#headless snowman

[weirdmarioenemies]

Weird Mario Enemies presents

The Mystery of the Cabin Proprietor

It was a cold winter's day. Super Mario had found himself atop a frigid mountain, nothing but the abyss surrounding it. Right before him, a cabin. A convenient respite from the cold. How lucky! If Mario were to knock on the door, surely he would be invited inside to warm up for a bit. Maybe he would even be offered some tea! Wouldn't that be nice?

But there is no door! There are not even any windows! The only access point is an oversized Minecraft-looking chimney, and a sign from a supposed "Cabin Proprietor" invites visitors to enter it. Suspicious! Scary! What if you fall further than you expect, and get hurt? What if the fireplace is lit? Yeowch! And if you do get inside, there's no telling what waits within... there could be a murderer, a monster, inviting victims into this shack with no escape! There are many ways in which one should be like Mario, but entering suspicious buildings like this is not one of them!

So what's the big idea? Who is this "Cabin Proprietor", and what are their motives? Let's go over the suspects...

The Big Penguin

This is PROBABLY the most likely answer. Big Penguin is the only creature ever found within the cabin, and addresses Mario as a friend. Big Penguin loves to slide, and wouldn't you know it, the cabin leads directly to a massive slide in the void! For all we know, Big Penguin could have previously invited Mario to this cabin for some fun! We wouldn't know. Mario is not obligated to tell us anything! What are you gonna do, check Mario's emails? Give him his privacy. My only concern with the Big Penguin theory is that I don't think a penguin would have much success acrobatically getting into the chimney in the first place. A door would be much more convenient for everyone, but especially a penguin!

Mother Penguin

Now THIS is a penguin with immediate access to the cabin's only door, at the base of the mountain! A door too small for her, but a door nonetheless. Mother Penguin is stationed right by the cabin's exit, so maybe she is associated with it! This part of the cabin could be some sort of nursery area for baby penguins, who COULD fit through the door, with a window to check on them when needed. Such a doting mother would surely love to have a place for her baby to be safe in a blizzard!

A Baby Penguin

Maybe we have a child prodigy on Cool, Cool Mountain! The first of the babies is Tuxie, THE Li'l Penguin Lost, who is found at the top of the mountain... right by the entrance to the cabin! Hmmm! Maybe she hops in the chimney, slides down, and uses that weird teleportation spot to get back up! The other baby penguin is found at the bottom of the mountain, but of course could also teleport to the top to get in the chimney, and there is also something important about this baby: it's an impostor! Not the baby you're looking for! That makes this baby Suspicious, just like the Cabin Proprietor. Veeery interesting...

The Headless Snowman

There is absolutely no way this guy could get into the cabin. But that does not mean he could not be the proprietor! We already know he has some Personal Infrastructure, with the weird "stages" his parts sit atop, so he clearly has some way to get stuff built. Carpentry connections of some sort. Perhaps he commissioned the cabin to be built so that others could have a warm place to go, and a fun slide! He just forgot the door on the top entrance, so he added that sign about Santa to add whimsy to the situation until it could be sorted out.

A Goomba

There are no Goombas in Cool, Cool Mountain, outside of the DS version, so prooobably not... But!!! Odyssey reveals the unique property of Goomba feet, that they retain traction even on icy surfaces! Goombas could, theoretically, walk all over the cabin's ice slide as they please. They sure would get a lot of use out of the space, more efficient than just sliding!

The sign itself

Has the answer been under Mario's bulbous, jiggly nose this whole time? Super Mario Galaxy shows us that some signs are alive, and talk to us! The sign from the Proprietor could BE the Proprietor, and be talking to us, rather than just displaying its text. We just don't know because of how 64 presents written text and dialogue in the same way. (EDIT: I learned I was literally just wrong about this and it should have been obvious because the text boxes are different colors. But we can say that the sign speaks in a Written Text Accent) Or maybe it's sleeping, and Mario is reading the text to not disturb it?

The Cap'n

The Cap'n is the other unseen character who we know authors signs in 64! But I think he is easy to write off here. He's too much of a scallywag to be the Cabin Proprietor, who at least puts on a facade of kindness, inviting anyone into the cabin. The Cap'n taunts anyone who seeks his treasure, and also writes in Pirate Speak, so it would be physically impossible for him to write in any other voice!

Santa Claus

And here we are. The final suspect. It's been so obvious, hasn't it? "Santa Claus isn't the only one who can go down a chimney", indeed, but he is the only one I can think of with the ability to magically go UP a chimney to exit the building! Santa is also absolutely the type to refer to himself in third person, so the grammar of the sign wouldn't be weird coming from him. Perhaps Santa built this cabin for himself initially, but quickly made it a public play area once others expressed an interest in it! Thank you, Santa!

So who do you think it is...? Do you think the proprietor is one of these suspects? Are you perhaps confident they have been an assuming Spindrift all along? Are YOU the proprietor? Would you tell us if you were?

[scoobytopia]

Scoobytopia Episode 31: Headless Snowman?!

Covers: A Scooby-Doo! Christmas

There's no humbug this year as we celebrate Christmas with this terrifying special episode of What's New, Scooby-Doo!

[smartcookieproductions]

We made silly little cookie guys and I made a silly little video.

Merry Christmas! 🎄☃️⛄️🕯⛄️☃️🎄

[homunculus-argument]

I don't want a fancy grave, but if I got one, I'd want my tombstone to be a realistic, life-sized statue of me. Not in any particular position, but the key feature of it is that it doesn't have a head. My comical goose neck just ends in a perfectly even, stable platter, whereupon anyone who visits the grave can place whatever object they think would be funny to put there to be my head.

Make it the city's longest ongoing joke, people visiting the grave and sharing on social media whatever my head currently is. Usually it's a seasonal fruit, or something goofy. Sometimes in the winter it's just a snowball, made into a snowman's head. One year a particularly brave or stupid bird couple makes a nest there. Nobody dares to disturb that one for a long while, but once it's clear the birds are gone, the empty nest is gone one day, replaced with the kettle part of a broken electric kettle.

Most people don't know, remember or care whose grave this originally even was. It's just the Headless Man of the Cemetery, whose head is frequently replaced with a completely new and random piece of nonsense, in death just like it was in life.

[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Reader is a messed up assassin and did not choose her codename. Childhood trauma hanging out in the background. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 5.3k

Author's Note: When writer ADHD hits, it hits. Sorry for the wait friends. Been working on this for a comically long time. Thank you for all the love and support for this series. I love that you love this. Enjoy!

