I'll start by repeating the edit I made at the end of my previous post:

I've already been made aware in comments that the article I linked to is supposedly a fake. I only say "supposedly" because I have no desire to go digging into it and determine if the claim is correct.

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A friend of mine posted this link to Facebook a few days ago. Fair warning, it's got some unpleasant stuff, including an account of what was almost certainly an attempt at sexual exploitation or assault of a young girl.

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Having used a pastiche of his fictional "Laundry" agency in Kraken, I feel obligated to point out that Charles Stross recently put up a new story in the series online, titled "Equoid".

It's about unicorns... sort of.

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I only found out about this fairly late in the game, but the makers of a pony race supplement for Pathfinder are running a kickstarter for a new deluxe edition. The original was pretty minimalist, with little to no art or setting fluff, just mechanics (the author says he made a genuine effort to keep them

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Holy crap. I just finished chapter 10 of Kraken.

Take a moment to reattach your jaws, if you need to.

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ObabScribbler on Youtube has just uploaded a video review of Ditzy Doo's Dismally Derpy Day, which aside from making me grin from ear to frickin' ear, I thought was reasonably thought out. She got the point of what I was trying to do with the story (flesh out a one-joke character), caught the details I'd worked into it, and even the criticisms she had I thought were sound. She's also fun

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I'll be going, but probably only for Saturday, due to not having a room. The friend I was going to room with had to back out for real-life reasons, so I'll be day-tripping only, unless by some miracle I find someone else with a room who can share some of it with me.

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There really isn't any worse feeling than being mad as hell, but knowing there's nothing productive you can do about it, is there?

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From their vantage point atop a high cliff, Ditzy watched the firestorm consume what had been, mere hours ago, a lush and verdant jungle. The constant rain of molten rock had slowed but not yet stopped, while thick, black smoke choked the sky and blotted out the sun. Were it not for the shield that surrounded the TARDIS, she knew that the mere heat of the air would scorch their lungs. Spreading her wings, she felt the winds that penetrated the shield, faint echoes of the savage gales that

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