and tubes of paint, along with some bottles that Alissa couldn't identify. Alissa looked back up at him in surprise to find Luca peering down, as if anticipating her reaction. She smiled and in response, lightening her features. Luca let out a sigh of relief. “You do you.” Her smile widened to reassure him. “Yeah, I suppose it's my guilty pleasure.” An awkward smile tugged on his lin lips “Don't tell anyone. Please?” a hint of plea entered his voice “Of course, are you any good?” she asked and his face relaxed, as if he had been expecting negativity.

The type three brush hung between his fingers as Min-a stared at the canvas before him. It was various shades of brown, gray, and white, crossed together in a haphazard manner to form beautiful nothing. He had a hard time admitting how much last night had imprinted on him. He couldn't even drink the same B&W wine product because all he would recall was Kwan Seung-ho drinking and sucking the sparkling liquid off his chest. Sighing in frustration, Min-a flung the towel off his head and shook his wet hair everywhere. Some of it found its way to the canvas and some on the pin table where he kept his paint tray and his phone.

She set it on the coffee table and unlatched the silver clasps. She opened the lid. A gasp rippled through the art students. Even Blake leaned in, his mouth dropping open. Inside the velvet-lined case was a set of brushes. But not just any brushes. These were Japanese calligraphy brushes, handles made of dark bamboo and horn, the bristles pristine and varied. Beside them sat twelve small glass jars filled with pigment powder—vibrant blues, crushed golds, deep crimsons. “Are those…?” Blake whispered. “Is that genuine Lapis?”

On the table were the treasures: A shiny gold tube of lipstick. A small black palette with colors like pink, brown, and glittering silver. A fluffy powder brush. A round container of blush. Lucien opened the palette, his little fingers clumsy but gentle. He picked the shimmery silver shade and dragged it across his eyelids with his fingertip, giggling softly when it left a bright sparkle. Then his eyes fell on the lipstick.

“Because this part of town is a great place to get mugged by a rogue, or kidnapped, or sold to an illegal auction, according to my brother.” I suck in a breath as she tosses several tubes of paint into a plastic basket on the floor before moving on to the next shelf. “It’s really not that bad,” she assures me. “But this shop has the best pigments, and I prefer to come here myself rather than having them deliver what I need to the castle. Get’s me out of the house, you know?” Ella drops another tube into her basket and picks up the container, moving on to a display of brushes and rollers. “Enough about me. What are you up to?”

I could handle her. I closed the doors, ready to pull out my gun any moment, until the bright lights turned on, washing away all my doubts. I turned around to find Faith standing a few meters away from me with a palette of colors in one hand and a paintbrush in another. There were two big canvases behind her. The entire place was spacious and clean, unlike what I had imagined, rather it was decorated with soft fairy lights and candles. More surprising than all of that were the paintings that were scattered around the place—paintings made by me.

I can see the dark shadows under his eyes and how gaunt his cheeks are. “You don’t have to apologize to me for that,” I say. Uncaring of the mess, I move closer to him. He inches back a little, so I stop a couple of feet away. The mess must really bother him. “Let me help you clean it up.” He nods, and I go into his bathroom. I return with some paper towels and a trash bag. Together, down on our knees, we do our best to clean up the paint. Neil salvages the palette and his brush. I wipe up the paint off the ground. Thank the Gods he was using acrylics today and not oils, or it wouldn’t come out with water alone.