I’ve had a Discord channel again for some time now. Back when I was still active on IMVU and ran the Radiant Belles modeling agency there, there was a server like this, and I always really enjoyed the community spirit. Small but nice, with friends who support each other. I wanted something like that for my SL experience too, and voilà, here we are. Under the umbrella of LanikaVerse, you’ll find all activities and information about Cats Hollow, my shop LVRS, and SL in general. We exchange tips and tricks that make Second Life easier, tell each other where to find the best bargains, and I’m trying to put together a small group of models for my shop.

Of course, photo challenges are also a must, and “November Rain” is the latest one. For my pictures, I ported to an area where it was literally raining cats and dogs. But there was a Tardis, so I knew I was in the right place. Here’s a little background story, completely fictional, of course. HERE can you watch the little reel with the pics of us all. ❤️
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November Rain — TARDIS Edition (Newspaper Umbrella Version)

It all went wrong the moment she trusted the weather app.
“Light drizzle,” it said.
Right. And the TARDIS behind her was surely “just a phone booth.”

When the first raindrop hit her sweater like a tiny, icy betrayal, she panicked, grabbed the only thing in her bag that resembled protection, and unfolded it with heroic determination.

A newspaper.
A Tuesday newspaper, even though it was already Friday.

Within seconds the November rain attacked it like it had a personal vendetta. Ink smeared. Corners drooped. Headlines dissolved.
By the time she reached the alley, her “umbrella” looked more like soggy origami than journalism.

She darted under the overhang of the blue police box — the suspiciously familiar one.
The one every sci-fi fan on the planet would recognize instantly.

“Okay,” she sighed, newspaper mush dripping between her fingers, “if this is the TARDIS… now would be the perfect time for those doors to swing open.”

Nothing.
The door remained closed and judgmental.

“Of course,” she muttered. “The Doctor shows up for every lost alien puppy in the universe, but the moment I’m being waterboarded by November? Silence.”

A gust of wind slapped what remained of her newspaper-umbrella against her face.

Perfect.
Just perfect.

She attempted to salvage the last semi-dry piece of paper, but it slid out of her hand with the grace of a drowning pancake.

She straightened up, soaked from hair to socks, and glared at the TARDIS-shaped box behind her.

“You know what? If you really are the TARDIS, I hope you’re embarrassed.”

Still no sound. No glowing light. No time vortex.
Just rain, brick walls, and her rapidly fading dignity.

But as she stepped back into the downpour, she couldn’t help laughing — loudly, helplessly, beautifully.

Because if November wanted to turn her night into a cosmic comedy sketch, well…
At least it had excellent props.