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Howleen Wolf by SparklinBurgndy
Howleen Wolf
I posted the vast majority of my Monster High dolls on eBay today.…

But I really liked this shot of Howleen.  It's a Dance Class Howleen dressed in the original Howleen outfit.

Monster High dolls for sale

Journal Entry: Tue Apr 21, 2015, 1:22 PM
So pretty much all of my Monster High dolls are up for grabs.…

And can I just say I'm amped at how well the pictures for these turned out?  Wow, they're great!

Shamrocks CSS

Code by CrimsonReach
  • Mood: Tired
  • Listening to: Conquer the New World -Antti Martikainen
  • Reading: A Sail of Two Idiots
  • Watching: Kung Fu Panda
  • Eating: Avengers Fruit Snacks
  • Drinking: Strawberry Margarita
A Lot in Common by SparklinBurgndy
A Lot in Common
So Monster High has started to re-release the main six ghouls in their original outfits.  I snapped up Cleo.  Her original doll is just absolutely gorgeous.  For those of you saying 'But you already have a Cleo doll' yes, but that Cleo is a Scaris Cleo and she has to stay with Ghoulia.  Seriously, I am selling them together so they won't be parted.  This is a different Cleo.

I had the funny idea to show her and Loki getting along like cats in a sack, but then I was like: Wait a minute.  These guy are basically gender-swapped versions of each other.  Okay, Cleo is Egyptian royalty and Loki is Norse, but still.  They'd probably get along great.

And yes, when she was first released, Cleo's age was listed as 5, 842 years old.  At some point someone must have said 'Why is she still in high school?' because in the latest short it's revealed that the De Niles got 'stuck in a tomb for a while'. Sounds innocuous enough, but the same short revealed they were there long enough for a corpse flower to bloom - roughly 1300 years or so.  In fact, when Amanita Nightshade, the seed of the corpse flower, makes her escape, Cleo begs her to 'go for help!'

Amanita doesn't, BTW.

In the cartoon, absolutely no one questions why the De Niles were *buried alive*. But wait -- their father, the Pharaoh, is shown as fully mummified.  So . . . maybe Daddy died and his daughters were buried with him?  

There is an awful lot of Fridge Horror in this series!

Also, the arm transplant for Gytha went well -- I am less pleased with her eye repaint.  Those damn rooted eyelashes made things ten times harder.  If they wouldn't leave gaping holes in face, I'd rip them out!
No Man’s Land

“Here you are, dearie; Angel Roots, Queen’s Lace, and Liferoot.  What do these things treat?” Mrs. Pitz handed over the wrapped herbs and fixed her customer with a quizzical look.

Danica smiled and leaned towards older woman.

“They’re good for . . . ah . . . . ‘women’s troubles’,” she said in a low tone.

“No wonder you go through so much of it in this town,” the merchant sighed.

Danica nodded reluctant agreement.  

The city of Forsythia was an oddity.  As the Ten Years War started on its second decade, young men in their prime were becoming a rarity.  There were plenty of old men and some young boys, but between the ages of fifteen and forty, the only men to be had were maimed or otherwise enfeebled.  The Duchess of Forsythia sought to plug this gaping hole in the population by giving jobs and rights to women that were unheard of anywhere else.

Women were allowed to inherit property, own businesses, apply for loans, run for office – hells, positions in the city guard had even been opened up for females.  As a result, every woman of sound body and sharp mind flocked to Forsythia.  The city was thriving as the rest of the kingdom struggled.  Danica herself was an herbalist, making a tidy living in a field that may very well have gotten her burned at the stake back home.

“You know, it’s a shame,” the merchant sighed, shaking her head.  “You’re such a beautiful girl; you could land a nobleman no problem – if there were any left.”

“O-oh no, I’m happy as I am,” Danica protested.

Part of her was very pleased to hear that she was considered beautiful; she had always been proud of her fair skin and jet black curls.  Now that she was making good money, she could splurge on fine dresses, makeup and powders.  She was – well, she was simply too tall for a woman.  She hunched over to try to hide her six measure plus stature, as tall women often did.  And her lean frame was in drastic need of some curve.  She ate as much as she could bear, but her bosom was still pitiful and she needed a bum roll not to look ridiculous in skirts.

“I mean, if I had a husband, he might not like how much I spend on clothes,” she offered.

“One that could win such a beautiful lass might not care,” Mrs. Pitz countered.

Danica floundered for another excuse. She was saved from having to think of one by being bowled over by a boy just into puberty, three members of the City Guard hot on his trail.  The tall beauty went down into the street, her thick skirts doing a semi-competent job of cushioning her fall.  Two of the guardsmen rushed past, grabbing the boy before he got too far.  The third followed more slowly, watching the spectacle.

