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Herr DParticipantOlga stood out when she applied to the old bindery. Russian accent, punk haircut, biceps bigger than Dave’s–not to mention first female mechanic we ever had. Mike gave her the usual tests, including the mystery gear. She was holding it, looking confused at it, when the greeting card spinner started burying her in those stupid art prints from the Widow Jefferies. He laughed about it and said she wouldn’t last when she didn’t give up on it after a month. Six months later, she figured out it wasn’t ours at all. It wasn’t. It came from an antique meat grinder that Sal’s Deli uses to hold up the corner of their shed roof.
She was so mad! Yelled at Mike in Russian while he stood there stunned for a minute. Then went dead quiet as he held out his hand to shake hers in admiration. He told her then, that no other mechanic had ever figured it out, and that she was ready to work unsupervised. You’ve never seen such a smile!
http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/2017hm/HerrD-OlgaOnMikesTest_zpsy7ofjiah.png
*train as bindery engines, ruff as paper on cutting tower, tower as armatures, cutting tower, pieces of tower as switchplate and fluttering art prints.
Herr DParticipantMan! Cliff, I hadn’t checked on you in awhile. Sorry to hear about the piggies. Did they recommend you get one of those foot-pedal-operated potter’s wheels to increase blood flow? You can satisfy some art craving, build circulation, and not even be standing–of course, if you go working clay, we’ll want to see your satyrs and other stuff posted here . . .
Herr DParticipant‘New Kid’ is gonna be one of those stories where the dog is REALLY grateful he was nice as a pup . . .
Herr DParticipantPersonally I’ve found that multi-layered eyes go a long way on making up for not being as good at the rest of the face. Good stuff, man. ‘Hey There’ reminds me of why I agreed to contort and puppeteer a fake perambulator. We didn’t film any of the results, but I got great views through the periscope before having the purple tentacles show out of the diaper . . .
February 28, 2017 at 3:10 am in reply to: Lull-carae's works – Place where criticism is welcome #142918
Herr DParticipant. . . real-life duties are the bane of my fabled existence . . . Keep on, man.
Herr DParticipantLa Chica Muerta really is a great potential story worthy of her own graphic novel. Very rational thinking, that she might already be dead . . .
Herr DParticipantLayered fonts on ‘The Freeze’ look great. Was that part hm too? Looks likely, but I’m not sure.
Herr DParticipantThanx, man! I was actually surprised to find out the shadows of the fingers are part of the hand bone item–difficult to customize. –I haven’t rapped very often. Hairy helped out with that part.
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Olga stood out when she applied to the old bindery. Russian accent, punk haircut, biceps bigger than Dave’s–not to mention first female mechanic we ever had. Mike gave her the usual tests, including the mystery gear. She was holding it, looking confused at it, when the greeting card spinner started burying her in those stupid art prints from the Widow Jefferies. He laughed about it and said she wouldn’t last when she didn’t give up on it after a month. Six months later, she figured out it wasn’t ours at all. It wasn’t. It came from an antique meat grinder that Sal’s Deli uses to hold up the corner of their shed roof.
She was so mad! Yelled at Mike in Russian while he stood there stunned for a minute. Then went dead quiet as he held out his hand to shake hers in admiration. He told her then, that no other mechanic had ever figured it out, and that she was ready to work unsupervised. You’ve never seen such a smile!
http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/2017hm/HerrD-OlgaOnMikesTest_zpsy7ofjiah.png
*OPMC
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The Pinkerton detective was about to scream. Five of the seven of the old Madsen gang were dead, shot to pieces as they’d tried to gallop out of town with the bank bags. The sixth was in irons, awaiting trial, only because he’d forgotten to load his guns.
WHERE WAS THE YOUNGEST?
Neil Madsen had escaped before. Quick thinker, very dangerous. Somehow, in all the commotion, he’d gotten out of town with TWELVE BAGS OF GOLD. “It’s not like the man’s invisible!” said the detective. “He’s got bright red hair. Bright green eyes. Buck teeth big as your fingernails. He’s got six fingers on his right hand. He’s humpbacked, he walks with a limp, and he can barely lift ONE bag of gold. He can shoot, but he left his guns in the bank. He’s good on a horse, but none have been stolen. Doesn’t ANYBODY have ANY idea where he could’ve gone?”
Little Jimmy raised his hand.
“We’re not in your schoolhouse, boy; spit it out!”
“The photographer had me call a carter to put his cases on the stage. He said he had to get to the next town in a hurry. He was wearing spurs, sir. And then there’s the man in the saloon. He’s pretty drunk.”
“What are you saying, boy?”
“Jimmy! The man in the saloon. He said he started drinkin’ when somebody stole his camera and everything he owned at the point of a big Bowie knife and threw him into a horse trough. Said the sheriff was too busy with the bank bein’ robbed to talk to him.”
The Pinkerton detective spun on his heel, slapped the sheriff right across his face, and ran out of the building. The penny he’d thrown into the air landed at Jimmy’s feet.
http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/2017hm/HerrD-JimmysClue_zpsnt6mvr1j.png
*western
Herr DParticipantNah. I meant the swimsuit. [pretends to blush] I never love more clothes as much as more skin . . .
Herr DParticipantMichael…to answer your questions.. 1) No, I didn’t intend for the orange smoke/flames to show thru his hood but I couldn’t figure out how to do it.
That is usually solved by putting some sized and dark Insignia btw hood and lower layers. You might also start playing with alpha values as translucent flames look slightly better.
Herr DParticipantI could really see him as a bit part on Farscape or Babylon 5.
Herr DParticipantI’ve got a treehouse in mind for Tariq and Samir to build . . . neat stuff.
Herr DParticipantLike Pteradon best so far. Keep at it.
Herr DParticipantYour new face is attractive. Like the suit, too.
Herr DParticipant[The three Fates moan backup as zombies do beat-box . . . ]
It’s a quarter till YOU in the afternoon,
So doncha go makin’ static–
Or me & mah combine will see ya real SOON!
Ah call it mah ‘sickle-matic.’
At the end of the plague, Ah almost got demoted!
My old blade could compete,
But the world population’s done gone and exploded.
Oh, Ah need a FASTER beat!
Yo!
Pimp out mah combine!
Pimp out mah combine!
Pimp out mah combine!
Dance; dance!
http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/2017hm/HerrD-PimpOutMyCombine_zpswdmczis0.png
*death
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