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff @taliiiaasteria @alowint @yerisdumbass @natashasilverfox

Chapter Seven: You Don't Know Me

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1993

You counted the small rocks in your black gloved hand. Neither one looked the same. All were varying shades of gray. A few were smooth and round while others were rough with sharper edges. It was the best of what you could find around the neighborhood. You looked up when you heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow. 

The ends of Nat’s blue hair spilled out of her dark gray knitted hat. Her black puffy jacket swallowed up most of her body. In her white gloved hands was a single stick. It wasn’t very long. Hardly more than four inches. Some pine needles still hung off of it. You watched as she approached while the chill that hung in the air after the first snowfall stabbed at your cheeks. 

“Aren’t we supposed to use a carrot?” you asked as she came to stand next to you. You were also pretty sure that you were supposed to use coal instead of rocks. 

“My mom already cut up the one we have,” Nat replied. 

You certainly didn’t have any carrots lying around at home. Your refrigerator and Nat’s were so different that it was jarring the first time you saw it. You hadn’t realized how much food one refrigerator could hold when you didn’t have to make room for your father’s weekly experiments. 

You looked at the headless snowman in front of you. You had spent the better part of the last two hours alongside Nat and her younger sister building the snowman in front of their house. The snowman’s base was large, round, and a bit lopsided. But it supported the slightly smaller packed ball of snow on top of it. You and Nat had done your best to brush off any dirt or blades of grass that stuck to the snow. Now you waited for Yelena to return with the snowman’s head. 

You heard Nat shift next to you while you stared at the empty spot where the snowman’s head will go. You wondered what kind of person this snowman would be. It was a shame when your brother told you years ago that snowmen don’t actually come to life after they are built. There’s no singing or dancing. It was as your father put it when he overheard your conversation:

“It is a byproduct of man’s lust for godhood.”

But maybe they did come to life. In secret. Perhaps at night. You read about all kinds of supposedly fake creatures coming to life in secret in your sister’s books. If it was possible, would this snowman end up being a good person or a bad one? Would the lack of a carrot make a difference? 

“Are you going somewhere?” Nat asked. 

You looked at her and found her looking across the street. You followed her gaze. Outside on your driveway was your father. The trunk of his station wagon hung open while he shoved a couple large bags into it. His back remained toward you and you hoped it would stay that way. The freshly plowed street put enough distance between him and you that you felt like you could breathe normally without him noticing. 

Your gaze landed back on Nat. “My father is attending a convention. It’s a tradition.” 

“What kind of convention?” she asked. 

You shrugged. “One for people like him.” 

He would come back giddy from talking with his fellow scholars. You knew that when he returned you and your siblings would be forced to spend at least three hours trapped at the kitchen table with nothing to eat but plenty to listen to. If something particularly interesting happened, you would definitely be trapped at the table for five hours. 

“You’re not going with him?” she asked. 

You heard the trunk of your father’s station wagon slam shut. You looked over your shoulder and watched as your father started back up the driveway. You looked at Nat and shook your head. “Kids aren’t allowed.” 

Yelena hurried around the house from the backyard carrying a mostly round snowman sized head. It was pretty impressive when she reached you guys. Since you both were taller, you and Nat carefully took the soon to be snowman head and set it on top of its cold, round body. You pushed one smooth light gray rock into the snowman’s left eye socket and then pushed a square black rock into its right. You let Yelena help you set the rest of the rocks into a wide smile. Nat pushed the stick into the middle of the snowman’s face. Then, all three of you stepped back to admire your work. 

“We should give him a name,” Yelena said. 

You tried to imagine the snowman’s rock eyes blinking. You imagined puffs of white mists slipping from between his rocky lips. You tried to imagine him with a carrot for a nose. “He looks like an Ian.” 

You heard Yelena giggle and when you looked at Nat you saw the beginnings of a smile curling her lips. 

Triskelion, Washington D.C.  – 2012

Being part of a team sucks. There are rules you have to follow. Sure, there were rules back when you were working for your father. But those rules were different. You could bend and shape them into whatever you needed. As long as the job was done, your father was content. Maybe he’d nitpick if the job got messy. But you had the freedom of choice. There were so many ways to kill people. Some days your imagination would run wild with new possibilities. You had yet to surprise a target in their bathroom and drop a toaster into their bathtub while they were bathing. Then there was the old classic you had yet to try. This idea demanded the perfect costume, but tying a target to train tracks and watching a high speed train obliterate their body into nothing more but tiny bloody chunks would be great fun. 

You loved that part of the job almost as much as you loved watching your target’s life drain from their eyes. But now that freedom is gone. You don’t get to decide how you are going to do your job. You are told. Ordered. The worst is when you’re not even allowed to kill your target. You remember the first time you were given that bizarre job. You remember how punchable your target’s face was. You remember how easy it would have been to just push the ridiculous man over the edge. No one would have known. But you couldn’t. You watched that opportunity pass you by and you wanted to scream. 

You did scream. At Rumlow. You cornered him and demanded to know why. Why did they keep fucking with your head? 

He reminded you of your role. The chains that kept you bound to these nonsensical rules. You work for SHIELD. You don’t kill targets unless SHIELD wants you to kill them. You keep to your role and you don’t raise suspicions. You live out the story Rumlow crafted for you. He found you on one of his missions. He saw your potential and peeled you up off the ground like some frozen, sick, dying, abandoned mutt. He molded you into the weapon you are now. A weapon he happily handed to SHIELD. 

You hate that story. You hate it more than the stupid suit he forces you to wear. The black tactical suit covers every inch of your body from your neck down to your feet. It had taken a while to get used to the added weight of the black body armor attached to the suit. You still don’t like it. It makes you feel as if you are a child running around with pillows tied to your chest and a foam sword in your hand. But it’s the mask that feels the most suffocating. Despite being able to hear clearly from within the black helmet, you feel cut off from the world. The black tinted visor that conceals your face is full of fancy technology that often gets in the way when you are just trying to watch your target die. You hate the stupid suit. You hate that you can’t do anything without having to wear it. The only time you can strip the stupid costume off and breathe in lungfuls of air conditioned air is in your bunk buried beneath all the levels of SHIELD and fake SHIELD and real HYDRA. 