“Ya got him?” he called, chuckling.  

Danica sat up and looked into the face of the sun.

That was literally the first thing she thought of.  The third guard’s wavy blond hair escaped from his braid, framing his face in gold.  The black hat with sky blue plume made his blue eyes pop and he looked down at Danica and smiled with all the warmth of the sun breaking through the clouds.

“Are you all right?” He asked, extending his hand.

Danica might have muttered something nonsensical. She placed her hand into the handsome guard’s and allowed herself to be tugged upright.  The black haired beauty stood.  And stood.  And stood up some more.  The handsome guard was very short! Maybe that was what had kept him home from the war; he barely came up to Danica’s collarbone.  That was all right!  Nothing wrong with being a little short.

In fact, he . . . he . . . he . . .

. . . he was a she.

From her new perspective, Danica could see the manly ‘braid’ was actually a braided knot at the nape of the neck.  There was a healthy bosom straining the uniform doublet.  The hand still warmly holding her own was very small.  What the herbalist has mistaken for a handsome, dashing man was actually . . . . . a handsome, dashing woman.  ‘Dashing’ that was just the perfect word to describe her and Danica refused to let go of it.

“Are you all right?” she repeated.

Her voice was low for a woman, sort of husky and pleasant.

“Yes – I – yes, I’m all right,” Danica stammered.

“You didn’t break any of your shopping, did you?”

The herbalist stared at the basket hanging on her elbow as if she’d never seen it before, but quickly checked the jars and bottles she’d accumulated.

“N-no, it’s all all right.”

“Good,” the sunny guard said with another smile.  She gave Danica’s hand one last squeeze before releasing it.

“DeLyon!” one of other guards howled.

“Keep your jerkin on!” DeLyon spat.  “Good fortune, Miss.”

The short blonde whistled sharply between her teeth.  A golden pony trotted around the corner, barely pausing as DeLyon vaulted into the saddle.  The sunny steed kept on towards the other two guards, who flung the young teen across the saddle.  

“It’s the nick for you, me lad,” she said with a grin.  “Cheer up!  With the war still going on, they’re not likely to take your hand for stealing.”

The other two guards whistled up their own horses and mounted.  Within moments, the trio were heading towards the nearest guardhouse, their captive crying openly.  Danica watched them go, staring after the sunny guard on the sunny steed.

“Oh,” water would have frozen from the tone of Mrs. Pitz.

Danica turned towards the older woman like she had forgotten the merchant even existed.

“You’re one of those,” Mrs. Pitz growled.

“ . . . one of those?” Danica asked.

“One of those . . . . females,” the merchant spat.  “Who fancy other . . . females.”

“I am?”

Danica did a quick mental review of her encounter with the dashing, sunny guard, her sudden flustered manner, and exactly how little her feelings had changed when she realized DeLyon was a woman.

“I am!”
No Man's Land (teaser)
This one starts out a bit slow, but will develop into a hell of a roller coaster.  Just kinda . . . forget everything you think you know about the setup.
“Where’s Papa?”  Betsan asked.

“He’s still sleeping,” Thordis answered.  “He had a very long journey, now finish your breakfast.”

The dwarf matron was packing lunch for Eirian and Meinir; the two older children would spend all day at their apprenticeships, but Betsan would be out of school by noon.  Betsan pondered this answer, taking a bite of a ja’kh filled with egg and bacon.  The little girl took a long look around the first floor of the house.

“Where is he sleeping?”

“Ah . . .” Thordis felt heat flood her cheeks.  “He’s . . . he’s sleeping in my bed.”

“Already?” Eirian blurted.

Thordis’s blush roared hotter and she put her hand over her face, trying to block out the sound of Meinir’s giggles.

“Why is it strange?” Betsan asked.  “All of my friends’ parents sleep in the same bed.”

“Well, Mama and Papa haven’t seen each other in a long time,” Meinir said, tittering.  “We thought perhaps it would take them a little while to get used to each other again.”

“Your Papa is a very gentle man and he would give no lady pause to let him sleep in her bed,” Thordis said, bringing the baskets of food to the table.  “Now hurry up or you’ll all be late.”

“Very gentle?” Meinir asked with a wicked grin.

“You are not too old to get your wrist smacked, young miss,” Thordis told her, trying not to laugh.

Betsan and Eirian were a bit young, but Thordis might pull her eldest daughter aside and let the girl know that her Papa was exactly what she needed to look for in a man.  Very gentle, very respectful, and a good father.

