Hunter X Hunter Drawings Novels & Stories

But I used to like to draw, at least before my stepmother had died, and I had a little more freedom. It was dark, and I couldn’t see well, but I decided to give it a try. First, I drew the general shape of the medication and a question mark. Then I drew the salve the best I could and added a question mark to that as well, hoping he would know what I meant. He looked at my drawings in the dark. I knew he could see better than I could with his werewolf eyes. They had stronger senses than humans. I watched his face frown as he looked at my drawings before he abruptly got up and walked to the bathroom. I froze, was I supposed to follow him? I apparently didn’t because he came back out seconds la

Carolina knelt and offered the brush. “Yours if you want it,” she said. Penny dipped, chose purple, and drew a wide, wild arc over the wall. It was perfect. It turned into a mural, layer on layer, a record of every hand in the house. Eventually the other walls filled, wild with saltwater fish, stars, crows, broken crowns, weird animals, bright geometric shapes. Even after she scrubbed clean, the paint never left Xander’s hands. * On a half-melt day, with rumors of electricity returning to the grid fulltime, Xander took her on a walk. He claimed it was business, but the pack following them (Finch, Lyra, Morgan, and a tiny girl named Pip) proved it was a family thing.

I glanced at a few of the books, some fantasy novels and a small sketch pad. I opened the sketch pad and looked through it, she was good. Really good. The scenes were mostly outdoors. Forests, waterfalls, mountains. All done with such grace and precision. Each more lovely and realistic than the last. I noticed at the bottom there was a J written as beautifully as the drawings themselves. I got to the last page and there was a drawing of a moon. Bright and beautiful in the sky but there was something else to it. The drawing felt sad. “What the hell.” I snapped as I lifted my hand and wiped a tear from my cheek.

Holly took the painting over from the table by the side and carefully opened it. Hunter's gaze lit up as his eyes followed the unfolding of the painting. He stood up and bent over the painting, gently touching the mountain with the slide of his fingers. He muttered, "It's this feeling… This feeling… "This towering mountain, this cascading waterfall, this lush forest, this caravan, these horses—they were painted so wonderfully!" Hunter's eyes slowly became moist as he looked at the painting.

Hunter looks betrayed. Then he turns back toward Tara. "That's a terrible idea." Tara gasps. "You don't love me." Hunter closes his eyes. "Here we go." "You hate my dreams." "I do not hate your dreams." "You do." "I just hate chocolate statues." Tara crosses her arms. "You never support me." Hunter gestures toward the shopping bags, the notebook, and the sketch of what appears to be a giant chocolate wolf. "I support you constantly." "You said no." "Because it will melt."

AVA Swoosh! Clang! I shift my gaze, staring at Hunter's back as he rummaged through the drawers hurriedly. Tossing and throwing stuff he finds useless to the floor, creatint the swooshing and clanging sounds as he goes. Hunter groans, moving away from each one then proceeding to swing open the white painted wooden cabinets. God, does he have to be so aggressive? And what is he looking for? Suddenly he stops, his head raised staring at something sitting on the top cabinet. It sat between two unlabeled boxes, huge in size making it look like it's on the verge of death. One light touch and those boxes would fall to their demise and onto the floor.

I smiled gently. “You have a warrior’s body.” I ran my fingers down a particularly ropey scar down her side. “What was this one from?” “Bobby Brown,” she said. “A werewolf that liked to hunt human children. He had a thing for their hearts. He’d barbecue them.” She shuddered with the memory. “He had killed my client’s nephew. Took me a week but I got him. Brought his heart to my client as proof.” She spoke matter of factly, no pride in her voice. She might not be proud of herself, but I was impressed. I had heard of Bobby Brown and had heard of the hunter that got him. I didn’t realize it was her.

Chapter thirty-three Anabelle Pov The hall was noisy, the moderators were discussing with each other. While other members were whispering. I couldn't think about the noise. I closed my eyes and started mapping out the drawing found. I drew the mountains first, filling it with amber color, the mountain was filled with different giant trees. After properly drawing the mountain I drew the moon-bird. It was so fine to my eyes, I couldn't believe I was able to draw the same art work and it was better than the previous one.

I was a Saint to my mom and a slut to the men in my life. I grabbed my sketchbook and a charcoal stick. I didn't plan it. I just started scratching at the paper, the black dust staining my fingers. I drew myself not the pretty version. I drew a boy with his chest ripped open, screaming into a void. I drew giant, jagged hawks with Chadwick’s eyes and Miguel’s tattoos, literal pieces of my flesh hanging from their beaks. I pressed so hard the charcoal snapped, tearing the paper. It was the only way I could scream.

She shook her head handing the drawings back “ I doubt your brother would have done such things” I assured her “ yeah well those other 4 men you drew they are hunters” she said shrugging her shoulders “ hunters?” I asked confused by what she meant “ Have you ever heard of them?” She asked and I shook my head no