mydumpster

[mydumpster]

[mydumpster]

SenshiStock’s gallery consists of millions of pictures that are free to use as reference.

General Drawing Poses Sit and Kneel Dramatic and Reaching Drawing Poses Magic and Hogwarts Drawing Poses Staff Weapon Pose Reference Hammer, Axe and Bat Pose Reference Sword Weapon Drawing Reference Small Bladed Weapon Pose Reference Gun Weapon Pose Reference Bow and Arrow Archery Stock Foreshortening and Perspective Poses Dynamic Flying Falling Action Poses Deafeated or Laying Drawing Poses Magic Crystal Magical Girl Wand Weapon Transformations and Dance Cards Back Pose Reference Pin Up Inspired Poses for Drawing Performances Poses Life in General Poses Fights and Fighting Pose Reference Leaning Poses Classic Sailor Senshi Poses Wings Sailor Moon Villains Pairs Romance or Couples Pose Reference All the Male Stock Hanging Stock Drawing Reference Three or More Groups Instruments Mirrors Whip  Technobabble  

#yesss #references #drawing #art

[mydumpster]

After the tournament (3)

“‘Snow’, huh? That’s an interesting name. You can call me ‘Salama’“, the Frieza Force ex soldier offered. They both sat on an old worn out mattress inside a self-build shack which was just one among countless other barracks made out of cardboard boxes and corrugated iron sheets, all squeezed beneath a bridge like honeycombs. It was just the most luxury forsaken place on this planet and Frost wanted to groan in disgust and because he was just tired of having to live like this. But he restrained himself and continued to show as much gratitude as he could muster. “My, my, a fine place you have here. I like it, especially the fact that it’s dry!”

“Right?”, Salama grinned. “I bet you do.” The ex soldier knew that this wasn’t a palace, but he definitely got that Frost registered its advantages over the merciless streets. His guest curled up on the mattress and let his one visible eye wander over the exceedingly modest interior: Plastic bags, boxes, piles of newspapers which would be used to stuff clothing or to lit a fire against the cold, empty bags and bottles, an old suitcase, - Frost craned his neck to make sure he hadn’t just seen things - a paper plate glued to the wall with a doodle drawn on it which looked suspiciously like that bastard if he had reverted to Frost’s first form… Frost blinked. There was no doubt. It had to be Frieza and apparently unlike the universe 6 and 7 saiyans, Frieza and him seemed to be a lot closer concerning their biologic functions. At least aside from the unfortunate power gap, there was nothing that would distinguish them in terms of abilities. They hadn’t evolved differently and that was nice to know! “I guess, he doesn’t look like much, but if you ever had the honor to see him in the flesh… the presence alone…! Damn, no scouter ever survived if his power level just rose even a little”, Salama said full of nostalgia when he noticed how Frost looked at the unflattering doodle.

“How was he like?”, Frost asked interested, crawling closer to the paper plate to get a better look. This was just priceless.

“You mean ‘how is he like’, right, Snow?”, Salama corrected him and winked. “He is back, isn’t he? And he will do what he always does: Command and conquer. He is the born supreme ruler over everything, if you ask me. Working for him might be just a job to you, but to me it’s a calling. He is like a force of nature, unstoppable! His will be done. It’s futile to go against him… it’s against nature!”

“That sounds… godlike…”, Frost said awestruck. On the inside he was vomiting blood.

“Right?!”, Salama said entranced. “One wrong step, one mistake, even being in the wrong place at the wrong time could mean death…! Oh, I felt so alive back then…!”

Maybe this guy wasn’t just an opportunist, Frost thought, holding his chin between thumb and index finger. Salama had whined about the treatment under that bastard’s rule when he had talked with his homeless friends, but on the inside he might always had been a crazy Frieza fanatic, devoid of all hope to ever serve him again and just going with the flow… until now.

“I wish I could do more for him than just searching and bringing back veterans…”, Frost said contritely.

Salama seemed to like the word ‘veteran’ as it brought a toothy smile to his face. “Your power-level doesn’t need to be high to be useful to Lord Frieza. Especially if you have other talents. Our empire was very advanced in the science department. Now everything has changed of course. So many new planets and civilizations… The true potential of the new universe 7 is still not fully explored.”

