Tag Archives: Shelley Struthers^^+++

March 14, 2023 · 1:37 am

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I’m going to do things a little differently this go ’round. The focus groundside will be Sunklands Institute, pictured here. Up in the air is where I’m going to be doing some experimenting. Point is, I’m back on Nautilus, and maybe even a better place than Fordham, than Rooster’s Peninsula. I won’t give out the location because it’s all still being set up — may take longer to solidify this time, or at least that’s what’s in my mind right now. It all pivots around Sunklands. Another Table meeting could be happening very soon.

The big Nautilus map back in skybox 02 is lighting up again: location of Lemont Sanford and Shelley Struthers renewing their wedding vows upper center (Uberto); Burro Alley and attached Slaashides community where Johnny Cage came from just up there in the left hand corner. And more in the middle… not Collagesity. Pretty sure of that. It’s all an alchemical roller coaster of a ride I’m still enjoying, even after a decade an a 1/2’s worth of involvement in Our Second Lyfe. I have more to mine here.

Nautilus is a way station.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0303, Crisp Sea, Lower Austra, Nautilus, NORTH, Wild West

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March 5, 2023 · 11:14 pm

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He pulled up to the station even though he didn’t need gas, just to look like the rest of the crowd. Despite being unmotorized, he’d outraced half of the choppers here he blended into around Los Lunas. Rowdy crowd — didn’t take to his showoffiness. Tried to shoot his tires out a couple of times but he just weaved and bobbed his way to safety. At one point he had to ride through the desert for a couple of miles to avoid bullets. Finally around Silver City enough of the real troublemakers had dropped out so that he could feel at ease with the rest — attached to one bar or brothel or another along the way — siren calls. He’d actually made a friend, he felt. More on that later: an escape hatch from a lifetime of crime and corruption otherwise. Penny might be her name. Wanda?

—–

*Meanwhile*, on Nautilus…

Shelley Struthers got her wish. We, the Baker family as a whole, have returned to the Nautilus continent, which she’s decided should remain an Our Second Lyfe focus. Now the big Nautilus map in my skybox becomes very relevant again. I bought waterfront property quite cheaply, so I can, in all likelihood, recoup my money and then some from the purchase. Not far from the old Collagesity location in Fordham. More details soon!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0209, Lower Austra, Nautilus, New Mexico, Wild West

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February 26, 2023 · 10:14 am

harnessing the energy

They renewed their vows before really, actually heading out into new life, her in black and pink this time to better match his blue and black. So speaks the magical Abra-cadabra laundromat, the place of the clothes. Cold, damp basement no more for Lemont Sanford, now truly in control and not subordinates Arthur Kill and his more sophisticated cousin Kill van Kull. At least for a while, for this morning, for the next hour.

Their new, good friend and 3rd wheel Edward Daigle performed the ceremony, since he was qualified that way, as he also explained in one of their basement escapades out and down on Cable Isle, the place Arthur Kill was buried, at least for a while, a morning I believe. About an hour. Before Wheeler went down in the grave after him and swished or mopped away all the heat and fire and brimstone with her magic swishy mop and told him to rise up and then go down. For a particular reason of course. “Basement,” she indicated, pointing toward the slanted cellar doors nearby after he unsuccessfully attempted to just dust himself off and exit through the front gate of the dinky cemetery with its one or two plots — wouldn’t work, Wheeler knew. “Await me and my orders. We have an important choice coming up. Which (she eyed him keenly) *cousin* will you be?” She knew it could even be both at once. The basement has that power.

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February 7, 2023 · 10:41 am

start with red

“A demon? No, I don’t think you are a demon. A *demo*, maybe, ha.”

“Thanks, Keith.”

“Call me Dad.”

She wasn’t going to call him that. She’ll stick with Keith, but she doesn’t say any kind of name for a while. Just to pretend she’s forgotten.

