Category Archives: 0110

three

“I grew up here — in this room. These were my cats. All named Philip.”

“So they were all the same cat,” I responded after thinking about it.

“I suppose.” The matter was then left up in the air, as were a lot of things here at the Southwest Castle. Soon we will visit the Northeast Castle down in the bay to flesh out the picture of this mysterious Hilling sim, so near to the Spinterwood summit but acting under different energies still. Those that oppose the force of ground apparently.

Then she decided to answer more completely. “Philip is striped and grey. Philip likes to play with his tail. Philip sometimes disrupts plants.” She pointed to each cat independently. I knew that this animal, whether 3 separate cats or just an amalgamation of one cat, was long dead. Katy was all grown up now and writing novels for a living. And married to Jack Toadswallow, living happily ever after like a true princess should. We are only revisiting the past here.

“And you also had dragons, I understand.”

“She points her index finger up, making a point. “Common misconception. We had *eggs*. 3 of ’em. But the eggs did not become dragons.”

“What then?” I was taken quite aback at this unexpected twist. She stared at the cats again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0110, Corsica, Splinterwood^

Rosehavien! Rosehavenite?

“It had to be done, Hucka Doobie. To keep the league of Axis away.”

“Or keep them closer to your vest,” responded the bee-person, perhaps my bestest friend inworld now that Baker Blinker is away so much. “It’s a beautiful spot. Right next to the old quarry. Of course this was all planned out.”

“Of course.”

“Now you can monitor what the Purple and the Bear do in their secret lair. Not that you’re *spying* or anything.”

“Of course not (!)”

“Are you?”

“No, because it will be me in that secret lair and me alone.”

Hucka Doobie looked across at me (in character) and then toward the hideout.

“Good deal,” she ended.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0017, 0110, Rose Heaven^^

02

Our Second Lyfe winked on. The other eye had been opened.

“Pierre, I mean, The Man About Time, had come down from Canada to US. He’d used the virtual continent of Maebaleia (alternately: Satori) to great effect, having helped forge an agreement between Lime World and World of Lemon in its central Hills of Bill. From this time forward, they would be sideways to each other, these two I’s.”

“These two eyes?” Grassy Noll interrupted Hucka Doobie. “What does that mean?”

Hucka Doobie pointed back and forth between Grassy and himself. “US.”

—–

A beautiful day was dawning in 7 Stones, Our Second Lyfe. Like always.

“F–k the gallery’s inventory list,” Danny Pajamy decides in his bedroom office. “I’m playing my *new* game again, he he. The one that won’t quit on me.”

Because of this he missed the sale of “Humanvillians” the day before and altered history.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0016, 0110, Alabama, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

more new

“Look at that green squirrel over there, honey.”

“No time for trivialities tonight, love. I’m worried.”

“When aren’t you?” returned her husband of 3 years. The original Space Ghost (!).

“We’ve lost our son Oliver. We’ve lost our daughter Eva.”

“Ona,” Old Space Ghost corrected. “Our daughter’s name is Ona.”

“Whatever.” Grammy sighs. “They’re gone. Along with the original homestead. A place called, called…” The name escaped her.

“Something about owls,” spoke Old Space Ghost, also pondering the appellation. “Something about the way they hoot.” He kept racking his brain. “Hootyville!” he exclaimed in a Eureka type moment, then shook it off. “Nah, that’s not it. Darn brain.” He knocks against it lightly with the head of his cane. “If only I were younger.” With this, he looked over at his wife Grammy expectantly.

She glanced at his stare, then back. “No. We’ll not go down that path again. Stick to the road. That’s the plan. She looked ahead at the golden dirt road curving around the fenced-in cornfield they sat in front of. “This is all that’s left of the old place. The only spot we have to hang our memories on. If we move — I’m afraid we’ll lose them forever.”

A trap, thought Old Space Ghost, looking at the golden track as well. A jail of sorts, even. Locked into this old body. Locked into this old, basically circular dirt road. Should have been paved a long time ago, pheh. That would have set time straight. Space too. Along with… something else.

Baker Bloch approached from the east. “Father;” he nodded toward Space Ghost. “Step-mother;” he nodded toward the woman known most commonly as Grammy. “It’s time if you’re still up for it.” He stared steadily at Grammy.

“Don’t do it woman,” sputtered Space Ghost, changing his mind. “You don’t know what the whale can do for you. Drive you *nuts* with that whirling and twirling and — *jiggering*.”

“Can’t I — just come in by default?” she pleaded. “Because I’m, you know, married to your father?”

Not the way it works, step-mother. You have to ride the Wild Whale (like everyone else). All Hail the Wild White Whale,” he recited automatically, but they didn’t return the exaltation. But he then pushed them and they grudgingly acquiesced.

