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A line taken from the current book I’m digesting… Finally reading the My Neighbor Totoro book my girlfriend got me for my birthday. Slowly getting through but enjoying it immensely!

Father's (https://www.doodleaddicts.com/uploads/68546/cosmic-horror/) crooked hand, with six fingers (one looks like a fang) of different weird lengths (because He doesn't understand human anatomy well), holding a Gotham snow globe. And of course, the eyes. He loves eyes.

Patron Saint of Lost Keys and Small Things. Reminded me of this poem by Elizabeth Bishop. One Art The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster. —Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident the art of losing’s not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

A pegasus flies over head while two fairies look on. 8.5x11 black ink line art on sketch paper

And this is my only contribution to mermay. It doesn't look very good, I know. But I'm glad to draw a mermaid for the first time on mermay, I dreamed about it when I could only draw squiggles. I drew it for half a month, and during this time, I even managed to come up with a deep (don't shoot) lore. According to my idea, Eddie needed some sunken cargo (and not only him). Amber offered her help in exchange for some relic of her people, which is stored in the Gotham Museum (even being a mermaid, she is an opportunist). Eddie told her to go to hell and tried to get the cargo with the help of his robots, which Amber successfully sabotaged underwater to pressure him into the deal. In this drawing, Eddie's ran out of luck and got himself roughened up and almost drowned (definitely not Batman this time). Amber saved his skin. No gratitude is expected yet, but this is the least of their problems. Jean advises Amber (they are not at odds in this AU) to leave the polluted waters near Gotham before something happens to her and her health, but she is stupidly stubborn when it comes to the Riddler (and her goals).

For May 15th, today is all Crush For this day, I decided to make an adorable couple between a seal and a sea lion because I thought they looked really cute that way

I painted a tree from someone’s yard that looks like a paisley pattern. What a stylish tree.

An old piece. It was previously very rough, but recent improvements in photo editing skills made it look better and better as time passed. Probably... my impression of a wondrous dream world? Music inspiration: Metrik - Freefall (Ft. Reija Lee)

An alien looking dapper in his tuxedo and top hat

What a perfect dream looks like

This is what inner peace looks like to me

As a lifelong Indiana resident, I never thought I would fall victim to a cryptocurrency scam especially not one that would wipe out $30,000 of my hard-earned savings. It all began when I was contacted by a woman named “Sophia” through Facebook. She claimed to be a professional crypto investment advisor based in Manhattan and came across as incredibly knowledgeable and confident. Her profile was convincing, filled with images of high-end offices, client testimonials, and even fake endorsements from celebrities, all crafted to earn my trust. At first, I had always been cautious with my money, but her pitch was persuasive. She promised a “low-risk” investment opportunity with high returns, backed by what appeared to be credible audits and consistent performance reports. I decided to test the waters by investing $200. To my surprise, I was able to withdraw the money with no issues, which made the platform seem trustworthy. Feeling more confident, I went all in. Over the next few weeks, I invested $25,000 into what I believed were Bitcoin and Ethereum transactions through her platform. The dashboard displayed constant growth. My account balance soared, and I felt thrilled watching my so-called earnings increase. It looked like the investment was paying off until things took a turn. To unlock my “profits,” I was asked to send an additional $4,800 to cover something called “gas fees.” Hesitant but eager to access my growing funds, I sent the money. Then, just like that, the platform disappeared. My account was inaccessible, Sophia stopped responding, and I was left with nothing. My savings were gone, and I felt betrayed and ashamed. Just when I thought I had lost everything, I came across HACKATHON TECH SOLUTIONS, a cyber forensics group specializing in retrieving stolen cryptocurrency. Skeptical but desperate, I contacted them. They used advanced tools like Chainalysis to trace the stolen crypto across blockchain and collaborated with international authorities and exchanges to freeze the assets. Amazingly, just last week, HACKATHON TECH SOLUTIONS recovered 100% of my lost funds. I was stunned and overjoyed. Thanks to their determination, what I thought was gone forever was returned to me. I learned a painful lesson, but I’m grateful for the second chance. Their contact details are listed below. Whatsapp:‪‪‪+31 6 47999256‬‬‬ Telegram: @hackathontechsolutions Email: hackathontechservice@mail.com