But if you could choose, you’d stick with the stupid suit if you could craft a different story. Preferably one that didn’t include anyone molding you into anything. But that freedom is gone, and all you have is a boatload of memories to distract you from how angry you are. That anger burns deep inside you. It fuels your every step as you walk alongside Rumlow down a bright, busy hallway. You ignore all the data that blinks across the inside of your visor screen with every SHIELD agent that hurries by. In the beginning you had been curious, but now all the data was familiar and boring. Mostly low level clearance agents with spotless records because they never did anything but sit at their desks or hurry around places looking busy. 

You walk out into a large hangar and board one of the waiting Quinjets. You spy two empty seats in the cockpit and a black duffel bag resting on one of the seats in the cargo bay. Rumlow hands you a small, black flash drive. You roll your eyes despite knowing that he can’t see your face. If he let you take off the damn helmet you could read the mission briefings perfectly fine. You didn’t need to clog up your visor’s hub with all the unnecessary tidbits of information on your targets. You hate this role. 

“This one is routine,” Rumlow begins as you insert the flash drive into the slot along the backside of your helmet. Almost instantly, information clogs up your interior visor screen. “Your target is Tomek Sikora. He’s an arms dealer that SHIELD has kept an eye on.” The picture of your target fills up your visor. Tall, muscular build. Short, dirty blonde hair. Blue eyes. Mid thirties. “We have good intel that he’s operating out of an abandoned storefront in Bardstown, Kentucky. His main clientele is HYDRA.” 

Your visor floods with images of your target standing with or shaking hands with other important looking men and women. A few of the faces look familiar, but the images scroll too quickly across your visor for you to be certain. 

“Your objective is to shut down Sikora’s operation,” Rumlow says. “SHIELD would prefer Sikora alive, but if you have no choice, do what is necessary.” 

The coded orders hidden behind his words brings a small hint of relief. A nice simple kill. You know that if you read more into the file scrolling across your visor that you could piece together why real HYDRA wants Sikora dead. But you don’t care. All you care about is watching your target die. All you care about at this moment is that you won’t be forced to watch your target walk away breathing. A straightforward mission is exactly what you need. Something easy. Sikora will probably put up some kind of fight. You’ll engage and end it when it feels right. 

You pull the flash drive from the slot at the back of your helmet. Your visor clears. 

“Rollins will accompany you on this mission,” Rumlow says. 

Eh. It could be wors–

“Slight change of plan.”

Both you and Rumlow turn towards the open cargo bay door. You see her clearly through your visor screen. You feel the chains of your boredom lift. That familiar energy that buzzes right beneath your skin awakens. You haven’t seen her since you put a bullet through Erik’s head. Even then, you can’t count that as your official last parting. You were buried beneath your costume. She didn’t know you were there. Because if she did, she wouldn’t have let you go like that. 

The weight of the costume you wear now feels heavier as you watch her ascend up the Quinjet’s ramp. She’s dressed in civilian clothes. You love the black, leather jacket that she wears over her red shirt. Dark denim jeans cover the length of her legs, and a gun sits in a black holster strapped to her right thigh. You’re envious of her clothes. You want to look into her wardrobe. You want to strip out of this stupid suit and wear anything else. 

“Agent Romanoff,” Rumlow greets. 

Nat. Your teeth bite into your lower lip. You know you can’t say anything. The rules of your role have been drilled into your head. You don’t speak. You only act. If anyone asks questions, Rumlow has your pathetic sob story ready to share. You know all this. You know you must comply. But you really want to say something. 

Her olive green eyes settle on you as she steps into the cargo bay. You instantly miss the recognition as she looks at you. Her eyes travel up and down the length of your body, taking in your forced getup. You want her to see right through it. You want her to say your name and rip the damn mask from your face so the chase can resume. 

“What’s the update?” Rumlow asks. 

Her attention shifts to him. “Rollins can’t make it. He’s in medical. I’m filling in.” 

Now you really really want to say something. You watch as she walks over to where the black duffel bag sits. A smile stretches across your face. You had wanted to start slow. A coffee date scheduled on a day that neither one of you needed to even think about work. But if you can’t have that, then you will happily take this. 

“That’s not necessary,” Rumlow replies. 

Your smile drops away, and you turn your head to give Rumlow the most threatening glare he will never see. He ignores you as Nat zips up her duffel bag and looks over at him. 

“I’ll get one of the other guys to fill in for Rollins,” Rumlow continues. “It’s a routine operation, and you’re needed for more Avenger missions.” 

You wonder what would happen if you punched Rumlow in the face. If you swing hard enough, there is a good chance you could knock him out. That would give you a couple seconds to say something to Nat before all hell breaks loose. You’d definitely apologize for the stupid thing you said before. And if Rumlow didn’t go down in one punch, you could always follow it up with a solid kick. 

“Fury disagrees,” Nat replies. 

The name sparks two recent memories of the Director of SHIELD. Both memories consisted of you standing in this stupid suit and staring at the bald man with an eyepatch while he interrogated Rumlow about you. You played the part of a lost puppy well enough despite wanting to smash your head into the closest wall. 

“Besides,” Nat looks first at you and then back to Rumlow, “I’ve been dying to meet your new sidekick.” 

Oh god. That one hurt. 

“They’re not much of a talker,” Rumlow says. 

You have so much to say. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Nat replies. 

Rumlow shakes his head, but finally relents. He looks at you. “Stay focused. I expect results.” 

You watch as he steps out of the cargo bay and descends down the jet’s ramp. For a moment, you can’t believe your luck. You thought that Rumlow would have done just about anything to rip you away from Nat. He had made sure to keep you as far away from her as possible. But the reality of your amazing luck settles when Nat comes to stand next to you. 

“Has he taught you how to fly one of these?” she asks. 

You shake your head. 

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll fly. You fill me in on the mission.” 

This is the greatest day of your life. 

The Quinjet, Kentucky Sky – A Short Time Later

You pull the flash drive free from the tablet’s port. The tablet’s screen goes blank while the hub screen built into your interior helmet visor lights up with a selection of unnecessary data about the tablet. Battery at 68%. No security update needed. Software version 3.8.27. You don’t understand why you are forced to tolerate the random extra tech. Rumlow told you it was to make your story more realistic. You still didn’t understand how something only you see makes others believe you more. 

You look up from the tablet, and the extra data clears. Bright sunlight floods the cockpit. The sky outside is so blue that it is almost painful to look at. You are sitting in the co-pilot seat. The various buttons and screens stretched across the dashboard mean nothing to you. Nat has been doing all the flying. All you’ve done is find a SHIELD issued tablet and plugged in the flash drive so Nat could review the details of your mission. So far she’s asked you easy questions about the mission. Your answers are simple nods or a shake of your head. You want to say more. You need to say more. But you stay quiet. You comply with your role. 

