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About Varied / Hobbyist Premium Member Madeline ClericoFemale/United States Group :iconcontortionclub: ContortionClub
 
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A Chick 'n' Chained Male by SparklinBurgndy
A Chick 'n' Chained Male
I was going to add this at the end of this comic This Is Why by SparklinBurgndy with Loki going 'I think I know why no one wants to play with you' but I decided I liked it ending were it did. 

So I used this for my FetLife profile instead. XD

It was actually pretty hard to tie a karada that small.  The body I have Loki's head on in this is not his normal body - he is sewn into his shirt and pants, so I dug up an old Hot Toys body to use. It has a pretty realistic chest with a rubbery feel that actually gripped the yarn quite well.  Then I discovered the elbows wouldn't hardly bend at all and it was damn near impossible to get the rope wraps to stay in place on the smooth plastic of his legs.

I can't say I won't practice more knotwork on him, but I might need different rope. By the time I get an actual human to play with I should be awesome at this.
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This Is Why by SparklinBurgndy
This Is Why
I am a hardcore Loki/Verity shipper, but I can see the both of them desperate to keep cool about it.   Caring means you get hurt.  Friends with benefits is just . . . scratching an itch.  Yeah, that's it.

That's why Loki's so insistent that he *will* lie to her eventually.  He just hasn't gotten around to it yet.  That way, when he inevitably fails Verity, he can claim that he did warn her.

Auuugh, just kiss already!
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**RAGE**

Journal Entry: Mon Feb 23, 2015, 9:04 AM
I swear to all the gods my mother has a little sensor in her head that detects when I might actually be happy and sets out to ruin it for me.

I've been feeling so much better since coming up with my plan to run away.  I'm actually staying awake for parts of the day.  I'm eating healthier, losing weight and not just drinking myself unconscious when I get home.  I'm actually researching requirements, looking up schools, etc; this is not just a dippy daydream.

Toki and Tinkerbell are both sold, BTW. They're still on the property until the weather gets better, but Toki's former owner heard I was selling him and immediately agreed to buy him back, name my price. I offered her Tinkerbell as well, since she has minis and they're buddies. I also donated one of my sidesaddles to KYSS (Kentucky SideSaddle).

So this is a thing that is happening.

My mom finds an archived thread on an old scuba board that claims dive masters don't make any money. Like, they literally do not get paid at all.  Which is crap'; I have seen many job postings with the salary listed. They don't make a *lot*, but they do get paid.

So she invites me out to lunch tomorrow to talk me out of it, saying she has an 'alternative plan'. I'm sure it goes something along the lines of 'stay here and work in your shitty factory job until your soul dies'.  

Me: . . . no.

Of course, she's instantly humble pie and 'I'm just trying to help you'. And I'm sure she thinks she is helping.  I'm sure she believes that with all her heart.  But it's like she's stabbing me to death with a very tiny knife. 

I don't often beg, but if anyone has anything that they think would cheer me up, let's have it.  I will take rotten jokes, silly fanfics, and pictures of hot dudes in bondage.





In a combination of all three, 'Velvet Nightmare' would be a great dominatrix name.

Shamrocks CSS

Code by CrimsonReach
  • Mood: Pissed Off
  • Listening to: Perform this Way - Weird Al
  • Reading: How to Live Aboard a Boat
  • Watching: Dracula Untold
  • Eating: Portabella mushroom mini pizza
  • Drinking: RUM!
They never really told you what to expect after the world ended.  Marc Rhysson had seen loads of movies about the end of the world and read more than a few books.  But they all seemed to neglect the ‘after’ part. A few hinted that after the shouting was past it was time to knuckle down and rebuild society.  It would have been nice if they’d gone into a bit of detail; maybe then he’d have an idea of what to do.  Marc was . . . well, Marc had been a helicopter pilot. In fact, taking his whirlybird out for a test flight was probably the reason he was still alive now.  He had gotten a bird’s eye view when the sea decided to swallow the United Kingdom.