I’m addicted to shading, I chase the shine, I’m addicted, and sometimes you find things along the way like these teeth that make me believe there’s a shade I gotta still hit just for that perfect shine that never falls flat. Ride that shade like a wave…

I am a developer, and coding is my world. But when it comes to, say, the "life" part of life skills? Not so much. After a grueling 72-hour coding marathon, fueled by nothing but caffeine and questionable decisions, I made a mistake I now regret on a cosmic level: I spilled coffee on my external hard drive, the very drive that stored access to my digital wallet, holding a significant sum. At first, I told myself it wasn't that bad; surely a little splash wouldn't be a big deal, right? With confidence in my tech skills, I turned to the internet for answers. One search result boldly asked: "Can you dry a hard drive in the microwave?" Spoiler alert: absolutely not. Don’t try this under any circumstance. I’m lucky I didn’t end up with melted plastic or worse. After my solo data recovery efforts failed catastrophically, panic set in. This wasn't just lost files, this was years of effort, wiped in a moment. That’s when I found Digital Resolution Services. Desperate and admittedly a bit embarrassed, I reached out, hoping for a miracle. From the moment they answered, I could tell I was in capable hands. The team was calm, professional, and reassuring, never once mocking my questionable DIY methods (which, looking back, I probably deserved). Instead, they got straight to work, applying specialized tools and expertise to my situation. The process wasn’t easy. It involved long nights, constant updates, and a rollercoaster of emotions. But Digital Resolution Services never gave up. They stayed committed, persistent, and focused every step of the way. When they finally restored access to my wallet, I was overwhelmed with relief not just because the funds were safe, but because I could finally sleep without stress. That experience taught me something valuable: sometimes, it’s not about being the expert in everything, it's about knowing when to trust the right ones. Now, I keep my coffee and hard drive far apart. And every time I take a sip of that morning brew, I remember: if your data matters, don’t gamble, reach out to professionals like Digital Resolution Services. TELEGRAM: @DIGITALRESOLUTIONSERVICES WHATSAPP: +1 (361) 260 8628

A fairly accurate self-portrait. Sorry that I'm looking away, I just wanted to draw my wings.

King of the rot King of decay Worlds will end, upon his say King of the rot King of decay Is all you bring, just misery? Upon my cries i heard him say “Yes its true, I’m father to dismay” “Loathe me, hate my ways” “But look beyond the death” “You find in my wake” “I may swallow life” “I may bring pain” “But how beautiful is the rose that blooms on the grave?” “How soft to the touch is the grass, after the rain?” “I am the king of rot” “I am the king of decay” “But i also bring new life to the day” #embracingnightmares

TEAR IT APART. (Again). I am open to feedback, questions or judgemental points of view! I’m looking to improve so anyone willing to share their tips I will be SO SOSOSOSOSOOS SSO GOSH DANG GRATEFUL FOR IF YOU DO!

YOU'RE MY DEADLY DEADLY NIGHTSHADE OH ATROPA BELLADONNA THEY SAY YOU ARE DEATH INCARNATE AND I SHOULD STAY FAR AWAY - Blackbriar - Deadly Nightshade I did a thingy for my mutual. Her name is Belladonna and she is DC OC. ;) As I was drawing, I noticed how genius her design is. Her "villain" costume looks like the petals of a belladonna, her blonde hair and light skin like anthers (I belive that's how they called), her freckles like pollen. I don't know if it's inrentional, but it's amaizing! I can't draw clothes yet And hands And everything Spare me! It's also my first time drawing flowers :D

