Goth Outfit Drawing Novels & Stories

The suit, the pose, the expression… everything was eerily familiar, and I felt a strange sense of pride knowing that I had made such an impression on her. The additional drawings, rendered in black and white, were equally captivating, but one in particular stood out - a portrait of my head, with my eyes being the sole splash of color, shining brightly in a deep, rich silver. I couldn't help but smile at the thought of Roxy dedicating time to capturing my likeness on paper.

I reminded him. “Geeze. Sorry.” He shrugged and went back to his own work, but his comment made me second guess my own. I looked at it carefully. He was right. It could’ve been any girl with long hair in a cape. I looked at his drawing and wasn’t surprised at all to see that he’d drawn himself shirtless, standing with his arms up, his arms bulging with muscle, his face lifted to the sky in a menacing howl. Even though he was a human in the drawing, his inner wolf was clear. So was the darkness that had overtaken him.

But that wasn’t what he was drawing today. There was a picture of two girls—rendered crudely in crayon, but still identifiable as girls. One of them had short blond hair and the other had long brown braids. Their hands were on their faces and their mouths open in screams. David had drawn these as big black circles. A huge black shadow hovered before them, a shapeless body with red eyes and clearly defined hands. The hands looked like long silver knives. There were many drawings before this one. Lauren wondered how long David had been at it.

Mendel would look through them carefully before giving them back, never saying anything about the pictures themselves but sometimes bringing up a specific drawing weeks later, as if the drawings were a language they were both learning. All of today's sketches were of clothes. Silhouettes that were ready for travel and have pockets deep enough to hide something valuable, such as a passport, a ticket, or proof of escape. Hooded coats that made it seem like you could be anonymous. Dresses with high, bold collars that made you look like you were going to a better place than where you were. Angela's pencil slid over a new sheet, making a sleeve from memory. The movement was calming in a way that

"I don't want a perfect fit, Aurora. I want the mess. I want the fight. I want the woman who burned a dress and built an empire." He reached into his pocket. He didn't pull out a ring. She was already wearing it. He pulled out a piece of paper. It was a drawing. His own. It was terrible. Stick figures. A crooked house. A sun that looked like a potato. But there were three figures. A man. A woman. A boy. And they were holding hands. "I drew this," he said, his voice thick with embarrassment and sincerity. "For Ethan. But mostly... for you."

A scrapping of a chair breaks the deteriorating conversation across the dinner table, Athan moving his chair back and heading out to the hallway. “Athan what are you doing?” His mother calls out after him, her eyes flickering between Calian and me. “I’m…here…I made this earlier on.” He enters back into the room holding a folded piece of paper in his hands. Surprisingly, he doesn’t hand it to his father, or even his mother…but moves towards me, placing it out in front of me. “I drew this.” He looks up at me expectantly, waiting for me to take it from him. I do, unfolding the paper to reveal a drawing of a female dressed in a black jumpsuit, a black cape…long lilac purple hair and glowing eyes

I smiled and hurried into the store with my best friend. We went to the naughty section first and she picked out a couple naughty outfits for me. We picked out a couple of funny shirts and sweaters and some shirts and tank tops that I really liked the designs of. I snagged a couple of skirts and matching tops and a few dresses that I genuinely loved. Amelia grabbed a couple of new wallets for me and a couple purses that I liked while I picked out two pairs of sunglases I liked. I also picked out three chokers that I liked since I had always actually loved chokers but never really wore them. Deep down I had always identified as a goth girl but had never really been allowed to express myself g

I always lock it before leaving the premises. “But I… Did I…” Brushing it off, I pull the mini door open, and yelp when a heap of papers rains on me as if waiting for me to open it all along. I stay still for a moment, just blinking at the drawings. They’re ugly exaggerated images of me; big head, messy hair, thin legs… I’m as tiny as a doll, while a big guy towers over me, his pants down, and I’m choking on his… What?! My heart drops.

And until he had news (a clue, the jerk) I wouldn't hear anything. I reached out to him, felt the connection between us, but that was all I felt. He was either too far away or-damn it, Syd, stop that. Stop. That. Right. Now. The shower was hot and immediate and helped with some of the redness and puffies I always got from crying. At least, it made the rest of me pink so I matched. I dressed in black jeans and a T-shirt with a pentagram screen printed in silver. The ideal apparel for Blood's send-off. I even used some of the black eye liner Pain had given me for my birthday. My reflection was kind of badass. Meet Syd, el Gotho.

The city is still dark below the windows. I sit at the large drafting table I haven’t used in years and start sketching. Dark. Sensual. Forbidden. A lingerie line built for her fire. I draw a black lace bodysuit with strategic cut-outs that would frame her breasts and hips perfectly. Next to it, a deep crimson corset with silver chains that would look like jewelry against her skin. Then a sheer black robe with long slits and delicate embroidery that spells out “L” in a way only she would notice.