Miraculous Ladybug Sketches Novels & Stories

I asked him, looking up sweetly. Wesly rose from the bed and came back with his sketches. He flipped through the pages until he found an empty one. He started with a vine, adding leaves and flowers until it became a beautiful spray. He added butterflies here and there. "Maggie can choose the colors for the flowers and butterflies." He said, handing it to me. "I think she's going to love it," I tell him, sealed with a kiss. I intended to take a quick shower and then show Maggie Wesly's sketch to her. Before I could get dressed, she was knocking frantically on my door. I opened it with the towel wrapped around me. "What's wrong, Maggie?" I asked.

she says, very serious for someone whose ponytail is halfway to falling off. “Really?” I lean forward and catch the watercolor box before it drops. “Tell me all about it.” She sits up, shifting again: legs tucked under, one knee up, sketchbook on her lap. She flips to the middle. The page is full of doodles. There’s a drawing of a round table, four little stick figures with names floating over their heads: ME, CLARA, LEO, ANAÏS. In the middle of the table, a small box labeled in big letters: “CRAYON (NO EAT!)”

Then, suddenly, an image flickered—brief but vivid. I saw myself as a young girl, standing in a schoolyard with Lucas. His hair was messier then, and his face held the innocence of youth. He was holding out a small sketchbook, his expression uncertain but hopeful. “I drew this for you,” his younger voice echoed faintly in my head. “You said you liked butterflies.” My tiny hands reached out to take the sketchbook, flipping through pages filled with colorful, clumsy drawings of butterflies in flight, perched on flowers, and soaring through the sky.

His hands moved with a confidence that was mesmerizing, bringing images to life on paper with quick, sure strokes. “So you ran,” he said finally. “I didn’t run. I chose safety.” “Same thing.” I bristled again. “It’s not…” “Here.” He turned the sketch pad around. I sucked in a breath. It wasn’t a phoenix. It was a bird, but something else—maybe a swallow, wings spread mid-flight, breaking free from delicate chains that fell away beneath it. Simple but beautiful, the lines clean and purposeful. “It’s perfect,” I whispered.

He smiled, “Go for it, babe. I know you’ll make them awesome.” I started on the basement nursery. I drew a dragon surrounding a howling wolf, with a harvest moon in the background. Then I walked to the first-floor nursery and drew a gold dragon flying with a blue sky and the gold sun in the background. In the second-floor nurseries, I drew the Moon Goddess standing over three wolf cubs in one, I drew the Moon Goddess standing over three baby dragons in another, then I drew the Moon Goddess standing over two sleeping baby dragons and one sleeping wolf cub. Aidinth looked at each of the sketches and said, “Babe, these are amazing! I almost can’t wait to see what they’re going to look like afte

Once they had their fill of fun, the children ran back to Amy excitedly. Just as they were about to speak, a lady with a sketchpad approached them. “Ma’am, I really like how your family looks, so I made a sketch of all of you. I hope you like it.” She handed over a piece of paper. On the paper, Night and Star were depicted feeding the pigeons, with Aiden and Amy watching them from the side. Although it was just a black and white sketch, the layout and artistry conveyed a sense of warmth and coziness. Amy fell in love with it at first sight, which made her overlook what the lady had said to her.

Archie smiles and hands over the sketchbook to her. Melanie mouthed a ‘thank you’ as she collect the book from him. She flip the first page and smile at what he drew. It was a sketch of a tree with no leave. She flip to the next page and her eyes widen in shock, it was a drawing of a bird with no eyes. “This is what I called ‘masterpiece’,” she nods at the sketch which sent her to a land of fantasy. She keeps on flipping through the book till she gets to the middle of the book. Archie cross his arms over his chest as he wanted to see the look on her face in the next sketch.

When there were only a few pages left, the tone of my drawings changed. The objects and animals that I drew were not alone this time. I no longer drew a stormy or dark night, but a scenery with sunlight and good weather. The flower was accompanied by a dancing butterfly. The bear cub has found another little bear. The rabbit was happily nibbling on a carrot. Ah. This was the time when Layla and I started to be together. At the end of the page, I was surprised to find out an outline of a person's face. Since the sketchbook was old, the paper was slightly yellowed which affected the clarity of the drawing. I could barely see the outline.

They were all pretty convincing. A big spiral-bound notebook made of drawing paper lay on the chair. I flipped through a few pages. Some had charcoal drawings made with angry looking strokes. Dark and rough, but still recognizable as fields and hills you’d find around here. Other pages had diagrams in pen with clusters of spidery notes. Prop guillotines and coffins with spring-loaded lids. But most of the pages had monsters. Some drawn, some cut from movie magazines and pasted in. Some were more Polaroids of James in makeup; others were ordinary pictures of people from advertisements or news stories. On those he’d painted open-throat wounds or gouged out eyes with pen.

She had no plans of leaving. She opened her bag and brought out a file containing the project she was working on. It was a total of ten drafts and three final sketches she had drawn within an approximate of two days. The first two drafts were pretty messy but she began achieving what her expected sketches from the third draft. She first presented two pictures that that given her inspiration to the woman. The first picture was that of a lady standing opposite a mirror from which there was a hand presenting to her a red flower that was slowly melting to blood. Bewitched by the mirror, the lady stretched forth her hand to take the melting flower.