She peered closer at one of the 2 bathers she thought might somehow represented Brabinites Ditsy and Zizzy Grant seen at the Omega continent’s Mountain Lake earlier in this here section. Instead: “That looks like me(!) Two of me!”
Somebody waited below out on the deck of the [Carcossa] houseboat with all the flowers they’d bought. Edward. The chosen one.
And… Edward?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0116, Bellisaria, Sirens Isles
“Why don’t you take off your pink clothes and stay a while? Or at least put on a bathing suit like me.” Marsha “Pink” Krakow was talking to an old friend on the dock while staring out at clothes-less Ditsy and Zizzy swimming happily beneath. Aedima Hill was her name, ring leader of at least this chapter of the Brabinites, she said, emphasizing that the term Bravinites was wrong.
“I’m fine,” she replied, smoothing out the wrinkles on her hot pink pants she certainly intended to keep on. Those type of days were behind her, she knew, staring out at rumps in the water. Thanks to the monster Tom Banks. He *saw*.
“He must have changed it,” Aedima Hill said about the name. “He must have gone undercover, incognito. How exciting we’ve found him. At long last! Did you hear that, girls?!” she called down. “We’ve found him!” Squeals of elation from the water; playful splashing. Brabin to Bravin — a simple change but perhaps one he thought would be effective enough. Little did he know fate would bring Marsha “Pink” Krakow to him. And that she would have knowledge of the statue. And these guys — his faithful fan club, persistent down through the years now.
They sat silent for a while, both trying to formulate the next step. The girls in the the water went quiet as well. Everyone was contemplating the impossibility of it all. Especially since Marsha skinnydipped… skinnydipped…
—–
She was back.
“So it *was* you,” she spoke over to the turned crocogator while staring at something else.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0105, Bellisaria, Mountain Lake^, Omega^^, River, Sandfly
She logged into Our Second Lyfe to see who else was on line. Sometimes it was easier that way.
—–
“I wanted to talk to you first since you’re the husband. How well did you know Shelley?”
“You, ahem, act like she’s dead.”
“No no, not dead,” Marsha “Pink” Krakow protested. “*Within*.”
“Well… she was my wife.”
“Yes?” Marsha urged.
“And my lover of course.”
“Right?”
“And a friend.” He sips his now cool coffee. They’ve been at it for a while. Marsha is trying to justify keeping Arthur Kill around.
“And she still is,” Marsha reiterated the “not dead” part. Within, she thought. Within *her*. Then Marsha stifled the urge to gasp as she looked next door. Happened all the time since the conversion, the merger. Luckily she had coffee in her hand to remind her gesturing arm this time. She’ll beat it, though. Tammy (or Frankie) “Beige” Brown should remain within, as a conscience perhaps. She’ll figure it out. What’s done is done and all; no going back.
“Did you know,” she said, still staring at the neighbor’s house opposite the direction of Sandy’s we just discussed, “that I’ve met him before. The (eastward) neighbor and all. Not his person, his *statue*. Imagine that?”
“Mountain Lake,” she specified the location. “I use to skinny dip up there!”
—–
Suddenly she was back there, coffee cup still in hand but not animated any longer. The statue up on the ridge was gone — no surprise since it’d been perhaps 5 years since she’d been here. But, amazing to her, the *skinny dippers* were still around, just down in the water below from her default landing spot. Ditsy and Zizzy, she even recalled the names. Brabinites, they were. Or maybe Bravinites, one or the other she’s pretty sure. How could the thing they worship — 5 years ago again — be her neighbor now, just by chance since Linden homes like her Sandfly trailer are randomly assigned?
And that gets me to another topic. I’ve decided to call the sandy region Marsha lives in now *Big Sandy* instead of Sandfly, which is instead returned to the name of an included sim and that alone. More soon…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0104, Bellisaria, Mountain Lake^, Omega^^, Sandfly
He put her in the corner by the stove while he stood in the opposite one. The sparkles indicated a presents, the here and the now. Aluminum can. She turned and kissed him full on the lips. How could this be? He was 2 dimensional, she was 3. Plus they were about 10 feet apart. Yet here we are, talking about it.
