My grin is permanent, like the invisible glaciers in the sky; I feel a tug in my heart, I want to cry. My soul feels hollow, empty, in my body's core. My body wants to endlessly roar. My mind feels little and refuses to grow. Is it me, my faith or the childishness in me? I will never know. If I were to try, I'd fall apart, bloody broken hands to fill my empty heart. I wish to scream and break all in my way, but it's just me wanting to know the right thing to say. May I scream, yell or shout to let it out; however, it will never be enough, for I feel like my life is someone else's elaborate bluff. I anger at the world at large as my smile wanes, but my entire being desires and requires a forbidden flame. My mind is at odds; I feel I'm losing the fight. I can't keep continuing this endless war, which leaves me feeling to roar.

✊😍✊

Sketches of Oswald the Lucky Rabbit

Title: The strange one.

Summary:

Enter the inky life of Teddy Handymin. A strange, weird and new lost one who seems to leave those who encounter him a confused mess; they love helping out around the studio (even though no one asked him to) and enjoying the life he's gotten. Demons, Angels, and those in between better prepare themselves for the ink creature with the most vibrant personality.

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PROLOGUE

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At first, there was only darkness, only a black, dark abyss that seemed endless. Like a deep ocean of shadows. An infinite sea where an echoing cascade of wallowing groups of voices trying to outvoice the other, hoping to be at least unique, to be heard. In this pit of despair, that is the only sound. All the souls who were unfortunate enough to be here cried, screamed, or just laughed as they descended further into insanity. However, in this formless limbo, a soul stood out. It wasn’t scared, sad, or enraged; just…curious. Curious about the mysterious realm they reside in. It has just been so intriguing. It felt like it was swimming in the gloomy world it was living in. It enjoyed the odd, flying sensation in the world of nothingness as though it was flying. Perhaps it couldn’t hear the overwhelming voices or chose to ignore them.

Either way, it didn't matter, it had a strong urge to swim downward to the bottom, so it did, naturally. They swam, and they swam, and they swam. They were experiencing something so alien to this inky reality: fun. It continued until it felt a thick substance that acted as the bottom. Was this sand? It thought happily, never seeing sand before. The texture felt funny in its grip. It made them happy; they wanted to touch it. It dug through the “sand” intensely, taking out chunks to which it unsurprisingly made an ever-growing hole. It felt mushy but also dusty and solid, like wet and dry dirt in the palm of its hand, ignoring the oxymoron that lay before them.

It continued until they found something interesting…a glowing, glistening light. Yellow, wait, no, gold, it believes. It is like an unfamiliar world to the creature; it is beautiful and captivating, like a radiant light that beckons them to come closer. It glows like a blazing sun, and, just like Icarus, they want to get closer.

They reached towards the light, like a moth to a burning flame. Their vision was entirely and forcefully engulfed in golden rays of surrounding lights while, at the same time, it felt like a thousand fireworks being set off all at once in its mind. A strange feeling coursed through it, and, like a water balloon, it felt like it was about to burst and explode at any moment. It felt sick to its stomach and fell to its knees. It… Felt? It soon fell face first on the floor and, due to exhaustion, passed out of nausea…

Sometime after, it awoke. No longer did it feel sick or ill, but it did feel different. And they were somewhere different. It looked strange, like paper but less empty and blank, like origami without folds–no obvious indication, and like a question with no answer that made the head scratch. “Ok, that’s fine”, they thought. It turned its head around, searching for answers. When they searched everywhere, they found a large enough room with objects and furniture decorated like somebody’s house, its structure mainly made of wood. It gasped. Was this…”no, never mind,” it thought. This place was hard to describe, like an uncanny memory that never was but felt so real. And it felt normal, no, natural, to look at the outlines that gave this place form and dimension to each and everything here, but at the same time, uncanny. Sepia toned. Animated. Its chose to ignore the glaring red flag to save itself from a sure headache. Though confused, it didn’t feel scared, just curious as they usually were. It stood up; its legs were wobbly and slightly sluggish. It took a moment to get its bearings. Though it was highly irritating, they finally got their legs moving and decided to search around. Their steps made noticeable and undoubtedly funny squishy sounds that made it giggle. It felt like it was in a wonderland of knowledge. There laid a treasure trove of dozens of books, a projector and other do-dads and thingamabobs that made its eyes nearly pop out. The place was indeed a living area for somebody once; however, the original owner must’ve been gone for quite a while, leaving everything behind in a hurry, untouched without a care in the world. That, for some reason, annoyed the creature. If they didn’t want it, they would gladly accept it as any reasonable person would because you know what they say: If not, why not?. Not long after, they found a few audio logs just lying on the table in what it assumes is the sitting room on their own. The lack of labels filled them with intriguement; they took one at random with its black, slimy hand(?) And with great care, pressed the start button of the audio log to activate it.

