Blitzo Drawing Novels & Stories

Victor stepped back just enough to appear as though he had only just arrived. Silas collided gently into his leg. “Victor!” Victor forced a warm smile. “Hey there, champion.” Silas held up the drawing proudly. “I made this.” Victor took the paper slowly. Three stick figures. A family. His gaze lingered on the third figure longer than necessary. “Very nice,” he said calmly. Silas pointed to the drawing. “I’m trying to figure out who this one is.” Victor’s smile held steady. “I see.” Silas nodded.

My throat tightened so badly it hurt. "Blair." I whispered. Something else lay beside them, a piece of paper, no, a drawing. I picked it up carefully. It was a picture of a girl standing between two stick-figure adults. All three holding hands. My vision blurred. Me. Blair. Her mother. The drawing was messy, the lines too sharp made by a tired hand, a scared hand, a child’s hand. My knees touched the floor before I even realized I’d fallen, I held the small shoe to my chest, shaking.

Question after question swirled within him, a mental whirlwind that brought with it a dull ache behind his eyes. He threw back the covers and jumped out of his bed as a sudden idea sparked in his mind. He retrieved his school bag, unzipped it, and rummaged for his pen and notebook. On the blank pages, he began to draw two small boy figures taking shape under his hand. These drawings were a secret project, a gift for his little brother for their meeting tomorrow. The first drawing depicted his initial observation of the young boy from a distance. It captured the moment he had first noticed little Zadkiel from his hidden vantage point.

Trauma doesn’t vanish with pancakes. But healing can start in the quiet. After breakfast, Sofia pulled us both by the hands toward the window, pointing at her drawing taped to the glass. “It’s our family.” she said. “I drew it two weeks ago.” I leaned in. It was a stick figure version of Matteo, me, her, and Enzo standing beside a big, messy house. There were hearts floating over everyone’s heads. The sky was purple. The grass was blue. But the smiles were wide.

A feeling that made everything lighter. Moments later, Nico stepped forward with his own drawing. A dragon, fierce and bold, with purple scales and sharp red eyes. Flames burst from its mouth in uneven streaks of orange. “Thank you,” I told him as well. He tried to suppress his reaction, but the corner of his lips betrayed him, lifting into a small, proud smile. And in that moment, standing there with their drawings in my hands, something inside me shifted. Deeply. Dangerously. I felt… blessed.

His entire frame stiffened from his shoulders to his boots. Daisy unsnapped his jeans as she once again, licked her lips. Slipping her fingers in, she grabbed his stiffening erection. YES! I am gaining ground. Just take it slow Daze. He will give in. He is a man after all. Then you will get some HOT Rand sauce. Rand grunted and stood very still.

He said rubbing her shoulders. "Noah!" She croaked and hiccuped as she cried with all her heart. "He doesn't d-deserve that!" She stuttered and wiped her tears holding his only bracelet that fell. "I know Mia, he doesn't deserve that." BLAZE VIEW. Blaze was in his human form, fighting off the rogue warrior in one second, he ripped their head off with anger and his eyes glaring at nowhere. There was he, his only objective was to kill the rogue alpha without any mercy.

Azriel commanded in an utterly casual tone of voice, as if he were only showing a drawing of a natural landscape. Isolde, with trembling fingers, turned the paper to the second page. There, the strokes of the drawing were far more bold and wild. There appeared a sketch of Isolde sitting leaning back with her pair of plump legs forced wide apart. Azriel's head was depicted as buried between the mounds of Isolde's large breasts, as if nursing greedily there. Not stopping there, one of Azriel's hands in the drawing appeared to grope downward, with detailed fingers depicted as penetrating Isolde's sensitive vagina area.