She wonders about the man at the table next to them again. Obviously a *recorder*. She’s almost got a name for *him*. Besides bastard. Keith notices the stare, whispers over: “This man bothering you?” Keith was thinking he could be giving her the eye. She has that way, he knows. Heck, if he were 20 years younger and he didn’t know this was his daughter… But he had to climb out of those depths, back into the present. He was Keith B., former drummer of the Blown to Smithereens and some others. Safely retired from all that rock n’ roll lifestyle and its wildness. He was tame now. He was ready to present himself as a nice and decent father for a change. Sobered up, cleaned up. He didn’t *die* in that Room (for instance). And neither did she for that matter.

—–

“He doesn’t remember me,” Biff Carter says to the camera without moving his lips. “Nor she, although she’s getting there. Almost a name now. I can read what’s in her mind. It’s the same as this book.” He holds the book up for us to see.

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February 1, 2023 · 9:52 am

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“What are we negotiating *now*, Young Me?”

“The return of Karoz Blogger to Mainland, Jeogeot continent in particular. Somoco specifically. The Julia House to pinpoint.”

“Ahh,” spoke the old hag that was also Shelley. “You want a return to the *N* (for it).”

“Not… necessarily.”

“You *know* what that means,” she says while nodding her head up and down in an irritatingly frantic way to Shelley.

“I… do.”

—–

Wasn’t going to happen, both knew, but they were playing along. The unexpected beaver float in the cove out back pinpointed *this* location. Something had to happen here. They were experimenting. They started again.

“You *know* you will retain your current form.”

“Yes,” said Shelley back to her older self. Much older.

“You and Arthur will continue to be married. Might be rocky. Might be bumps in the road. Maybe a pothole or two. But you will persist. I should know.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you want–?”

“No.” She didn’t.

“Get in the float,” the old hag then said. “Easy as that. Transport,” she explained. “From this photo-novel to the next. Just get inside. Enjoyy.”

Shelley stared over, wondering if this was on the up and up or not. She couldn’t tell. The old witch was ahead of her again. “I’ll… give you a big ol’ choco chip cookie if you do it. You can hold it in front of you. Like a steering wheel. You are a Carr… repeat after me. You are a Carr.”

“I am a Carr.”

“You are a *Carr*.”

“I *am* a Carr.”

“You are… well, you know the rest.”

—–

“Come on, Carr,” urged Clifton Mahoney, full transferred over from Baker Bloch. “I know it’s early but your bath is 5 days overdue. Get your drying moss ready.”

“Broken,” the great olive being replied.

“I know. We’re going to get you fixed up… cleaned up.”

“Not what–”

“I know. Come on, get up. I know you can do it.”

“Need… help.”

“Why I’m here.” And he moved toward Carr to help her get started.

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January 29, 2023 · 10:58 am

home?

Shelley Struthers testing out the redwoods near Somoco where we saw Wheeler Wilson and Baker Bloch earlier. She likes! Not Leni and the full pack of dances, but swell enough. Thumbs up, she gives us the reader while continuing, head screwed back on tightly as hell.

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January 28, 2023 · 5:40 pm

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When the death card was dealt he’d seen enough and turned his back on them, walking away. Ocean it is today, not mountains. Not Ant and his history.

“I”m so glad you decided to come back, Arthur,” she spoke with full heart as the dark castle on the mount continued to recede into the distance, mentally if not necessarily physically. They were wrapping up their honeymoon in Mortons Gap, getting ready to head home.

Wherever that was. Probably Soos Mountain Community I would think. It was all being prepared.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0614, Corsica, Jeogeot, Middleton, Northwest, Towerboro

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January 25, 2023 · 1:12 pm

the witch cometh

“It was the end of the line for me, Baker Bloch. Car broke down, you see.”

“I see.”

“Couldn’t go further down this road. Had to give over to another.”

“Who is yourself,” the male Baker attempted to clarify.

“No.” Fellow core Wheeler Wilson left it at that. I suppose it was like saying Baker Bloch here was the same as Clifton Mahoney — oops, there he goes again.

“You’re breaking down too,” Wheeler pointed out, staring over at the new figure. We’re *old*, Baker Bloch. Time to yield. There’s… even Liz standing behind Shelley now, 2 down the road instead of 1. Clifton Mahoney—” But Wheeler shut up here, not wanting to revealed too much future stuff again. No need to know about Carbon Glow right now.

