#with story

[spidermilkshake]

Nuurag-Vaarn, Archmage of Chaos

Jalmag turned to the side-passages of the cathedral-like final chamber, dubious of the hidden places, before he returned his attention to the pitiful form hunched up behind the main altar. Twidgie's Gnumian senses told him right away he should be saying something, but the choking air in the Temple of Mana had been building and he almost feared opening his mouth for any reason. The heavily-muscled hounds that followed he and the stoic troll everywhere, he noticed, walked pressed up protectively on either side of the small figure. The gnome had an awful sinking feeling...

"Sir?" Jalmag's deep, smooth voice cut through the gloom of the hall. The crumpled figure did not twitch, but a static rose in the air. "Who are you, there? We seeking the Archmage guarding the orb. Er... hope we not disturbed you."

The mound of dark robes was disturbed. In disorderly chunks, its joints rotated up into a standing posture, first legs, then ribs, then shoulders until finally the head snapped upright. There was no way this form was still alive. He was an elf of some sort... or, had been an elf, but he was now devoid of hair, nose, and through the rend in his ancient mage's robes it could be seen he must have lacked most of his vital organs. The robe spilled around him, twitching at the slightest movement as if nerves ran secretly through them. Must have been drafts, only... Twidgie's ears and whiskers could tell him the terrible truth already. Of course there were no drafts.

And, as Jalmag's survival instincts told him to heft the warclub, the baleful yellow sheen of Nuurag-Vaarn's eyes fixed on them all, the shadowy writhing from the shadows of the eye orbits telling on the profound corruption which had already struck here. The Archmage of Chaos lifted his depleted arms in a creak.

------

Scary mofo! You've seen what happens when big serpents, big dragons and the like get Corrupted fully... now here's a look at one of the nastier humanoid threats.

[chongoblog]

Me, after forgetting to cut the top off an onion before dicing it: “Aw dammit”

The Gordon Ramsey that lives in my head: “Don’t worry there, this mistake isn’t going to ruin anything. No need to be too hard on yourself”

Me: “Wow, that’s…not what I was expecting”

Gordon: “Of course, you ought to know by now that I don’t shout at cooks just to do so. I do it because the people in hit television show Kitchen Nightmares are putting their services out into the public and claim to be good enough to have the title of head chef. You’re just some guy in your twenties making beef stroganoff for yourself and your roommate. I’m kind of a dick, yeah, but I’m not gonna scream at you for a minor mistake like this”

Me: “Oh….well…thanks”

Gordon: “You’re welcome…cunt…”

[who-canceled-roger-rabbit]

Some spins on the "mostly male team with a token woman" trope:

The woman is trans and stayed in her old circle of bros even after transition

The woman is the only one in her circle of "girls" who didn't turn out to be a trans man

[smokiedokie]

I opened my copy of The Tale of the Body Thief & immediately had to close it again because of this silly little annotation

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

License to Kitty.

[newlevant]

Preview of Sam Long’s story, drawn by the amazing Cynthia Yuan Cheng! (@cynthiaycheng, cynthiaycheng.com)

Becoming Who We Are Kickstarter ends Dec 14! Preorder now to help us fund the book!

bit.ly/becomingkickstarter

[mimimar]

the woman who holds the moon

prints available here. my cover for this month's issue of baffling magazine.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Every sales job I’ve worked has that one item. The white whale. The biggest ticket you can sell. The sale you brag about when you’re chatting with other industry people.

When I sold mattresses it was a split king adjustable base. That’s two twin extra long mattresses next to each other to make a king, but each side can move independently. They’re insanely expensive and honestly kind’ve impractical but it was the biggest ticket thing to sell.

When I sold sex toys though our white whale was the 20lb ass. It was a female pelvis, a cut out from the waist to the tops of the thighs. It was hyper realistic material and cost about $500. I definitely had bigger tickets but not in one item typically.