—–

The vortex started about 3 seconds in, her secret superpower revealed.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0015, 0110, Collagesity Fordham, Golden Sink^, Lower Austra^, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus

echoes

“And I have multiple options for my looks.”

“Ah hem,” she laughs liltingly. “So do I.”

—–

“If the voters choose option two,” Tracy Austin continues, “then I will look like this.”

“Better adjust the poll to reflect this,” Craighead Phillips suggests.

“Naah.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0014, 0110, Blue Feather Sea^, Maebaleia/Satori

yarns

Queer, thought Baker Bloch, back to exploring Blue Junkyards. I recognize this butterfly ship from Rosehaven. And (as he’s checking): owned by an actual Rosehavener (again: !). Well, in that nice Designing Worlds video on the region fleet commander Wildstar Beaumont did say his ships were deployed throughout Our Second Lyfe. I guess this is proof! Far far away from Rosehaven I would assume we are.

So another synchromystic link between Rosehaven and The Waste, since Blue Junkyards’ name is very similar to The Junkyard sim of latter.

And this just after I moved my Rosehaven Yarn Shop over right smack next to the *Yarn*a sim on Corsica last night (thanks Green Squirrel and Huma!).

Queerer and queerer. Maybe we’re not done with Rosehaven in the *present* yarn.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0013, 0110, Asha^, Blue Junkyards^^, Canada/Picturetown, Corsica, Rose Heaven^^

The Bar at the End of Time 02

“Says it’s right here,” the demonic card creature slurped. “But I don’t see’s no bar.”

“Coordinates don’t lie, Clubby. Let’s proceed forward. With caution.”

—–

“Another level below us, Clubby. Looks like we’ll have to jump this time. How are your knees?”

“They’ll have’s to do.”

—–

“How you feel?” asked a truly concerned Axis after the leap. Clubby was his right hand man in all things demonic. He dare not have him out of action for any length of time.

“Been better.”

“Well. We’ll get you some knee braces when we get back to base.”

“Okay’s.”

“That could be it down there, Clubby. Wouldn’t you say that would be about right under where we were?”

“Sure’s.”

“What did I tell you about the misplaced plurals, Clubby,” Axis finally scolded. “We have to prepare for the *big* leap. The ‘going outside’. You can’t *talk’s* like that out there.”

“Okay’s.”

Axis then figuratively bore another hole through him with a riveting stare.

“‘Okay,’ I mean,” the evil Clubby acquiesced.

“Good.” Axis looked down the corridor again. “Let’s go ahead and turn invisible at this point. I know it will be a drain on our energy, but we probably shouldn’t take any chances in case of ambush.”

“I double checked,” Clubby held firm. “No ambush.”

“But you didn’t *triple* check.”

Clubby backed down again. “No,” he admitted.

“True soldiers — warriors — always triple check, Clubby. At a minimum.”

“Alright.”

“We’ll move into invisibility mode… now.”

Axis winked out of view in front of Clubby. Clubby then also shifted into invisibility mode. He looked down and couldn’t see his hands, his feet, his hole pierced torso. What a relief to get rid of that horrid body!

—–

“We’re here,” whispered Axis to Clubby as low as possible at the entrance to the bar. But no one was inside. They checked every corner while still being transparent. Axis then ended invisibility mode; winked into view in front of Clubby. The demonic card creature reluctantly did likewise.

“We’ve been had!” cried Axis, realizing an escape hatch was used.

Turns out, The End of Time extended beyond the bar.

—–

“Hi, Freddy. Just passing through.” But The Fredinator was too deep in meditation to acknowledge Patrick and Zoidboro’s sudden appearance.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0110, End of Time^^, The Waste^^

he died in Washington D.C.

One wasn’t suppose to do so, but Mrs. Misty Dorn often walked the 150 or so meters from her Philo retro-home to the lip of what “later” became known as the Catsocks Sinkhole, a portmanteau name derived from the Catalpa and Tussock sims which share the depression.

And behind her from this vantage point: the main gallery of hot tempered artist Angelina Dickenson who drove Pitch Darkly and Buster Damm from VHC City spring before last. Like driving Frankenstein’s Monster away from the village with fire, except in this case vampire monsters are involved instead of collaged together, electronically activated beings.

But Misty knew them as tamed pussycats: a rather henpecked Pitch (by Mary) and a somewhat dominated Buster (by Bettie). Like a modern day Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubles they are, neighboring Collagesity pals who enjoy going on adventures and do male bonding stuff with each other like bowling for dollars. Totally harmless; the sustaining blood they need now supplied by an herbal substitute distilled from locally grown turnip plants. The progression of monster medicine!

