story

"I am about to drop a nugget." ~ A blackout poem from a recycled page of Burnout, a young adult story about love, motorcycles, and a road trip from hell.

It's a perfect day to work on my new story. It's going great.

Dinosaur doodling is the way of things today.

Keep thinking about a story about Kismet (one of my cats) and Rocky (a friends dog I just met). I don’t know what they would both do in it, but there would be much shivering and tail wagging. Ps. Kismet is not fat. She is actually very svelte. But I had two blobs on my page and she was destined to be one of them https://www.instagram.com/p/C7mUq3BggSy/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

102 years ago, another pandemic raged across the globe. My latest comic is all about what we can learn from the 1918 “Spanish Flu” (written by Sarah Mirk + Eleri Harris). Check out the rest of the story on The Nib! thenib.com/1918-spanish-flu

"Mount Saint Helens had a cramp." ~ A blackout poem from Burnout, a young adult love and adventure story.

https://www.instagram.com/p/C146AlyJhwN/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

this is a story of a little Lion Leo adventures in his dreams.

OCs for Starry depths. Originally we’re more then friends so this is like a back story, all I could think of when I was drawing was that song that goes “sittin on the dock of the bay, watching the clouds roll away.” I think it’s by Otis Redding. I’m not sure. But anyway. Ingrid and her now-friend Abigail.

The story behind this is that when my little sister and I were kids, we invented a game called Blammer. You duct tape small trashcans to your back and try to slam a sock ball into your opponents basket. We used tennis rackets for defense. We used to terrorize our parents with all the running and yelling in the house. We're in our 30's now and try and play when we see each other. I call her Chicken and she calls me Ducky. Which is why we're are riding birds. One of my favorite pieces I've ever done. A birthday present for her.

cat cat cat

A preliminary sketch for a belt buckle manufacturing company who requested a multi-layered story (scene) to be made out of various types of metal.

And that finishes things off with my current sketchbook! Here's to what the next one brings :)

This is probably going to be the last drawing I'll be uploading here since I'm not really active here anymore on Doodleaddicts,it was a drawing I did on my birthday (September 28) long story short I have a fursona now hehe

Marginalias' character are starting to flesh out, even if I still don't have a story. These two are the princess (Who still doesn't have a name. Diana maybe?) a peryton and Ancelade, an atlas lion. They met when they were kid ( 9-10 for Ancelade, about fifteen for the princess). Ancelade was brought back from a war campaign by an old veteran knight who more or less adopted him and the Princess, when meeting a dirty, shivering lion cub, took him under her wing right away (quite literally, he used to fit under her wing, not anymore). (The joke, every time this episode is mentioned, is that Ancelade's adoptive father, while already having fathered children, had no idea how to care for a child and probably thought they were self cleaning). Once Ancelade properly cleaned up, the Princess discovered he was blond AND fluffy. Ten years later, she is still the only one allowed to touch his mane. Each think of the other as the brother or sister they don't have anymore. Even if everyone always ask them the same old question to which they answer in a mature and articulated way: Are you lovers?

Watercolour crayon, crayon, fineliner and acrylic paint.. . . . . ... . .... . ... . . . ... . . .. . . . . . . Just your run of the mill tree bearing owl with a pipe in hand and a story to tell. .... . . .. . . . . .. . . . . .. ... ... ......... ... .. A3 prints for sale ( 12 left out of 20 at the time of going to press )

Mixed media work on paper. Intuitive cartography of a hybrid myth.

A great deal of upheaval in my personal life, including making steps to better my mental health as well as reflecting on changes in my work life (potentially) and also my living situation, have dominated my headspace as of late. Long story short, Buddha reminding us all to still any madness in life got me to work here as did the obvious itch to get some drawing done!

Sketchbook. Marker, watercolor and fine-liner

Posca pens and acrylic paint on canvas. You can read the history of this painting on Instagram or on my blog www.mincastamtam.de

Reference photo taken during the performance of Les Miserables. It has its darkness from the evil and misery and bright light from the hope and love as in the story. It is done with watercolors and coloredpencils.

This illustration is based on my childhood favorite, Hans Andersen's story, the steadfast tin soldier.

Office, Consciousness (part 3) from an animated short story project online on my website or instagram!

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.

A page of comic for a conquest The story End of the project: human species. The simulation has been achieving unexpected outcomes. Was increased free thought and the doubts fade away. At that time, I recreate my own image. However, it's behaviours came with anomalies. We aren't. You can't run away from you. Dreams were unexisted memories. The likehood was that we're living an illusion. But, we change our view. I couldn't attain the freedom I looked for. Everything became real. Everything came down. Am I still dreaming?

Simple 5 min. drawings Book 1 = story about why u have your particular name If u have a story and wanna be drawn plz get in touch 10€ a drawing Dave +351 969 534 520 https://artdavidmeehan.blogspot.com/p/7.html https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.226052820830969&type=3 https://www.instagram.com/artdavidmeehan/

Lino cut print over pastel. The story goes: The bird fell in love with the whale the first time she saw him break through the ocean’s surface, sunlight dancing on his back. From high above, she sang to him, and deep below, he answered with a song as old as the tides. She longed to dive, to join him in the rolling blue. He wished to rise, to fly beside her in the endless sky. But air and water would not trade places. So each day, at dawn and dusk, they met at the edge of their worlds—she on the wind, he in the waves—singing a love song carried by the breeze and the tide, never together but never apart.

"That bikini stoked fires even before summer." ~ A blackout poem from a recycled page of Burnout, a young adult adventure/love story.

Years ago, I sketched Gibby at work—pencil in hand, bold strokes alive with motion. I caught them from over the shoulder: just the back of their head, the soft curve of their face, and that focused arm bringing something into being. They were 9 or 10 then, already showing the spark of creativity and concentration that pointed toward who they’d become. Now in their mid-20s, Gibby is thoughtful, insightful—quick to listen, slow to speak, and wired to process the world with care. Their path has been remarkable: two degrees in 2.5 years, no debt. That didn’t happen by accident. It took grit, German immersion schooling, 16 college credits earned in high school, and testing out of 24 more once at university. That’s Gibby—quietly determined, resourceful, and steady. But their story isn’t just academic. Gibby’s always been gifted with their hands—drawn to set design, locksmithing, welding. Trades they wanted to pursue early on, and still feel pulled toward. They’re at a bike shop now. It’s not the dream, but it fits: their hands know how to build, repair, and reshape the world. There’s been frustration—maybe even anger—that we didn’t let them follow the trade route right away. I get that now. Life veers, and sometimes the path chosen isn't the one imagined. But Gibby’s resilience—their ability to adapt and press on—is what I admire most. They’ve embraced their journey with honesty, stepping into their identity as a they/them person, unafraid to define success in their own terms. That takes courage. I’m proud of them—not for a résumé, but for who they are. This old drawing isn’t just a memory—it’s a thread connecting past to present. A reminder that the creative spark, the steady hands, the deep soul I saw back then is still shining. So here’s to you, Gibby: the kid who sketched with fire and the adult who still shapes the world with quiet brilliance. Your value has never been about the path you’re on. It’s about the person you are. And I’ll be here, cheering you on—every step of the way.