So many planets to raid, Frost dreamed. Indeed, the wish that had ultimately been vocalized in front of the dragon had been to melt all the erased universes into the winning universe. Space being as vast as it was, had just taken in all the additional matter without any trouble. Except for the living parts of that matter and especially those parts who had been at the top of the hierarchy before. Frost had only blurry memories of that event. It had been like his heart had skipped a beat, but an unnaturally hour-long beat! One second he had tried to kill that bastard and the next second everything had looked differently and everybody was cheering or just speechless and the Grand Priest was announcing something in his sublime tone before they were all send back to their respective assembly places, now no longer divided by dimensional walls, but just the deep blackness of space… Frost had still been confused and while understanding was slowly dawning on him, a strong hand had grabbed his arm, pulled him away from the other former universe 6 warriors and flung him a few meters wide. ‘Back off’, Hit had said, his steely glance tolerating no dissent. ‘Before Lord Champa remembers that it was your heedless act which nearly led to universe 6′s premature destruction.’ And thus Frost had fled, cursing and lamenting the fact that he had been back to his fugitive life… back to square one…

“You know, Salama”, Frost began and faked the most pitiful cough, “you actually give me hope that my sickness might be healed and that I could return to the state of my glory days as a man of war, too.” “You also were a soldier?”, Salama asked interested and without a scrap of doubt. As someone who once served under Frieza he was used not to judge someone by their height. “Not so much a military man, but someone who worked for a very successful warlord of former universe 6. Compared to Lord Frieza he might have been just small fry, but I definitely had had a life worth living. The thrill of the fight, an army of comrades by my side…”, Frost said, picking up on Salama’s preferences. “Among us mercenaries were a few I would call outstandingly strong and some were smart tacticians… but it must be a whole different world, if an army of highly-trained disciplined professional men is mobilized with the newest technology and lots of money to back them up.” “True”, Salama replied. “But even the best trained and equipped man gets outshone if someone with a monstrous power-level shows up. Lord Frieza’s favorites, his elite force… those were larger-than-life beings…” Salama’s eyes seemed to sparkle. “He had special forces, I assume?”, Frost asked interested. “Zarbon… Dodoria… the Ginyu Force…”, Salama recited, but suddenly his excitement seemed to fade. “Well, I’m afraid, I will have to adapt to a whole new generation of Frieza Force soldiers… because the heroes of my past… they were all killed…” Good to know, Frost thought. If he had to start from square one, it was only fair for Frieza to have to restart from the bottom, too. There wouldn’t be any highly trustworthy bodyguards around him yet. Maybe mercenaries. And mercenaries weren’t blind followers who would give their life for that bastard. What they wanted to see was primary money. And money they could have…

Salama lay down on the mattress, throwing a thin blanket over himself. He didn’t seem to be in the mood anymore to talk about the glorious past and Frost was fine with that. A low soldier like him wouldn’t be able to tell Frost much more, especially now that everything had changed. Frieza would probably do things differently now anyway. What Frost needed was far more intimate and up-to-date information. Something this ‘veteran’ wasn’t capable of providing him with. Sneering, Frost did as his host, curled up and fell asleep soon…

The light of the new morning came in stripes through the countless slits and cracks of Salama’s dwelling, not enough to banish the usual gloom, but still bright enough to know that the night was over. Salama didn’t feel well rested, however, today would be the day when everything would finally change for him and the excitement nearly extinguished the last traces of sadness he had felt due to being reminded of his fallen comrades. Tiredly he opened his eyes and stretched his back when… He stared at the worming black thing right before him. “A SNAKE!!!”, he yelled and caught it with a neck-crushing grip to throw it against - or better - through the wall, but somehow the snake’s emphasis seemed to lie right at its other end, so to his horror he just lifted it upwards, the abomination’s other end dangling dangerously close to his unprotected shin.

“What is the meaning of this?!”, the snake asked haughtily and all of a sudden Salama noticed that it was indeed his guest he was holding… The snake was actually Snow’s tail, an appendage he hadn’t seen before for some reason. “Uh, oh, sorry, I’ve been still half asleep and- … wait…” With the cloak sliding down over Snow’s head, a strangely athletic and not in the least bit sickly body was revealed. Salama felt anger building up inside him and he hold tighter to the tail of this ‘Snow’ person, while he ripped the cloak and the loose bandages off which had presumably covered his face. Frost gasped when his disguise was taken away. After all this time of hiding his body beneath a cloak, he felt almost… naked. “I don’t know what kind of game you are playing, but your name is definitely not ‘Snow’, is it?!”, Salama growled and pulled on Frost’s tail to keep him in place. That wormy tail… it reminded him of a rat and Frost also felt himself reminded of a little pet shop rodent being handled inappropriately. He huffed and rubbed the remaining red paint of his disguise away. “It’s true”, he said chuckling darkly. “My name is not ‘Snow’… I am FROST!” … Salama looked at him flabbergasted. “Who…?” With just one quick tug of Frost’s tail the ex Frieza soldier was pulled forward and stumbled over, directly into Frost’s revengeful fist. It hit him right above the heart and stopped it forever. Salama twitched a little, his expression still one big question mark, then he sank dead to the ground, burying Frost beneath him. “Feels good to kill again”, Frost said jovially and kicked the body off of him like a blanket. Time to start the day.