“Is this (Buzz!) on?” The fuzzy audio of what they believed a man sounds like, “It’s working; good. So I have a chance to record my (Buzz!) voice, hahaha…” he makes a forced laugh like he’s nervous.

“Okay, I doubt I have long. This place has already taken its (buzz!) on me. I’m already losing myself, falling deeper into the darkness of what was once a “beloved” studio. I was just a handyman, mind you, who did odd jobs for others for a fair price. But times are tough nowadays, hard to afford a decent meal, you know? So, when I heard the “big” Joey Drew Studios needed extra hands with their workshop while they planned something big, I was happy to volunteer! A simple job for a simple old man like myself. Oh, was I wrong! Little did I know my need for a quick buck and my greed would blind me and trap me in this ticking time bomb they called an “opportunity.” I had trapped myself in here like a total putz. I would be better off selling myself to others as some fairy in the filthy streets, and if I knew what would happen, I would have,” the mysterious man sighs. “But, you know what? You can’t change the past. My memory isn’t what it used to be; all over the place, where left is down and up is sideways. So when you find this, please remember that my name is (Bzzz!) DAMN TAPE! Where was I? Oh yeah, My name is Teddy… The fun handyman loved to help when he could, and there was nothing he was afraid to do. Damn, what a fool I was. Anyway, I’d like to, at least, get that out there if I don’t get a chance to make more of these. Well, anyway…until next time.”

The recording ended with the sombre tone of the strange man’s voice. That was strange. It was perplexed by the old audio tape. But it was going to think about that later; it needed to focus on the importance of one word the older man had said.

Teddy. That is the name of the voice. It was masculine, defined, male. That name probably belongs to a man. It felt familiar with the gender, an obvious fact that was only, until now, forgotten, as it had always been one. Like he was always one. So, he's a he? “That's Wonderful”, they thought. A name belongs to a person, so it must be a person. That made sense. He had no idea what this place was, but they knew he was a person, so that was enough for now. Then suddenly, like a smack to the face, he realised something gravely important.

He still needed a name.

“T..edd..y,” It–no, he said in a broken voice, like an animal trying to speak with its growls. Like a fractured echo, his growls bounced around the studio. He tasted the words. The name sounded nice to him, but they didn’t know why. He kept repeating the word again and again like a broken record that had been since broken until he stopped displaying such a distorted, hoarse like voice and started to sound less like a glitchy jumble of sounds and more decipherable. One might even say intelligible.

“Teddy…I like th..at name. Hey, Teddy. teddY!!! Yes, teddy? gUEss what? whaT? I have A name! And it’s called…Teddy!” He said ecstatically. A voice of his very own, it made him feel proud. He didn’t sound like the exciting man in the tape, but he loved his voice regardless. When Teddy finished, he explored his new home a bit more. Keen to learn as much as possible from the senior resident of this room. Especially what a handyman is.

It was a more miniature world than he was used to — a much smaller world. But definitely more exciting. He was ready to take life by the hand.

He “felt” sensational.

This bear dug a sitting pit to watch her favorite duckies 

(Source)

“The waves formed a magnificent pompadour atop the little duckling’s head, granting him the power of water…”

Inspired by Quaxly 💙🦆

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ducks in a pond ( via )

Had to share this @WeHeartIt

Quack, quack.

American Black Duck Brooklyn Bridge Park, Pier4 Bird Island

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