“Is this how you *met*?” Thomas Boyy queried from her desk in her hovel as he illuminated the scene. 2:02 now. He was spilling.
“No. We met a long time ago. August 2016.”
She counted it out. “That’s almost 7 years ago. And she hasn’t gotten old? This *toy*?”
Through him, I thought about slightly earlier. Woods. Platform. “No,” I said, going within. “Not old… besides the 7 year part.”
“No time for jokes here, young man. Spill more!” She checked her watch. Fate dictated they wrap up quickly. She was at the top of the mountain, him: the side; only halfway up still. It was an abyss in there. 31 to 32. Retired
So he illuminated some more, knowing that was the only way to get out of here in one pieces.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0304, Blue Mountain, City Park, County Park, Lands End, Nautilus, The Waste^^, Toy Avatars
Waiting for more change in Spornimore. Sporminore.
Everybody has them, some more than others (apples, oranges, bananas).
After so much effort he’d finally caught one. Himself.
Gathering of clones (Umbrella Club inductees).
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0207, Nautilus, NORTH
A new crop of potential recruits has shown up on what they call Umbrella Beach on the western edge of Nautilus’ Crisp Sea, chatting after the delicious, shrimp dominated buffet. Decision time coming up. Whether to step into the shade of the protecting umbrella or go back out into the glare of the harsh, unrelenting sun, all exposed and for everyone around to gawk at in their increasing redness. Red ironically protects against red, they said during the meal, standing up one by one, these past recruits, to give their testimonies of success and life fulfillment through the initiative, the collective. Already, one here was basically under the umbrella, decision made, shackles (of outside life) removed and legs to be retreated back in the shade with the rest, perhaps even before I write this sentence. The purple clad one in the background middle was also about to cave, being a bigger shrimp lover than Lois in white. Sitting down Darla was just ready to go home and be done with it, another one forced here by a prevert relative trying to seduce her to the dark side. “Okay, okay,” she said to her mother Tulipia in a call between meal and beach. “You win. We’ll move to Ohio.” Joy in the Conner household tonight. Uncle Albert would *not* be tagging along, thanks to a restraining order issued by Pinky, Darla’s father, just yesterday.
Speaking of which…
“Medium build, medium height, wearing a black bathing suit. Any idea?”
“Sir you just described about half the girls that walk on this beach.”
“Oh. Thought of something else. She wears a Venus Cage necklace. Very distinctive. I don’t think (smile?) you’d be able to miss it.”
“Just a moment; hold on. I promise not to do anything stupid.” Beach cottage owner and secret “receiver” Claude briefly goes inside and retrieves a box, opens it for the stranger. “You mean like *these*?”
It was full of such. Claude gives them away to every girl lured in by the bosses. He doesn’t tell Albert they’re trackers as well. They know where you are.
“Whatever that picture you’re referring to, every one of those girls up there has sent back the same to their family.” He also doesn’t tell Albert they track even through photos. Powerful amulets indeed.
“Interesting information,” says Albert, the uncle of not one but several girls involved down through the years. He comes from a pretty big family. “Just for that, I’ve decided not to shoot you.”
Relieved look?
“Just kidding! POW POW… POW.”
No wounds. Albert wasn’t kidding. Just a water gun… this time.
“You *fell* for it [delete name],” he said while walking away, already plotting Plan B.
—–
Dripping Claude runs inside, calls the boss who would care the most and explains the hold up. “We have another situation,” he says, knowing the boss would understand. “Heading your way.”
“We’ll take care of it,” the boss says to him in a deep, level voice made for a crinimal. “We’ll send him to the Abyss. With the others.”
“Good deal.” [Delete name], *pheh*.
Carla covered her ears, sick of hearing the booms. It’s just as loud over here as back on the beach! she complains within.
