Pigtails In Paint Novels & Stories

She brought down her head and wouldn't even play with the possibility of raising her head, for dread of what she would see when she turned upward will be disappointment in those clear eyes. He out of nowhere pulled her head up, Sarclet raised her head, just to see him shaking his head cheerfully. As though to say, it's alright. Sarclet held his hand, and with a glimmer of motivation, she said cheerfully, "wait a minute." After talking, she walked towards the universal canvas. Putting the canvas on a wooden easel and getting the colour mixing palette, she glanced back at the two white pigeons still floating in the sky, then, at that point, she got the pen and began to outline.

I closed my eyes as I anticipated Isabelle's attack and just then, I heard that fluttering sound once again as the wind brushes through my hair tossing my cap a far. As if something flew right above me and was gone in an instant. As I opened my eyes, Isabelle was gone and so was that something. I grabbed my cap and just as I grabbed it, I saw the broken crayon I carried last night to the forest. The indigo color. Clarisse has said that it was Arthur's favorite color.

Several cans of paint are lined up carefully nearby, and my fingers itch to dive in. I walk over, kneeling beside the paints, lifting a few cans, checking the labels and colors. I start mentally mapping out what I need first, what base color will bring Piper’s vision to life. My whole world narrows down to colors, brushes, and the way the mural is already forming in my mind’s eye. Marcel’s voice breaks through my focus. "We’ll go get something to drink while you start," he says warmly. "Thanks," I murmur, barely looking up, already absorbed in the task before me.

I'll add Cerulean for her blush. A combination of Burnt Sienna, Terra Rosa, Viridian and White would be perfect for her contours, this would give justice to the height of her cheek bones, emphasizing every edge, each soft curve. For her beautiful wavy hair, Transparent Oxide Red, Viridian, White and Tera Rosa, which will present the waves and the silk elegantly. I inhaled the scent of paint and the wet canvas, and I imagined Candice to be a girl who loves lavender and so I mixed the pigments Rose and Ultramarine Blue for the background which created a perfect soft purple, like lavender.

The story that would be behind it though, I hadn't exactly thought about that. In one swift motion, I pulled out a couple of paint cans from underneath my bed. It was a random action as I pulled out the first three colors that grazed my fingers; Red, yellow and purple. Popping the first can open, I dipped the paint brush into the red hue and slashed it across the paper, leaving a curly tail by the end. For just a thick line, it looked really okay. Or maybe that was just something I was saying to myself so I wouldn't look stupid. I brushed down another line of paint and another instinctively.

I blinked and peered closer. One of the spots of color was Paige. She looked healthier, happier than I’d ever seen her. Her bright red hair was long and full but pulled up in a messy bun to get it out of her way. A bright flush of excitement colored her cheeks as she laughed, and she wore jean shorts and a shirt stained with splotches of paint. The next spot of color was a toddler, a little boy with curls the same red as hers, who wobbled through the room grasping her hand with paint-covered fingers.

"Fuck me, Adrian. I need you inside me. Please." "Not yet," he said, a wicked glint in his eye. He stood up and walked over to the buckets of paint. He returned with a large, open bucket of thick, white titanium white. "First, we make our masterpiece." He tilted the bucket. A thick, heavy stream of white paint poured out, splashing directly onto her chest. It was a shocking, sensual deluge. The paint was cool and heavy, pooling between her breasts and running down her sides in slow, sticky rivulets. It flowed into the dip of her navel, down her stomach, into her pubic hair, mixing with the black paint on her mound. She gasped at the shock, the sheer, filthy decadence of it.

My mind was a blank slate, nothing came to my mind. The purple eyes gave a gentle shimmer as it stretched out its wings slightly, a glimpse of markings on the inner wings. As the small dragon left my hand and landed on my hospital bed, its body scales had a candy paint effect that is used for cars. I thought of my dream car for a split second as I recalled the faint memory. A mustang with Peacock Chromacoat paint job along with black spokes and barrel. I think I was thirteen, it was for a class.

My limbs hurt a bit, but I was convinced that it will all be worth it after a few months. I stared at a blank canvas which sat on an easel at the far corner of the room. The gift that Adrian gifted to me flashed in my mind. I grabbed my bag and drew the easel closer to me. I took out the half-moon pigment stone. I dipped my finger in water and swiped it. A bit of the glittery paint was imprinted on my wet finger. To have the best result from using it, I needed to grind it to powder and mix with water to make a paste for painting.

Urkstin asked, and with a nod from me, he smiled gleefully again, “Thank you thank you!” “What do you need specifically?” I inquired, getting myself ready to learn the layout of this room. “Wellll, I need purple, orange, and light blue paint for C.B.T., then I need one of those plastic scraper thingies that Bob Ross uses. That’s all for now.” He explained, trying to visualize the ‘plastic scraper thingy’. I started collecting paints, and took the time to think of a question to ask Urkstin. “So, was your family supportive for your talent choice?” I threw out, while prying open a bucket of purple paint.