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Ella Chen, a gifted portrait artist, devoted seven years to Kylan Chase, the heir to a tech empire, believing she was guarding the heart of her late first love. When she discovered the heart's origin was a lie and resolved to escape, the obsessive Kylan swore to stop at nothing—even seizing the very heart that truly carried her beloved's heartbeat—to keep her trapped.

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"In the world of art, colors are just a tool… but in my world, pain is the only pigment that never fades." Ian was called the “miracle of his generation”—a brilliant painter with the ability to capture human emotions in his works with terrifying precision. But his talent attracted the greed of the “snakes” who ruled the city. Four figures of power—a critic, a billionaire, a corrupt general, and an unjust judge—destroyed his life in a single night. They burned his studio with his family inside, and with cold calculation, they severed the tendons of his left hand and dragged him into prison on a false charge. They wanted to kill the artist within him—but instead, they created something far more terrifying. After five years of darkness and isolation, Ian returned from hell. His body was covered in scars, his left hand permanently bandaged, but his right eye no longer saw the world as humans do… it saw them as “unfinished canvases.” Thanks to his “Hyper Artist’s Eye,” Ian could see the sins of his enemies flowing through their veins like liquid colors, waiting to be extracted. Now, Ian has opened his secret studio beneath the ruins of his past. He will no longer paint landscapes. Every victim among his enemies will become the “primary color” of his next masterpiece. He will cut, dissect, and arrange their bodies into breathtaking artistic compositions that leave the police in a state of terror and disbelief. As the detective Suleiman hunts this “phantom” who turns crime scenes into horrifying art galleries, he finds himself questioning: Is Ian merely a deranged sadistic killer? Or the only honest artist in a world of lies… an artist who writes the truth in blood? “Welcome to my private exhibition… prepare yourselves, for your role in the canvas has begun``

The God of War from the world of Efra, Roki, sets his eyes on Earth and begins the process of invasion. The dormant gods of our world stir for the first time in millennia to call forth mortals to push back against the inevitable. Roseandra Atherton was a librarian working for a college in Seattle; though that was only a recent development in her life. When she was younger, she fell in with a burgeoning blood cult deep within the pine forests of Eastern Washington. A year or so after this cult was broken up by the FBI, and since then, Roseandra has left that portion of her life behind, or so she thought. On December 22nd, and 12:00 AM she dreams of entering the vaunted halls of a Grecian temple. There, the Goddess Hecate initiates her as one of her Daughters, in order to fight against this threat. This is a story based around my Patreon patron, Yaeltra's, OC, Roseandra Atherton, and exists in the same world as my other fiction. If this world interests you, take a look! Patron stories will be updated every Monday and Thursday in a cyclical fashion, and please consider becoming a Patron! I'm trying to make this a full-time thing.

Orion Blackwood once loved me. I remember it all too well. When a rival at a dinner party sneered that I had slept my way to the top of the art world, Orion immediately bought out her commercial contracts for the entire next year, making it clear to all of Seattle who reigned supreme. When I complained that a certain type of out-of-production black and white film was discontinued, he pulled strings to buy the entire remaining stock from a fallen European aristocrat. That was the man who had once treated me like a treasured jewel. Yet, on the opening night of the most important solo exhibition of my career, he projected the digital graffiti of another woman—Scarlett—onto the museum's exterior wall for all the guests to see. Scarlett was the up-and-coming artist Orion claimed to be "sponsoring." Under his protection, she was convinced that I was the only thing standing in her way. In her narrative, I was cast as the villain—the jealous wife using her fading fame and powerful husband to sabotage a rising “genius.” Orion assured me it was just "performance art," meant to create buzz for my exhibition. But when a famous collector asked him to sign my work's bill of sale as a guarantee, he instinctively pulled the nearby Scarlett into his arms—a purely protective gesture. In that moment, I understood. His sanctuary was no longer for me. The perfect statue he had so carefully sculpted had finally cracked. It was time for me to shatter it with my own hands.

The day I miscarried, the day I nearly bled to death, my parents were ambushed by a rival family while rushing me to our clinic. Lying on the operating table, I signed their death certificates with a hand drenched in my own blood. I lost my baby. I lost my parents. Meanwhile, the man I couldn't reach on the encrypted line was posting a celebratory social media update. His post read: Congratulations to my muse. After a night of hard work, the gallery is finally reborn. With a trembling hand, I liked the post. A private message from him arrived instantly. Two words: Delete it. I sent him the clinic's encrypted location. "Come to the safe house. I need to talk to you." "I'm tied up with something important for the Family. I can't get away. Have your parents go with you to the check-up. It's not like they have anything better to do." "Is this 'something important' her gallery's ribbon-cutting ceremony?" "Why has pregnancy turned you into such a possessive harpy? Can't I support the arts without you losing your mind?" I didn't have the strength to argue. Fine. If he wouldn't come to me, he could talk to the family's lawyer.

A tale of indecision and desire to predict and control the future. https://www.royalroad.com/profile/957442/fictions

Welcome to the Amygdala Gallery. To the world, it is an institution for the avant-garde and the obscure. This is a carefully maintained fiction. In truth, the Amygdala is a clandestine organization that identifies and contains Axiomatic Malignancy Glitches. This is a glimpse into their reality, a chronicle of the protocols, the observations, and the quiet horror of maintaining order in a universe that is not always stable. --- This is my first work here. If you like New Weird Fiction (Think of SCP, Lobotomy Corp, Remedy's Control video game) I hope you'll also like this.

The world has come to an end. There's a plague of Disasters, poisonous fog, bloodthirsty monsters and more. But first, let me take a selfie. Proof that taking photos during an apocalypse does come in handy...

Actually It's mostly about Friendship and comedy, but indeed it will have a pinch of romance