After he had searched the squalid shack for anything useful (some hard bread not even a space duck would touch, but Frost had gulped it down anyway), he made a new cloak out of the blanket and some thin rope, listening to what was going on around him. There was not much to hear. Some sluggish steps, tired groaning… someone arguing with someone else over a minor thing. Frost assumed the people of the homeless honeycomb town were too lethargic to think whatever they had heard coming out of Salama’s shack had resulted in outright murder. And even if… what to do about it? Most people here were delinquents anyway. Better them than me and so on. But Frost wasn’t someone who took chances. Not anymore at least. He pointed at the ugly Frieza doodle and shot a weak death beam continuously at it until a fine spiral of smoke developed right between that bastard’s eyes.

When Frost disappeared into the next dark alleyway, a huge fire was already burning within the shack and licking at the cardboard walls of its neighbors. Too bad it was a beautiful day and not a single rain drop was falling from the sky…

#frost story #chapter three #fave

[mydumpster]

After the tournament (2)

Frost’s thumb stroke over the tiny glass bottle to smooth the yellowed worn sticker he had glued on it in another better lifetime. All it showed was a simple sign nobody but him was supposed to understand. A sign a lot more subtle than a skull with two crossed bones. He narrowed his eyes to check the signs on the other few bottles he had stored temporarily in a small plain shoe box among the clutter of an abandoned cellar. The room was poorly lit. Aside from the light of a street lantern that somehow found its way through the hole in the barred window with the blind glass, there was nothing but the tiny ki balls Frost summoned time and time again on top of one of his fingers like a natural lighter. Even though the lantern’s light was more or less insignificant, he was still thankful for it. Otherwise his little ki balls would be much more visible, risking to alert shady folk who knew the building was supposed to be empty. Frost wasn’t in the position to let anybody rummage through his belongings, even if the bottles with poison were disguised. Not that this was his only hiding place for his tools, but still… he hadn’t many left and there was no way for him to purchase more. It was known to the police what his favorite tool was to end fights more quickly or to get rid of nuisances. They just had to check the sketchy apothecaries or traders who were able to get poisons that worked quickly and universally to all species. To whom did they sell such complex substances, would they ask after probably checking the lists if anything of that kind had been ordered. Also, what about that nice reward for clues about this certain individual’s whereabouts? As if one of these petty dealers would keep their mouth shut then… Cautiously he prepared a rusty nail with the deadly poison, before he stored it within the tiny hole of his right wrist. Needles were also a thing of the past… What he wanted was something that left traces that would look more like scratches or injuries tragically happening during street fights or domestic violence or whatever didn’t look as much as the use of a professional tool to exclusively inject the victim with something. If he had to resort to his poisons, whether they would leave a body or a groggy person, the origin of their conditions should be revealed as late as possible or never at all and especially not in association with him. Frost prepared a few more pointy pieces of wood, metal and glass with different poisons before storing them in the tiny holes of his wrists, heels and the tip of his tail. Maybe he should even hide one in his mouth for absolute emergency situations where all his limbs would be incapable of doing the deed. Spitting a poison needle in his pursuers face… now, that sounded nice! But if he would go that far, he would use something safer than a sharpened piece of scrap… This was his mouth after all and only a non-lethal poison would be in line for a stunt like that. “More stingers than a swarm of bees”, Frost said quietly to himself and suppressed a chuckle while he carefully hid the box under some clutter before he squeezed himself through the hole in the window. His cloak ripped when it got caught on one of the broken bars and the awful sound made Frost turn around in a second. “Damn!” A whispered curse, but thankfully no fabric had been entirely torn off. There was no way he would leave anything visible behind, even a piece of this rag. Somehow an image of a wire fence and a hunted animal’s fur hanging on it made its way into his mind and he hastily left the forsaken place. Frost’s feet made soft splashing noises while he walked. The rain would probably continue until morning. Then a short pause. Then rain again. Didn’t matter when one lived on the city’s bright side… or better: inside the city’s bright side. Like he used to. And would again. Maybe not here, but somewhere else with equal amounts of luxury. Daydreaming, he stopped shortly before he would reach the place where he had spotted the homeless people and took a bundle of torn cloth out of his cloak’s pocket. One of the bigger pieces hold the remains of the space rat. It would smell and feel awful, but he desperately needed a better disguise for what he was about to do. These were literally the last cards he would ever be able to play and he would make the utmost use of every single one.

