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Realm of the InterNutter

Thoughts, stories and ideas.

Challenge #01361-C266: The Rogue's Fall

[Person 1]: It's important to face the consequences of your actions!

[Person 2]: (Leaps out of a window) -- OohLookShiny

Hwell had to admit, this did look bad. He took stock, as was his habit when he got into these snags.

Hands and feet bound, check. And not in anything fancy, either. Just regular, good old-fashioned iron cuffs and chains that hobbled his ability to run. And his captors had been so inconsiderate about the design, too. There was no easy way for him to twist around and use any kind of convenient wire to pick the lock and make good his escape.

Armed guards, check. And not the obligatory stupid guard kind, either. These people were on their toes. You got some really advanced policing strategies when women were the main gender in the police force. Especially older women who were immune to his generic flirting.

On his way to almost certain doom, check. One of the main parts of this job had been not to get caught. And since Ax'and'l was not around to help him on this enterprise, the small gang of strangers who had hired him had left him behind as a patsy.

Options. Huh. He needed two people to do the Patty Cake Escape. He needed a lev belt to do the 23 Skidoo. Oup. There came an elevated bridge over the water. Good thing humans were neutrally buoyant.And if he could kick hard enough or latch on to some nice flotsam...

Pity these people stopped allowing flotsam in their waters for centuries. Ladies. They really thought ahead.

There was the judge in her robes, standing stoically on the bridge and watching the sailboats. She was going to listen to him, judge him accordingly, and pronounce sentence live on the planetary comms. And he had maybe twenty DU's to come up with a plan.

And then his personal comms chimed.

One advantage of biotech implants is that they can't be taken off of you. Nobody else knew you had one until you started muttering to yourself. Hwell faked an itchy ear so he could (awkwardly, of course) put it on hands free.

"WHERE THE FLAKK ARE YOU?" said the voice of Ax'and'l.

Okay, so he had to be in-system to hear him at all. "Third planet from the sun," he murmured. "So very much like home... the company leaves a little to be desired. Say. Have you ladies heard of the Blarney Custard?"

"You. Are. Not." protested Ax'and'l.

Simultaneously, the senior guard said, "Silence. Face your judgement like an adult."

"I'm runnin' out of choices you understand. It's a lovely city, it is. Beatiful location, tropical paradise. I really don't want t' die here, you know? I'd much rather let bygones be bygones. Water under the bridge, flies out the window, kind of thing..." He slowed down his pace as he rambled. This was not the first time he was talking for his life. Of course he peppered his diatribe with hints to help Ax'and'l home in on his signal. Hwell could only pray it was enough.

The judge, an octogenarian, was not impressed. She finally silenced him with a leathery hand over his mouth. "Alien... you have been found guilty of trespass and theft of a sacred relic. Have you anything to say in your defense?"

"We-ell... the thing about my defense is, it doesn't sound good. You see... that relic of yours was somethin' you were never s'posed t' have. The fact that y'all learned GalStand proves that it's polluted your society. It was my job to get it away from you before you managed to hurt yourselves. Or before you managed to get the wrong ideas about it."

"That relic, as you say, of ours was given to us by the Goddess of the Night Sky, that we may learn more of her mysteries."

"Bit late on the second part, I get it. And -er- some mysteries are dangerous. You know this, right?"

The judgemental octogenarian remained inscrutable.

"Look. We have a thing in all our technologies. It's called the God Protocol. Technology monitors how people are using it, you see. The instant there's too much ritual and too much chanting, it sends out a signal for anyone who can hear it. So it can be... well... rescued. So you can be rescued."

Ax'and'l was swearing in his ear. The non-swearing portions of his dialogue boiled down to variations on "don't jump".

"Now I'll admit some mistakes were made. The fellows I got to help me out with this little bit of charity neglected to tell me about all of your security measures, and figured to increase their reward by removin' my ability to collect mine. If things had been done right, you'd never know we were there."

Which was exactly the wrong thing to say. "You did not come from the Goddess," said the judge. "You are a mortal being, though none like we have ever seen. For your heinous crime against our people, you will die. The universe brought you, and the universe will end you. You will be caged in the common square, to remain there until you rot."

