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Realm of the InterNutter

Thoughts, stories and ideas.

Challenge #01117-C020: Death of Monsters

Sans: The actual Grim Reaper -- Gallifreya

[AN: I've seen Reaper!Sans on Tumblr and I have yet to see a coherent attitude with it. Please forgive me for any and all mismatched headcannons]

"...and peek-a-boo," read Sans, "I found you."

"...wowie," mumbled Pap in his half-doze.

"G'night, Pap," Sans gently stroked his brother's skull, easing Papyrus into dreamland. He put the book away and crept into his room. Careful not to make a sound. He lit both his eyes and reached through the firmament for the robe and his scythe.

Time for his night job.

The boots were the hardest part of it, of course. Sans preferred to lounge around in slippers or unlaced sneakers all day. Because the tight, confining boots of his night job were a regular torture. And they were practically stilts, so that he passed the height minimum.

What was on the list tonight?

Ah yes. The evening arm wrestle with Gerson. Check. A stern note about his 'game' with Little Gnoll and fixing it so that the kid would live. Oh. And Mrs Plakely.

He could ignore the stern note. It wasn't as if there were many skeletons around to do the work. And Papyrus had already washed out of the pre-selection checklist. Hah. Pap would let everyone live, whether they wanted to or not.

And there was more than one way to show mercy.

Aching after his appointment with Gerson, Sans appeared for Mrs Plakely. Her every breath was a battle. Her eyes sunken and her body weary.

She looked him square in his glowing eye and said, "About time, you tardy bastard."

Sans grinned. She was a teacher to the last. "I'd have brought a note, but a dog ate it."

"Oh get on with it."

"Sure you don't want your glasses?" he asked. "That way you can control your pupils." Sans swung the scythe right on time.

He liked to make sure they went out laughing. Mrs Plakely's ailing body dissolved into dust and her soul lingered in the space between seconds.

Thank you, she 'said'. You've always done good work.

And then she was gone. Off to whatever afterlife that Monsters got. That was it for the official business, but he decided to stop on by Napstablook's for some nice, old-fashioned lying on the floor.

It was a better way to spend the night on duty... as opposed to a busy workload.

(Muse food remaining: 46. Submit a Prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories! Or comment below!)

Asthma Games I Play (and other business)

I want it to be understood that a shortness of breath is something of a default state for me. Asthma creeps up on me by slow increments that are nearly invisible. I should be checking my nails for blueness, but if I do so regularly, I don't notice how much blue has crept up on me.

So I play really odd games like:

  • Is it a cough or a tickle?
  • How shallow is my breathing?
  • Do I really need my medicine or can I tough it out? [Silly Nutter. The answer is: take your firkin medicine]
  • Can I go one more hour?
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Challenge #01116-C019: One Relatively Quiet Evening by the Lake of Fire

So... how does Satan feel about this? (Couldn't find which of the people I'm subscribed to posted this, so I Googled it - have a random blog!) -- RecklessPrudence

[AN: Take a look at these rules. They're generally along the lines of "respect other people" for the most part. Also, if you actually look at biblical Lucifer in the Old Testament, he's not actually all that evil. Heck I don't think he even did that much in the New Testament, either...]

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A cup of vegemite, a hug, and a good lie down...

Way back in the bad old days when procreation was all the justification needed to keep people from being equal... And Bex was known as an effective painkiller and not an addictive substance... the panacea of the time was "A cup of tea, a Bex, and a good lie down."

Well, I need a panacea that works because I'm now panicking about really minor things. As well as battling some asthma from Hades.

And no, dear Americans, I do not eat Australia's favourite black sludge spread by the cupload. I dissolve a teaspoon of it into a cup of hot water, thus creating Vegemite Soup. And a teaspoon a day is all you need to keep the bloodsucking critters away from your good hide.

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Challenge #01115-C018: On the Road Between Nowt and Nowhere

"Is your brain EVER attached to your mouth?" -- Knitnan

Of all the demons in all the multiverse that Raflgast the Sable could have snagged, he had to ensnare one who was lacking a brain-to-mouth bypass. And not much going on in their brain, by the sound of things.

"...Na if yer goin' wi' a cosine limit between plus an' minus Plank's by Pi by th' factor o' current gravity in inches per second per second..."

"Demon," Raflgast growled.

"...the relative brane strength o' this reality aught tae--" she finally interrupted her own prattling. "Yeah?"

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Packing just got ten thousand percent easier. Turns out a discussion about luggage got me crosswired into thinking I could only take a carry-on-sized suitcase for all of my convention needs.

Now that I'm packing a proper-sized suitcase, all is well and I am much more relaxed about getting things together than I was, yesterday.

I'm up to the Unneccessary props, now. Things like "Maman's" photograph and the hip crank. I don't really need them for Bitzer's little routines because I've figured out alternative things to say/do in character.

