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About Literature / Hobbyist OC Damsels in DistressMale/United States Groups :iconjobberific-ocdamsels: Jobberific-OCDamsels
 
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Unfortunately I know absolutely nothing about the characters or their backstories, so I've no idea why this fetching young lady is seat...


As the commissioner of this wonderful artwork, I'm able to put the scenario in context for those of you who may need some "backstory." ...


Revised critique: please correct me if I'm wrong, but the whole setup here says "hotel." Perhaps I'm basing this on what appears to be ...

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Even Damsels Need Downtime (Continued) :iconbound2thetrax:Bound2theTrax 2 0
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Even Damsels Deserve Downtime

Just to prove I'm a romantic at heart, that I'm not all about ropes and gags and transgressive sex.  Here we see my beautiful but often beleaguered heroine Jillian Kensett sharing some precious off-duty time with her lover Gregory Stallard.  Greg being somewhat of a bibliophile, his idea of a relaxing afternoon at home is cuddling up with Jillian and a good book.  Make that a stack of good books.  Jillian has other priorities, and once she has Greg's full attention she readily persuades him to join her between the percales for more pleasurable pursuits.
As a side note, one of the things I love about working with Daniel of :icondaniel-remo-art: is that when I ask him to include little details like gray and white tabby cat (named Rufus BTW) he reaches into his tool kit and produces...a gray and white tabby cat.  Remarkable.   
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Castle Season 6: The Lost Episode :iconbound2thetrax:Bound2theTrax 14 1
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Greg Stallard and Jillian Kensett: Line of Fire

The multi-talented Daniel of :icondaniel-remo-art: created this wonderful render of my OCs Detective Gregory Stallard and Police Officer Jillian Kensett on commission for me.  When I mentioned in the course of an e-mail exchange that I thought it good enough for a book cover, he most generously added type and a cover blurb.  (Wade Britton is my pen name in case you're wondering) Here's what I imagine the back blurb would read like:
1953 -  Hollywood screenwriter Barton Moss finishes the final draft of City of Shadows, a classic film noir about one honest cop attempting to navigate a perilous terrain of secrets and betrayal in his search for elusive truth--and a measure of justice.  Unfortunately, Moss becomes a victim of the Red Scare when he refuses to inform on his friends and is run out of the motion picture industry.  His script never goes before the cameras.
2008 - Barton Moss' sc
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Detective Dana in Distress: Concrete Blonde :iconbound2thetrax:Bound2theTrax 17 3
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Sign Here if You Would, Sir, and She's All Yours :iconbound2thetrax:Bound2theTrax 20 10
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Marshal Laramie and Cowgirl Cheyenne Episode 4 :iconbound2thetrax:Bound2theTrax 16 4
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Blue Avenues Prologue (Continued) :iconbound2thetrax:Bound2theTrax 6 0
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Marshal Laramie and Cowgirl Cheyenne Episode 3 :iconbound2thetrax:Bound2theTrax 16 6
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Marshal Laramie and Cowgirl Cheyenne Episode 2 :iconbound2thetrax:Bound2theTrax 17 3
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Marshal Laramie and Cowgirl Cheyenne Episode 1 :iconbound2thetrax:Bound2theTrax 7 2
Literature
We Now Resume our Scheduled Programming

'm back to writing and posting DiD stories after a long period of inactivity.  I was down to one unreliable laptop--for the record, it was a Dell Inspiron--and it finally crashed on me for good in late January.  I saved my nickels and dimes and purchased a new Hewlett Packard the week before last.  In the interim I've been collaborating with the incomparable Daniel of :icondaniel-remo-art: who did such a wonderful job recreating Stana Katic of the late, lamented Castle for me.  Daniel was good enough to come up with Angie Harmon (Law & Order, Rizzoli & Isles) and Daniela Ruah (NCIS: Los Angeles) so Stana will have some company in captivity.  This is a teaser for a story I'm working on with the working title WILES Weekend.  The premise is that Kate Beckett, Jane Rizzoli and Kelsi Blye accept an invitation to a weekend retreat at a secluded, women-only resort sponsored by WILE
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Castle Season 3: The Lost Episode Part One :iconbound2thetrax:Bound2theTrax 13 2
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Dana and Jade: Do Not Unwrap Until Christmas :iconbound2thetrax:Bound2theTrax 12 1
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Jenna and Jillian: Beach House Bondage 04 :iconbound2thetrax:Bound2theTrax 12 8

