Percy Jackson Art Novels & Stories

Greetings to all my wonderful readers! As you've likely noticed, I have actual artwork of my characters for the cover of my book now. This was a commission I paid for from a very dear artist friend by the name of Rydi on DeviantART also known as lucia-garcia on ArtCorgi. We've known each other for a long time now, and I was super happy she gave me permission to use the old commissions in this way, so if you like her style, feel free to check her out.

Alexander He gritted his teeth as he studied the image of his lycan above the marbled mantlepiece. The painting was done by a royal pack member, Paul Cezanne in 1858. The worth of the art was invaluable like the artist himself. No matter how much he tried to relax, it was impossible. His wolf was snarling and roaring in his head, wanting blood on his sharp canines. The blood of the enemy. A fucking necromancer. He will tear him piece by piece by nightfall tomorrow.

~THE LYCAN ENFORCER ~ ~Annabeth's POV~ "If this art isn't finished by dawn, my Uncle will have both our heads." Tommy’s voice was shaking so hard the paintbrushes in his hand rattled like dry bones. I sat up on my thin mattress, looking hard at the blank canvas in front of us. "A Lycan Enforcer doesn't care about art, Tommy," I said, trying to steady my own breathing. "He cares about power and control."

It took me six good fucking hours to wrap this up. The painting was indeed a masterpiece. Every line, curve, color, and brush felt like me. It came from my soul, beaming out to suffice. It was a painting of a woman, whose back was covered in bruises and scars. She was Persephone, the goddess who wears her scars as the memory of descent. Her bowed head was the silence of the underworld, yet her golden hair was the promise of spring. In her folded posture lies both grief and rebirth, a goddess whose pain is not weakness but transformation.

She wondered as she typed a response to the latest email. “Hey, this is…” Rhett had begun flipping through her art book and found the pictures of the Triquetra. He turned it and grinned. “A really nice c-ck shot. Looks just like Heath’s c-ck in real life. Beautiful!” He chef-kissed his fingers. “Ha,” she flicked him a look out of the corner of her eye. “If you turn over a couple of pages, you’ll see the the next releases of my comic in pencil, ready for inking. You know how to do that, from school, you remember?”

Depending on who the room belonged to the furnishing, weapons, books, paintings, jewels, clothing, and whatever was important to that god was in that room. They were in the room of Zeus and an older version of his shield Aegis was hanging on the wall. There was a painting of a pegasus there also. He looked to be just a foal when the painting was done. Crael reached to run a hand over the shield and he felt Ma's fingers wrap around his wrist and pull it back.

If this is the case, maybe Veronica can be useful. The auction started at ten. The host welcomed all the guests and presented the first item: - Ladies and Gentlemen we start with this gorgeous piece of art: Perseus and Andromeda Oil Painting. This 17th-century Italian Old Master depiction of the nude Andromeda free from the rock by Perseus. Superb quality and clean work presented in a thin protective frame. The starting bid is five thousand dollars! Soon as the host finished the description, buyers started: - Six thousand!

"Both the drawings and the idea. Why are you so different than everyone else here? It's confusing. I really believe you don't want to hurt me. You might. But you don't want to." "Ah, my small friend, art is pain. You will not enjoy the process of being marked. Unless you do, of course. Some no-furs love the burn of the needles. I suppose we shall see what side you fall on soon enough." Ink began to prep a handheld machine, attaching pieces and checking it by pressing a button that made it hum softly. "Since you are one of Persiana's small gods, it is safe to assume that you do not have a bond, correct? Not even with this Hades that you obviously like?"

The music seemed to blend perfectly with the act of painting, its rhythm guiding Lysander's brush as he worked to capture the light and emotion of the celebration on canvas. As the morning wore on, more visitors began to arrive—Athena with plans for the school that had been revised based on input from mortal architects, Hephaestus with new tools he had designed specifically for teaching art to both divine and mortal hands, Demeter with seeds that would be planted in the school's gardens to grow materials for paints and dyes. Each visitor paused to look at the painting taking shape on the canvas, each seeing something different in its layers of color and light—mortals seeing hope for a better

She wondered if there would be an addition to her art if she knew that rebirth was possible. The teacher called out the student’s names one after the other. Freya went up and presented her artwork that used oil pastel. It was something related to taking care of nature. The others were even quite dark. Like feeling caged up, or being swallowed up by a monster. There were some who drew mythical creatures, landscapes or self-portraits. It was Dawn’s turn and no one expected anything extraordinary from her. Talent was after all something that takes time to master. She carried her poster paper, with its ends together so it doesn’t hit anyone on the way.