Miles Morales Drawing With Hoodie Novels & Stories

"We weren't compatible." Vincent's jaw clenched as he looked at his son. "Since when did that matter?" Kyle shrugged. "Since now, Dad. My happiness is important to me, and I won't jeopardize it for anything." He looked at the sketchbook in his hand, a smile on his face. The drawing was of a hooded person, features covered in a face cap and a mask. Only the eyes were visible. The strokes were firm, with an artistic flair, and Kyle was happy that he managed to capture the person and the atmosphere perfectly.

He rushes in and stops at the edge of Adrian’s bed. Adrian’s eyes widen in surprise. “Hey, champ.” Liam pulls out a folded paper from his bag. “I made you a drawing.” Adrian tries to sit up straighter. “Let’s see.” Liam hands it over carefully. It’s a crayon sketch of the three of us—me, Liam, and Adrian—holding hands under a bright yellow sun. There’s even a dog beside us, though we don’t have one. Adrian stares at it, clearly touched. “This is amazing.”

I was home, waiting to gain admission and it will take me two to three months so what I could do to take my mind off unnecessary thoughts is to draw and paint anything, It's what I know how to do best. I went to my painting room and sat down and stared at the unfinished painting of mom. I started three days ago and soon I will be through with it. I wanted to surprise her and I don't know if I will be able to finish it before leaving tomorrow. Mom had made it a priority that I leave by tomorrow. I heard a crack and I jumped, I turned around to see who had scared me and it was no other than Moris, I don't know what he is in my life, whether a best friend, boyfriend or a friend with benefits.

Chloe walked back to the nursery to fetch the boy. "Liam, dinner's ready. Did you finish your draw—" Her voice died in her throat. Chloe’s hands balled into trembling fists as she stared at the canvas. It wasn't a happy family portrait. It was a depiction of hell. In the center of the paper, Liam had drawn three figures, but they weren't people. Two of them were towering "monsters," and the third was a small, broken boy cowering in a dark corner. The first monster was a man with eyes the size of saucers, wearing a tattered T-shirt. In one hand, he brandished a heavy belt; in the other, a glowing cigarette butt that he was pressing toward the crying boy on the ground.

“Draw me.” Goldie looks at Darryl and takes the pencil. He moves the tip of the pencil on the paper and begins to scribble a couple of circles and lines. Darryl watches him with intent, The drawing highlighted some of his facial features more than the others, almost like in a cartoonish style. “Good,” Darryl nods at him, “Now, draw what they did to you in Bilibid. Did they torture you? Blackmail? Kidnapped? ”

Therefore, I didn’t dare to touch anything, because I didn’t want to cause trouble for Hola. I stood there and looked for a while. I saw the design draft on the top. It was a trench coat. It was almost finished, but the sleeves seemed to have been drawn and wiped off. I smiled. I took a piece of blank paper from the top of the nearby printer and roughly outlined a trench coat. Then, I focused on drawing the sleeves. When I placed the paper on Hola’s jacket, I accidentally touched the mouse. The computer had been in standby mode, and now the computer screens lit up.

Soon, a robust male figure appeared in the paper. The face also became clear. He finished the sketch, took a photo out of his small schoolbag, overlapped it and the sketch, and fixed them to the wall with pins. Ollie wanted to say something, but the next moment he saw Miles take out darts and throw them accurately at Cedrick's handsome face in the photo until it was completely unrecognizable. There was unspoken sadness spreading between the two little ones. No matter how many darts he stabbed the photo with, their mommy would not come back.

That means Hitoshi has been taking care of them. I swear, that man is unbelievable. "So uh... ahem! Everyone! My name is uh... Miles Moral-... Reyes!" I awkwardly shouted. Everyone is looking at me... Argh! Public speaking sucks. It makes me want to bungee jump off a cliff without a rope. Getting hit by a truck sounds pleasant too. "A-And ah... as you know! I've bargained with the devil and got all of you free!" Does that sound too cocky? Well, after everything I've done, I am a capable person... hehe. For now, these people need a sense of safety, but how do I do that?

A story spreading through the camp like fire, changing shape each time someone repeated it. Now, I just keep my head down and train harder. The air smells like sweat and dirt and faint wood smoke. The sun dips low, bleeding gold between the trees. When the session ends, I stretch my arms and glance toward the edge of the clearing. Milo is sitting on a log with a stick in his hand, drawing circles in the dirt. His cheeks are smudged, his shirt a size too big, but his eyes light up when he sees me walking over. “You’re done?” he asks, jumping up before I can even nod.

Not in the mood to participate. Two seventh-graders stormed past me, chasing each other, one attired as a pitbull dog and the other as a ragdoll cat. Some students don't take the cheer spirit day dress-up seriously, and just a joke. I met Bryson and his girlfriend Elena along the way as I was heading to my class. Bryson is attired in a bluish-white costume adorned with fins, and in his hands, he had a triton. Elena chose to match his outfit.