White clad Morna beside her had bigger problems. She was about to be cast into the sea with the sharks by Peggy. Peggy didn’t want to hear no shit about Baker Bloch Marty Uncle Albert being a prevert, despite being the reason for Zizzy of the Ditzy and Zizzy duo to be shipped off to Camp Umbrella next to the Crisp Sea, or so she said. Now there was yellow between and a new element involved — more balance.
3rd eye. Triangle.
—–
“Let’s stop here, Baker, and contemplate what we just wrote.”
“W.”
“In the flesh!”
—-
We return to ring woman and the generation of it.
We are about to go up the path to see what’s over the hill, monsters left behind in the dust. 2:23 soon, tick tick tick.
How about that records management manual now?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0614, collages 2d, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West
“Have you heard the Art Box is going under?” she says, having stared at it enough.
“Just rumor. Speculation,” replies the heavily tattooed girl wearing red beside her.
The non-tattooed, blue wearing one to her right also answers. “Dead as a doorknob,” she weighs in. “End of February.”
“Not quite,” the red one returns.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0613, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West
“Hey loverboy,” she said, spying him spying through the limbs at the limbs. “Tree’s over *here*.” Marty moves his eyes from what Lichen called her sister to the now Santa-less tree. “Now all we have to do is change the lights out and we’re done, Christmas Tree to Winter Tree completed.” Marty kept thinking about the sisters, one black haired, one blonde, the one that less interests him strangely enough now his hair had been dyed. Ditsy was her name, she said. Didn’t sound like a real name to him, didn’t ring true. Yet they just showed up and got down on the floor and started talking to each other, giggling, whispering. The other one’s name was Zizzy; just as improbable. They said they were twins.
“Now you’re just looking in the air at something,” she said, still spying. “Come over here and help me take the colored lights off and put the white lights on. Say goodbye to Christmas.”
It was Valentine’s Day and indeed the traditional end of the X-mas season, just like Halloween was the beginning. It now stretched to almost a third of the year, Labor Day and St. Patrick’s Day soon to be threatened at each end if he was reading the signs correctly, which said “Happy Holidays” reduced to one. It was like the Nazis. It was like Attila the Hun. Soon it might be just Christmas and its polar opposite, 4th of Juli, standing. And then…
“*Dearest*,” she said more sharply. “Over here. *Now*.”
——
Soon they would reach the star at the top and have an important decision to make.
Niece Amanda kept carrying around her new uncle’s crappy Valentine’s bear present around, contemplating pushing him into the tree from this angle and ending the ruse. Might be what tips the balance in her favor, she thinks, sensing the building tension between the two. Zizzy, pheh. It was always going to be something new.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0509, Nautilus, Upper Austra^
“Interesting tatoos.”
“Thanks.”
“So, are you going to join this Umbrella group, or not?”
“Don’t know. Depends on how the shrimp goes.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“Food is my guide.”
“I hear ya.”
—–
“So, where’re you from?”
“Place called Spoiled Rotten.”
“For real?”
“Yeah. Got 4 daddies. And one biological one too although I usually don’t count him. 3 daddies, then. No: 4. Forgot about Fred.”
“You sound like quite the catch (!). Is it the tattoos? Should I get some? Who would you recommend? *What* would you recommend?”
“Tattoos?” She was only half listening to that last paragraph, instead thinking about Fred and how she needs to call him.
“Yeah.”
She readjusted her colorful legs, a story on each one. She spoke in general. “You have to appease your daddies so stuff like ‘I’m yours,’ or ‘Daddy’s baby’.”
“Lemme guess,” the untattooed one said back. “Even though *you’re* in control.” Observing from her position, she was thinking: 3 9’s make a 6.
“Yeah baby.” Both giggle.
“How about you?”
“Oh, a nowhere place. Vanilla mom and dad. An uncle who was a prevert. That’s why they sent me away.”
“To this camp, yeah.”
“Yeah.”
“Well…?” Same for her? she was pondering. Could she have found, a friend?
Sunklands 