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Bed - Final by Bound2theTrax

This one is for jimbor

Rufus the cat managed to slink through the bedroom door an instant before Greg closed it.  He fumbled the blinds shut and then turned to Jillian.  Her half-parted lips were so very near, and he had only to lean forward before they were sharing a soulful kiss.  God, she tasted good.  His hands found their way under the clingy tank top to the small of her back.  She arched toward him with a sob of longing.  Greg let her strip him of his tee shirt and shorts.  Her hands delved below the waistband of his cotton briefs and roamed freely.  
     "Mother warned me about girls like you," Greg said.
     "How glad I am you didn't listen to your Mum," retorted Jillian, and proceeded to peel him out of his briefs.
     "When Greg's turn came he paced himself, intent on not rushing this, slipping the spaghetti straps from her freckled shoulders and watching, mesmerized, as the tank top pooled at her feet.  Jillian shed her cutoff jeans but allowed him the privilege of removing her panties--being English, she charmingly persisted in calling them "knickers."  He slid them down the enticing curve of her hips.  They fluttered the rest of the way to her ankles, leaving her naked before him.
     "Please hurry," she implored.  "I love you so much and want you so badly."  Greg seized Jillian by the arms, silencing her with an extended French kiss.  She made only a minimal show of resistance before melting into his arms.
     They began slowly, hands roving and caressing.  Jillian explored the shell of Greg's ear with her tongue prior to working her way downward, biting into his shoulder hard enough to break skin, grazing his chest with her lips.  In response he trailed butterfly kisses along the underside of her jaw and down her neck to the sensitive hollow at the base of her throat.  Her body radiated a feverish heat.
     "Don't stop," she whimpered.  "Please don't."
     Greg nestled his face between Jillian's breasts and kissed her there, eliciting a breathy moan.  The sandpapery sensation of his stubble always seemed to excite her.  Knowing this he took his time, languidly circling her taut nipples with his tongue, then sinking to his knees like a supplicant to kiss her toned belly and lick her navel.  She raked both hands through his hair and called his name.
     "Does mademoiselle wish a sample of dessert before the main course?" Greg asked soliticously.
     "Oh, mademoiselle wishes very much," she said, whereupon he entered her most secret place, fingers gently probing, finding and applying a gentle pressure to her lovely clit.  Jillian convulsed, once, her breath now shallow and rapid.  He withdrew his fingers and savored her sweetness.
     "Yes, enough dessert."  Her voice was an ardent whisper.  "I need you, all of you, now." 
     Over the course of their eight months together Greg had acquired an intimate knowledge of where Jillian Marie Kensett was most vulnerable.  He tickled the backs of her knees, causing them to buckle, and caught her as she fell forward.  She rewarded him with a wanton kiss.  He snaked his arms around her waist, desperate for his girlfriend to feel him fully and achingly erect for her.  She very deliberately raked a manicured thumbnail across the swollen head of his prick.  Greg bit into his lower lip to keep from screaming.
     "Is this for me?" Jillian asked with studied casualness.  "What a lucky girl I am."
     "Jillian, I'm not sure I can hold out much longer."
     "Get me in bed where we belong and you won't have to."
     Greg made it there first.  As he lay back on crisp linen sheets Jillian straddled him in one fluid movement.  She pinned his wrists above his head.
     "Is this the Woman on Top principle in action?" he asked her.
     "Have you any objections?  I thought not.  Releasing his wrists she crouched over him, rubbing the tip of his erection between her thighs to tease and torment him as only she could.  Greg dug his fingers into the bedsheets and begged for release until, with deft and loving hands, Jillian guided him deep within her.  The gasp that escaped her lips could have been on pleasure, but his ears sounded more like one of sweet relief.
     He caught a jagged breath.  "Oh God, this feels so right."
     "And I feel so safe with you inside me," she said serenely.  "I always do.  More than that, I feel complete."
     "I want to love you all over, from your glorious hair to the tips of your toes."
     "Then do get on with it," Jillian urged, sleepy-eyed with innocent lust.  She planted both palms on his chest.  "You woman is here for you."  As she spoke he drove himself up and into her, harder and faster than intended.  Jillian reacted with a little-girl grin and thereafter matched him thrust for thrust.  Greg picked up the pace, spurred on by the delicious sight of her ripe breasts bobbing above him.  Her sweat mingled freely with his, coating their bodies in a not unpleasant sheen of perspiration.
     "Jill, I am so in love with you," he gulped.  "It doesn't get any better than this."
     "Oh, yes it does."  Shaking a tangle of hair from her face, she twined her fingers in his chest hair and rode him like a bronco.  From that point on words were no longer necessary or even possible; neither had the breath to spare.  It became a contest of sorts, Jillian clinging to Greg for dear life while he did his energetic best to buck her off.  When at last she came, it was with an exultant cry and a tremor that rippled the length of her body, taking them over the edge to a place they had traveled to many times before but were always glad to revisit.
    "Dear God, but I love you."  Jillian slumped forward, spent and short on breath.  Greg quickly made a shelter for her in his arms, licking sweat from her breasts while she mewled in contentment.
     "Lucky star," he sang to her.  "You are my lucky, lucky star."  Jillian nestled deeper into his embrace as the first drops of a cleansing April rain ticked against the windowpanes.  He would have been content to lie there forever with her.
     In peace they slept entwined.