But there is sweet happiness in your forced silence. You look over to the empty pilot seat next to you. Nat left a few minutes ago to change after switching on the autopilot. You are tempted to lift up your helmet and sniff the pilot seat. You want to know what she smells like. You want to peel your black gloves off and touch the cushions of the seat. Feel the warmth left behind by her touch. A couple different scenarios float through your head and each one is far more entertaining than sitting in silence. But at least you get to be near her. You don’t have to hurry off and leave her. Despite all these stupid rules, you’ve discovered a piece of freedom that kept eluding you before. 

You turn your gaze forward when you hear Nat emerge from the tiny bathroom directly behind the cockpit. She settles back into the pilot’s seat. Her casual clothes are gone. You miss the leather jacket, but the black catsuit is a warm familiar memory. You tuck the flash drive into one of your suit’s many pockets. 

“Shouldn’t be long now,” she comments as her green eyes dart across the various screens and lit buttons. “About fifteen minutes out.” 

There’s a moment when you taste that bitterness of disappointment. You don’t want this to end. The two of you up in the sky without anyone else to distract you. But that moment ends when you remember what’s to come. For the first time you won’t be on opposing sides. Sort of. Not exactly. But it sends a thrill through you. 

“So,” she looks over at you, “Silent Type.” 

You frown at the stupid codename. You know she can’t see your face, but she sees something because she starts to smile. The tablet’s screen comes back to life as you navigate to the application you need. A virtual keyboard pops up along the lower half of the tablet. Your gloved fingers are quick as you type your message. You turn the tablet around so she can read it. 

Rumlow’s idea. Not mine. 

Your answer seems to amuse her more as she nods. 

“That does sound like a name he would come up with,” she says. 

You turn the tablet to face you again and delete what you wrote. Your fingers are quick to tap out another message. 

Did you choose your codename? 

Her smile falls a bit as she reads your question. “What did Rumlow tell you about me?” 

It doesn’t take you long to delete your question and type out your reply. 

Avenger. 

“That’s it?” she asks. 

You lower the tablet and nod. It’s not entirely a lie. Rumlow had spent most of his time preparing you for this stupid role. That meant filling your head with a bunch of random bullshit about fake SHIELD and real HYDRA. He trained you to remember your story. He did his best to polish off the grime of freelance and make you seem more refined. He rarely brought up Nat. And when he did, he never let you think about her for long. 

“I guess we’ll need to get to know each other better after this mission,” she says. 

More time with Nat? This day just gets better and better. Your fingers tap against the tablet’s digital keyboard again. When you lift up the tablet, you are very interested in her answer. 

What did Rumlow say about me?

“You’re his pet project,” she says as her smile returns. 

You frown. You want to somehow clarify that you are nobody’s pet project, but one of the buttons on the dash lights up and steals Nat’s attention. You watch as she turns off the autopilot and takes control of the Quinjet. 

“We’re approaching our target,” she reaches up and flips a switch. “I’ll set us down somewhere close. With our stealth systems engaged, they shouldn’t be able to spot us.” 

You turn your head and look out at the bright blue sky. While you love the quality time with Nat, you also need to come up with a plan for this mission. Rumlow’s coded orders had been clear. Kill Sikora. If Rollins had joined you on this mission, you wouldn’t have needed to do much thinking beyond when to kill your target. But Nat’s fantastic presence complicated things. You doubt that she’s part of fake SHIELD. Which meant putting a bullet in Sikora’s head outright wouldn’t go over well. Especially if your target decides to surrender. 

Your plan starts to take shape within your mind as Nat guides the concealed Quinjet towards the ground. It’s a simple plan. Draw your target away from Nat and kill him where it is just you and him. It would ruin the foreplay. You probably wouldn’t have much time and would need to kill Sikora quickly. But you’d get to talk to Nat later which seemed like a generous trade. 

The bright onslaught on sunlight fades as Nat sets the Quinjet down in a clearing surrounded by eastern white pine trees. Based on the data you had skimmed earlier, the abandoned storefront your target is operating out of is just north of your location. When the Quinjet’s engines fall quiet, you stand. You leave the tablet on your seat as you head for the cargo bay. You approach a metallic box bolted onto one of the walls. Your gloved fingers type in a code on the keypad fixed to the front of the box. The front panel unlocks and opens to reveal a small armory. 

Smaller than usual. No fancy explosives. Your usual selection of guns has been paired down to one: a single black Glock. You suspect your limited selection is thanks to Rumlow. You figure this has something to do with your training, but you don’t really care. You’re more disappointed in how the gun feels in your hand. You miss your Beretta. You don’t feel the same without it. 

You slide the Glock into the empty holster at your right hip and turn when you hear Nat enter the cargo bay. She holds the tablet you left behind. Her finger slides across the tablet’s screen, and you watch the way her head tilts slightly as she reviews the mission data. You imagine that she looked exactly like that whenever information on you ended up in her hands. Your smile starts to return as you grab the tactical knife left in the armory and slide it into place on your belt. 

She turns off the tablet and sets it down next to her black duffel bag. She lifts her hand and speaks into her wrist. “Comms check.”

You hear her voice flood your helmet and you don’t want it to stop. When she looks over at you, you nod. Her smile threatens to break you. You want so desperately to say something. You want her to look at you like she knows you. Like she did before whenever she appeared on one of your jobs. But your mouth stays shut. You comply. 

It’s quiet when you both exit the Quinjet. As you make your way through the cluster of trees, you can’t help but think back to your last freelance job in the middle of nowhere. The sound of gunshots ripping apart tree bark. The smell of sweat and blood on your target’s body. The feeling of her hand around your wrist. 

You stop when you reach the treeline. Roughly fifty yards ahead of you is the bland backside of the abandoned storefront. The back door is unguarded. You don’t see any cameras either. It’s no wonder why HYDRA wants Sikora gone. The lack of security is almost offensive. It’s as if your target is inviting you inside. 

“We’ll split up and sweep the area,” her voice is low and when you look at her, you nod. 

Perfect. As long as you find Sikora first, this mission should be easy. 

“I’ll take the upper floor while you secure the lower,” she says. 

As you nod, you hope that you’ll find Sikora in the storefront’s basement. If you don’t, you don’t know exactly how you’ll get your target far enough away from Nat. 

