Love My brother totally distracted me and I didn't get to finish the last bit of it. xp
Posted: Fri Mar 07, 2014 9:16 pm
day 55: a racoon wearing sexy clothes I never drew humanoid animals before so yeah. lol I forgot the term for it.
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Tipsy Singing
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Red_Head01
Generous Fairy
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Posted: Fri Mar 07, 2014 9:25 pm
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day 55: a racoon wearing sexy clothes I never drew humanoid animals before so yeah. lol I forgot the term for it.
Furries, I think...
Posted: Fri Mar 07, 2014 9:32 pm
Red_Head01
Furries, I think...
ohh yeah!
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Tipsy Singing
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Shestval Vice Captain
Bilge rat
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Posted: Fri Mar 07, 2014 10:20 pm
*yawn* gonna have to finish updating tomorrow, but the themes are up-to-date...
Posted: Fri Mar 07, 2014 10:56 pm
WraythRose Darkthorn
I thought you lived in america...don't you have lots of snakes there?
...thankfully I live in Ireland - Land of NO snakes! xd
lol yeah Well I live in the city, so zero wildlife or even nature, except for the occassional park which is sad. We have pigeons though and alley cats lol.
It had been some time since he'd had fresh fruit. The MRE's had long lost whatever flavor they'd had, and he'd gone from tap water, to bottled water, to anything he could filter in three attempts or less. A used radiator had even sufficed as he was trudging along the highway, alert for any remaining corpses.
Sipping a half empty bottle of water he'd found in an abandoned vehicle, he was in heaven. The soulless cadaver that was naught but skin and bone was nearly upon the survivor when he realized he was in danger and swung the crowbar in a wide arc, nearly dropping the bottle in the process. A dry crack was heard and he turned around in time to see the mottled skin from a mummified zombie fall at his feet.
"I. Hate. Swamps." the man said to no one in particular. Georgia was filled with green moss, green predators, and green air that was clogged with the residue of dead bodies. The pea green camouflage that went from shades of vegetable to shades of military uniform lay before him in a contorted skull, eye sockets filled with blank white cue-balls and four teeth at his feet. The skin had pulled itself thin, flaking off bits here and there. "It's been 8 months since the outbreak. Could we please let the *******'s die already?!" the survivor asked the sky. He'd long since given up on any religious figures coming to his aid.
Picking the pockets clean, sure that anything contaminated had long been disinfected now, he went on his way. If nothing else, money was a good artifact, and the ship taking him to Los Angeles was certain to bring him to civilization.
Every time I killed a zombie, a new one seemed to regrow in its spot, creating an endless cycle of shoot, step back, breathe, repeat. My strength had quickly waned--from both exhaustion and the injury on my leg; I was running almost entirely on sheer willpower, and I knew that wasn't going to last much longer.
I blasted a hole in another zombie’s head, vaguely noting how its body crumpled as if the destruction of its brain had caused its bones to disintegrate.
Another bullet found its mark.
It occurred to me--slowly and distantly from the depths of my inebriated mind--that I was working by force of habit alone, and I knew this wasn't a particularly good thing, as it meant any change in the onslaught would almost surely get me killed. If even a single zombie were to somehow get behind me, I probably wouldn't even notice it before it was snacking on me.
Another dead.
I stepped back, trying to catch my breath, to think, to plan, but the number of zombies that continued to come at me made my efforts fruitless. I took another shot.
My next step backwards sent me to the ground as my wounded leg finally decided to rebel and not hold me up any longer. One of my guns tumbled and skidded across the ground out of reach. I took three more shots before an ominous clicking sound was all that was left, and knowing that I had no more ammo, I let the gun fall limply from my hand.
"s**t," I said, staring at the horde of dead that were about to be my demise.
"No time like the present to run," my dead friend's voice sounded in my head.
I snorted. As if I'd be able to run a foot before my leg gave out on me again, if I was even able to make it to my feet in the first place.
"Trying certainly isn't going to make your plight any worse, unless you actually want to die."
I bit my lip. No, it wasn't that I wanted to die; it just seemed pointless to attempt to get away when it was already abundantly clear that I wouldn't be able to. "Damn, I should have saved a bullet, in case something like this happened."
"Run."
I heaved a sigh and struggled to my feet, wincing at the stabbing pain in my leg. The first of the zombies were directly in front of me by this point, and shock sent me stumbling backwards, which in turn saved me from the grasping fingers.
Ignoring the pain, I took a deep breath, readying myself to run, but I had no sooner turned around before I ran smack dab into a body. My mouth dropped open in shock--when had the zombies gotten behind me?--but before I could so much as say "s**t" again, the zombie in front of me shoved me to the ground where my head smacked painfully against the unforgiving earth. I gasped in pain, trying to blink away the encroaching darkness, but having just as much luck with that as I had trying to run.
I battled unconsciousness for a moment, but the darkness won.
If drawing a bunny on the back of a shopping list in the dark on the way to an imagine dragons concert rather than not submiting anything at all isnt commitment, i dont know what is
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