Yeah, I know, a change of pace from my usual fare, but here again I'm anxious to prove I can write something other than DiD.  

Another superb job by :icondaniel-remo-art:  He put this together for me in a matter of hours, proving again his artistic talent is matched only by his work ethic.  Daniel proposed adding an Easter egg in the form of a handcuff dangling from Jillian's wrist, and I almost took him up on it.  Maybe next time...     



     
     
Even Damsels Need Downtime by Bound2theTrax
Just to prove I'm a romantic at heart, that I'm not all about ropes and gags and transgressive sex.  Here we see my beautiful but often beleaguered heroine Jillian Kensett sharing some precious off-duty time with her lover Gregory Stallard.  Greg being somewhat of a bibliophile, his idea of a relaxing afternoon at home is cuddling up with Jillian and a good book.  Make that a stack of good books.  Jillian has other priorities, and once she has Greg's full attention she readily persuades him to join her between the percales for more pleasurable pursuits.


As a side note, one of the things I love about working with Daniel of :icondaniel-remo-art: is that when I ask him to include little details like gray and white tabby cat (named Rufus BTW) he reaches into his tool kit and produces...a gray and white tabby cat.  Remarkable.   

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Alexa-Kate your next (1) by Bound2theTrax

Alexis Castle eased the silver Mercedes SL Roadster into a diagonal POLICE VEHICLE ONLY stall directly in front of the 12th Precinct.  Bringing the Benz to a safe halt between two squad cars, she waited with ill-disguised impatience for her father's girlfriend to appear.  Detective 2nd Grade Kate Beckett emerged from the station house doors within moments, donning a pair of designer sunglasses before sliding into the passenger seat.  She detached the GPS receiver from the dash and began to program it.
     "I'd like to know what going on," declared Alexis.  "You ring me up out of the blue, ask me to pick up the Benz from the parking garage and meet you at the precinct.  I thought we were having lunch today."
     "We'll grab a bite on our way," Kate said distractedly.  
     "On our way to where, exactly?"
     "Mitford, Connecticut.  I looked it up on Google just now.  Sleepy little town off Route 156 between Old Saybrook and Niantic."
     "Police business?"
     "I took personal leave the rest of the day, with Captain Gates' blessing of course,"
     "So this isn't work-related."
     "Only in a tangential way."
     "That's not real helpful, Kate.  Does my dad know we're taking his prize Mercedes on a road trip to the Connecticut Shore?"
     "Your father called from the West Coast and asked me to dig up what I could on a man named Cletus Shaver."
     "Sounds like a televangelist."
     "I contacted the Connecticut State Police and spoke with a Sergeant Vukovich.  He describes Shaver as a local eccentric.  Lives on a stretch of private beach in a house his mom and dad left him.  Keeps to himself, when he isn't showing up at Board of Selectmen meetings to file frivolous complaints that is."
      "I see," Alexis said.  She didn't, not really.  "And what is Dad's interest in him?"
      "This Shaver sent a long, rambling e-mail to your father's website claiming he created the Nikki Heat character and demanding his fair share of the royalties.  He's threatening to file a suit for theft of intellectual property."
      "Kate, I know for a fact Dad doesn't read all his e-mails, let alone respond to them.  That's what he pays his assistant Joelle for."
      "And Joelle to her credit found the wording of the letter disturbing enough to phone him at once.  He in turn called me."
      "So what do you plan on doing?"
      "Pay Mr. Shaver a courtesy call and see if he's amenable to reason."
      "And if not?"
      "Warn him that Richard Castle has a pit bull for a personal attorney.  Alexis, your father's on a final leg of a successful book tour.  He doesn't need petty distractions like this."
      "Which brings me back to my earlier question: is my dad aware we're driving up to Connecticut to visit this crank?"
      Kate Beckett smiled.  "Alexis, you've heard the saying 'better to ask forgiveness than permission'?"
      "Dad uses it all the time."
      "Exactly."  Kate slapped the GPS receiver onto the dash.  "Course laid in.  Take us out, Sulu."