Frost tore the rags into stripes he could use as some kind of makeshift bandages and started to cover his face until only his left eye was visible and all the left over patches of his skin color were smudged with the rat’s blood and intestines. Then he tucked his tail under his cloak and closed the front cautiously. Now he was ready to face his target…

Thankfully the homeless men still hadn’t disbanded their little group, it was safer in numbers after all and most likely warmer. However, they still needed to find a place to sleep to have the energy for begging and going through trash cans for food the next day. Patiently Frost waited for them to call it a day and finally, the ex Frieza soldier left his remaining companions and walked off into the night. He was a sluggishly moving individual who seemed to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. It was easy following him unnoticed. His looks reminded Frost of a bipedal purple dinosaur or goanna. Somewhere beneath those dragging movements hid a former warrior… it was hard for Frost to believe, but even someone like himself had nearly succumbed to the street life… and not being left alone by paranoia and a permanently empty stomach. And who knew how long this guy had been on the run? If he ever had been not… From what Frost had heard, living under Frieza’s - correction, Frieza should henceforth only be known as “that bastard” - rule had hardly been paradise.  “With me as an emperor they would at least live the illusion of a good life and hardly think about rebellion or whatever had caused that bastard’s fall”, Frost murmured. “Who is the true amateur here, huh?” The fact that that bastard had been dead - with halo and everything - during the tournament was still baffling to Frost and made things a little more complicated. He had to calculate the strength of this ex soldier, who claimed to be far too weak for being hired as probably mercenary, bouncer or security guard. Why would somebody this weak be part of that bastard’s army? Wouldn’t that be a disgrace? As much as Frost didn’t like to admit it, that bastard wasn’t in the need of having to surround himself with weaklings to feel strong. He definitely was strong. Crazy strong! Whatever had ended his life, it hadn’t been the likes of this sad excuse of a fighter. And whatever had given universe 7′s god of destruction the power to choose a warrior from the netherworld… he surely had taken the very best… meaning the one or the ones who had managed to kill that bastard were still alive and surely had been part of the tournament. “Vegeta. It must have been Vegeta”, Frost guessed and grinned. Son Goku had been strong too, but Vegeta was cunning and merciless. It would take a guy like him to deal with the likes of that bastard…

“Uhm… excuse me…”, Frost finally decided to approach the ex soldier and kept up the most harmless and non-threatening appearance he could muster. The bum turned around with a swiftness he normally hid and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You are…”, he began, recognizing the cloaked stranger from before. “Yes”, Frost said, his voice full of relief and faked adoration for the man in front of him. “I rested near your comrades a few hours ago and… well, I have to apologize, but my sickness got the better of me… my sickness and my shame… But still your friend tried to help me, even though he didn’t know me and I couldn’t just forget about this kindness and your overall concern…” “You are welcome. But we didn’t actually do anything. No need to beat yourself up about it.” The bum’s words were friendly on the surface, but he stayed alert. As small and harmless as this cloaked stranger seemed, there was no reason to drop one’s guard.  That must be something they call “street smarts”, Frost thought, nearly rolling his eyes. “No, no! I feel the need to help a guy out because I have something to offer that would especially benefit the likes of you, an experienced warrior!”, Frost said eagerly. “And it would benefit me. Call it a win-win situation.” It was probably more believable if Frost didn’t go full altruism. The ex soldier seemed intrigued. A little. “You’ve got trouble with somebody, little one?”, he said patronizingly and Frost could feel a vein on his forehead begin to throb. Even though he was playing the sickly weakling, this guy had called himself a weakling before and now he felt superior…? What a boaster. “That bast- … Uh… Frieza’s army! They recruit again and hand out boni to those finding and bringing back veterans… I could make use of some extra cash as I’m-”, Frost let a wheezing cough lose, “as I’m not fit to be a fighter myself, I can only try to find those who are…” The ex soldier seemed to be deeply in thought after those words. Memories of former glory and nostalgia and a life beyond the wet dirty streets danced before his inner eye. So much for fearing constantly for his life… or maybe he had exaggerated before to brag in front of his bum friends. “I might actually be interested…”, the ex soldier said slowly. “You can introduce me to your contact person or whatever connections you have tomorrow. When the night’s over and this pissing has stopped. Come with me, I know a dry place to sleep…” “Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!”, Frost cheered happily and followed the man. Step one of his plan had been carried out successfully.

#frost story #chapter two #fave

[mydumpster]

After the tournament (1)

“Quick! Get under here…!” The voices of the men were muffled by the endlessly pouring rain, but Frost could still pick out the quintessence of what this group of homeless was about to do. They met nearly every evening in the shadowy realms of the back alleys and shared the food that had been gathered from trash cans and - Frost chuckled darkly - the bowls of the city resident’s pets. He could have joined them. Get a part of this shadow of a meal they managed to create together, but that was impossible. It wasn’t his pride that hindered him, Frost wasn’t a saiyan after all and had a knack for sweet talking his way to victory - if one considered a bite from this slop a victory -, however… An inglorious fact about being wanted and having a bounty made it a pretty risky move to approach about anyone. Even the lowest of the low… or rather… especially them. Those insignificant wastes of life lingered around across the city, waiting for the day to end. With nothing to do but to survive, senses tended to sharpen. Information could become a life changing article of trade. Just one of these bums had to recognize his face and tip the cops off that a war criminal was hanging around the back street… eating dog food. And then the hunt would begin and the endless flight until they would finally corner him… and then… well, then this planet would cease to exist. Or Frost would. But his pursuers would never get him alive. He wasn’t made for imprisonment. What he was made for lay in the luminous parts of this city in the highest layers of the skyscrapers. Fame and admiration. Money, money, money. A soft bed. Three decent meals a day and if he wanted more he would get more and it would be fancy!

