I've always been fascinated by the idea of converting photos into some kind of artwork. Here are some of my old attempts at converting my photos into sketch-like drawings. Opinions welcome, of course.
Note: This post is an entry into the Friday Challenge, which can be found here. Deep inside the bowels of the Starfleet Personnel Division, Ensign Quackenbush bounces his head in time with the Martian speed metal blasting through his Ipod 2e37. The cybernetically implanted music station allows him to listen to any music he likes, without disturbing his neighbors, and his assignment is so tedious that he needs the jams just to get through the day. His printer ("printer" was a misnomer, since it didn't actually print anything; what it did was use transporter and replicator technology to create a full blown paper report from raw molecules) spit out a fresh set of orders, and he pulled it to read while another set was printing. Temporary duty assignment, he read, for someone named "Piker." The music in his head reached a crescendo, and in his chair-dancing escapades, he dumped coffee in his lap. Cursing in Romulan, he dashed off to the head, cleaned up t
This is an entry into this week's Friday Challenge, which can be found here . I've written about Nicky Weird before . The challenge for this week? Write the Climactic Battle scene. Xarathon's rage grew as he stalked the halls of the abandoned high school, eight lesser vampires surrounding him. It's the Harvest Moon, he thought savagely, one of the most magically potent nights of the year. I should be sacrificing virgins, not hunting children. Indeed, it was forty years to the day since the Harvest Moon where he had cursed the entire Earth, covering up the appearance of vampires and magic once and for all. He should be ripping the still-beating heart from the chest of the leader of these savages, that Nicky woman, not wasting his time looking in closets and stalking empty corridors. Up ahead, movement, a fleeting blur as a teenager dashed across the lobby and into the gymnasium. With snarls of impatience, his troops dashed ahead, pursuing the youngster through
Shooting Society of Creative Anachronism pictures at the James Arthur Vineyards near Lincoln recently -=ad=-. Volkmar rocks the cover of ACDC's "All Night Long" I'm not left-handed either. Entertain us...or Stand PELL! The Amazing Headless Half-Troll! Does this sword smell funny to you...? I dub thee... ...I think the shield should be a little bit higher... Love the smell of pole-axe in the afternoon...
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