Cletus Shaver resided at the end of a winding gravel road posted PRIVATE--TRESPASSERS PROSECUTED.  The beachfront bungalow inherited from his parents was sturdy but weathered, badly in need of a paintbrush and new shingles.  Alexis parked the Mercedes behind a venerable Chevy Silverado pickup leprous with rust, tail gate papered with TRUMP/PENCE stickers.
     Alexis laughed uneasily as they approached the house on foot. "You didn't spot any 'Beware of Dog' signs on the way in, did you?"
     "Got all the protection I need right here," announced a baritone voice behind them.  Both women tensed at the unmistakable metallic rasp of a shotgun round being chambered.  "You bitches turn around real slow, keep your hands where I can see 'em."
     "Let me do all the talking," Kate whispered.  Alexis nodded tautly.  They pivoted to see a tall, sinewy man in white sleeveless shirt and faded jeans, sweat-stained cowboy hat canted low over a seamed face.  The matte black Benelli 20 gauge in his hands was not pointed directly at them, but at this range it didn't have to be.
     Kate willed herself to remain calm; she'd talked her way out of deeper shit than this.  "Mr. Shaver, I presume?" she inquired.
     "Who wants to know?"
     "Detective Katherine Beckett, 12th Squad, New York Police Department."
     "Castle's girlfriend."
     "Correct."
     "And this would be his daughter.  Alexis, right?  I seen your picture on his Facebook page."
     "Mr. Shaver, there's really no need for gunplay," Kate said evenly.  "Please put the weapon down."
     "You here on account of that e-mail I sent?"
     "Yes."
    "And you motored up here from New York City thinking I'd be impressed by that shiny gold detective badge.  Well, guess what, girlie, this is Connecticut and your badge doesn't mean shit."  Shaver paused to angle the cowboy hat back on his balding scalp, revealing eyes so demented Kate knew at once that showing up without an escort of Connecticut troopers had been a serious error in judgment.  Oh, shit, he's a meth user.  Or he smokes crack.  Vukovich left out that little detail. The coppery taste of fear lay heavy on her tongue.
     "Mr. Shaver," she said, "since we've obviously not welcome here, we'll just leave, okay?"
     "Too late, bitch.  Your punk-ass boyfriend's about to learn the hard way what happens when he sends women to do a man's work.  You packing?"
     Kate swallowed.  "Mr. Shaver, you really need to think this through."
     "Answer me, goddamn it!"  Shaver leveled the shotgun at Alexis.  
     "Jesus Christ!" yelped Kate, losing her composure.  "Yes, I'm armed!"
     "Take it from your holster, make sure you hold the grip between your thumb and forefinger."  Kate obeyed in stricken silence.  "Set it on the ground and kick it toward me."  The .40 Glock skidded along the flagstone path.  Shaver knelt and scooped it up.  "Now let's have your backup piece.  I know all you New York cops carry one."  Seconds later the .380 "Baby Glock" Kate wore in a concealment holster strapped to her left ankle was in Shaver's hands as well.
     "Mister, please let us go," implored Alexis, her voice breaking on a sob.
     "Shut your mouth, bitch.  Take Beckett's handcuffs and hook her up nice and tight."  Alexis snaked the cuffs from Kate's belt and locked her wrists together at the small of her back.  Shaver grinned lewdly.  "Step inside, Ladies.  Let's get this party started."