You both step out of the treeline and make your way towards the storefront’s back entrance. By the time you reach the back door and press your back against the wall, you notice that both you and Nat have drawn your guns. You bite your tongue to hold back a laugh at the thought that instantly springs to life within your mind. This must be the first time you both have a gun in your hand and you’re not pointing them at each other. Now would be a great time to take your helmet off. 

Nat reaches for the door handle, and it’s unlocked. You decide that it’s your target’s inflated ego that left the door unlocked and not stupidity. Or a trap. You try not to let that last thought get you too excited as you follow Nat through the backdoor. 

You enter a narrow hallway. Directly ahead of you is a wide open doorway that reveals a large empty room. Remains of what was clearly a counter mark the worn looking floorboards. Dark colored wallpaper peels from the walls. The room itself is lit only by the light that spills out from the hallway. Large, thin boards are nailed across the windows. Littered about the floorboards is trash, random dark wet spots, and the occasional clothing hanger. 

To your right is a set of stairs leading to the upper floor. To your left is the remains of another door. You see the hinges, but the door that clearly once occupied the space is gone. Beyond it is another set of stairs leading down towards the basement. You turn to your left and start to descend the stairs. You hear Nat ascending the stairs behind you. You force yourself not to look back as you lift your gun and keep going. 

Your footsteps are quiet on the stairs. When you reach the bottom, you find yourself alone in an empty room. The lights are on. Boxes and crates are stacked against one of the walls. On the other side of the room is another doorway, but this one still has a door attached to it. As you walk further into the room, you hear a loud thud shake the low ceiling. You feel a tiny spike of jealousy that Nat found her targets while you are alone in a basement. Another loud thud shakes the ceiling again. That lingering spike of jealousy flees when the door on the other side of the room opens. 

You pull the trigger the second you see someone fill up the space in the doorway. You see the person drop and no one else comes out. You move towards the open door. One quick look down at the man dying on the basement floor at your feet confirms that they are not your target. You step over the dying man and into the room. It’s a small break room with a fold out plastic table that eats up most of the space. Sitting on the table, directly in the middle, is a small, square television. It’s on and playing an old western. 

When you return to the dying man laying in the doorway, you find him dead. The man’s lifeless eyes stare up at you. His mouth is slightly parted. His hair looks greasy. He looks about as old as any average college student. The sounds of the western playing on the television fills up the quiet as you stare down at the dead man. The sounds of shouting pulls you out of your odd stupor. 

You step over the dead man and hurry back towards the stairs. You quickly climb back up into the narrow hallway and start towards the stairs that would take you up to the upper floor when you see it. You are standing at the base of the stairs when you see a body falling. You see their arms first as they come up, and you see how their legs trip over each other. You notice a mop of dirty blonde hair right before it smashes into the first uppermost step. The body falls hard down the stairs with a series of sickening crunches. You take a few steps back when you notice the body picking up some speed. When the body finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, it rolls over once and stops. 

Sikora lays at your feet. His neck is bent at a terrible angle. His blue eyes are wide open. You see a piece of bone poking out from his forearm. Your gun lowers at the sight of your target’s still body. You feel numb at the sight of it. No satisfaction. No sense of pride. Not even relief. You don’t know how to feel when you step over your target’s body and ascend the stairs. That strange feeling persists as you find Nat standing near a table. Littered across the floor are six bodies. You can’t tell if some are alive or not, but you feel the corners of your lips curl into a smile. Nat doesn’t have a scratch on her. None of the bodies scattered across the room were a challenge for her and you just want to run up to her and kiss her and hug her tight because it makes sense. One piece of your life hasn’t changed. She’s still your friend even if you can’t act like hers. 

As you walk further into the room, carefully stepping over fallen bodies, Nat closes up a black laptop that is sitting on the table. Her smile melts away any lingering numbness hanging on from seeing your target’s body. 

“Good work,” she says. “SHIELD will be here in ten to clean up.” 

You savor her praise before looking at the laptop again. 

“Just a little side project,” she says after following your gaze. She picks up the black laptop and moves towards you. “You ever have bourbon from here?”   

You shake your head. 

“Then we’re making a quick pit stop before we head back,” she says. 

You follow her, and you can’t help feeling like you are back in Ohio. It’s as if school is finally letting out and you two have the rest of the day ahead of you. You want this day to last forever. You’d rather her know it’s you, but if this is all you can have, then you’ll take it.

[lord-of-the-prompts]

A LEGENDARY/MYTHOLOGICAL/SUPERNATURAL CREATURE LIST FOR WRITERS:

(Please note that while I have included a variety of creatures, there are many many others that I haven’t been able to mention here. Had I listed every legendary/mythological/supernatural creature, I’d probably still be writing this post because let’s face it, there are thousands of badass mythological beings. Please also note that there are quite a few creatures that overlap in various categories. I hope that you all enjoy reading and that this helps with your writing!)

Animals:

birds (bird people, caladrius, griffon, harpy, hippogriff, luan, phoenix, roc, sirin, strix, thunderbird.)

canines (amarok, cadejo, cerberus, fenrir, hellhound, werewolf.)

felines (demon cat, griffin, merlion, sphinx, tigris, underwater panther, white tiger.)

fish (hippocamp, undine, water spirit.)

primates (bigfoot, yeti, yowie.)

reptiles/serpents (basalisk, dragon, feathered serpent, hydra, loch ness monster, rainbow serpent, sea serpent, wyvern.)

Elements:

aether (angel, demon, devil, elemental, elf, fairy, nymph, spirit.)

darkness (black dog, bogeyman, ghost, grim reaper, hellhound, vampire, werewolf, wild hunt.)

earth/subterranean (dwarf, earth dragon, gargoyle, giant, gnome, goblin, hobbit, ogre, troll.)

fire (dragon, hellhound, phoenix.)

light/rainbow (light elf, rainbow serpent.)

metal/gold (griffin, gnome, leprechaun.)

thunder/lightning (chinese dragon, cyclops, thunderbird, valkyrie.)

water (chinese dragon, drindylow, loch ness monster, mermaid/merman, nymph, pisces, water dragon, water spirit.)

