What they repeatedly refuse to comprehend is that the folks the Council have cast as irredeemable bogeymen... are the people making the most effort to try and help AMitA.

I am procrastinating everything that needs must be done.

In the agenda today:

• Powerwash the last quarter of the patio
• Today's tale
• Document and start flogging my old comics
• Record the last five bits of raw audio for Adorable

And all I want to do is curl up and chill for a while.

Onwards and onwards.

Gonna get the powerwashing done to get it out of the way.

Wraithvine and Bibrid take their two young family members to a beautiful lake for swimming lessons, and they get to meet the fly-dragon. Lilbit isn't impressed with water, but loves sunning herself. -- Bridget Kielas-Fecyk

[AN: Callback to Deserved Reward ]

Children need the best protection in the world - knowing how to survive various situations. How to find good food. How to cook it safely. How to preserve some for travel. How to truly use their gifts.

This day, it was how to swim.

The lake was lovely, not merely to look at. It was warmed by natural forces, and as clear and still as D'varuv glass. It was one of the few areas where Wraithvine couldn't wear hir hat, which led to a pleasant surprise for Scramble and Chance.

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Some of my SABLE dates back to the 80's.

See yesterday's blog about emotional attachment to things I spent a lot of money on.

There's also my job of moderating the Promptcast story stream. Which may or may not be a thing because the aforementioned clearing of the SABLE. Which promises to be a very personal nightmare.

Yay.

Not.

The old computer room is cleared out of all but the stereo and my albums. The new computer room is now being dubbed "The Nerd Cave" by yours truly. I've yet to tell if that's going to take off.

Speaking of taking off, I should get wriggling on today's tale.

There are ten stuffed heads in my trophy room right now. Two Game Wardens, Seven Hunters, and a Pure Bred Guernsey Cow

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQyoSLOlglw -- Deathshead419

They say, when all you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. And it's a very apropos statement on the Terran Colony of Libertaria. Where every man is an island and all the homes are bulletproof.

They need to be bulletproof, because every spring is hunting season.

Where the Real Men go out with their weapons, camping gear, and vehicles the size of busses to secure meat for their families. Enough to last them the remainder of the year. The fact that there's the potential for trophies is allegedly a mere incentive.

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I've been throwing out a lot of stuff I spent a lot of money on, but turned out to be useless. There's also been a huge amount of technoscrattle unearthed from the packrattus of ages.

My back hurts. My feet hurt. I'm almost certain I'm making up things to be mad about against Beloved and most of it is directly related to stuff I was keeping for emotional baggage reasons.

Most of the emotional baggage being, "But we spent a lot of money on this..."

I have to breathe. I have to let go of a lot of baggage. I have to remind myself that a lot of this expensive shit is also Beloved's expensive shit. And we're still throwing it out.

Gotta make the space for four people and a cat.

God knows what we'll wind up doing with my jewellery SABLE.

Might end up sorting it all for a Yard Sard. Or a Yale Sale. Or a Yale Sard. IDEFK at this point.

I'm just so tired and depressed.

If there's no story today, you know why. Twofer when-the-fuck-ever.

Tilting at windmills -- Deathshead419

Kosh would have to apologise to Artie for insisting this mobile chair be disposable. Even though the autonomous automaton's face was immobile, it nevertheless managed o convey heatbreak and disappointment when he told it, "The chair won't last long anyway. Just make sure it will last long enough."

He'd have a lot of apologies to make if he survived this.

First and most importantly, to his beloved Cordelia, for making her wait nine months for his return to the mortal plane. Then to his newborn twin sons, still lacking a full name each, for forcing them to have Battleborn and Battleblood somewhere in their full chain of names. Only then would he apologise to his doctors for going out on the battlefield for a leader-to-leader challenge - against a Giant - with a cursed arrowhead embedded in his thigh.

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My compy has moved to the new computer room. I am currently tucked neatly into a convenient corner with everything set up nicely. Well. Nicer than a desk full of packrattus, anyway. Everything was working well, last night.

This morning, with very little changed in the way things were set up, the whole rig is no longer functional. All I did physically was add a few desktop gewgaws to my workspace. Make it homey with all my normal array of toys, sort of thing. I moved in the TARDIS and my Nightcrawler and that was it.

Nevertheless, I get to the login screen of my main base of operations and no further. The monitors go black, there is no sign of the mouse, and the whole thing is, put basically, a brick.

Yay.

So I am forced to write all my nonsense on my dying laptop because I refuse to let a little thing like technical difficulties stop me.

I'll write on my phone if I have to. I will hate every second of it, but I will firkin DO it.

I had PLNs to accelerate the comics selling process by listing some on my only BUT... my firkin tower's bricked. YAY. So many Wuzgunnas, pipped at the post.

I can at least make sure my wordcounts are adjusted from yesterday.