In my time at the sex shop, I sold three. Each time was completely different in terms of how the guy acted about buying it. The first man was a little embarrassed and shy about it. I was professional and supportive as I rang it up. Once I handed him the receipt he looked at the box. Then he looked at me.

If you’ve ever wondered how big a box has to be to fit a 20lb ass let me just tell you: it’s pretty damn big. It’s an uncomfortably large armful of box and every side has a picture of the sex toy inside on it. It’s not subtle.

“Could I get a bag….?”

There was no bag that existed that could possibly contain all that ass. “Hang on,” I told him.

I got scissors and tape and covered the box in cut up black bags. Looking relieved he picked up his purchase and left.

The next man to buy one carried it proudly to the counter; self assured and not embarrassed in the least. When I said I didn’t have a bag, but I could wrap it for him he gave a hearty shrug and hefted it into his arms, marching out the door with the butt on full display.

The last man to get one was just kind’ve an odd guy. Not creepy, but eccentric. We got along great, and as I rang him up I said, “Well one guy wanted his taped over, and one guy carried it out. What would you prefer?”

“There’s no bags?”

“No store bags. I think our jumbo trash bags in the back might fit it….?” It seemed rude to suggest putting a $500 item into a trash bag, but he wasn’t bothered.

He considered this then said, “Bring me the trash bag.”

When I delivered it to him he still managed to surprise me. Instead of shoving the huge box into it he opened the box. He took out his new $500 sex toy, and all the little things it came with, tipping them unceremoniously into the trash bag.

“There! Now I don’t have to deal with the box later!”

I was slightly stunned but agreed that I could easily deal with the trash. Then in a move I still think about with delight he flung the trash bag over his shoulder like a Santa with a sack full of ass and sauntered out the door.

If this or my other escapades made you laugh you could pop a tip into my Ko-fi! For more like this check my tag "ffs foibles".

[breakingjustxn]

well i mean, not wrong // credits: @screamingemonight on Instagram

[wasabi-gumdrop]

local ladies man’s signature move totally useless against autistic monster enthusiast. more on Kabru’s fumble era at 6

[spidermilkshake]

Schwarzzahn, The Great Grey Wyrm

The Gray Merchant's Guild was said to be unchanged since the early 11th Age. It has existed since then, surely, but unchanged is incorrect. There have been a wild string of innovations to economic filing and arrangement done by the Gray Scribes who manage its high mountain halls, not to mention how much its heady influence leaks out between the mountains, as runoff water might, towards the Empire's valley and towards the Hazarit.

The only factor that remains unchanged is Schwarzzahn. The Great Grey Wyrm. Founder of the Guild and its top manager through the centuries.

He is a creature who seems perpetually elderly. Far and shrewd, his bulk encompasses the center stronghold hall of the Guild's location, a fortress itself in the mountains outside of the village of Romont. Despite weighing as much as four elephants and lacking opposable thumbs, the Great Wyrm spends much of his days deliberating on finances of his Guild, calculating reports of surplus and scarcity, and holding polite committee on ways of shifting wealth to balance the economic scales. This is the Gray Merchant's Guild, after all, and all within it have an acute sense of balance not common in other worlds. Checks and balances ought to be second-nature to any banking structure... though here, with the sour-expressioned and dull-voiced dragon pulling the strings, it is true.

And today he had an appointment.

When the broad doors ground open under the silent but insistent pull of the two scribes, Orris had to take a minute to blink the spots from his vision at the illuminated hall within. Though typical for Orris, the dwarven monk did not right away grasp the vast form outlined at the far end. He had staggered in a few yards before the shock of the Great Grey Wyrm's presence found his senses past the haze of perpetual ale and spirits.

It was, of course, Schwarrzahn. With his huge, diamond-fluked tail curled gently around the base of his raised stone seat, the beast turned a ponderous glance over the drunk monk. In a half-second, calculation echoed behind the pale blue, luminous pupils, and then, he spoke in a voice not expected. It was shaped--it was mighty, but as if forced into a much blander mold. He sounded like an accountant, to make description clear and short.

