Sketches Naruto Novels & Stories

“No, I just don’t have a nicotine problem.” They go back and forth, voices lowering into a bickering hiss that neither of them is fully committed to. I tune them out, taking another bite of my food, until I catch movement from the corner of my eye. Nate. He returns with quick, determined strides, holding something close to his chest. As he reaches the table, he slaps down a worn sketchbook, its cover bent and edges frayed from frequent use. I look up at him, confused. “What is this?”

Naruto screamed furiously as a single red ball of light entered Naruto's body, followed by a pillar of fiery red energy shooting straight at the Green Sky Python! The Green Sky Python didn't dare to be too big for its britches, and a wall of earth rose up, thirty consecutive walls of earth only barely blocking Naruto's attack. He was so scared that he broke out in a cold sweat. "Hey, little girl over there (referring to Lucretia of course) let's call a truce and subdue this crazy kid first!" The Green Sky Python said with a pleading tone. Lucretia nodded to the green python after receiving Sasuke's affirmation

It lay on a nearby table, its intricate lines and contours waiting to be brought to life once again. With focus, Ariana picked up a pencil and hovered it over the next blank space before her. The sketch held a special meaning, a piece of art that resonated deeply within her. As she began to recreate the lines, her hand moved breathing life into the paper. Ariana immersed herself in the act of drawing. Each stroke of the pencil represented a connection between her imagination and the tangible world. The rhythmic sound of drawing. As she meticulously recreated the details, Ariana's mind wandered, her thoughts drifting towards Mateo. The memory of his kind gesture lingered, intertwining with th

I dropped my phone and finished up then arranged the files for the meeting. Seeing as there was nothing to do, I picked my sketchbook and began to sketch absentmindedly. I was so engrossed in it until Leslie came in to tell me that my meeting was starting in ten minutes. Looking at my sketch, a very detailed drawing of a large dragon with the eyes a shiny blue, sitting beside the dragon was a girl who was smiling, her back resting on the dragon's side.

He sat down, opened his sketch pad and picked up his pencil then began to sketch. He closed his eyes as he sketched and two minutes later he opened his eyes to see what he’d sketched and his breath hitched in his throat. He’d sketched the forest, the stream, the log the girl was sitting on and the girl herself with her jet black hair. “I’ll call you Raven.” He smiled at the sketch. "At least...until I know your real name.” He kept the sketch in his desk drawer, turned off his desk lamp and returned to bed. Before he slept, he made a mental note to have the sketch framed.

He digs a small notebook out of his pocket and scribbles. I inch closer to peek over his shoulder. He’s sketching a very rudimentary diagram of the valley. “What are you doing?” He blinks up. His lips curve ruefully, and he holds up his drawing. It looks like a stick figure with a triangle for its head. I plop down next to him and snag my backpack. It feels nice to sit. I usually meander, but I’ve been pushing myself so Cadoc doesn’t slow himself to a patronizing crawl, and he has a much longer stride than I do.

And tonight, her mind was unusually busy. The competition. The next round. Her future. Everything seemed to be changing little by little. Naomi picked up a stack of old sketchbooks. Most of them were filled with practice drawings. Faces. Buildings. Flowers. Random ideas. Years of work. Years of growth. She smiled as she flipped through them. Some drawings were good. Some were terrible. Very terrible. She laughed softly. "I really drew this?" The proportions were completely wrong. The eyes looked strange. The hands looked even worse.

It looks like I’m laughing, blissfully happy. My heart slams against my ribs as I flip to the next page, this one a drawing of me from the waist up, a mischievous grin on my face and my long hair covering my bare breasts. I flip to the next one. And the next one. Pages upon pages of my face, my body. There must be a hundred of them. Every single sketch is me.

My gaze darted to the Lisa's notebook which she had been sketching on for a while, my eyes squinting on it as I tried to understand and make out a meaning behind her sketch. It had a drawing of a tall figure who stood alone, a silver helmet over his face with his eyes shut, hiding underneath the shadows of the moonlight on his bike. Then in the next sketch he was at the rooftop on all fours as if he was about to take a leap and in this sketch his eyes were pries open, a bloody mysterious vibe oozing out of the sketch like he was going to leap out of the notebook anytime soon. "W-what is this? You never told me knew how to draw," I broke the silence and noticed how Lisa stiffened all of a sud

Her eyes alight upon scattered sketches strewn across the surface, drawing her in with an irresistible pull. Picking up one of the sketches, she is met with the striking image of a wolf, its form captured in intricate detail. As her gaze flits to another sketch, a closer view of the wolf reveals its menacing features—fangs bared and saliva dripping, an embodiment of primal ferocity. A series of similar sketches follow, each portraying the majestic yet fearsome creatures in different poses. A furrow creases Rose's brow in puzzlement as she contemplates the artist's apparent fixation on these lupine subjects.