Frost huddled closer against the dirty wall of the building behind him and readjusted his sitting position and tail. Daydreaming could take a lot of the pain away, but it didn’t numb him completely. Being a member of arguably the most durable species in the universe had played its part in keeping him alive and ignoring the cold, the obnoxious rain and the hunger without losing the stamina for as many battles as it would take to keep him free and on the run. Today on the other hand he caught himself actually desiring at least one bite of that homeless people’s slop.

This is unforgivable…, he thought, trying to distract himself, but a sudden stinging pain in his stomach nearly made him hurl. He doubled up and slowly slid to the side until he fell onto the wet floor. A gurgling yelp escaped him when half of his face got submerged in a puddle whose depth he had clearly underestimated when he had seen it before from the corner of his eye and that shock at least gave him enough control over his body again to hastily scramble backwards on all fours until he was back resting on his partly dry spot. Frost crouched there, breathing heavily and feeling his strength leaving him at an alarming pace. Just… how long…? How long had it been since he had eaten last? Fear stole itself in his heart. He couldn’t remember. He had entirely suppressed that need and every thought about the time span. It must be tremendous. A shiver started to rattle his body as if his ki could no longer keep him warm. Maybe it was just the shock. Maybe the distress… Frost rolled on his side again, staring helplessly at the cloudy sky, rain drops covering his face. Rest… a little rest… even a little could be deadly. The homeless men had stopped their chatter, one of them looking over to him, alerted by the splashing noises Frost had caused. Arguably they could feel that one of their own was about to die… Frost grinned sardonically. One of them. Never. He got up again and hissed aggressively as one of the bums made an attempt of approaching him. There was no way he would be unmasked by this street filth. The man seemed to understand that this cloaked stranger had decided to spend his probably last hours alone and backed away again. Strangely saddened.

“This is how far we have come. We have Pride Troopers now and Maidens of Love. But did anything really change for us?”, he asked his fellow men. “As a former member of the Frieza army I’ve had it worse”, said another, sounding kind of prideful of his past. “At least I don’t have to fear for my life ALL the time anymore.” “Yeah, you’ve had it worse… what about the ultra flexible armor and the healing tanks and actually being part of an army…?”, asked another. “What are you even doing here with us low-lives?” “As I told you guys time and time again: My power-level is worthless now. Can’t find a job anywhere. It’s ridiculous.”

Frost wanted to cover his ears. His tail angrily lashed against the wall and chunks of concrete rained down. Scared squeaking told him that he had startled one of this planets most common vermin: A highly adaptable rodent known for being a synanthrope. 

“Well, how about asking your Lord Frieza to take you back?”, one of the homeless suggested. “I’ve heard he is recruiting again.”

WHAT?! It was just too much. Not only couldn’t these men stop mentioning this… this bastard…!! Rumors actually said that he was back on top again??! Whereas he, Frost, was dying in the streets like some insignificant rat?!

The rodent he had startled before ran across the alley through the gushing rain about to find another hole to keep itself safe and Frost was about to shoot a death beam at it out of frustration… but he stopped himself. They would see the flash of light… somebody who knew this kind of attack could witness it… and then what? Would the great last flight begin? Because of a rat?

Frost sprang forward blazingly fast and crushed the rodent’s skull with his right hand. Then he picked the wet carcass up and sunk his teeth in it. His mouth was filled with nothing but disgusting fur and he ripped it off as fast as he could before his body would think getting into a hurling fit was a good idea again. The red flesh lay right before him and hot blood flew over his hands… but some confused seconds later he became aware that there wasn’t any blood in truth. The hot liquid was in fact nothing but his own tears…

And then in some kind of kaleidoscopic flashback of all those fancy meals in all those fancy restaurants and hotel rooms he had had before, he started eating… gorging the raw meat and his stomach seemed to scream like an open wound treated with salt. But he kept it down. He had to become strong again… had to prepare himself… then it would be him, Frost, who would dethrone this… this bad copy of him! He would kill him! Unceremoniously and dirty like Frieza deserved it! He would make him suffer and regret taking the chance off of him to be back on top! When the night had swallowed every last bit of natural light and the skyscrapers and advertisement signs were glowing brighter, Frost had forged a plan…

To be continued…

#frost story #chapter one #fave

[mydumpster]

#fruit

[mydumpster]

[mydumpster]

Falling Snow on your blog

It’s almost Christmas

An easy Google search would give you tons of results for Falling Snow Effect. However annoying this could be to some, this is still a nice effect for those who are craving for some attraction in their blogs. So among all those results, here’s the easiest one to install and customize.