"Have I mentioned that my decay process is highly toxic?" he tried.

"You will face the consequences of your actions, alien."

"Not today, thankyou." And, before the guards could stop him, he leaped off of the bridge, right out of the decorative window formed by the ornate struts that held the roof.

Cripes, it was a long way down.

"Uh. Ax'and'l? Any time now?"

A stream of invective. A rising roar that was not the wind in his ears. And there, like a blessing of the universe, was the Enterprising Endeavour. Powers bless him forever, Ax'and'l already had the Hungry Caterpillar's flexible arms homing in on his life signs.

Sure, he'd get his ear metaphorically chewed off, and there'd be some legal proceedings. But -hey- any day you get to walk away from is a good one.

Ax'and'l's first words of greeting, after he ripped open the live-packing, were, "I am putting you on a proximity collar!"

Hwell just grinned and said, "I love you too."

(Muse food remaining: 12. Submit a Prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories! Or comment below!)

Hello, Goodbye...

Of all the unfair things that this world gives us, it's the fact that our pets don't live as long as we do.

I spent my bedtime last night crying and shaking because I know that my cat has to die. She is not the happiest of campers and spends too much time just staying very still. She'll eat chicken hearts with gusto, but that seems to be all the gusto that she has left.

She can't clean herself. She's taken to soiling wherever she rests, if it's soft enough to "leave a deposit" in. It's become so bad that she naps in the litter tray. Her largest amount of activity is to come from the dining room to the TV room so she can camp on my lap and rest there.

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Challenge #01360-C265: Signs of True Love

"Why?"

"My only explanation is that I'm very tired, and I never made very good decisions in the first place," -- OohLookShiny

Mel had slept through the crash at 2AM, but in her favour, it happened relatively far away. She had no idea what was happening until closer to four, when Lus' swearing filtered through her dreams.

There was a trail of blood and broken glass. There were scatters of medical strips in the middle of a larger mess of blood and glass. And there was Lus, seated awkwardly on a stepstool and alternately plucking glass out of their legs and applying medical strips to the injury.

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Maintaining progress

I have my little darlings coming back today. We've successfully minimised all the kitchen drawers, as well as the crockery and glass cupboards. We still have to move all the spare glasses to an OOSOOM1 location.

In my list: minimising the gadgets cupboard, minimising the plastics cupboard, and minimising the pots cupboard. All whilst keeping the floors swept, the remaining dishes clean, and general debris from returning to the household.

NOT helped by the fact that we keep getting Lootcrates, and the boxes for same are also playable objects.

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Challenge #01359-C264: Oi Oi Oi

Humans and various aliens discover a new planet at the same time. One one side, the aliens are being blindsided by weather, earthquakes, volcanoes etc. On the other side the humans are having snowball fights, counting lightning strikes, geyser watching and bathing in the geothermal pools.

Details: http://deathcomes4u.tumblr.com/post/149643799993/humans-are-weird -- Anon Guest

The crew of the Curious George had assigned the human to hauling the water cart. So far, the human had advised portable solar shelters in either wearable or carryable form. Hats or 'brollies' to those who preferred the Terran's love of shorthand.

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Your fave is human

There's been some... noise... on Tumblr lately, concerning my favourite band and... well. It's not good noise.

Steve Negrete, the band's sound engineer, made some regrettable choices in regards to how he treated a few younger fans. As far as touching them goes, he kissed one or more fans who were on the very cusp of the age of consent, without getting their permission. I know not where the kisses went.

This has been magnified into rumours of Mr Negrete being a pedophile.

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Challenge #01358-C263: Mundanity

The "Do Something!" set of questions used by Mothers everywhere, usually beginning with "Have you?" or "Are you". -- Knitnan

The wake-up call had been put together by someone who had heard of roosters and decided to improve by adding louder elements. Cal got out of hir bed-nook before the automatic discomfort protocol could start running low currents through hir body.

Ze barely got time to yawn and stretch before the automated staff management program, inevitably nicknamed 'mother' and variants thereof, kicked into gear.

