Mr. Murdaher or How To Not Hold a Sandwich


A man hungry. His mood? Confused. His disposition? Sour. His legacy?

Short. Oh yes. This is not a man who will live long enough to see Avatars Two Through Five. Painful to acknowledge but for now, do not fret. Prolong your grief, Dear Reader, for there is more to say about this man.

Such as his hands? Full. For they hold a sandwich.

Does this make sense? The way these two forces correlate? No?

That’s alright. It will in due time. Trust me.

It was a snowy day and Mr. Bear was having lunch with his esteemed friend, Mr. Rhino, a brutish fellow who had made many a thoughtful investment in his youth. Mr. Bear blushed a deep red as he sat across Mr. Rhino in this illustrious home crafted out of sheer gold.

He blushed even deeper when in came to cut the chit chat and launch right into the reason he was there, for these two former friends turned acquaintances at best were meeting in order to discuss a certain —

“I killed a Stag with my BEAR hands, Mr. Rhino. He’s rotting in my front yard right now, what do I do?”

— je ne sais quois. Continue reading


Two Knucklehead Trans Enemies



DAKOTA DEMING (16), a very stylish bully with a spit-curl and leather jacket, is buried in the discount section, slowly peeling through the brighter colored items.

ARTHUR MCDUFFIE (16), a heavily repressed teenager and also this small town’s local vigilante, passes through and sees Deming. Does a full body double take, stepping forward and backward, leaning dangerously far to take a gander at her.

Yes. Her.

Both Deming and Arthur, by the end of this film, will be using she/her pronouns.  You know how I know that?  Because I’m trans and I can clock a closeted transgirl from a mile away.

Arty smirks and reaches into her backpack, partially pulling out her Dark Claw uniform, an uninspired rehash of the Zoro ensemble.

Have no fear —

Arty jumps into a clothes rack just as Deming turns to see the heroine.

The clothes ripple and part as Arty dives out, Dark Claw uniform still in hand, unknown to her. She strikes a pose as if she is in her hero garb, but is now clad in a stylish sleeveless dress and heels, curly mop of hair now behind her shoulders and elegantly styled. Make-up too!

Dark Claw’s here!

Deming blinks.

What’s up with the dress, Arty? Continue reading

Benedict Arnold

Benedict ArnoldRain pattered against the window to Katrina Gawain’s bedroom. Blue light from the computer illuminated her harassed face, dark rings under her eyes darting between a blank document and a Wikipedia article on Benedict Arnold.

“You know Wikipedia’s not a great source for — ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m just using it for the bibliography at the end,” Katrina grunted while pasting a link into her Works Cited to later clean up.

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Argyle Sweater Weather or How to Unlock Your True Sense of Being But Not Really

Argyle Sweater WeatherMen stumbling aimlessly through the streets at night alone can be seen as romantics despite the likely inner turmoil, but for a bear to do the same is anything but.

Bears are carnivorous vile killers that devour us so they can lazily slumber through a cold winter, as if we are a luxury to them.

It was a bear that wandered the streets alone that fateful night, and the city slickers who passed by were fortunate that this bear was in a dour mood for to see a bear often signals death and last rites and such.

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The Wizard Who Knows All Forms of Magic But Prefers to Make Dramatic Well-Thought Out Entrances and Whoop Ass Instead

Dramatic EntrancesDirect sequel to this but this works out of context.

Wizards are a fragment of popular cultures and they are known for one quality: being wizardly.

It would be bereft of me however to discuss the topic of what it means to be a wizard. I, as the author, assume your knowledge of wizards and such lore, and request to proceed forward with our story because first off, this is a story about no ordinary wizard and you might as well throw all your expectations out the window. But it is important to be reminded of their lack of proper wizarding, and because this is a tale of comedic blunders and scuffles, and for the pacing to come out correctly, I apologize, but the first thing to be banished from this piece must be the discussion of proper wizarding.

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The Forgotten Tarrey Town (a Legend of Zelda fanfic)

Forgotten Tarreytown

One hundred twenty shrines, nine hundred Korok seeds, four Divine Beasts, and many nights spent running away from Stalchildren instead of sleeping, and Link still found himself getting pummeled by Calamity Ganon.

Dead-eyed, Link bounced up and down off the floor as Ganon swung his fists into our mighty hero. The pain ricocheted through his body, splitting each nerve end, bones crumbling to dust. Yet all the while, Link could not bring himself to summon Daruk, the Goron Champion, to come to his aid and shield him from Ganon’s terrifying wrath.

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Mama Mia! (an existential Mario fanfiction)

Mama Mia

“Alright, we need to get this done quick and easy. No foul-ups.”

Waluigi cackled as he coolly pulled up the collar to his trench-coat, leering at his brother, Wario.

Wario smiled, twirling his mustache, as he gazed at the Poison Mushroom Gun a shadowy figure had just handed him.

“You got dat?” the shadowy figure wheezed.

“Oh yeah!” Wario cheered. Waluigi laughed softly under his breath and offered polite applause for his brother.

“Good,” the shadowy figure smiled, lazily tossing a Poison Mushroom Gun to Waluigi. “Let’s ice this pesky plumber.”

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