So You Want to Fight…

Katters: Fight Katters if you’re ready for a committment. She’ll never admit defeat. She’ll admit victory, but then she’ll be back for the sequel because you pissed her off.

Zebra: Do it. You might win if you go for his face, but even if you don’t win you’ll be doing everyone a favour.

Brutus: Sure, take on the embodiment of chaos trapped in the form of a small dinosaur, that sounds like a solid plan.

Spike: What? Why? How could you? You’ll win, but then everyone who hears about it will swear revenge against you. And you’ll deserve it, you monster.

Food: Most people call that “eating.”

Harry: Don’t fight Harry. You’ll win, sure, but it’ll be because he refuses to fight back. You won’t prove anything except that you’re willing to kick a man when he’s down.

Sor: Fighting Sor will be the worst idea you’ll ever have. She’ll kick your ass so hard you won’t know what happened, you’ll just wake up tomorrow with your face on backwards.

Saskia: You’ll beat her one-on-one, but then you’ll have to answer to Eira.

Eira: No.

Baines: Knock him over and he’ll go down, and then he’ll cry, and then you’ll have to ask yourself what you really thought you were going to accomplish, here.

Noel: Noel will kick your ass. Noel will kick anyone’s ass. Noel will kick her own ass.

Special guest star Vivi: If you try to fight Vivi you will only make her stronger and the universe will punish you for it. You might win, but at what cost? Don’t fight Vivi – befriend her and let her fight people for you.

Something About a House – IV: Static


Katters expected the house to be different, somehow, by the time they got back. Sucked into a hell dimension, maybe. Inexplicably replaced with several acres of untended cemetery. De-glamoured and revealed as the burnt husk it truly was. There would be a groundskeeper nearby, or a gas-station attendant, or a transient hobo. “That house?” he would say. “That house has been gone for forty years.”

But no such luck. The house was exactly as they’d left it — warm, inviting, nice in a way that made her scales itch — and she had no legitimate reason to not go back inside.

(Except that it was haunted.)
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Underbelly, Issue #2 (Autumn 2018)

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.

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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.

Black and White and Red All Over

Content warnings: Torture, blood, sadomasochism, graphic violence, sexual themes, dubcon.




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.
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Where She’ll Never Be Found – IV


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?”

“She’s missing.”

“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.
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