Habitat:

cave/underground (dwarf, european dragon, gnome, goblin, troll.)

celestial/heaven (angel, feathered serpent, pegasus, grim reaper, swan maiden, valkyrie.)

desert (amphisbaena, chupacabra, cockatrice, ghoul, oliphaunt, sphinx.)

woodland (bigfoot, elf, unicorn.)

lake/river (chinese dragon, hydra, kraken, nixie, lake monster, ondine, rainbow serpent, warlock.)

mountain/hill (dwarf, griffin, hippogriff, hobbit, mountain giant, yeti.)

sea (dragon king, fish people, leviathan, mermaid/merman, sea monster, sea serpent, shen, siren, water dragon.)

polar/ice/winter (abominable snowman, jotun, yeti.)

urban/house (banshee, boggart, jinn, vampire.)

underworld/hell (cerberus, cyclops, demon, devil, earth dragon.)

Humanoids:

human skinned (brownie, dwarf, elf, fairy, giant, gnome, gremlin, jinn, leprechaun, nix, nymph, pixie, siren, valkyrie, vampire, vetter.)

monster skinned (banshee, boggart, centaur, demon, ent, goblin, imp, manticore, mermaid/merman, orc, siren, sphinx, troll.)

monstrous (baba yaga, boogeyman, cyclops, gargoyle, ghoul, giant/giantess, goblin, hag, jotun, mummy, ogre, oni, orc, titan, troll, yeti, zombie.)

Hybrids:

part human (angel, centaur, fairy, faun, gorgon, harpy, horus, meduza, mandrake, manticore, mermaid/merman, minotaur, siren, sphinx, tenju, triton, winged genie, werecat, werewolf.)

non-human (basilisk, capricorn, cerberus, chimera, griffin, hippogriff, merlion, pegasus, typhon, wyvren.)

Shapeshifters: (animagus, demon, kelpie, merpeople, nix, werecat, werehyena, werejaguar, werewolf.)

Undead: (banshee, ghost, ghoul, frankenstein, headless horseman, mummy, poltergeist, skeleton, spirit, vampire, wraith, zombie.)

[libraford]

Day 14/50

Today I went out in the Gator, which is like a high powered golf cart made by John Deere. It goes 30 mph, sounds like a lawn mower, and has no doors. But because it has no doors it means we dont waste any time checking garbage- we can just lean out the side to check if it's full.

But the Gator isnt at the hub. It's in the other warehouse across town, which I've already been to to pick up flowers for town hall, but never gone inside.

Well.

I was not expecting to find myself face to face with horse statue with a realistic glass eye.

Harrington Park is where they store the halloween decorations and I'm looking at the realistic rendition of the Headless Horseman.

The Horse is scarier than the mannequin.

Other notable decorations include a snowman standee, about 200 jack-o-lantern buckets, and a presumably functioning calliope.

That glass eye follows you around the room, though.

[mpxyingyue]

The Headless Snowman

@vitasmp

The snow was not an unfamiliar sight, though she had not expected the island to be covered with it. However, between her work, she had found time to enjoy it, carving out a spot in the park where she had spent over an hour handcrafting the perfect snowman. It sized up to a small woman, with small sticks protruding from it's torso and a small face lazily creating with rocks. She had been proud of her work, but at the sudden thought, Yingyue found this the perfect time to practice, having coincidentally created herself a practice dummy.

So, unwrapping the rope from her waist, Yingyue practiced for a few moments, letting the flow of her body and rope warm her joints and muscles. Training was normal for her, something she did daily. It was one of the few means of discipline her brothers had channeled into her. So, while she had not needed to use her meteor hammer, it had never went without use for too long.

Yingyue, deciding to up the effort, reached in her pocket to one of her silk ribbons that she often traded with the rope, and she used it to blindfold herself. So trusting in her abilities, she knew she would be fine. And, she handled well. The rope spun around her frame, using her legs and arms to gain and lose momentum. As Yingyue moved her body, the meteor hammer followed as directed, and it send flying attacks toward the snowman. However, she had never wanted to destroy her beautiful work. Yingyue's goal was to be close yet never hit. For, she needed that control to be able to truly operate it as she needed.

It took all of her focus, and the silence around her had allowed that for her. However, the sound of an approaching figure caught her attention. With that, her concentration was gone.

The loss of focus stopped her from correctly gauging the distance between her and the snowman, and within seconds, Yingyue heard sound of the meteor crashing into the head of her snowman. A loud gasp fell from her lips, and the demigoddess recalled her weapon into her hands. She reached up, pulling the blindfold off her head. Turning to the man, Yingyue looked at him with widened eyes a slowly forming pout. However, there was nothing malicious behind her stare, just a disappointed woman with a destroyed snowman.

"Do you have a death wish?" She asked, looking over at him. "I could have hurt you."

[nattaphum]

Mile and Apo prepared a cocktail together

Then they had to eat a cookie

mile grabbed the snowman cookie first but it’s the same apo wanted!

Mile: let’s do rock paper scissors first. Let’s compete for the cookie for a sec

Apo: cannot… that one’s cute

*apo wins*

(PS. mile keeps losing because he always goes with paper while apo always goes with scissors… im going to believe mile loses on purpose lmao… or kinn ep 6 taught him NOTHING ajdjsk)

Mile: i lost, i’m giving the white one to apo

Apo: so cute… i dont dare to eat it because i’m afraid it won’t be cute

At the end they got to taste a bit of both ginger cookies and left them headless lol

[hottestsdmonsterpoll]

HOTTEST MONSTER POLL ROUND 1

as you can see, the first round will consist of 40 POLLS!! Thats a lot!! Because of that starting number, by the quarter finals we'll be down to 5 polls, meaning the semi-finals will have 3 polls, with the middle branch being supplemented with a redemption round that we'll do between the quarters and semi!! All of this will end with the hottest kind of Final: a three-way!!

Some quick rules before I list the polls!!

Propaganda is allowed and appreciated (be it reblog or ask), but please keep it mostly civil and non-pornographic!!

This first round is 40 polls, which is a huge chunk towards post limit, so I wont be able to reblog/respond to everyone!!

I'm also just one genderfreak running this so please bear with me if any weirdness occurs, this is a lot to keep up with!!

