I drew Blue again because he's fun to draw,im going to be drawing the other 3 again.I still don't know what names to give them though.They all have these phantom forms where they have no legs,this is the form they mostly use to cause nightmares.I made his eyes to be normal sized since he has a large mouth(all of them do) I drew them too big the first time I drew him.
After Inktober I thought I’d try out a daily logo challenge “Logovember” which isn’t easy with the holidays happening . Here is one of the ideas. Each design started with a simple doodle that I then created in Adobe Illustrator.
deep in thought and under attack from extra terrestrial beings that are harvesting his mind. with added tape on nipple to protect his dignity and censorship. ( although its a man nipple so it should be ok )
Model with Headphones Drawing Sketch Study by Oz Galeano
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Six Gun, my inktober comic about a couple of budding young hooligans, is now IN PRINT! Get yours here: https://shop.teenyrobots.net/product/six-gun-comic
This is my first post, so I'll keep things pretty basic. "Jester" is his name, but I like to refer to him as "The Ringmaster". He's my own creation, but he's inspired by the funtime animatronics from FNaF. This is also a stylized take on him. I'll post what he really looks like soon. He's comepletely sentient, and runs a pizzaria. There are shorter animatronics in the pizzaria, which he created, with the purpose to perform and entertain the people who come there. The shorter animatronics are not sentient, or possesed. At least, not yet. I'll also post pictures of these animatronics one day, hopefully in the next two days. I haven't really fleshed out what kind of story I'll make for him, but I'll use him eventually. Drawn with FireAlpaca.
Edit: That's supposed to be a lollipop for his (your left) hand.
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.
These are birthday creatures created in a lab to help celebrate. They come with a confetti aura and built in party horns. They are optimized for maximum fun, but frighten very easily.