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Challenge #01114-C017: Monologue of a Vampire

"...In truth, I'm no more a little girl than you are. I was once, of course. Three hundred years ago. Vampirism tends to keep one remarkably... fresh. It's been quite a boon looking like a child. No one ever suspects a thing." -- Anon Guest

Half a world away, before it turned, there had been a girl who called herself Daphne. She realised that it was easy to be invisible. You had to wear ribbons in your hair and skip everywhere. It fooled everyone.

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Ok so I'm only allowed one small suitcase and one carry-on.

The small suitcase is BARELY big enough to hold the hatbox.

If I'm careful about how I pack, I can fit a lot of my cosplay extras in with the hat.

BUT - the makeup containers I have are too messy to go in with the hat [maybe if I ziplocked them into baggies?] and too big to go down the sides with other, more compactable things.

There's no real room for the dress.

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Challenge #01113-C016: One Victorious Afternoon in a Battlefield

One of these days I wanna see a stereotypical-female-armor-design boobplate-clad character remove their helmet, and reveal they’re a man.

“Uh… well, Mom was a soldier, and since Sis was too young to fight, I got her hand-me-downs.” -- Anon Guest

The battle raged on, but it was clear that it was almost coming to a close. So far, one warrior left a swathe of ruined bodies behind her. People knew her by her armour. Delenna the Double Dangerous. Famous in story and song for her mighty -ah- mammaries. Certainly, she was a warrior of note, but the chest plating had to be taken out to accommodate her... chest... and still allow her room to breathe.

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Coming together!

I have some prednisone to help combat the bad asthma I've got. I should be done with it in six days, and back to what passes for normal before then.

The inside of the mask has a few more coats to go before it's prosthetic-ready. Naked paper maché is a thirsty material.

And as for the heart...

[Shown here: heart base with the springs inserted]

The final assembly is ludicrously easy, compared to the rest of it.

I got rid of the cardboard, because it got in the way of the recharging.

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Challenge #01112-C015: Performance Piece

A scrap of data is recovered. Death's Belief Speech, from Hogfather. Doesn't matter if it's the book or the movie.

For those who haven't read it, a clip from the movie is here.

Not as anything unique to humanity, but rather as a comment on Sophonts as a whole, from a human who would have very much liked to meet the rest of the universe. -- RecklessPrudence

[AN: I would also love to meet the rest of the universe, but I have terribly slim chances. Hell, it took a minor miracle for me to be able to see SPG]

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We're having "fun"

It seems like Mayhem's medication only really worked for one night. I found out why when I looked at the packet - it only works for kids aged 9 to 12. Mayhem is 14.

So we're seeing the doctor again about getting something to help him sleep. After I see the doctor about getting something to help me breathe.

Meanwhile, the fun and games he used to get "to keep him awake" is not happening, today. I figure if the motivation goes, so might the sleeplessness.

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Challenge #01111-C014: To be Good Parents

Speaking of created peoples - whether biology or technology-based - and whether they can be trusted/will rebel/will have morals/all the standard concerns:

"If we do our jobs right, our children are better people than we are." -- RecklessPrudence

The station officials had cleared out a medbay for the anxious parents. A standard Medik and a Wave of the Future Medtech stood by. Patient and implacable.

It was one thing to be first-time parents. It was an entirely different level of anxiety to be the first parents of your entire species. Rael found himself shivering as he approached the otherwise innocuous stasis box with the Wave of the Future logo prominently on it.

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Getting there S-L-O-W-L-Y

There is fun times to be happening today. But first, the costume checklist:

  • [ ] Dress
  • [X] Striped Hose
  • [X] Corset
  • [X] Shoes
  • [ ] Petticoats
  • [ ] Gloves
  • [X] Hat
  • [X] Wig
  • [ ] Makeups
  • [X] Makeup accessories
  • [X] Bloomers
  • [X] Functioning Heart
  • [X] Rose-enhanced Mask

Yes, dear readers, I finally figured out how to do Bitzer's Rosy Cheek(tm) and Beloved and I conquered the Arduino programming for the sparking lights in the heart.

Check out this test video:

We've finessed the code since this test run, but this is a good proof of concept. I'll share the code if so requested. For the colours, we didn't want any greens at all or whites too often... and that took some solid jiggery-pokery. AKA: trying different numbers until something worked.

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Challenge #01110-C013: Fear of the Gifted Child -- RecklessPrudence

There were skeleton spiders in the lab. No, not the exoskeletons, which novices animated for practice, but actual spiders made of bones.

That one had a rib cage for an abdomen.

"Clerita... what the flying hell?"

Clerita, the problem child, the one who was always so far ahead of everyone that she seemed like she was behind, looked up from her current project. A bird with bony pinions. "Uhm," she said.

"Why?" demanded Pendrigast.

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