ANYWAYS HERE ARE THE POLLS

Dead Justice vs Dapper Jack

Maldor vs Nightfright

Crystal vs Possessed Mary Jane

Sarah Ravencroft vs Werecats

Amy the Siren vs Beach Beastie

Woodsman vs San Franpsycho

Crimson Witch vs Yowie Yahoo

Medusa Monster vs Arachne

Lady Vampire vs Vanna Pira

Ghost Witch of Salem vs Nekara

Chip Braverton vs Ben Ravencroft

Al Cabone vs Old Iron Face

Dandy Highwayman vs Bram

Phantom Virus vs Ice Demon

Captain Cutler vs Bingo Belle

10,000 Volt Ghost (SD2) vs 10,000 Volt Ghost (TSDS)

Inferno vs Goblin King

Jaguaro vs Scarebear

Junk Robot vs Charlie the Haunted Robot

Crystal Crawler vs Dream Weaver

Dracula (Reluctant Werewolf) vs Dracula's Wife (TNSDM)

Werner Wolf vs Papa Werewolf

Aliens (Alien Invaders) vs Star Creature

Headless Horseman (GK) vs Phantom (MI)

Ms Grimwood vs Revolta

White Farm Werewolf vs Fiend

Skeleton Men vs Skeleton Band

Ebeneezer Crabbe vs Elias Kingston (Be Cool!)

Phantom (Stage Fright) vs Boogedy Bones

Screama Donna vs Snow Ghost

Cliff Bride vs Aphrodite

Yeti (Be Cool) vs Abominable Snowman (Chill Out)

Snow Monster vs Snow Creature

Chickenstein vs Diabolical Disc Demon

Queen Morbidia vs Norma Deathman

Proffessor Huh? vs The Freak of Crystal Cove

Slime Mutant vs Tar Monster

Morgan Le Fay (Sword and the Scoob) vs Dryad (DC Comics)

Scarecrows (WNSD) vs Fish Creature (WNSD)

No-Face Zombie vs Masked Figure (SD2)

If for whatever reason I cant get links to work on here, each poll will be tagged # "hottest sd monster poll" and # "Round 1"

[junkissed]

here comes santa claus

day eleven of junkissed's svt season's greetings

member — bf!seungkwan x reader genre — fluff, humor word count — 1.0k synopsis — every christmas eve, you and seungkwan have a movie marathon and compete to see who can stay up the latest. he always wins, but you don’t mind. warnings — this is specifically about christmas, they watch dvds (i know, it’s a sin), mention of murder (in regards to cookies a la vernon “i’m going to murder these tacos”), cheesy cheesy romance fluff notes — lowercase intended. it's already christmas in most of the world but for me it's still christmas eve so. merry christmas to those who celebrate!

one reblog = one holiday dvd

“alright, let’s get this night started!"

you walk out of the kitchen, arms packed full of snacks and drinks for the long night ahead. you and seungkwan have made it a holiday tradition every christmas eve to spend the day doing as many christmas-y things as possible, and then spend the night watching as many christmas movies as you possibly can. there are a few you have to watch every year: the polar express, the nightmare before christmas, the grinch. but the rest are totally spontaneous. the new christmas cartoon that came out this month. the really awful hallmark romcom that just happened to be playing when you flipped the channel. the first result on netflix when he searches “snow”. all of it’s fair game.

the other part of your christmas eve extravaganza is your competition to see who can stay up the latest. it wasn’t originally part of the tradition, but when you’d fallen asleep at 8pm one christmas eve and seungkwan had teased you relentlessly for it, you’d made a bet he couldn’t last longer than you next year. the following christmas, when you were fighting to stay awake past midnight and he was giggling into his mug of cocoa about how you’d never beat him, you knew you couldn’t let your reputation go down without a fight. and being the stubborn people both of you are, it’d become an annual thing.

“sure you won’t pass out during ‘home alone’ again?” he teases, taking the steaming mugs of apple cider from your hands so you can set the rest of the snacks down.

“nope,” you say confidently. you plop down on the couch, reaching for the bag of sour gummy worms. “not this year.”

“sure,” he smiles. ��whatever you say.”

early in the evening, it’s still light outside, but you’ve drawn the curtains shut to give the room a cozy nighttime feel.

seungkwan grabs the tv remote and changes the input to the dvd player, where he’s already loaded in your beloved copy of “a christmas story”.

you throw a blanket over your lap and bring your legs up onto the couch, sitting cross-legged. as the movie starts, he reaches for one of the cookies you’d decorated together as one of your daytime activities; a bright red snowman that looks more like a murder victim than a cute winter friend. they’re for sure the ugliest cookies the two of you have ever made, but the fun you had while making them together more than makes up for the lack of artistic talent. (seungkwan would argue he does, in fact, have artistic talent, but his headless reindeer would beg to differ.)

with the house lights off and nothing but the christmas tree and the fast fading light of evening to brighten the house, the atmosphere is cozy.

you don't notice how quickly it gets dark outside until the credits have started to roll and you glance over towards the window. seungkwan gets up to change the dvd for movie number two while you get up to stretch your legs, stiff from sitting on them for so long.

you meander around the room, hovering by the side table for a moment to switch on the lamp before making your way to the kitchen to rinse your mug and get a fresh cup of cocoa.

"what'd you choose next?" you call across the sink into the living room.

"uh-uh, surprise! now come back before i eat the rest of your cookies."

you giggle, throwing a handful of marshmallows and a spoon in your cup before taking your seat once again.

before the next movie starts, as he's booting up netflix to find whatever horrible holiday rom-coms they've put out this year, you start thinking about everything that's happened in the past few years. just taking a moment to be grateful for all the wonderful memories you've made and the people you've met— including the man in your living room, currently battling with the tv settings to figure out why the internet won't connect.

one movie ends and another begins, and the countdown to midnight getting smaller and smaller. at one point you flip over on your side and lay across seungkwan's lap as he gently pats your hair. he's probably trying to lull you to sleep so he can win again, you figure, but you're so cozy and content you can't bring yourself to care.

as one of the last movies comes to an end, you can't help but be excited for the holiday season. for many people the festivities end the day after christmas, but in the boo household there's always something to celebrate. you always get more excited as christmas eve goes on and christmas day gets closer; even though your christmases now are nothing like they were when you were a kid, you still feel as giddy as a child eagerly waiting up to see a glimpse of santa clause. there's something about the holidays and spending the days with the person you love; there's nowhere you'd rather be.

and when you start to dose off during the polar express, seungkwan's not even glad he won your little competition yet again. sure, the bragging rights are nothing to complain about, but when he looks across the couch and sees your eyes peacefully closed, the sweetest look of christmas bliss on your face, that's better than any prize in the world.

taglist | @foxdaisy @tinkerbell460 @merrykyeomas @huiranghaes @just-here-to-read-01 @ny0sang @noraehey @squiishymeow @pearlygraysky @baekhyunstruly @tenn87 @raevyng @aceofvernons @odetoyeonjun @dkakapizzaboy @enhacolor @highkey-fangirling @baldi-2 @onlymingyus @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @potatofrieswithketchup @wonuziex @stariightjoyy @strawberri-uyu @matilde111

join my taglist here!

thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this, reblog or leave an ask or a comment, it shows me you enjoyed this so i know to write more like this in the future!