“Does he snore?” Meinir asked.

“Not loudly . . .” Thordis informed her. “Anyway, snoring is not important.”

“What is important?”

“I’ll – I’ll tell you when your little sister can’t hear.”

“What? What can’t I hear?!” Betsan demanded.

“Going to be late!” Thordis declared. “Take your lunches and shoo!”

The dwarf matron ushered her children from the table; Eirian picking up his sisters’ leftovers and shoving them into his mouth before grabbing his lunch and heading for the door.  Meinir wrenched open the door, starting when she found the priest of Midras and his wife standing there, fist raised to knock.

“Oh! I’m sorry, lass.  Is your –“ the priest’s eyes flicked sideways to Thordis.  “Is your father in?”

“He’s still asleep,” Meinir stated coldly.  “He had a very long journey.”

“You can talk to our mother,” Eirian said with just as much ice, pushing past the priest.
Meinir followed her brother, nose in the air.

Thordis drew in a long, deep breath through her nose and put her hands on her hips.  The look she fixed the priest with said: ‘Of all the things I have on my plate, I also have to deal with you.’

Thordis had read some of Midras’s holy book.  He seemed to be a pretty innocuous god; he left commandments for people to work hard, love their families, and treat others as they wished to be treated.  For some bizarre reason, this translated to followers that hated everyone even slightly different from themselves and ostracized their own family for even slighter differences.

This particular priest – by name of Caron, and his wife, Haf – had decided that the god Midras hated dwarves.  It wasn’t mentioned in the holy book, but was somehow self-evident to anyone with eyes in their head.  Admittedly, dwarves couldn’t help existing, but Midras would be pleased if they stopped being so . . . well, dwarvish.  Midras was seriously disgusted by dwarves that married into human families.  After the first few announcements of this, Thordis had declared that if the god had such a problem with her family, he could damn well come down and tell her himself.  The anti-dwarf sentiment had cooled to a simmer soon after.

Thordis had enough of these fools early on and they had learnt not to test her.  But now Luc was back in the household, so they felt the need to push their luck again.  Thordis wouldn’t be surprised if they had a handy list of all the unmarried human women in the village.

Haf caught Betsan’s shoulder as the child tried to leave the house.

“Little one, can you tell me where your father slept last night?” she cooed in a sickly sweet tone.

“He slept with Mama, obviously,” Betsan huffed in a tone far older than her seven years.

Thordis tried to hide a smile as her youngest daughter tossed the woman’s hand off of her shoulder and flounced across the porch with all the dignity of a noble child.  Where had she learned such airs?  

The priest and his wife watched the children go, exchanged an exasperated look, then turned to Thordis.

“Yes . . . well, we would like to speak to your husband, please, Madam,” Caron announced.

“He is asleep,” Thordis announced calmly.  “And I’m not waking him up for the likes of you.  And you were not invited in!”

Haf pulled her foot back from where she’d been ready to step across the threshold.

“It isn’t your house, is it?” Haf said coldly.

“On what grounds do you claim it isn’t my house?!” Thordis said sharply.  “I bought it! I furnished it! This is where I raise my children!”

“It’s your husband’s house,” Caron corrected. “And they aren’t really your children, are –“

The priest cut off sharply.  Thordis turned to see Luc descending the stairs.  He had pulled his trousers on, but he was still barefoot, his undershirt was wrinkled and his hair disheveled. But he was all too aware of the sword he held in his right hand.

“I don’t know you, sir,” Luc rasped, his throat still rough with sleep.  “But I’ve already heard you insult my wife.  She is correct; this is her house.  And the children under its roof are hers as much as if she had borne them herself.”

Thordis could feel the blush rising on her cheeks.  He had known her only a few hours and already he leapt to her defense! Of course, the heat in her face might have also had something to do with Luc’s unlaced shirt.  Thordis had seen bare chests before, of course; but . . . there was just so much of it!

The dwarf matron turned to face front again, trying not to salivate.  Haf, on the other hand, was making no secret of the ogling she gave to Luc.  Thordis’s hands went to her hips.

“I’ll thank you not to stare at my husband so, Madam!” she blurted.

Haf tore her eyes away from Luc’s chest long enough to give Thordis a panicked look. Thordis raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, why so scared, Madam?  Will your husband beat you if he knows you were eyeing another man with lust?  That’s not very Midrasian of him, is it?”

Caron cast a harsh look at his wife, but backed away as Luc stepped forward.  The archer curved his hand around the shoulder of his dwarf ‘wife’.  The priest cast another disapproving look at Thordis, but followed Luc’s hand up to face the human man.