To add this effect on your blog:

Go to your Customize Page and press the Edit Custom HTML button.

Next, look for the <body> part of your codes.

Paste this codes below that(below the <body>):

<script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.tumblr.com/qsifglb/mZjl87ts1/f8.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> snowStorm.snowColor = '#bbbbbb'; // snowStorm.flakesMaxActive = 30; </script>

snowStorm.snowColor = ‘#bbbbbb’; // changes the color of snow by changing the value of the Hexadecimal color. For example, change #bbbbbb(grayish) to #ff0000 to make it red. You can pick a color at ColorPicker.com.

snowStorm.flakesMaxActive = 30; controls the amount of snowflakes showing in the page at the same time. 30 means there would be at most 30 snowflakes falling. Don’t go crazy with this. Better leave it as it is or don’t make it more than 50.

4.  After you’ve made the changes you want, hit the Update Preview Button, Appearance button, then Save button.

5. Check your blog if it worked.

This effect also follows your mouse’s movement. If your cursor is in the left part of the page, the snow would fall to the right and vice versa. This is also one of those snow effects that loads fast. 

#i wish i could find the bill ciphers again

[mydumpster]

By Rubidium

A Woolly Encounter

forgive my stupid ass title - a gift for @friku8706 based on our conversation last night following their post about Wooly rescuing people from the cold. This ended up at a whopping 2094 words oh my gosh xD Hope you like it!

As he trudged through the frozen wastes, knee deep in snow, Zero silently cursed his own stupidity. How could he have been so careless? Blinded by excitement, he had neglected to fully prepare for this excursion, and now he was hopelessly lost, shivering uncontrollably, teeth rattling from the sheer cold.

             Icejins, of course, were adapted to living in rather cold conditions. This place, however, was something else entirely. The biting wind cut right through him. His skin felt like it was on fire, as he was pelted with snow and ice. It shamed him as a scientist, how he had completely underestimated just how harsh this icy wilderness really was. Had he done his research properly, he might not have ended up in this mess.

             Back when he had first heard of the mysterious tribe of icejins that supposedly lived in this region, he had set his heart on studying them. Not much was known about them; there wasn’t even concrete proof they existed. But Zero was determined he was going to be the one to find that proof. After days of scouring the libraries of the greatest cities, he at last found small references to the nomadic tribe. Images of tribal markers and paintings found in remote locations across the galaxy. Several different sets of primitive markings, all with something in common. It had to have come from the same kind of people. He eventually tracked them to this frozen planet in a corner of the galaxy. Packing his things, he immediately rushed off to board the next SpaceTrain that would bring him here.

             ‘Idiot. You damn idiot.’ He muttered to himself. He wore a long, padded winter trench coat, but he might as well have been naked for all the difference it made. The winds cut through to his bones. Hands clasped tightly to his body, he slowly continued; in which direction, he had no idea. Visibility was getting low rapidly. He thought he hadn’t gone far from the SpaceTrain station. Surely, he couldn’t have gone far? He remembered that mountain range after all, a visual marker he’d made for himself should he lose his bearings. Or was it that one there?

             Oh gods. He was lost.

             Panic set in, as Zero realised he had lost all sense of direction. Snow was up to his waist now, and it was getting increasingly difficult to move his legs. Why didn’t he just stick to the path? It was bright seemingly only moments ago, yet now it was pitch black. He couldn’t see any mountains or landmarks anymore, only swirling white winds clouding his vision. How could he have let this happen? Could people even survive here? What a stupid, stupid decision this whole trip was. He had let his excitement cloud his judgement, and now here he was, freezing to death in this snowy wasteland.

             ‘Must. Keep. Moving.’ One step. Another. Then another. Each step took every inch of willpower in him, every ounce of strength.

             ‘It’s hopeless.’ Said the voice in the back of his head, that logical part of his mind, gloating at his foolishness. ‘You stupid boy. You’re going to die here. Nobody will even find your body in this vast wilderness. When the SpaceTrain comes back, will they even realise they’re missing a passenger?’

             ‘No!’ He screamed at the gloating voice, emptying his lungs in despair. He made no sound, however, his cry carried away on the mountain winds. And as that last pitiful wail left his mouth, he collapsed into the snow, heaving with exhaustion.

             He lay there shivering and sobbing, tears freezing on his cheeks as they fell. Not like this. He didn’t want to go like this. How pathetic he must look right now, curled up in the snow, a sad and dying animal. Every inch of him was numb, and his mind was cloudy from the pain. As he lay, he realised he could no longer feel the cold and he had stopped shivering. He left almost content. He had heard of this phenomenon, the wash of euphoria one feels as one is dying of the cold. He almost chuckled at his own misfortune.