He didn’t know what could cause a tsunami of such proportions in the Atlantic. Of course he knew that tsunamis were caused by earthquakes, but they normally didn’t wipe entire countries off of the map.  The UK was just a set of island chains now.  Ironically enough, from what he could tell, Scotland and Wales had fared best.  The mountains and hills of the west country had sheltered some of the lowlands from the initial wave, but the sea just kept rising.

And he hadn’t found any other survivors.

Marc knew they had to be out there.  There had to be some other people. He hopped his helicopter from mountaintop to mountaintop until the fuel was gone.  Then he took to trekking across the hills.  He found homes and vehicles undamaged by water, so there must have been survivors somewhere.  Maybe they’d been evacuated? The radio in his helicopter was built in, but he’d found a portable one in a lorry and took that with him.  He scanned the frequencies often, calling out for someone, anyone to answer him.  There had to be someone else. There. Had. To. Be.
 
But no one answered.

Weeks went by, then months.  He kept batteries in the radio and left it to ‘Scan’ so it would pick up activity on any channel, but there was nothing but static.  Marc found enough mountain streams and a few stashes of bottled water in high altitude shops to get by and he could catch fish and birds to eat.  He wasn’t looking forward to winter, but even then he could probably hole up and survive.

If there was a point to surviving.

He wasn’t so sure about that anymore.  He could meet his physical needs, but the solitude …it was doing things to his mind. He’d talk to himself for days on end, then not speak for weeks afterward. He’d found a talking doll in a home and sat and pulled her string over and over, just for the joy of hearing another voice.  The doll introduced herself as Madison and spoke with an American accent.    
   
Marc took the little girl doll, answering her insipid questions about playing and being friends and inventing wild stories about why his ‘daughter’ was American.  He has studied abroad in university; Madison was the result of a night of passionate love with a shy but sweet poetry major. Or maybe her mother had been at a wild frat party and it took her this long to track him down.  Or perhaps that shapely tourist getting the helicopter tour of Wales had become with child, or –

Marc was aware this probably wasn’t the healthiest way of dealing with the solitude, but it beat the living hell out of just bearing it.

In this latest home he’d found something that might help.   It was an old pistol, starting to rust with neglect.  But still . . .  it had bullets and revolvers didn’t need electricity to work.  Was this really how he would go?  Surviving a disaster that wiped out an entire nation only to commit suicide?   But he was just so alone . . . they said it was a sin, but God would understand, wouldn’t he?  These were extenuating circumstances.
 
Marc left the pistol on the kitchen table and went looking for other resources.  The house turned up some canned pasta and a few bottles of wine.  Marc ate the pasta and drank the wine, staring at the gun the entire time.  Once his meal was done, he threw the dishes against the wall, then followed them with the empty wine bottles.  Then he burst into tears.  He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to go on like this.   Marc picked up the gun, put it to his temple, lowered it, then went and got his doll and held her to his chest. He raised the gun once more.

 “All right, Lord.  If you don’t want me to kill myself, give me a sign.”

 “LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNDD HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

It was hard to say which was louder; the extremely enthusiastic howl from the radio, Marc’s startled scream, or the retort of the pistol firing as he pulled the trigger in his shock.     He quickly ducked under the table to avoid the ricocheting bullet.

 “’This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,--’”

Marc peered out from behind his chair at the radio strapped to his backpack. It was talking.  There was a voice on the other end. And it was quoting Shakespeare.                        

“’This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England!’”

A woman’s voice, Marc noted, with an American accent.  Very high, almost childlike, with a slight squeak to it. It was not the voice of a radio presenter, an actress, or anyone else paid to talk.  It was the voice of a real person.

  “Actually,” the voice continued in a normal tone. “If my charts are right, I think this is Wales. The land of my father’s birth! Goooooooooooooooooooood morning, Wales!”

Marc recognized that insipid ‘I’ve been talking to myself too long’ tone all too well.  Wait . . . this lady had been alone, too. What if they were the only ones left?!

 “Ah, Wales! Land of . . . Scotland is the thistle, Ireland is the shamrock, England is the rose . . . Wales is the . . .is the . . . I should know this. There’s a dragon on the flag.”

Marc keyed the mic on his radio.

 “Wales is the leek,” he informed the speaker.

