Booktok Drawings Novels & Stories

"I'm not one of those stupid romance novel heroines who dies for some cursed alpha. Fuck that." I needed to get out. Get back to my parents. To Jade and Zaya. To people who actually gave a shit if I lived or died. I searched the room. Looked for another exit. A window I could climb out of. A key. Anything. Nothing. I was about to start trying to pick the lock when I spotted something under the bed. A book. No. A sketchbook. I pulled it out. There were Pages and pages of drawings. Creatures. Wolves mid-transformation, but wrong. Twisted. Their bones breaking in ways that shouldn't be possible.. Notes scribbled in tight handwriting.

With that thought, I brought out my favorite book and started drawing. In the picture, I drew a family, one that was everything I had ever wanted. The parents were kind, supportive, and had smiles that never faded. The children were all happy and carefree. And, of course, I drew myself in the picture too, a happy little girl surrounded by love and warmth.

“I most certainly will, “ I have to. The sheer injustice of defacing books has sparked a passion within me. I can not stand to abide by such a crime. I would never forgive myself. However, I must correct this blunder before true mayhem comes to life and he is lost to chaos. For the sake of all books! I vow and look for my quill. Where could it be? “Oh, he’s drawn you a picture.”Maddie flips the letter for both of us to see. It’s another of Nicoli’s artworks- I see more stick figures. One is brown and the other purple. They seem to be eating. Bread? Or pie? And a rectangular creature, a horse/bear, sits with them. I feel my lips crack into a smile at the sight. It makes my chest grow warm and

he said. Inside were pages full of pencil sketches and short, clumsy sentences—none of them professionally done, all of them exactly him. There was a crooked family on the first page with two parents and a rescue dog named Bix. The second page had a sketch that looked suspiciously like our penthouse couch, with the caption: Where Tuesdays live. The book was a hand-made children’s story: The Little House That Held Tuesdays. Each page held a tiny adventure—the first puddle jump, the first burned pancake, the time a kite escaped and came back with a ribbon.

Then, quietly grumbling to himself, he gets to his feet with haste and urgency. I watch him delve into a corner of the room, rifling through a small shelf of books hidden until then, until he finds a particular book, his eyes lighting up. He rushes back to us, placing the dusty old book on the table. The cover, crafted from animal skin, resembles one I own. He flips through the pages, stopping at one and revealing a drawing of a young woman with a wide, vibrant smile that radiates pride and joy untouched by the world. The artist has done their best with limited resources, clearly depicting her beautiful emerald green eyes, soft pink lips, and majestic chestnut brown hair.

The little black cat curled up in her lap as usual. "Tonight we find out the real skinny on this, kitty," she murmured as she opened the heavy book to the page she had marked. "I don't even know what I'm looking for any more but I hope I find it soon." She opened the book to the place she'd marked, two pages of hand-drawn sketches. One of the drawings especially caught her eye. The face of the wolf looked almost human and she had the bizarre feeling the animal was staring out at her from the page.

"He’s drawing his answer?" Tobi turned the book around. He hadn't drawn the sun or the market women. He had drawn Nike but not as she stood there. He had drawn her as a series of overlapping, frantic lines, her microphone elongated like a spear, and her heart depicted as a small, quiet bird trapped in a cage of bangles. Underneath, he wrote: "If I speak, you will only hear my voice. If I paint, you might see your own." Nike froze. She looked at the drawing, then at the quiet boy with the stained hands. The "Electric Indigo" of her persona seemed to soften into a muted "Lilac."

The closer I peek at the book, the more I see the bold title. “The tighter the pussy, the greater the bliss: a dick’s way to wet land.” It has the drawing of a monster cock in front of it, curved in the shape of a banana. My body’s already hot as I reach for the book. However, the moment my hand lands on it, something like a machine chimes. It's only then that I realize this isn’t a book. It’s a panel designed as a book. My heart thumps as a distinct groan echoes in the study, startling me.

I asked surprised "Yeah, dancing is just my hobby".he chuckled softly "Wow". I exclaim, surprised he smiled and looked away. "Can you show me your drawings". I asked, "That won't be a problem, but I have only pictures of myself and some friends I drew years back " "That isn't a problem". I spoke up. he smiled at me before leaving the sitting room. I hissed in relief the moment he left. I realized he wasn't that hard to make a conversation with.Few minutes he came back with some papers in his hands .he smiled and handed the book to me.

She said and quickly stretched it out to me like she would change her mind if she delayed it another further. I glanced down at the book that was now in my hands and wondered what was in it. A gasp escaped my lips when I opened the first page. It was a sketch of a dress, I could not pinpoint the designs and intricacies but I was sure it would be a real life mermaid dress if it was made. Turned out that the book was actually filled with drawings and sketches of designs and beautiful dresses. It was insane how good she was. I smiled when I got to the place that was obviously inspired by me. The pencil drawn woman had a unique resemblance to me.