             ‘Maybe it’s best to just stop fighting. Close your eyes and go peacefully.’ That wasn’t a bad idea he thought. Was it really such a bad way to go, surrounded by the sheer terrifying beauty of nature, the snowy winds creating dazzling, flashing displays in front of him? It really was spectacular. What a pity he could never write about it, or recount his adventure to others. And now his last memory was going to be here in the tundra, watching the snow swirl around him as he lay dying. His vision fading to black, he swore he saw a shadowy person like shape above him. But that was impossible. People didn’t survive this place. It was merely a hallucination conjured up by his dying mind to make him feel like he wasn’t dying alone. Yeah, that was it. He smiled one last time, and closed his eyes.

             Warmth. Zero’s fingers and toes tingled madly as sensation returned. He flexed his fingers, and gasped at the sudden jolt of pins and needles. He focused on the pain. If he could feel pain, did that mean he was alive? As he moved, he felt wrapped around him a soft kind of fur. Wool like almost. Oh gods, it was the softest, most heavenly warm experience he’d ever felt. But what was it? He also realised he could not hear the vicious howling of the mountain winds. Where was he? He tried to open his eyes but could not muster the energy. Instead, he let himself float back into restfulness, caressed by that divine warmth, soothing him back to sleep.

             As he awoke again, Zero stretched out like a cat, savouring being able to move his body once more. The soft, warm sensation was gone, and this time, Zero managed to open his eyes and sit up. He rubbed his eyes and took in his surroundings. He was in some sort of cave. A fire was lit nearby, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Faintly he could hear the howling gales in the distance. He was still on the planet then. But how did he get here? And what was that soft warmth from before?

             The answer came just moments later, as a faint shuffling made Zero look around. The source of the noise was a curious looking, woolly creature, an icejin, undoubtedly, yet Zero had never seen anything quite like this. He was very tall, and thick white woolly fur covered several areas of his body, from his chest, around his neck, along his arms and legs, and parts of his tail. He stood feet away, berries and nuts clutched in his arms. Zero blinked several times. Did this creature bring him here? This was, he realised as his mind started working properly, that this must be one the creatures he had come here to study in the first place. They did exist, and here was one right in front of him! It must have been this icejin’s woolly coat he could feel as he slept. Was it keeping him warm? Confusion, excitement and fear collided in his mind, so he just stared numbly.

             The woolly icejin approached, and placed the haul of foraged foods down by Zero’s feet, before sitting next to him. It took a berry, ate it, then offered another to Zero. To eat. For you. Clearly, that was the message. Zero took a plump, juicy looking red berry, and nibbled it. It was sweet and delicious. How could fruit grow here? Never mind that, he thought, and sampled more of the food, carefully watching the icejin next to him. It didn’t seem hostile, rather it just sat watching him eat, smiling gently. Several minutes passed, yet still it didn’t speak. Clearing his throat, Zero decided to make the first move.

             ‘So er… You saved me from the blizzard I take it?’ But the icejin merely looked at him blankly. Zero tried again. ‘Thank you for saving my life, my name is Zero. I can’t thank you enough, honestly, I wouldn’t know how to repay you. I know you’ve done so much for me already, but do you think you could help me get home?’ He was met only with silence. Okay, this is awkward, he thought. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was stopped by the icejin, who merely pointed to his mouth, then to his ears. Ah, so this icejin was either deaf, or couldn’t understand what Zero was saying, which made sense for an isolated tribe of people; they probably had a whole language all to themselves. Speaking of which, Zero wondered whether this icejin was here alone, or if there were more of his kind somewhere. He couldn’t wait to write down his findings and make doodles of this wonderfully curious icejin.

             The icejin pushed more food toward Zero. Eat more. Zero ate, and looked around for his satchel. Miraculously, it had made its way safely here too, and was placed on top of his coat, folded neatly on a nearby rock. He went to it, pulled out his books and pencils, sat back down and started furiously sketching the woolly icejin and making notes, talking excitedly all the while. To the woolly icejin’s credit, he sat placidly, smiling as he watched Zero work.

             Zero had never been so excited. He could sit here for hours, studying this mysterious creature. He had so many questions, so much he wanted to know! They sat long into the night, Zero scribbling away, picking at the fruit now and then, until eventually, sleep called once more. They bedded down for the night, the woolly icejin curling his tail around Zero as they lay, holding him close, keeping him warm, Zero’s face burying in that sumptuous fur.

             As he lay there, Zero wondered. He supposed he would have to go home soon. He’d checked the time (miraculously, his watch still worked), and the next SpaceTrain would be arriving in the morning. He almost didn’t want to leave this place, with his new woolly friend. He still had so much he could learn. He knew he couldn’t stay however, and it filled him with a pang of sadness. Trying hard not to think about it, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

            Morning came, despite Zero wishing it wouldn’t. Silently, he packed his bags, put on his coat, and together, he and Wooly (as Zero now called him), left the cave. It was glorious outside; the sun shone brightly, and the winds had completely died down. It was only now, as Zero looked around, that he could truly appreciate the sheer beauty of this place. He cursed himself for not bringing his camera; another oversight in his rush to set off on his journey.

