Oc Characters Drawings Novels & Stories

We arrived at their tent to find them drawing. “There are my favorites.” Karson beamed, kneeling in front of them for a hug. “Daddy!” Carl and Karin squealed, jumping into his arms. “What are you two drawing?” I asked. They pulled the papers to show two figures that look like male caricatures and a female caricature of me with crazy hair fighting someone on the ground. “Let me guess, that is me, your daddy, and uncle Lucas fighting the evil lady.” I gestured at the drawings.

The kind that came from a child's drawing pad. Marcus crouched. Picked it up. Unfolded it carefully. Two figures in thick crayon lines. A tall one with long dark hair. A small one beside it, round-faced, with eyes that had been colored in with so much pressure the blue had gone almost solid - like whoever drew it had wanted to get the color exactly right. He turned it over. The handwriting on the back was learning its letters. The spacing was uneven. Some of the characters were slightly backwards the way they get when small hands are still working it out.

The Ecostanian-style palace decoration looked luxurious and grand. Flora opened the small bag on her back and took out a picture book. “Mommy look, this is the family portrait I draw. This is Mommy, this is Daddy, and this is Jason, this is Jerry, and this is me.” There were five cartoon-like characters in the drawing. Although the drawing look was crooked and very abstract, each character was grinning from ear to ear. When I saw it, I smiled until my eyes turned red, “Oh! Baby, you are so awesome. You draw it so well.”

He whines and I laugh at him. I raffles his hair and hold his face in my palms. “So… how is handsome Denzel doing today?” “I’m fine! Here….” He reaches for a drawing book next to him on the bed and shows me a page where drew…. Ah! I don’t even know what he drew! But I guess it’s some cartoons. “… Look, Anna, I drew hulk and captain America!” “Oh… “ I take a closer look and frown, why doesn’t they look like the hulk and captain America I know?

"When I came back to the solar I saw the prince and I got scared. I'm so sorry I left you there alone." Dea nodded reassuringly, accepting her apology. She was still unable to form a single sentence. Ochen helped her with her cloak, then pulled her to her bed. After they sat, a while later Ochen brought out another book. Dea stared at it questioningly. "In this sketchbook I draw the people I don't know." Ochen explained. Dea nodded understandingly while Ochen turned to the first page. Dea gasped quietly, the drawing was of the ice king, he looked younger, beside him was a female version of the ice prince, the princess sat beside the prince; her face bore feature's similar to the king's

Dimitri turned around, brows lifting slightly. Zoe walked over, all four feet of her confidence on full display, and handed it up to him. He looked down at the drawing. Three stick figures stood in front of a black square labeled "HOME". One had long curls. One had a crown. The third had very sharp shoulders and icy blue eyes drawn in clumsy marker. Above them, Zoe had drawn a yellow sun with a big smile and the word "US" in careful, crooked letters. Dimitri held the paper like it might explode.

Ozzie has stopped drawing. His pencil is still. His sketchpad is open and there is a drawing on the page — the chamber, the plinth, the map, me at the centre of it — rendered in the specific lines of someone who has been drawing their whole life and has found the thing that required everything they had. He looks at me. His jaw is doing the thing. His eyes are doing the thing. "Ozzie," I say. "I'm fine," he says. "You're not," I say.

He sat. He looked at the star Liam had drawn at the top of the fresh page. He looked at her. He picked up the crayon. He looked at the page. He began to draw. She watched him. He drew slowly. He drew nine figures first. The same nine. All of them. Then he drew a tenth. Small. In the space below the seventh. He gave it curly hair because Ada's curls deserved to be there from the beginning. He looked at the name in the seventh figure's space.

Though Alpha Valor was 1000 years old, he looked in his early 30s. None of them looked their age. His mother, Luna Emmaline, looked in her 20s, the second leader of his family's small pack. She has blonde hair. The greenest eyes I'd seen. She's also tall but not as tall as the male and has a voluptuous body. All the she-wolves seem to have a curvy body, a large bust, and the ideal buttock size, which makes me wonder why Connor chose an uncurvy and ordinary-looking human girl like me.

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