Details are at the bottom! For now, enjoy the show.

It wasn't often Master Hand would find Crazy Hand's vault full of stolen coins. How Crazy must've come across them, he did not want to find out.

"...this is certainly a harbinger."

Surprised yet not at all that half of the coins were gone, Master Hand immediately resorted to a familiar plan inspect the mansion, making sure everything still was attached to its foundations and that no room bore any weapons of mass destruction.

That wouldn't be a pleasant experience to go through again.

The first thing that Master Hand noticed is that he didn't remember ever getting a new fireplace for the bathroom. Snapping his fingers, it crackled with life in an instant. Maybe it was a good thing Crazy decided to get something nice for once.

He left the room and went to inspect the rest of the mansion before the Smashers could get hurt. The kitchen was next on his general emergency Crazy Disaster Relief plan.

By instinct, he opened the cupboards, expecting to find something wet or something chunky.

Inside were a couple of dynamites tied together in a velvet gift bow. Master Hand sighed, but honestly, he had expected worse. Of course, both sticks were already lit, so...

"Oh, Crazy, you fool."

He simply found it fit to float back to the dining room as a few cabinets absorbed the shock of the explosion and landed on the marble countertop.

In the hallways, he heard a shriek followed by dishes crashing from the room next door. What in the world was Crazy up to this time?

All that mattered was that nothing exploded.


Except the dynamite, but that barely counted.

Heading back to the bathroom, Master Hand found his brother holding next to him shards of the kitchen cabinet that had just been blown up. But how... did he...

He'd never understand Crazy. Not that he'd want to.

"Hello, brother!" Crazy welcomed him warmly, the bathroom fireplace ablaze.

"Mmm, yes. Crazy?"


"Why is there a fireplace here?"

"I don't see anything wrong with it. Might as well roast some marshmallows while we're at it!"

Master Hand balled up into a fist, fingers drumming along his thumb.

"I can't believe we've never gotten a fireplace before! No wonder everyone always complains about the heating! Anyway, have you seen Pikachu anywhere? I was trying to get him—or is it a her? I didn't get to find out yet, but I was going to put Pikachu through a gender test. But what happened was he/she/it took one of the dynamites."

Master ignored the question and acted upon a troubling observation. "Please remove the fireworks from the vicinity of the fireplace."

"So what if the fireworks shouldn't be placed too close to the fire? It's not like it's gonna hurt anyone."

"Except a mansion with close to fifty of the world's most elite living beings."

"Yeah, yeah... but listen... can you just imagine it? The world most elite beings... killed by awry fireworks? What a great story, right? Huh? Tragedy and death and laughable conclusions to bring about the humor in it all! It'll be a hit!"

Master Hand was silent for a few moments before he gave his answer. "No."

"No, watch! I'll be nice. I'll light up the fireworks and blow stuff up without killing anyone!" Crazy promised.


Taking one of the flame—tipped pieces of cabinet, Crazy sparked one of the fireworks' fuses. In turn, the others caught the flame. Master Hand went to blow them out frantically, but recalled unfortunately too late that he in fact did not possess a mouth.

"Oh, bugger."

The fireworks all lit up at once, flying across the room and outside of the bathroom, into walls and onto the roof. The Hands could only observe passively, Master with barely concealed contempt, Crazy with unconcealed awe and wonder, as the walls surrounding them fell off and everything melted into ashes faster than could be expected.

Everything except for that goddamned fireplace.

"I will murder you in your sleep." Master informed his brother dryly.

"But then what about my story?" Crazy whined, keeping his priorities in check.

"Forget about your story," Master groaned. "The last time an excellent tragedy drama romance hit around here, not a single person in the section read it."

"Oh, brother, don't get so jealous and bitter. It makes you fourth—wall—breaky."

"I don't get..." Master composed himself, remembering who he was in this conversation. " No crazy stories."

Crazy let out a sigh. "Fine. How about you read me a different story then? You haven't done that in a long while. Come on, I doubt it'll hurt anyone if you do."


"Why not?" If Crazy could, Master Hand knew he would've put on a pout. "You're such a bore. No wonder none of the Smashers like trying to beat you up in the arena—"

"I go easy on them, and you are well aware of that," Master interrupted defensively. "After all, I've set you up to be their ultimate foe, since you have no regard for limits or sanity."

"Uh, duh. Crazy Hand. Do I sound like I'd know sanity all that well?"

Master Hand sputtered. "That isn't the point. The point is that I would kill to be able to spend one day without having to worry about your latest inane experiment sending us all to our graves."

"Then read me a story."

Master Hand could imagine Crazy pouting, which only aggravated him more. "No!" he argued, beyond any point of civility.

"Aw, Mister Grumpy Knuckles. You know what? A story will cheer you up. I know I left my book in here somewhere... Lemme find it..." He raced around the room, scrambling through each (standing) shelf and cabinet for his book. "Where is it? I can't find it anywhere? Bro, where's my book? I'm pretty sure I left it in the room somewhere. Oh! I know, the Kitchen Cabinet!"