             It seemed Wooly was used to seeing the SpaceTrain arrive every couple of days, as he led Zero deftly to the station, knowing exactly where to go. As they stood there waiting, Zero suddenly didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to leave his new friend. The SpaceTrain arrived in the distance, and as it made its way to the station, Zero found himself wishing Wooly could just come with him…

             Why couldn’t he?

             Zero turned to Wooly, looked up at him and said, ‘You could come with me, you know?’ Wooly stared blankly so Zero pointed at Wooly, ‘You’, then to the train ‘come’, then to himself, ‘with me?’ Luckily Wooly seemed to understand, as he smiled sadly and shook his head. Zero expected that at least, but it still made him sad. They hugged each other and Zero boarded the train. Looking out the window, he saw Wooly waving at him from below as the train sped off. Zero suddenly was overcome with emotion, and choked back the tears that threatened to fall. He wondered if he would ever see Wooly again. Would it be better to leave this solitary icejin alone, he thought? He wouldn’t want more people coming to this place to gawp at him like a freak show or zoo animal, after all. Maybe at the end of it, he would keep his research to himself, maybe even destroy it. That might be the best thing to do. Besides, he would still have his memories of him, and nobody could take that from him.

             And he would see Wooly again one day, he promised himself. He would.

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Stylized Dinosaur Tutorial

Start with rough shapes, this is a Hererrasaurus for example.

Define ridges and simple details.

Add a little grunge with random lines, hatching in a way.

Hopefully you can read my hand writing. Take the fenestrae with a grain of salt. These are stylized, somewhat retro drawing styles. In real dinosaurs, the facial “shrinkwrapping” wasn’t present. You could make smaller, lighter, less heavy lines for these cranial openings to show that they were indeed, more fleshy. 

On average, carnivorous theropods had the same basal skull shape. Reference the dinosaur you want to draw to see changes, there are many to pick from and to learn from. This is a basal raptor. 

Under the feathers, dromaeosaurs roughly looked like this. They had long, stiff tails and flexible necks. Once again, look up references from modern paleoart for extra help. 

A quick sketch of a Utahraptor’s bust with basic feathering. 

This was made off of tyrannosaurs, but can be altered to carcharodontosaurs and allosaurs with reference. 

#tutorial #dinos

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CAT EYE WITNESS NEWS 

 Buckeye local describes monsoon aftermath.

By Marcy Jones Fox 10

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Gonna start a post with blank memes. Please add any you have on hand and reblog to spread them.

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new cryptid everyone!

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chichi.. woman of my dreams u are

#👀

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What if, after the tournament, we see another moment between Frost and Hit? (Although this wish is kinda old news…)

But it starts off with Frost sitting on the side of the road, on the curb. His hood from his snuggie is pulled down, exposing his head and face, and he’s sat next to that exact same street light from episode 91. He’s hunched over, staring at the ground as rain falls around him.

Then, out from the shadows, Hit comes from around the corner out of an alleyway or dark area. He looks at Frost, who sighs after noticing the assassins presence. “…just get it over with.” he says, in neither a sad nor hopless tone. Hit closes his eyes and walks out, stopping right behind him. He looks down at Frost, who waits for some sort of attack.

Hit wonders if Frost is simply waiting for a police car to drive by and take him away. But, he doesn’t think too much on it and removes a hand from his coat pocket. Frost shuts his eyes, hearing the sound of the purple hand brush against fabric, before tensing/jumping a little once he feels that hand touch his shoulder. But much to his surprised confusion, the touch isn’t rough or life ending. So, the pirate glances at the resting fingers before looking at Hit. The assassin gives a small smile. “My attack works from the front.” He says lightly, his expression soft/nonagressive. Frost is curious but perplexed.

He questions why he wasn’t killed, etc. before Hit offers him the chance to become his apprentice. The hitman extends a hand out for the lizard to take, staring down at him intently. At first, Frost is nervous and uncertain if he should…. but, in the end, he slowly grasps Hits strong appendage in his own, shaking it before standing hesitantly.

He watches, then, as Hit turns and begins to walk off into the thickness of the rain. After a few seconds, he follows after him, a small blush fading from his cheeks. They both walk side-by-side, Frost giving Hit a curious glance which is returned to him. But, when the con-artist fixates on what’s in front of him, a swift, swooshing sound is heard before he realizes he can’t feel the rain. He looks up and sees Hit holding up a single umbrella for the two of them to share. Frost is a little surprised but appreciates the gesture with a smile. Finally, the scene zooms out slowly as the two men share a lovers umbrella, before we see the episode 91 street light flicker off completely.

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I made a thing ^^

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Pinch me

An illustration of the wonderful @coldphoenix‘s Frit NSFW oneshot Pinch me. Go read it because it’s amazing!!