"Good morning," the dragon's shaggy brow twitched. It was, of course, 4:40 in the morning and the sort of time Orris though of as "late, but if they ain't open they ain't important". "You are the two come to ask me about the heat, are you?"

Thankfully for Orris, Arga nudged him into a reply. Poor Orris owed so much prompt reply to the patient gnoll's cues, and so he cleared his throat.

"Er, oh, aye," he stood in the shaggy-plaited artificer's shadow, "Those we spoke ta seem ta think... this weather, this feelin'... it's wrong, y'know." He shifted in place, "Figured, one such's you would know more."

Schwarzzahn raised his horned head from the documents hanging suspended below his jaw and rumpled beard.

"Yes," he said. "I know. Chaos reigns. The rift is beginning to open, and the orbs of protection are delayed in being brought together on schedule. Soon, he may emerge into the reality." The huge wyrm blinked for a while, "Many may suffer, and may die, should this outcome not be corrected."

Arga bristled, then trembled. What a... auditor way of saying so. But Orris, perpetually courageous in a liquid way, butted in: "And you can't do a damned thing?" The gristly dwarf stepped up, the worn edges of his knee-length robe wavering despite their sweat-hardened status, "Yer a damn bloody great dragon. An' you know what it is. An' you ain't moved a damn little finger?"

"Little claw," Arga corrected meekly. Schwarzzahn's dull, pensive eye glossed across them both, with no hint of upset.

"My presence here is a fulcrum in the world." For all the world, he sounded now tired, "My strength in the arcane is spent on balancing of the commerce. Such a feat is... not easy. The wills of the greedy reach in, always, even with my influence working.

"And this Corruption is beyond me." And a heavy paw settled itself down on the stone dais, letting a scroll he'd been browsing to roll itself up and float off back to its filing space with a silvery glow about it, "But my wisdom is owed. I can't do the work for you, but I can inform you of the tasks ahead. Every step, every risk. But... ultimately, the victory is up to the smaller actors, perhaps up to you."

---------------

One of the last named dragons from ADOM to flesh out! I think, technically, the last one isn't even a proper dragon, but I should have it done soonish!

[bloodraven55]

i’ve seen too many people arguing that marcille was already a full grown adult when she went to school at 35 despite literally all of the canon evidence indicating otherwise

[charlesoberonn]

[liquidstar]

If my mom sees a significant amount of blood she gets lightheaded, and has fainted on some occasions. Once it happened when we were kids, I wasn't there to witness it but I heard the story from my dad. Basically my brothers, around 7 or 8 at the time, were playing outside while my mom was making their lunch, and she accidentally cut her finger. It wasn't anything serious, but it drew a fair bit of blood and she passed out. My dad saw this and rushed over, but he didn't really know what to do so he just sort of started slapping her to wake her up (not recommended, but he had no idea and panicked)

At that exact moment my brothers both came in from playing, and all they saw was our mom unconscious on the floor and our dad slapping her. So, like, without even saying a word to each other they both just INSTANTLY start whaling on him, like, full blown attack mode to defend our mom. Which obviously didn't help the situation, but she did wake up and everything was fine.

Now our dad says that he's actually really glad they attacked him over what they thought was going on, because it means he raised good boys. And I still think that's true, they're very good boys.

[filiseverus]

The Barbie movie reminded me about how when I was little my parents were upset that I kept making my Barbie dolls kiss, so they bought me a Ken doll. The next day they found me having a funeral for poor Ken in the garden, he had died of tuberculosis. All the Barbies were in attendance and I buried him under our rose bush. The Barbies were too poor to afford a headstone (it was 1875) so I didn’t mark where the grave was and I never could find him again. He’s probably still there.

[lexosaurus]

Me: Okay, it's time for bed. Tumblr: Wait don't go. You can hit people for free.