Shaver's private pier jutted nearly one hundred feet into Long Island Sound and was in much better repair than the house.  Kate Beckett and Alexis Castle would admired the workmanship had they not been (a) stripped naked, (b) bound hand and foot, (c) silenced with silicon ball gags and (d) crotch-roped.  The friction of braided hemp rope against their tender inner flesh ramped up their misery quotient tenfold.
     "May as well get a snapshot of you for Daddy," said Shaver, framing Alexis in the display of her iPhone.  Standing at the edge of the pier, wrists anchored to her spine in a cunning and inescapable box tie, Alexis moaned in despair.  Her ankles were shackled to a fifty pound lead weight.  Seated atop a nearby equipment locker, Kate strained furiously but to no avail at her bonds.  The ropes were cinched brutally tight, the textbook knots beyond reach of her fluttering fingertips.
     Alexis and I are so fucked, thought Kate dismally.  And I have no one to blame but myself.
    
"Less'n a minute from now you'll get to watch Castle's little girl on her way to the bottom of Long Island Sound," gloated their psychotic captor.  "Thirty feet straight down."  He rested his left foot on another fifty pound weight.  "You'll be joining her, Detective Beckett, after I take your sweet ass back to the house and tie you down on my bed.  You're going to show me a good time before you die."        


Once again, apologies to my Watchers (289 at last count!) and readership in general for being away.  Real Life can be held at bay only so long.  My British partner in bondage mayhem :icondarklordmenchi: continue to experiment with Davo's Water Works peril software.  Feedback is encouraged and welcome.
 


          

      
     




                   



to visit this Loony Toon?  I presume that's what you have in mind."
       "Alexis, you've heard the saying 'Better to ask forgiveness than permission,' right?  Your dad uses it whenever he risks his ass to follow up on a lead without clearing it with me ahead of time."
   
         
      
Cover Final alt by Bound2theTrax


The multi-talented Daniel of :icondaniel-remo-art: created this wonderful render of my OCs Detective Gregory Stallard and Police Officer Jillian Kensett on commission for me.  When I mentioned in the course of an e-mail exchange that I thought it good enough for a book cover, he most generously added type and a cover blurb.  (Wade Britton is my pen name in case you're wondering) Here's what I imagine the back blurb would read like:

1953 -  Hollywood screenwriter Barton Moss finishes the final draft of City of Shadows, a classic film noir about one honest cop attempting to navigate a perilous terrain of secrets and betrayal in his search for elusive truth--and a measure of justice.  Unfortunately, Moss becomes a victim of the Red Scare when he refuses to inform on his friends and is run out of the motion picture industry.  His script never goes before the cameras.

2008 - Barton Moss' screenplay falls into the hands of reclusive billionaire Damon Brand, a man who loathes the 21st Century and longs for the moral clarity and traditional values of the Eisenhower Era.  In collaboration with renegade quantum physicist Harlan Eisele, Brand creates a pocket universe modeled after the fictional metropolis that serves as backdrop for
City of Shadows.  He transforms himself into mob boss Damiano Briganti, ruling his urban fiefdom from behind the scenes with an iron hand.  All that he lacks is a worthy adversary to make the game more interesting.  He chooses Gregory Stallard, police detective and grandson of Barton Moss.  Greg and his new wife, uniformed police officer Jillian Kensett, now find themselves trapped in a concrete wilderness where the traits that made them good cops in our reality--integrity, restraint, compassion, fairness--could end up getting them killed.       

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Dana She Should Have Sucked9tweaked  By Darklordme by Bound2theTrax


Detective Dana Brand's latest undercover assignment, to plant web cams throughout the oceanfront mansion of mob boss Rocco Vendetta while posing as a weekend party guest, goes disastrously awry after one of Vendetta's minions recognizes her.  Vendetta lures Dana away from the other guests on the pretext of showing her his wine cellar.  There she is overpowered by his henchman and left bound and gagged on the cellar floor.  

The last inebriated guest departs by limo somewhere between three and four in the morning.  The tautly trussed Dana is brought upstairs from the cellar to the garage, where Vendetta's thugs have prepared an unpleasant surprise for her.  At daybreak she is poised at the edge of the pier, wrists and arms roped tightly behind her, feet encased in a steel tub of rapidly hardening cement.

"A fucking waste of a gorgeous piece of ass," laments Vendetta.  "Although with a rack like yours it's possible you'll stay buoyant in spite of the cement.  Why don't we find out?"  With that, the mobster plants the heel of his right shoe against the rim of the steel tub, shoving until the bound and helpless Dana topples off the pier toward the murky waters below.       


