Listen! Hear it? That exhaling quiet. It's dust curling, it's waves calming, it's callused fingers lifting from keyboards. If you looked down over the battlements I guess you'd see the crusted waterline where Blarch lapped at the crenellations, but now the flood's broken, it's sinking into the soil where it'll be absorbed and evaporated and destroyed.
Wait, what am I saying? Oh, gross! I've got words all over me. Let me just dust this off
Hey! So. The immediate future: I'll be defusing the post-or-die time-bomb until the next (!) blagofest—for the moment I'm thinking weekly updates, but nothing strict. Let's see how I do without a noose around my neck. Thanks for reading, guys, and thanks especially for the honest feedback. This was tremendous fun.
man I need to figure out a better archives display for this thing