It's dangerous to go alone -- Spare AMitA Prompt

Pipi raised the sacred weapon and hollered the sacred vow, "I found a stick onna ground, an' now I'm gonna use it! All the power that I found, I don't wanna abuse it!" Their voice echoed in the streets and no other kids called challenge. Nobody else called dibs. The obvious next thing to do was become a Hero.

Which meant that Pipi needed to become a protector and helper to the poor, the weak, and the downtrodden.

It took them forever to find someone to protect and help. A whole half an hour! And even then it was two out of three by technicality. Old man Kosh was technically poor because his pet had died a couple of weeks ago. And he was technically downtrodden because some people hated Hellkin for no good reason. And he was an old man. That wasn't part of the Heroic thing, but it was generally a good idea to be kind and helpful to old people.

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Just a little stress. As a treat.

On top of all the other stress going on because - once again - the Archive is blowing up with DRAMA.

After damn near two years of being told, AMitA's crew has finally noticed that the numbers are dropping off. This revelation has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Twitch is investigating channels that have a sudden influx of followers.

...like AMitA, that purchased a thousand followers at some point a few months ago. Allegedly.

This could kill the writing group, and now the Council of AMitA is making peace offerings. Attempting to "resolve friction" between the Council and the people who want to improve AMitA. Spoilers - there has been more friction.

The people who have their backs up about AMitA still have their backs up, and the Council has been talking in circles.

I am trying to remain calm, but it is not going well.

Story whenever I can wrangle the emotional spoons.

Leap of Faith -- Spare AMitA Prompt

For such a small stone, the Icon of Edass weighed heavily inside a fold of Kosh's gi. As he raced across the rooftops of Arbordeep, he had to wonder how much of the stretched truth he told to Xiolein was something he covertly believed.

It was so easy to believe the artifact was cursed. Those who sought it had killed so many of those who held it. As well as unnumbered innocent bystanders who had the bad luck of being too close to those who held it.

Now he held it.

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The Dutch Oven is coming good. Less rust happened after the second baking incident. After the first one, the rust had become kind-of... fungal shelf looking growths in the bottom of the pot. BUT applications of steel wool, rust eraser, and coconut oil are improving the situation. It is looking better.

I'll be applying extra layers of oil as the days go by. Fingers crossed, that adds to the rust protection.

I'm pretty certain my desk will be in the garage before next week. If I know ahead of time that it's happening, I can delay everything that needs compy usage until after the move.

Strategy.

I hope to get the Promptcast thing done today. It's fighting me a little. I might come up short. It happens.

Story when I can get to it.

Shh, they'll hear you -- Spare AMitA Prompt

In the Forest of Giants, a war has raged for centuries.

The Elves did not know that some trees were more alive than others. They did not have reason to ask before the first branch reached out and crushed the first Elf to bent a bivouac into someone's head. The actual war happened because they did not care to ask.

They were Elves. The first people to make civilisation as they defined it. They had forced peace with the Dragons and Dragonkind. They no longer bowed to anyone. All other alleged people were irrelevant and easy to command. Until they encountered the Trolls.

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I will get the daily tale sorted, but that will be happening between everything else. Expect it late, if at all.

I have physio this Thursday and there's no sign of my lovelies coming to help unfuck the place. So I shall take command and assign some tasks to the kids. Namely - moving all the tools up to the shed.

We'll get on top of stuff.

Onwards to potential nonsense.

Them dang varmint demons -- Spare AMitA Prompt

Nate-Ray's old pickup made it to Winslow's Farm Supplies Warehouse and Car Repair. Right across from Rosie's Bar and Grill. Nate-Ray did pull up at the car repair side, chucking his keys to Sid, but then hustled his ass straight to the warehouse. That got a lot of attention, since Nate-Ray never did nothing more than a mosey anywhere.

Even Winslow got up from his napping chair instead of letting little Peggy see to it all.

"What's got your ass in a knot, youngin?" Winslow had to wonder. Nobody remembered the last time Nate-Ray ran anywhere. Not even Winslow, who remembered the last time gas was less than a dollar a gallon.

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I have my Dutch Oven in the process of seasoning right now. When that's done, I shall feed my starter, make The Bikkie, and set the dough-making process in motion. Wednesday morning, once the Dutch Oven is cool from all the bread making, I shall season it again. It will take a while to get it properly in order, but I have PLNS now.

Apparently, you should re-season your cast iron after every three uses, but I shall be doing it after every baking sesh since I use it twice for bread.

Feeling a little burned out and weary today, so I might have to be gentle with myself for a bit of a while. Or treat myself to a few little extras a bit more often.

Or gift myself some enrichment. I dunno. I might beg a day to do Nothing once all the folderol is over and done. I think I need a solid day of Nothing.

There'll be a Twofer the next day because I am just Like That by now.

Onwards to the shenanigans.