Baker/Clifton extended his draw distance out to the maximum (512 meters), stared out across the flat plain toward the mountain he now rents the top of. The castle never rezzed above the bus stop in front of him, although it did when checking from this very spot yesterday. He sat and sat…

Broken once again. Our Second Lyfe has a fatal flaw, he thinks.

Wheeler could view it fine but she could see in the dark. And twice as big. Secret weapons. Among others.

“Nice redwoods over there,” Wheeler tried to deflect. But he couldn’t see them properly neither in the moment. Moving on…

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January 18, 2023 · 5:13 pm

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She received clarification in another witch house near the Head Line in Hooktip, her old stopping grounds. PCH Forest — many a day she could be found roaming these woods for magical trinkets, practicing magical spells. This is where, for example, she came up with a mate named George, a future husband she declared to him after he physically manifested before her, not quite mature but getting there. A boy 13 to 10 to 13 to 10 over and over (as it turned out), always gaining 6 inches to reach the upper extreme, always with horns or antlers by that time. On sunnier days he could even glimpse 18.


from the files: bigger George. With horns or antlers.

Anyway, the new, proper board’s planchette further indicated or emphasized the importance of the 5 point star to add to the already highlighted ending/beginning Z, obvious reference to her cat Mysti, long long left behind but still the best of friends, we assume. She even named herself that after the cat in one of her incarnations (switching the i and the y), an homage to the past in more ways than one.


from the files: Misty.

Yes, she recalls that. Quite close to here, in a retro town defunct for several years now. Took up all or almost all of Myron, a couple of sims directly west of Hooktip. Arthur was also there in a way. Except she called him Septimius. Septimius Felton, a name which has resurface recently. Darn full moon, darn wandering feet on a full moon. She ended up beside him, which now was a her. But it was still Arthur in a way, in a manner. Too hard to explain to him, though. Must keep that a big secret still — the trip to Red Marsh and Maroonville, sometimes called Redtown because of the overarching sim. Santa was born there, some say — legend goes. Santman.

She also found a book with a golden butterfly on the front, mirroring the name of the property: Golden Hours. Inside she read about herself.

(to be continued)

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January 18, 2023 · 7:29 am

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Now Arthur finds a similar meditation pillow on which to sit. Shining 01, he thinks. Is he a Shining 02?

He must be. They are one beneath it all, after all (he believed). Soulmates. Counterparts. Two paths meet and unite. If not in the moment — separate for a bit again. She’s over exploring the witch house. She’d found something. A witch. An old hag with real long hair wearing a gimmicky orange and black Halloween costume, although she said that’s just part of her schtick.

“Do you understand… the pages?” she asked before Shelley could ask about the same — jumping ahead of her. Unusual for Shelley. Could this be? Nah, couldn’t.

Shelley looked at them flying about above the table and a little beyond on all sides. Almost in danger of hitting her face but she kept steady, not blinking. She instinctively knew this wouldn’t hurt her. Ahh, she recalls Jem in her eyes, checking the blog again, making sure she’s up to speed. Jem had this power. Edward Daigle asked her to shut it down so he could be *safe*. She’ll not make that error between her legs here. Conception. “Arkansaw?” she tried with some assurance. She stared over at the eyes. Umbrella too, she recognized. This was her.

Arthur walked into the room, having finished his own exploration once more. The pages fell like cards out of the air, fluttering down to the ground and on the table before her — them. The witch was gone. The witch had never been here. Physically. She picked up a piece, studying. It contained a picture of a prism, white light leading in, colored out. 2 parts, 2 1/2s. She looked at Arthur. He remained refracted, unable to unite the various selves as whole. She — different now. She had seen herself in the future. Sitting here. Dealing with these cards, the life she’s led. It all led to here. Purity, happiness… maybe. God at least.

She saw shadows of a pained face on Arthur’s face, amplifying the shock that was already there. Yes, he saw pages/paper flying in the air of their own accord, then the spell was broken. The Ouija planchette beneath them had also ceased moving.

Stopped on Z; she knew where to head next. All the way back to the beginning which would then become the new end.

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