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To the dumps!

Fret not, dear readers, I am emotionally fine. What's happening today is that I am hauling a veritable mountain of accumulated detritus out to the local dump.

I will be counting car-loads. My nifty little TARDIS car does have a carrying capacity, despite all my insistence that its volume is infinite. AND I will be doing this after my writing is done.

I'm still in the process of evicting extraneous plates and cups. I've yet to get around to evicting extraneous glass, extraneous pots or pans, or extraneous kitchen gadgets.

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Challenge #01357-C262: Strange Encounters

"Why is there a man convulsing in the halls?"

"Don't worry, the king's men will see to him."

"That's... not what I asked," -- OohLookShiny

The new Ambassador for T'kerrrita was taking the Tour. Since it was between Ambassadorial Meets, the Tour was meant to acclimate them to the most amount of civilisations in the least amount of time. And, naturally, one of the stops was Amalgam Station, which always had a solid volume of Ambassadors at any given time.

Unfortunately... one of those Ambassadors was Shayde.

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Embuggerances

I can't do half of the stuff I need to do, at least before noon-ish, because this harness necessitates staying away from large amounts of water, transmitting equipment, microwaves, or my induction cooktop.

Further bad news - even though my Scooba floor-mopping robot has been restored to the point where it can take a charge, it won't go anywhere or clean any floors because it keeps thinking that it's clean water tank is empty. Also, it doesn't seem to be able to turn its little brush. Poor thing.

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Challenge #01356-C261: You Need More Tests

Diagnostician in a world similar to our own, but with one major difference. -- RecklessPrudence

[AN: I'm pretty sure I did one of this prompt for Undertale once upon a time... Gotta shake things up this time.]

Headline news had once been Magic Is Real!. But that was a long time ago. Cryptids, monsters, and assorted paradimensional beings came out of the woodwork. And humanity did what it did best - it bred with them. Which lead to some... interesting medical revelations.

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Here I actually go...

Friendo had an emergency to get back to, so now I'm unfucking on my own. And sending my friendo documentary pix of the progress that I'm (very) slowly making.

It's raining, so all the laundry has to go through the dryer, and Beloved doesn't want to work or go walking because gutsache because meds. But I am doing good! I am making progress.

I put another load of dishwashing in and, whilst I was at it, unfucked the crockery cupboard by evicting all but the bare minimum of dishes. The rejects are currently inhabiting the kitchen countertop because taking dishes up to the shed is top on the list of things I really dunwanna do when it's firkin raining.

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Challenge #01355-C260: Communication Issues.

Followup to Challenge #01326-C231, here: 'It’s not even consistent; it varies wildly by geographical region, ancestry and personal history of the individual, which, like, how is a poor anthropologist meant to know that sort of detail? How do humans divine this sort of thing upon meeting new members of their species? Do they have some sort of associative telepathy? No? Argh!'
(source) -- RecklessPrudence

The planet known as Beach had met the Galactic Alliance, which meant that they had a new influx of Galactic Anthropologists desperately studying the overall culture, specific subcultures, and some of the more popular individual variations.

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Ow, and more ow to come

Yesterday was a marathon. It involved cleaning the kids' morass of mess up so that their rooms would once again be live-able.

My back hurt so bad that it was hard to get to sleep. Or stay asleep

And now I have more of the same with an embuggerance in the middle. Because the nice ppl at QML managed to double-book my harness appointment and it's either travel to Tullagawoopwoop for one they have elsewhere, or get another appointment to see IF I can get it another day.

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Challenge #01354-C259: One Cheesy Dragon

This post, which lead to this art. Fic away! -- RecklessPrudence

Tara McCreedy looked down at the living sample. It stretched all six of its limbs and allowed its peculiar wings to flutter. "Okay," she allowed. "I can see what it is, I just want to know why."

"Er. This is more of a sketch," the lead scientist of this lab wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. "See, I thought it might be cool to have dragon cheese from real dragons, um... so I started with a monotreme? Because they're neither lizards nor mammals, but they give milk? Um. In succeeding generations, I'll -uh- make it look more like a dragon... and make it milk-able."

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