Mulan Drawing Novels & Stories

Mariana immediately sat down by his side, took out a pen, and agilely started drawing on the paper. Bernard had never been trained in painting before, so painting a swan like that was already pretty good. On the other hand, because Mariana had been studying design, drawing was as easy as flipping her palm. With just a few sketches, she could draw out the soul of a swan. And then Bernard wore rather a sullen expression. "Mommy is great, and your drawing is really beautiful." Jeremy immediately clapped his hands. Carolina also supported her cheeks with her two small hands, looking at Mommy's swan with great interest.

Tilbur suddenly remembered something and stopped him. "Oh, by the way, Mr. Jackman, these are some drawings Anna left behind. Do you want them? If not, we'll throw them out." Taking the drawings Ms. Tilbur handed him, Micah suddenly felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. Looking at the contents, his hands began to tremble. The drawing showed a little girl playing piano with two people sitting beside her, clapping. The picture was crude, obviously just a child's scribbles. But Micah immediately recognized the person in black clothes clapping on the right side as himself.

Coloured chalks in hand, she is deep in concentration. The noisy chatter of the young adults as they take their seats behind her barely registering as she concentrates on the task in hand. She has already drawn the parted legs and rounded arse cheeks and was now working on the pussy lips, the outer labia. Her drawing was graphic in its anatomical correctness and state of arousal.

Zayn pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, smoothing it out on the table. It was a drawing. Simple. Uneven lines. Bright colors. Three figures. Aira recognized it immediately. Zayn pointed at it proudly. “This is me. And that’s Mum. And… that’s you.” Lucien’s gaze fixed on the drawing. For a moment, he didn’t speak. His fingers moved slightly, as if he wanted to touch the paper but stopped himself. “And you made this?” he asked. Zayn nodded. “Yes.” Lucien’s expression didn’t change much.

I whispered to myself. But my hands had already moved. Inside the package was a single sheet of paper, folded once. No note. No explanation. Just a drawing. My breath left me in a sharp, broken exhale. It was done in crayon. Bold lines. Messy edges. A child’s certainty in every stroke. A woman stood at the center of the page, her arms raised. Blue and yellow zigzags burst from her hands, stretching outward like lightning. Behind her stood two children. One taller. One smaller. Both drawn close to her back, like they were hiding and standing tall at the same time.

She giggled the more. Marcel laughed loudly at the child’s words. What the actual fuck? He laughed the most when Izabelle quickly rejected that the woman on the drawing board was her. The drawing was kind of the opposite of her. The hair, the shape of the woman. But Marcel couldn’t help but want to kiss the child right now because, for her age, it was fucking best. “I drew Mommy. Mommy sat while I drew her. Isn’t she pretty?” “Pretty what? That’s a woman in your head and not me.”

T0T And then, every part of the drawing was revealed to everyone without reservation. The spiky-haired model in the drawing had a gloomy and resentful expression. But the important part was that our gifted student Elizabeth Liang not only didn't draw the lower half of the model's body, but even his upper body looked completely different! The male model had an extremely beefy and muscular physique, however, the body in the drawing... looked athletic, but too thin to be the model's! Elizabeth blushed and smiled awkwardly. She desperately wanted to dig a hole for herself and disappear.

Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting in the living room with my sandwiches, a tall glass of milk, the TV on, serving as background noise, and my drawing pad and pencil in hand. I don’t know how long I sit there drawing, only taking breaks to use the washroom, but eventually I finish drawing Remus, which is surprisingly difficult, not because there aren’t many features to draw, but because there aren’t many features to draw. I try to make it feel as real as I can, as detailed as possible, and try to paint a picture of his personality through the drawing. And don’t get me started on the shading. I feel like my fingers might fall off by the time I actually finish, but I realize this is probably my

Her belly button was tucked inside the muscle and that's where the drawing stopped. May scrunched her nose. This drawing reminds her of someone. Someone she doesn't want to be reminded of, Bella. Her eyes shifted to the next drawing which she found to be the worst. A woman and man having sex. No, it looked like she was being raped cause her hands were tied. May's stomach churned. She felt uncomfortable. Why does he have such obscenities drawn in his room? The third and fourth drawings she loved, however. She thought the artist had done a wonderful job drawing a rose that looked like it was dying with its leaves dropping to the floor.

In front of the child lay a large pad of heavy drawing paper, a scattered set of colored pencils Eleanor had produced from an old drawer downstairs, and the intensely focused expression of someone who had been given materials and was taking the responsibility entirely seriously. Eleanor sat in the high-backed armchair right beside her. Her reading glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose, her own hardcover book resting wide open in her lap. It had remained unread for the last twenty minutes. She was simply watching Liyana draw. The child had been narrating the progress of her pencil for eleven consecutive minutes. It was a house with a disproportionately large front door. There was a b