꧁𝐶𝑎𝑛𝑣𝑎𝑠꧂ {Artistic MK & Red Son} (QueerPlatonic Yandere)

Artistic Passion

TW: Spiraling to Obsession, Blood, Unsolicited Picturing, Slight Gore(?), Implied OCD, Perfection, Self-Harm, Hyper Fixation, and Offending a Diety.

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The, tip of the brush was dipped into a thick coat of mahogany hued acrylic paint, gently stroking the blank canvas, another one of their attempt to recreate the likeness, of his muse, and added a warm orange hue for the highlights, to the eyes.

It needed to be, nothing more than authentic perfection.

Floods of paper, overflowed the already dirty tiled floor. It was all failed attempts; all ripped and scratched. It crinkled beneath his sneakers. No matter how many times he tried to recreate a full on body shot or a simple portrait, He could never capture, the-said 'Likeness' of the Fiery Demon

"No..No...No"

Discarded sketches were scattered across the room, even the forgotten trash bin was filled to the brim with torn illustration boards.

The faces on the discarded sketch, was messily scribbled with charcoal pencil out of pure frustration, while paintings thrown across were marked with messy yet bold red crosses, on the top, as the Artist felt deep dissatisfaction for his own creation, everything his worn and pale made, was simply-wrong.

"Not this one" The ivory-haired man's breath hitched, grimacing that this was another failed project.

Mk, is an artist, solely devoted and dedicated, to create masterpiece, to put together authencity, and for his own personal enjoyment. Only creating artwork for his eyes only, only for him to take in the beauty and for those curious on goers, that do dare to stare at his creation than only cruel fate knows what will happen to them.

Out of all the candidates, that he had previously worked on, or of all the subjects he used for reference. The fiery demon, had to be the most difficult subject to even work with, His stubbornness didn't help, with finishing this personal project especially, when he denied his request to be his personal muse.

No matter, what task MK done, or what he'd scarifice for the fiery demon, The request of just standing still would be met with a simple no, before turning his back on him.

So simply had to settle, by using photos of Red Son, instead.

It angered, him, that his request was denied, and that he was no where to close to progressing.

His work, would be easier for everyone, but mostly to himself, if Red Son, were to just cooperate and stand still, even for a moment instead of running off in fear.

He bit on his own fingernails, anxiously at another waste of material and impulsively chewed off the skin off his fingers, his teeth tearing off a small amount of flesh and just enough, to make blood seep out of the wound.

"Someday, I will finally capture your elegancy"

Touching the wet canvas, They, carefully smeered, the blood, all over the canvas; thick crimson liquid oozing out from the bitten wound, covering the ugly colour of mahagony paint, earlier.

He began to notice, that none of the other paint, could suffice, even, when trying other art materials, such as acrylic, gauche and even oil paint but nothing could mimic the same deep red hue, that was Red Son's hair, that was always tied in a tight ponytail, but when fights got too intense, strands fell down and locks, of his hair tousled on his shoulders.

There was even a time, where he curiously tried to use crayola or, oil pastel in another medium but it yeiled the same result.

It, needed to be his blood, and his blood alone.