Jjba Drawing Novels & Stories

Were they just broken and hurting on the inside? Seeing the glee in the tormenter's eyes--she guessed it was more than that. They genuinely seemed to enjoy it. Jacob dropped the folder he'd been clutching onto for dear life and watched in horror as pieces of paper flew in every direction. On closer inspection, Jenna saw the pieces of paper were drawings. And they were amazing. It appeared to be a hand-drawn comic, inked in black and white, completed with speech bubbles and onomatopoeia. The characters looked like anime drawings, with cute faces and big eyes. They were gorgeous.

"What were you up to in that tree?" Jazzy took tiny sips of her boba. After a long silence, she finally spoke up. "I want to see the orphanage one more time." Perched up high, she could see the whole place laid out before her. That was when it hit Madeline—she was an orphan too. They went back to the tree where they had been before. Jazzy dashed off and grabbed her sketchbook and pencils from under the tree. "You like drawing?" The pages showed the orphanage in full detail. Everyone was there, even Bernard, who had dashed off that morning. The drawings were brimming with a sense of missing someone and saying goodbye.

As Thomas looked at the line of words, he realized that the woman on the other end of the screen was frowning with an apologetic look on her face. Linghu Wujiang: Okay, when you recover, treat me to a feast. Sweet candy doesn't smell good: "Hmm, that's a deal. By the way, I'll send you the composition drawings. You can print them out for the children, they can understand." After doing all this, Jessica got out of bed, spread the drawings on the bed, and then printed them one by one. On the other end, Thomas also received one and printed it. Jessica's drawing was very detailed. Each picture had a number written on it, so that it wouldn't be messed up.

The Beta asked and made the girl stand up from her position with her drawing in her hands and make her way over to Smith. “Dwawing.” “Oh that’s a pretty drawing. Who is this?” Smith asked, pointing to one side of the paper. “Mommy and Jessy.” “Oh you both look so beautiful. Your drawing is really nice.” He complimented and it was almost as if he had just her, her favorite chocolate because Jessy’s face split into a wide grin. He stretched out the paper to her after he was done observing it again and Jessy looked to the paper for a few seconds and then she was shaking her head no.

"You can look now, Ate Graziel." Graziel accepted the drawing with a warm smile. Three stick figures were drawn on the paper. One was a tall man. One was a little girl. And the last one was a woman with long hair. All three of them were holding hands. A gentle smile appeared on Graziel's face. "It's beautiful." "This is Daddy." Junie pointed at the tallest figure. "And this is me." Graziel nodded. "And this..." The little girl smiled brightly. "...is you."

Hope that I’d mean something more. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for that kind of responsibility. --- I found the sketch while digging through one of my folders. It was tucked between old museum submission forms and a copy of the first flyer Barbie had drawn for the school's art club. At first, I thought it was mine—something from last year. But the pencil strokes were gentler. More thoughtful. The way the lines shaped the jaw, the eyes, the mouth… it wasn’t just technical. It was personal.

"I probed deeper. Asked about Papa, about grandmother, about Mama Rissa who I heard recently returned. And Junior drew this." Dr. Linda placed down the second drawing. Another figure. Taller. A dress drawn with elaborate, careful detail. But the face... the face was scribbled over with black crayon. Over and over. With enough pressure that the paper tore in several places. Below it, the words "MAMA RISSA" in shaky, angry letters. "When drawing this," Dr. Linda continued in a soft voice, "Junior was very upset. His hands were shaking. He scribbled over the face repeatedly while saying, 'She's mean. She made Mama sad. She took Optimus.'"

When she got to Brad, she looked at it and sighed, "Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm." With that, she walked away to other tables, and Brad looked at Bella. "What just happened?" Brad asked. Bella laughed and replied, "Nothing; she was just observing, I guess; moreover, I am the one who would be the judge, so that should not bother you." Brad bent over to see what the kids were drawing, and his eyes widened when he saw something that looked like the human hand instead of a flower on Jenna's canvas. "Who am I to judge?" Brad said to himself as he focused on his canvas.

We watch and take notes like the rest of the class, until Tyler decides he’s over it. He nudges my arm lightly. I glance at him. “What?” Looking pretty proud of himself, he tilts his notebook slightly toward me. Instead of notes, there’s a badly drawn sketch of two stick figures. One is labeled You, and the other is labeled Me. The “me” stick figure is significantly taller. I bite down on a smile. “Don’t quit your day job, Brooks.” He grins, completely unbothered, and adds a tiny heart between them.

It was a crayon drawing on plain white paper, smudged with a jumble of hues: brown, green, blue, red, yellow, lines wobbly and unsteady, the hand of a four-year-old child. At the center sat a square brown house topped with a triangular roof, three wobbly curved lines curling upward from its chimney to represent smoke. To the left of the house stood two stick figures hand in hand, one tall, one small. The taller figure had brown hair and wore blue—the fog-blue suit Jenny often wore, the closest shade of crayon Daniel could find. The smaller figure also had brown hair, clad in green: Daniel’s favorite t-shirt. A thick, heavy red line stretched between their clasped hands, pressed hard enough t