My partner in bondage mayhem :icondarklordmenchi: recently acquired the "Water Works" pack created by Davo, which includes all manner of drowning perils for luckless damsels.  This is our first experiment with it.  Comments welcome.  
Pageview - Final by Bound2theTrax


I regret not being more productive over the past month.  Real Life can be held at bay only so long, leaving me little time to be creative.  My hope is some issues on the home front, most related to an illness in the family, will be resolved one way or another and I'll be able to sit down at my computer again.  Until then, I wanted to express my appreciation to all those whose interest in my sordid little bondage tales bumped me over the 25,000 page view threshold sometime last week.  To that end I asked Daniel of :icondaniel-remo-art: to work up his own version of my kidnap-prone OCs Jenna Coverdale and Laurel Haines.  Here they are, along with Jillian Kensett, involuntary guests in the lair of my favorite villainess Mistress Tatiana.  Were it not for the fact all three are bound and ball-gagged, I'm confident they would join me in thanking you for your continued loyalty, encouragement and support.       

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:iconenglishdamsel:
EnglishDamsel Featured By Owner Jun 3, 2017
Happy birthday!
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:iconbound2thetrax:
Bound2theTrax Featured By Owner Jun 3, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
So very kind of you to remember.
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:iconbelrhaza4017:
BelRhaza4017 Featured By Owner May 27, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
An early happy b-day wish to u, my good man
:party: :iconcakeplz: 
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:iconbound2thetrax:
Bound2theTrax Featured By Owner May 27, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
I've reached that stage in life where birthdays are not that big a deal, but I appreciate the thought.  
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:iconbelrhaza4017:
BelRhaza4017 Featured By Owner May 27, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
I know the feeling, and u r welcome in any case :handshake:
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:iconbandmachart:
BandMachArt Featured By Owner Feb 23, 2017  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Sorry I've been incommunicado for the last weeks. Insanely busy. Wanting to read the "Blue Avenue" stuff, and promise I will. Be patient with me.
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:iconbound2thetrax:
Bound2theTrax Featured By Owner Feb 23, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
I am nothing if not patient.  "Blue Avenues" may strike you as a tad self-indulgent, what with the references to everything from Prairie Home Companion to Castle to Star Trek Classic.  I'm pleased that the new artwork seems to be drawing attention.  Not that there was anything wrong with Daniel's interpretation of Greg and Jillian, but Redg did a masterful job, particularly where "J.K." is concerned.  The finished "cover art" cost me somewhere in the neighborhood of 100.00 US (Redg lives in the Philippines) but I think you'll agree it was worth every penny.

"Blue Avenues" has its genesis with an article I read in the New York Times some years ago entitled "Our Lives, Run from Some Guy's Couch."  I'm sure a Google search will bring it up for you.  There is a school of thought that what we perceive as reality is in fact a planetary scale simulation being run on quantum computers by our transhuman or post-human descendants centuries from now.  It's roughly analogous to playing World of Warcraft of tinkering with an HO scale model train layout in the basement.  In fact, Greg's late Uncle Blake was a rail buff who once remarked that running a railroad empire in miniature "is rather like being God."  I'm having fun writing it, and if I can entertain my brother and sister Deviants in the process it's a win-win.    
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:iconbandmachart:
BandMachArt Featured By Owner Feb 23, 2017  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for the background. I remember the NYT article, from 8/7/2007, wirtten by Jpohn Tierney, and discussing the theories of philosopher Nick Bostrom.

You've surely considered, I hope, the "infinite regression" possibilities of the "Our Lives" concept. To wit: that the guy on the couch is simply part of another guy's simluation sitting on another couch...etc. etc.

My feeling is we've got enough to worry about as it is....   :D

I just remembered that we've been shopping for a new couch. Wonder what that implies, cosmologically?
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:iconbound2thetrax:
Bound2theTrax Featured By Owner Feb 23, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Why am I not surprised that you not only recall the date the article first appeared, but the author's name and that of Nick Bostrom.  The latter is actually the template for a character I've named Reginald Owensby, a lecturer at East Anglia College in the UK.  He's a supporting player but plays a critical role. 

One of the points made in the story, as I recall, was that "stacking realities," i.e. creating a universe within a universe would lead to so many complications that the post-humans would abort the whole simulation, bringing down the curtain on our reality. 
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carmag34 Featured By Owner Nov 4, 2016
thanks for fav :) (Smile)
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