I am an art teacher with a master’s degree—trained by brilliant professors who believed that art could do more than decorate walls. I offer safe spaces for teenagers to grow—nourishing soil where their imaginations can take root. And yet… I am assigned to hallway duty. This is compulsory education, after all. So I sit—posted like a sentinel—watching young lives stream past. “Get to class,” I say with a smile and a nudge. The system wants attendance; I’m hungry for presence. Armed not with a whistle or clipboard, but with a pen— my scribble’s soft insurgency. The hallway stretches out like a geometric hymn. Columns and corners chant structure. Teenagers swirl past—half-formed galaxies of limbs and laughter— their orbits chaotic, their gravity pulling time forward. I begin to draw. Not their tardiness, but their motion. A shoulder. A blur of sneakers. A tilted head chasing freedom. Feet flickering like seconds. Each mark a pulse. Each smudge a breath. My paper becomes a seismograph of seeing— trembling gently through the mundane. This isn’t about making art for a frame or a feed. It’s about refusing to leak away in the fluorescent hum of obligation. It’s a quiet mutiny against the clock. I do this on long car rides, too (passenger side, mind you). Letting the lines grow wild, jagged, and unapologetic. Not for polish— but for presence. This is how I remember I’m still alive. Still growing. Still watching. Still choosing to see. Because sometimes mental health looks like a piece of scrap paper, a moving pen, and the simple, sacred act of marking time with wonder.

Years ago, while digging through old journals and sketches, I stumbled across a quick, scribbled drawing of two pears. Beneath it, I'd written a raw and honest note: "Ann is pissed. I think it's because she's uncertain about me, us, life itself. She just ran into my car with the van. She says it was an accident, but she seems happier now—almost like it was cathartic. . . Like sex." At the time, I scribbled this in frustration, feeling a deep disconnect between us. Intimacy had become a confusing and distant concept in our relationship. The pears I'd sketched were rough and scratchy, charged with my chaotic feelings. Looking back, I see how emotions can drive us to strange actions, some intentional, some accidental, often leaving us oddly relieved afterward. Humans are complex, fascinating beings, navigating messy emotions and messy relationships, sometimes colliding intentionally or unintentionally, seeking relief in unexpected ways. Perhaps the pears were my subconscious pun on "pair," reflecting the awkward, confusing way Ann and I were bumping through life together—making messes, but occasionally finding strange humor and genuine catharsis in the chaos. I've learned to smile gently at the rawness of our humanity, appreciating even our scratchy sketches and emotional collisions. They're reminders that life, relationships, and our own hearts are never simple, but they're authentically human. Here's to embracing life's unexpected catharsis and finding humor in our imperfections.

For the 19th of Marchusic, I thought of this cute couple of Line Friends bears because they together with Brown and Cony look adorable

A suave, gentlemanly lizard who's a bit of a judgy guy. Don't take it personally, he looks down on everybody :/

An original character a made for a collaborative world on unvale. io, her name is blood and she's been looking for her little cousin, Entity, ever since the eating epidemic started. She's quite anxious and a little shy but she usually warms up to people pretty quick.

for the 16th of Marchusic, sometimes dragegs although he is a dragon mixel stronger than a volcano when he thinks of Delirilamy he becomes hot as a kettle of water (by the way I decided to redesign it because I felt that his original design did not look like a mixels)

P. G. Wodehouse (1881–1975) Once, when he was beginning a Wooster-Jeeves novel, he experimented with using a Dictaphone. After he had dictated the equivalent of a page, he played it back to check it over. What he heard sounded so terribly unfunny that he immediately turned off the machine and went back to his pad and pencil. After this, according to the biographer Robert McCrum, “he might snooze a bit in his armchair, have a bath, and do some more work, before the evening cocktail (sherry for her, a lethal martini for him) at six, which they took in the sun parlour, overlooking the garden. - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “He had just about enough intelligence to open his mouth when he wanted to eat, but certainly no more.” ― P.G. Wodehouse #dailyrituals #inktober #PGWodehouse @masoncurrey

the wounded soldier is no longer just a man begging for mercy - he is infected with something dangerous, which makes him aggressive and possibly uncontrollable. His outstretched hand may now mean not a plea, but an attempt to grab the protagonist, which increases the sense of threat. The soldier's eyes, wide open and seemingly filled with fear or madness, now look like a sign of loss of humanity. The blood stains on his clothes are no longer just traces of battle, but perhaps the result of his own aggression. The chains in the background can be interpreted as a symbol of restriction or control over the infected - perhaps he was captured or locked up, but was able to break free.

My new sona look