There was a long pause.
The Last Man on Earth (teaser)
Technically I think this one's science fiction, buuuuuuut hell, it counts!
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**RAGE**

Journal Entry: Mon Feb 23, 2015, 9:04 AM
I swear to all the gods my mother has a little sensor in her head that detects when I might actually be happy and sets out to ruin it for me.

I've been feeling so much better since coming up with my plan to run away.  I'm actually staying awake for parts of the day.  I'm eating healthier, losing weight and not just drinking myself unconscious when I get home.  I'm actually researching requirements, looking up schools, etc; this is not just a dippy daydream.

Toki and Tinkerbell are both sold, BTW. They're still on the property until the weather gets better, but Toki's former owner heard I was selling him and immediately agreed to buy him back, name my price. I offered her Tinkerbell as well, since she has minis and they're buddies. I also donated one of my sidesaddles to KYSS (Kentucky SideSaddle).

So this is a thing that is happening.

My mom finds an archived thread on an old scuba board that claims dive masters don't make any money. Like, they literally do not get paid at all.  Which is crap'; I have seen many job postings with the salary listed. They don't make a *lot*, but they do get paid.

So she invites me out to lunch tomorrow to talk me out of it, saying she has an 'alternative plan'. I'm sure it goes something along the lines of 'stay here and work in your shitty factory job until your soul dies'.  

Me: . . . no.

Of course, she's instantly humble pie and 'I'm just trying to help you'. And I'm sure she thinks she is helping.  I'm sure she believes that with all her heart.  But it's like she's stabbing me to death with a very tiny knife. 

I don't often beg, but if anyone has anything that they think would cheer me up, let's have it.  I will take rotten jokes, silly fanfics, and pictures of hot dudes in bondage.





In a combination of all three, 'Velvet Nightmare' would be a great dominatrix name.

Shamrocks CSS

Code by CrimsonReach
  • Mood: Pissed Off
  • Listening to: Perform this Way - Weird Al
  • Reading: How to Live Aboard a Boat
  • Watching: Dracula Untold
  • Eating: Portabella mushroom mini pizza
  • Drinking: RUM!

Okay, so I had this dream that might make a good story with some tweaking. Problem is, it is very obviously mindless self indulgence. Would you want to read a story that was just fantasy fodder for the author? 

77%
41 deviants said As long as it's *entertaining* mindless self indulgence.
23%
12 deviants said What kind of fantasy are we talking here?
0%
No deviants said No, I see enough fairy tell self insertions as it is.

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconetienneell:
etienneell Featured By Owner 18 hours ago  Hobbyist General Artist
thanks for the fave and the comment on male bondage! I'm sure there is more in my gallery you'll enjoy! ;)
Reply
:iconsyiramigs:
syiramigs Featured By Owner Nov 1, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Oh my gosh I'm so sorry I didn't even notice that I didn't watch you omg omg how can I overlooked this LOL thanks for watching me dear Sparky I truly admire your works :lol:
Reply
:iconsparklinburgndy:
SparklinBurgndy Featured By Owner Nov 2, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
LOL, it's no problem!
Reply
:iconladymintleaf:
LadyMintLeaf Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2014   General Artist
Thank you very much for the :+fav:!!:hug:
Reply
:iconsparklinburgndy:
SparklinBurgndy Featured By Owner Jul 20, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
No problem!  Thanks for the great pic!
Reply
:iconniemar:
Niemar Featured By Owner Jun 14, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Hi, sorry for bothering with an annoying question~
but I was wondering are you going to finish the Wasted Youth fic? :)
Reply
:iconkavarr-damian:
Kavarr-Damian Featured By Owner Jun 11, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Hi and thanks for the +fav of my Loki:happybounce: Hug 
Reply
:iconsparklinburgndy:
SparklinBurgndy Featured By Owner Jun 13, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Hi and no problem!
Reply
:iconsir-hattington:
sir-hattington Featured By Owner May 26, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
thanks for the fav! :la:
Reply
:iconsparklinburgndy:
SparklinBurgndy Featured By Owner May 29, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the awesome arts!
Reply
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