Withered Chica Doodles Novels & Stories

There, hidden behind a curtain of weeping carbon-fiber vines, was a small, dilapidated shack. "What is this?" I asked. "The only place the grid can't see," Xander said. He pulled back the vines, and I saw a wall covered in jagged, hand-drawn charcoal sketches. I gasped. The sketches weren't of buildings or machines. They were of us. There was a drawing of a man and a woman standing in a mountain of gold; a drawing of a girl with a wooden ring; a drawing of a man with orange eyes holding a woman in the rain.

After wiping away her tears, Cherry waddled over to the bookshelves, pulled out a drawing album from the corner where it was least likely to be seen, and sat down on the carpet. Opening the album revealed a collection of drawings, some appearing eerily chaotic. It was difficult to discern their meaning. The only recognizable features were human heads, encircled by dark streaks that vaguely resembled beards. "You're the worst! I hate you! I'll never draw you again. Cherry doesn't need a daddy like you!" As she complained, she forcefully tore at the pages, ripping them into pieces. In a matter of minutes, the abstract masterpieces had turned into shreds of paper.

He pulled her close, arm around her shoulders, warmth blooming, their laughter mingling, a vow in every jest. Lila’s charcoal flew, hazel eyes sparkling, voice bright, showing pups her sketch. “See, the stream—like our pack, flowing strong!” Spark yipped, vibrant. Stars, Lila—shine, lead! Pups cheered, their drawings bold, moonlight catching their joy, her courage their guide.

Ada corrected, but Chira seemed absent-minded. “So we are prisoners, will they eat us?” “No,” Chira laughed “We had a bad impression of these people. They are way timid than the people of Dota, but they don’t eat people” “So it’s true then” Ada murmured and stood up. Her legs wavered as she tried to steady her footings. She held the wall, hoping to maintain her bearing and to keep her world from rotating. The pain on her waist had surfaced, but not as sharp as the past few hours.

Wisdom spin kicks him in the stomach, he flies back into a tree. He jumps up, flexes, screams, runs toward Wisdom then jumps at her. Wisdom catches him and slams him into the ground causing his body to lie in an imprint. Yodosh's climbing out of the ground, reaching for Wisdom's leg to pull himself out of the hole. As soon as his hands wrap around her calf she pulls him up and catches his neck. " I can't play with you anymore. My beautiful Chickpea is missing her mommy." Her fingernails turn into stakes and she digs them into his neck. Yodoski reaches for her shoulders and screams from the heat that's coming from them. He's looking at his burning hands right before he hits the ground and W

Gianna gazed down at her wrist, looking at the small tattoo she got in her teenage years. It was a dandelion, some of the seeds scattered as if blown by the wind, forming a small musical note. Nothing about the drawing was unique, as surely, a lot of women already had the same tattoo as hers now. She had been thinking about erasing it many times over but decided not to. The black ink looked good in her milky skin, but she would rather it stayed hidden.

Her perfectly serene doll-like look was ruined however by the tired scowl which decorates her face. Rubisviel Fyaril, the Orchid Butterfly Witch of the Dark Forest wipes the sweat from her brow and huffed after completing a drawing of a Cthulhu symbol inside her circle. Thick black bags hang under her tired golden eyes and her face was paler than usual. Her head hurts like a battle-ax was splitting it open and her shoulders and legs are aching after prolonged hours of sitting on the ground and focusing on drawing the symbols.

Meadow seems to find strength from somewhere and straightens up, pushing her shoulders back, lifting her chin and wipes her face clear of the mess of tears. “Right, this time I mean it. Bed, Chica. You have looked exhausted for days and this can’t be helping. Come on, we can cuddle as long as you know it’s not going to second base. I don’t do girls.” Meadow smirks wiping her face for a second time to fully dry it and I throw out my hands in mock exasperation.

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Maya had been jotting down every idea that had been voiced. Charlie listened quietly while fiddling with her pencil. She felt intrigued by the stories her vampire and witch friends could share about the annoying folklore stories as well as share the ones she had heard about her own culture and species. As they began to discuss ideas in more depth, Charlie found herself sketching furiously, her pencil dancing across the page as she captured the essence of their conversation.