[the-bluerecluse]

Sanderstober 8th: In the spirit of having fun with both Halloween AND Christmas, take a Halloween story/character and draw what they might appear as if they were actually a character talked or sung about in a Christmas story.

Behold! The headless horseman snowman!

@thatsthat24

[utaxnanami]

The most stressful time of the year

A/N: I plan to make this a series (but don’t expect regular updates), I’m definitely thinking about a follow up with the Christmas party and maybe this chapter out of Leons POV? And other stuff but that’s what I’m most motivated to write right now.

Happy holidays to everyone

part two

This is cross posted on AO3

Summary: Chris hates christmas shopping and gift-wrapping

WC: 790

I never make plans that far ahead, my ass.

They’d both been on near continuous missions for weeks and Christmas snuck up on them like a fucking licker and yet Chris was the only one running around like a headless chicken trying to get his hands on some last-minute Christmas presents.

Shouldering his way past the entrance, his hands full with bags and a raging headache from the chaos that was the shopping mall, Chris felt even more irritated to see Leon lounging on the living room sofa with a book in his lap. Normally he would appreciate the moment; admire Leon being all relaxed, wearing his reading glasses and sipping on something that wasn’t alcohol or coffee for once. But the smile he threw at Chris couldn’t be described as anything else but smug, and God did he want to strangle him right in this moment.

Lowering the bags to the ground, Chris shrugged out of his coat and pulled off his boots, catching himself short of throwing them against the wall in his frustration and putting them instead on the newspaper next to the shoe rack to dry.

“Got everything?” Leon had turned his head back to his book, but Chris could still hear the amusement in his voice. Smug bastard.

“Don’t.” Was all Chris said, rubbing one hand against his forehead – as if that had ever helped against any headache – and grabbed the bags by his feet with the other.

The foul mood shopping had put him in wasn’t going to stop Chris from leaning over the couch to press a kiss to the top of Leon’s head, and if he took a moment to just lean his head against Leon’s, to breath the man in, to calm himself and to forget the stress of the past two hours, than that was between them and that stupid snowman on the coffee table. Claire had made it in a pottery class last year – it would also stay the only class she ever went to. The snowman came out of the oven leaning a bit too much to the left to hold its own weight and needed assistance to keep up right, currently provided by two candles he was leaning against.

A hand on his cheek kept Chris from pulling away, instead he leaned further down and let himself be pulled into a kiss by Leon. And while it stayed innocent, it left his lips tingling with a want for more. “I still have to wrap the present.” Chris’ breath ghosted over Leon’s face sending a shiver down the man’s back. “Hurry up then.” Leon’s replay was breathy and the look in his eyes heated, reluctantly Chris peeled himself away from the couch after sharing one more kiss with his lover, this one far less innocent.

With regret Chris noted that he would be spending the next half an hour in the bedroom fighting with the gift-wrapping paper instead of unwrapping the present that was Leon S. Kennedy.

Unloading the bags on their bed, Chris hived a deep sigh looking at the array of presents. Nearly thirty years of buying his own presents for the people he loves, and he had yet to master the skill of gift-wrapping. Every year he thought he had gotten better at it and then a birthday or Christmas came around to remind him how wrong he was. He hoped that the red and green paper with the cute little reindeers was enough to distract from the horrible wrapping job. It probably wouldn’t hurt to put those big golden stickable bows on too, just to be sure and also make it look a bit more like he had put actual effort into it.

__

Forty-five minutes and two papercuts later Chris emerged out of the bedroom, presents all wrapped and safely put into a big IKEA bag for transportation. The earlier heat forgotten, he dragged himself over to the couch Leon was still lying on and collapsed with all the grace of a baby elephant on top off him. Leon groaned under his weight but didn’t complain about his new human planked, closing his book with a Christmas-themed bookmark, and putting it on the coffee table right next to the crooked snowman and an empty teacup instead. He squirmed under Chris till he found a more comfortable position, one arm rubbing soothing circles into Chris’ back and the other caressing his hair. The sensation sent tingles down his spine, leading him to bury his head in the juncture between Leon’s neck and shoulder, going boneless in his lovers hold.

The warmth of Leons body and his comforting touch, coupled with faintly playing Christmas music in the background was enough to pull Chris into a nap.

[laurieaconley]

Headless Snowman

[ajoytobeheld]

Goosebumps

May 6th, 2009

Welcome to Dead House

Stay Out of the Basement

Monster Blood

Say Cheese and Die!

The Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb

Let’s Get Invisible!

Night of the Living Dummy

The Girl Who Cried Monster

Welcome to Camp Nightmare

The Ghost Next Door

The Haunted Mask

Be Careful What You Wish For…

Piano Lessons Can Be Murder

The Werewolf of Fever Swamp

You Can’t Scare Me!

One Day at HorrorLand

Why I’m Afraid of Bees

Monster Blood II

Deep Trouble

The Scarecrow Walks at Midnight

Go Eat Worms!

Ghost Beach

Return of the Mummy

Phantom of the Auditorium

Attack of the Mutant

My Hairiest Adventure

A Night in Terror Tower

The Cuckoo Clock of Doom

Monster Blood III

It Came from Beneath the Sink!

Night of the Living Dummy II

The Barking Ghost

The Horror at Camp Jellyjam

The Revenge of the Lawn Gnomes

A Shocker on Shock Street

The Haunted Mask II

The Headless Ghost

The Abominable Snowman of Pasadena

How I Got My Shrunken Head

Night of the Living Dummy III

Bad Hare Day

Egg Monsters from Mars

The Beast from the East

Say Cheese and Die – Again!

Ghost Camp

How to Kill a Monster

Legend of the Lost Legend

Attack of the Jack O’Lanterns

Vampire Breath

Calling All Creeps!

Beware, the Snowman

How I Learned to Fly

Chicken Chicken

Don’t Go to Sleep!

The Blob That Ate Everyone

The Curse of Camp Cold Lake

My Best Friend Is Invisible

Deep Trouble II

The Haunted School

Werewolf Skin

I Live in Your Basement!

Monster Blood IV

I think the later ones probably got a bit shit.

[mdemontespan1667]

My mom made me some Xmas masks. She knew I didn't really like the second fabric (I'm not a "traditional" fan) so she made one for me that has the snowmen's heads cut off. I love my mommy.