The second issue of Underbelly — a splatterpunk/horror fiction zine — was released today! It’s available right now, for free, as a PDF, and other formats (including physical) will be available soon.
You can read it here, but mind the genre. Content warnings apply — I haven’t read it, yet, but you can safely assume all manner of blood, sex, murder, and more.
Why am I talking about this here? Because I was hired to make the cover! That’s my art! That’s my terrifying penis monster! It was I, who decided that combining cyan and fuchsia was a good idea!
I’ll close this post by putting the cover under a cut, but go read the issue if it sounds like your cup of tea. I have it on good authority that the content is quality, I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.
Sure, she’s just a tool. Built to serve a function. But there’s never an excuse to not look interesting.
It’s hard to tell where the metals end and skin begins. Even to the touch, her flesh is unusually cold, smooth. She still looks dull, most of the time, but most of the time is when she’s not being watched. When she’s working — when her work takes her — the metals take on a lustre and a shine, a warmth, that draws the eye and excites the spirit.
Content warnings: Torture, blood, sadomasochism, graphic violence, sexual themes, dubcon.
BLACK AND WHITE AND RED ALL OVER or: NARCISSUS BECOMES THE MARIGOLD or: PUPPY-LOVE AND DOG-EAT-DOG or: ZEBRA’S MANY MISTAKES, THEIR COSTS, AND THE PAYMENTS THEREOF or: HOW I STOPPED WORRYING AND LEARNED TO LOVE THE KNIFE
There was something about Hyde that kept him on Zebra’s mind well after the whole body-swap nightmare was cleared up. Something about the way Hyde looked at him when Zebra asked after his business, something that said Hyde was a man who would fight back.
Zebra did like it when they fought back.
For weeks, he found himself in idle thought, thinking about doing pleasantly unpleasant things to the questionably British man. He had never thought about anybody for weeks, before. He had always been far too fickle for that.
But a month passed, and then two, and he was still thinking about Hyde. There was something about him, yes. Something about the way he carried himself, about the way he dressed, about his pale skin and long hair and serious, yet quietly amused demeanour. About the suspicious package he’d come into and left the shop with.
They were kindred spirits, Zebra knew. They belonged together. Together, until one of them destroyed the other. Continue reading →
A familiar face ran into him as he left the bar: Harry Wilhelm, on his way in.
“Mr. Rollins!” he said, too happy to see Zebra. His grin cut across his narrow face like an open wound, and the fangs his enthusiasm put on display combined with his red eyes and pointed ears to betray vampiric heritage. His carrot-like hair, kept short and neat under his fedora, betrayed something else in his blood. No proper vampire was ever a ginger.
He’d gotten a head start at home, or another bar, by the smell of him.
“What are you doing all the way out here in the city?” he asked.
“Looking for someone.”
“Ms. Jones?” His expression shifted to one of concern. “Is she alright?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Zebra waved him off. “Don’t be. It’ll be fine.”
“Can I help at all?”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Then I don’t know how you could help,” Zebra said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Continue reading →
He was sure she had been there, but there weren’t any other people on the street aside from him, and there weren’t any doors nearby she could have slipped into. A brick wall stretched away from him in both directions, spotted with dark windows and unmarred by either door or alley.
Was it some kind of decoy? Had Sor known she was being followed?
Well, whatever it was, that was his only lead gone. He considered giving up and going home, but if he called for a rideshare now, he might get Kendrick again, and he wasn’t in the mood for another encounter with him just yet. He might even give Kendrick a one-star rating, prevent him from accepting any of Zebra’s requests ever again. And, as a bonus, that would damage his current five-star rating, which would be a small portion of the punishment Kendrick deserved for annoying him.
It was something to think about, anyway. At the very least, Kendrick wasn’t getting a tip for this particular ride. Continue reading →