She turned back to the hole. But it all started here. Birthplace of Monsters they will also deem it, not technically true but that is how it will be remembered. Plane crash. Mary had told her all about it. She said everyone within a 1000 meter radius of VHC City came to witness the aftermath. And the insulated crates containing Pitch, Buster and others which were opened, freeing their contents. No humans survived, although they were they ones who wrecked the plane. On purpose. The rallying cry according to legend: “Let’s rock.” The target: well, most would assume the giant Hotel Chelsea itself only 300 meters from the site, not much further away than her own house in Philo. A fascinating and tragic story, which upon retelling Mary usually got a little choked up about. Not only for the dead humans but the still living, breathing monsters who emerged from the intact tail piece. The ones who received part of the blame, however undeserved. Like her husband Pitch. Mr. Mary.

She rose from the ground. But it was time to get back to Philo and meet with Septimius, who offered to come over and escort her down to Swindon’s Coffee and Tea Emporium in the center of town. She had other plans, however. Might as well get it over with because the event was inevitable. She knew Septimius, or the man behind Septimius, and the attraction would reach a logical conclusion. He didn’t have a General Grant tucked away in his back pocket like didn’t-die-in-Vain Abraham Lincoln, but it was still upon him. Thus the reason he thinks the 28th president of the United States is a female. Trees. Giant tree. The largest in the world, between it and Sherman, another back pocket filler upper. Another 2 fer 1, it seems.

With her standard 128 meter draw she could just make out the top of an autumn tree in Philo from this perspective. The town is afire with leaves brightly burning yellow, orange, red. If only their user’s real life world beyond the mirror was so blessed.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0011, 0110, Heterocera, Myron^

establishing

The deal was signed. She had even picked out a house, she thought. Place of safety, place of calm, Madame Silver reinforced while the ink was still wet. Contract pretty much laid out everything plain and simple. Don’t do this, don’t do that, don’t do that. And we’re done. “Go ahead and choose one of the dwelling units on the northern edge of the property,” Madame Silver then suggested. “If one is already occupied, the door will be locked. I have other business interests to take care of now. I’ll see you at the sim-wide meeting, Young Ruby!” And then she was gone: vanished in a poof.

She didn’t want to be greedy. This smaller dwelling spot she was also attracted to would have served perfectly well for her home. But the door was locked. Later Ruby found out a girl almost exactly her age lived here. Interesting. The other houses around it were basically one floor units. She wanted multiple floors. She always wanted to live in a high rise, the narrower the better. And her new house pretty much filled the bill on this.

Here it is. An oversized treehouse, right beside the smaller unit that we just took a gander at. It was the huge, multi-paneled window that totally sold her. But the place was not without its drawbacks. Oh no. As Ruby quickly found out, physics is a little wonky all over the property, but especially in close spaces with a lot of textures, which this house was filled with. Let’s go inside and see what we have.

A calico cat with two, black kittens! She always wanted a cat. Apparently she’ll have at least 3 now. Unless she decides to give one or both of the small ones away. But how could she!

Up the stairs we must go. But already Ruby has a bit of trouble getting off the vintage pouf the cats are on. Oh well… she can get use to the physics here. Yes, surely she can.

Ahh, what is perhaps the living room.

A nice desk for writing and drawing and such.

Ruby’s throat is getting a little sore. Must be all the climate changes switching between New Island and Collagesity and here, she rationalizes. Instantly she decides to cut down on her bouncing around. She’ll stay here for a while; explore the neighborhood and whatnot. As long as she abides by the contract, she’ll be fine. This will be her base. Permanent one? We’ll see how it develops. Day by day, month by month, she thinks. But upwards we must continue!

Beautiful. She will entertain many new friends in this space, she feels.

From this 3rd floor, Ruby finds she has to go outside and traverse a corner porch to continue exploring the house. She pauses to take a look at the view. “This is all mine,” she utters, as if reinforcing the reality of what seems a dream.

Suddenly she didn’t care what the upper floor or floors from here looked like. This was her home for certain, and nothing else she could see would change that.

She opens what turns out to be the final door.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0010, 0110, Ruby's Empire/Fishers Island^

infiltration

From the folds of her gown, she lifted a green metal cube about fifteen centimeters on a side. She turned it and Paul saw that one side was open – black and oddly frightening. Paul slowly put his hand into the box. He first felt a sense of cold as the blackness closed around his hand, then slick metal against his fingers and a prickling as though his hand were asleep…“What’s in the box?”

“Pain.”

From Dune, by Frank Herbert.
Published by Putnam in 1965

Sister Martha Lamb has her eye on all the degenerative art of Collagesity for certain. But most of all she has her eye on the Cheese. The Great Cheese.

She expects many more seekers to pay for the privilege.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0110, Rubi^