Hunter X Hunter Drawings Novels & Stories

he asked, smiling at how excited she was. “Uhm” she said, nodding seriously. “He tot me how to draw a chicken. Dada, I will draw a chicken for you” Hunter’s eyes softened. “Hmm, and will you teach me how to draw too?” “Yes,” she replied in her tiny voice without looking up. She went right back to her drawing, her eyebrows pulling together as she focused. Her pencil scratched the paper again as she started to draw some funny lines in her book. Hunter stared at her lovingly. He loved her serious face even as she drew what he couldn't even explain… lips pouting slightly, one eyebrow lower than the other, her little fingers gripping the pencil tightly.

He leads the way up the stairs to the room we were just in with the dead werewolf. He grabbed his notepad from his desk and flickered through the pages when he stops and shows us his drawing. It was a circle with 5 spikes making it look like a star. It kind of looks like a star with a moon inside. It is hard to describe. I don't really know what to make of it. I look at Kristy who is studying the drawing, wondering if she knows what it means. "It's the Hunters mark," she says

Amelia said. "We will continue this later," Shirley said immediately they heard the footfalls of Hunter arriving. "I was about to go in search of you, what took you so long?" Shirley said with a feign smile. "I had to look for my other drawings where I safely hid it," Hunter replied with a smile. Then he carefully layed all his canvas on the table for them to see. "I think my drawings are more than just ordinary drawings," Hunter said to no one in particular. "What do you mean by that?" Shirley and Amelia asked simultaneously.

I promise, knowing how little the promise is worth. She moves the boy behind her. Only then do I see the crude drawings scrawled in the dust near where he sat. Stick figures, drawn with a child's impatience—three of them, all large, triangular heads, each with exaggerated, fanged mouths. Their bodies are wolfish, or what a boy imagines a wolf must be: hunched, heavy at the shoulder, legs that end in claws. One figure holds a stick, or maybe a sword. The last is bigger than the others, looming above a crowd of smaller shapes—people, presumably, but every one drawn with a red X where the heart should be. The mother follows my gaze. "He says the wolves walk upright, like men. They come at night

“Did you draw this?” She nodded proudly.“It’s you.” I leaned closer. The drawing looked absolutely nothing like Dexter. The man had a giant square head. Tiny legs.And what looked like seven fingers on one hand. I pressed my lips together. Dexter looked at the drawing. Then at the little girl.“You made me look handsome.” She smiled.“You are handsome.” I nearly choked. I really couldn’t help it. I knew I shouldn’t find any of this amusing, but it was getting harder not to. I could just laugh a little. Laughing wasn’t necessarily a crime.

While it was Luc’s first time witnessing Kirin behaving like this, he felt that he could not comprehend this young master of the Summers family anymore. In fact, Luc felt a chill down his spine. In the end, Kirin finished his drawing and stared at it. He then started laughing maniacally. On the drawing were a cat and a mouse. The cat had sharp claws and looked ferocious, while the mouse looked terrified and was trembling in the corner. “Hehehe… Tyr… our game has just begun.

Unfortunately, I had to go back. Begrudgingly, I returned to the little camp, the sun nearly completely gone by this point. But between Scarlett’s heightened eyesight in the dark and the campfire’s glow, there was no mistaking the scene I found upon my return. I instantly stopped dead in my tracks. “What are you...,” I whispered, barely getting the words out. He looked up from my notebook as I spoke, apparently not even caring that I caught him. “What are these drawings? Where did you get them?” he asked, flicking through the pages. “Some of them are... strange.”

Glaring all around he walked over to his mother while his claws disappeared along with his canines. Emma hugged him as soon as she saw him. Hunter wrapped his arms around her frame comforting her. Hunter glanced at Draken whose vicious eyes met his gaze. Hunter tipped his head asking if anyone was able to escape. Draken shook his head as Hunter helped his mom into his car. Hunter walked over to the dead body that was near the tree. Sitting on his toes he examined it. The bones were crushed and the body was simply a batter of crushed bones and organs in a skin. No way this was done by any werewolf.

She was somewhere around seven or eight, completely absorbed in whatever she was drawing, her tongue pressed to the corner of her mouth in concentration. I lowered myself carefully into a chair near her, mindful of my ribs, and looked at the paper. The drawing was full. Not in a crowded way, in a deliberate way, like she had a clear picture in her head and was working her way across the page with intention. There was a dragon in the top left, red and blocky with impressive teeth. Below it, a woman in a red cape with a pointed hat on a flying broom, carefully coloured with a orange crayon. To the right of that, something with fangs and a dark cape that I was fairly certain was meant to be a v

He hadn’t seen him this relaxed in weeks. Not wanting to disturb him, the Sheriff stepped inside quietly, reaching for the desk lamp to turn it off. But something caught his eye—a drawing, half-covered by a book. His fingers paused mid-air, curiosity taking over as he picked up the sketch. It was a hyperrealistic drawing of a woman, detailed and lifelike, almost as if her eyes might blink at any moment. Hunter had always been this good at drawing. But the Sheriff’s brow furrowed in concentration, narrowing his eyes to study the image more closely. There was something familiar about her face—something just out of reach in his memory—but he couldn’t quite place it. Just as he was trying to rec