“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in a proper wife—“ the holy man started.

“’Proper’ wife?” Luc echoed.  He cast a look down at his dwarven missus.  “Do you not approve of blondes?”

Thordis tried – unsuccessfully – to fight back a smile.

“ . . . her hair color is hardly the issue!”

“I can see no other reason you would disapprove of her.  She is love and beauty and motherhood all rolled into one small package.  Darling . . .”

Thordis was fairly certain the heat in her cheeks would have burned him, but Luc stroked her face with the back of his knuckles.  Instead, she caught his hand in her own and flashed expressions she was sure no one had seen since her girlhood.  Not since – not going to think about him right now.  Not when Luc was calling her perfection and caressing her so gently.

Caron, seeing the utterly smitten look the dwarven matron cast at her much larger husband, could hardly accuse them of not really being wed.  There was so much untapped emotion he could have cut off a slice and slathered it over some bread.

“Well . . . if you should ever crave—“ Caron cut off sharply, seeing the snarl on Luc’s face and the sword being raised.  “ – spiritual guidance.  Please, the temple is always—“

“Not from the likes of you,” the man growled.  “If you don’t approve of my wife, then you don’t approve of my family.  We will take our love elsewhere.  Good day to you, sir.”

“I – good day,” Caron sighed.

The priest turned away clapping his hand on his wife’s shoulder.  Haf flinched, but continued under her husband’s grip.  Thordis had a moment to feel sorry for the human woman; after all, she had been there herself, but then Luc’s large, warm, male hand tightened on her own shoulder and she felt her insides do gooey things.

“Have they been bothering you like this the whole while?” Luc inquired.

“Hmmm?  Oh, ah . . . . no, I put the fear of Mama into them a good fourteen months ago.  I suppose they thought with you back in the house . . . .”

“ . . . . the fear of ‘Mama’?” Luc echoed with a grin.

“That’s what Eirian calls it when I stand up for my family,” Thordis said.  “But, you’re awake!  Are you hungry, my love?  I have more ja’kh cakes and plenty to put in them!”

Luc had no idea what a ja’kh cake was, but he did appreciate the way Thordis caught his hand and dragged him to the table.  He beamed at his little wife through eyes still fogged with sleep.

“What?” she asked, placing a plate of small, oval, fried cakes before him.

“You just called me your love,” the archer pointed out.

If the tips of the dwarf matron’s ears weren’t already glowing, Luc could swear they grew brighter.
“You – you just called me your darling,” she pointed out.

“I meant every word, as well,” Luc said.  He grinned at his lady wife.  “Give us a kiss.”

Thordis squeaked and blushed and put her hands over her face.  Luc was expecting that.  He didn’t expect the lightning-quick peck on the lips Thordis gifted him with before burying her face back in her hands.
Mama Thordis III
This is turning into something too cute not to share.  Don't worry; it will still be in the book. ^^

Monster High dolls for sale

Journal Entry: Tue Apr 21, 2015, 1:22 PM
So pretty much all of my Monster High dolls are up for grabs.…

And can I just say I'm amped at how well the pictures for these turned out?  Wow, they're great!

Shamrocks CSS

Code by CrimsonReach
  • Mood: Tired
  • Listening to: Conquer the New World -Antti Martikainen
  • Reading: A Sail of Two Idiots
  • Watching: Kung Fu Panda
  • Eating: Avengers Fruit Snacks
  • Drinking: Strawberry Margarita

Getting down to picking the name change. 

30 deviants said Stillwater
12 deviants said MacBeth


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MensjeDeZeemeermin Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2015
May a drive of noble dragons circle your head today, showering you with earned praise and wonderful, intricate presents... May your friends think of you and smile and laugh, may those you love think of you and feel better and hope to see you soon.  May the year's journey 'round the sun that begins today leave you wiser, happier, more learned and eager to take a running start at the next one, and may it all begin with these sincere wishes that you have a HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
SparklinBurgndy Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you more than tongue can tell!  Hopefully by this time next year I shall be at sea!
MensjeDeZeemeermin Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2015
Make the good wishes come true, and I so hope your own good desires are gratified.
Mew2fem Featured By Owner Edited Apr 10, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Happy birthday, Red
SparklinBurgndy Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you!
Mew2fem Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
no prob n I hope you had a great one, Red
MagicRat Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2015
HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAUTIFUL LADY!!!! Love Airborne Have your cake and eat it too Date Party 
SparklinBurgndy Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you so much! :hugs:
MagicRat Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2015
Hope you had a fabulous day.
TheFelinianWithWings Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2015  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Kudos to the whole surviving another year!
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