"You mean the same ones you blew up?"

Crazy motioned towards the kindled wood in his fireplace in recognition. "Oh..."

"Remind me why you keep your books in the kitchen cupboards again," Master groaned, "you incompetent, goldfish—memory mess of five fingers and a bloody palm?"

"Be nice! It's almost time for the holidays! So how are ya gonna tell everyone about it?"

"Tell them what?"

"It's not just my book, you know. Doesn't Marth or Link come here to read while they do their—?"

"They can survive without having a book in our now non—existent bathroom. By the way, the gold in your vault? We're using that to pay for the damages."

"Awww, that's not fair!" He started jumping—or rather floating—up and down. "You go take someone else's money!"

"You already did."

"And what about the book? I don't think anyone's going to be happy about that."

"We'll print off a new one. What kind of stories did the book have anyway?"

"Holiday stories, duh." He lifted an index finger. "Ones that are nice to read by a fireplace, all about Warmth, Happiness, and Being In Good Spirits for the Holidays, which would be a convenient description if this were a contest. But we can make it one, so it's perfect!Why don't we get the others to help make a new one? It's not like anyone's gonna notice the difference."

Master Hand sighed. "Do you honestly think they're not going to?"

"Yeah! And we gotta make sure to get everything before the Holidays, too! At least by December 18th would be good, right?"

If he had a chin, he would've stroked it. "And how long exactly are you expecting everyone's stories to be?"

"Not too big. One shots that are no more than ten thousand wordswould be great since everyone will have enough time to read them while they enjoy their holidays too."

Master thought it over. "But! How can you assume people will just do this on their own free will?"

"Of course they won't!" Crazy explained. "This is the 21st Century, Sir Mycroft Hand! We need to give them a little... incentive."


"Unlimited access to my explosion hangar!"


"Fine, Mr. Bossypants! What do YOU want to do?"

Master sighed again. Everything always fell to him. "I suppose we deem a winner, a best entrant to the new book, and I suppose we... I don't know... could create a story for him to enter in this book."

Crazy gasped. "Brother, I didn't know you were a writer!"

"Apparently half the section doesn't either."

"Stop being so grumpy about that! I mean, FalSam is so outda-"

Before Crazy could go on, Master had thwacked him with his index finger. "That is quite enough from you."

"Fine, fine, fine! But I say that we also give them custom pretty pictures and stuff all for them! And the ones who come in as runner ups,because I like making pretty things."

Master Hand sighed. "All right. But you know I'm not going to help you, right?"

"What do you mean by that? Of course you will! I'll let you use my money if you do."

"...there really is no arguing with you, is there?"

So Master Hand, against his freewill, started writing a letter in his office, describing to the printing press about how they wanted to make a new book and how their old one exploded in a dynamite incident in their bathroom, not that he was actually going to include that in his letter. Instead, he made the details of the project he was less than enthusiastic about creating.

Eventually, he finished. Leaving the typewriter room, he grumbled, "Why did I have to get dragged into this?"

"So MessengerOfDreams and Tune4Toons don't get hounded by critical watchdog groups who want the contest taken down for lack of story!" Crazy was quick to reply.

Master sighed. His brother was going to be the death of him.


(MoD here!)

A/Ns— thanks for always having our back, Crazy.

So welcome to our Fireside Tales Contest! The details were smuggled within the humorous story there, but I'll outline them again.

1) It's supposed to be a story of warmth and good cheer. Take this as broadly as you want, just ignore the Tragedy and Angst genres and go light on our sad feels. Make us happy, restore our faith in humanity, give us some holiday cheer!

1a) It doesn't have to be about Christmas, New Year, Hanukkah or any of the other festivities. Just make sure it takes place in Winter!

2) The deadline will be December 18th, 2012. A week before Christmas! There's some extra time allotted because of NaNoWriMo, which I am actually participating in (and I think Tune is as well!)

3) The story must be a oneshot, of anywhere between 100 words and 10,000 words. We'll go lenient if you're a few hundred over, but try not to be. Look over your work and see if you can't streamline it down. It'll probably look better if you do, and fit in the deadlines just fine.

4) Mention MoD and Tune's Fireside Tales Contest in the description of the story!

And the prizes!

1st) A custom-made oneshot by both authors, a custom made avatar, and a story cover for the winning entrant! All the custom prizes will be tailored to fit the winner's requests!

2nd) A custom-made oneshot!

3rd) A custom-made avatar or story cover!

If you need any resources or any questions answered, or just want to chat and brainstorm with other authors, Tune has made a topic in her lovely Fanfiction—based SSB Forum, Rancho de la Smash. Search it up and check it out!

Also, this chapter was a live—time dual effort. For the most part, I played Master, she played Crazy. Tons of fun yah!

We wish you the best of luck!

~MoD and Tune