froodle: (Default)
[personal profile] froodle
Check out the radness that came in the post yesterday! A doorknob scarf, perfect for both all my canine uprising needs and for making people in the street do a double take as they register that yes indeed, it really says knob. A plushie Weremarsicorn complete with key-shaped cutie mark. And a knitted Bill Cipher, ready to hand out horror and deer teeth at a moments' notice!

Read more... )

Also seen here: FunkoPOP customs of Simon, Mars and Dash by JaDisArt, crochet Sparky by Pixelkei and altered beanie baby Sparky (aka Sprite or Sparky Lite) by Erik237.
froodle: (Default)
[personal profile] froodle
The burned out minivan crouched in the parking lot outside WERD-TV. A ram skull topped with ornate curled horns stared balefully out over the rows of parked cars, empty eye sockets glittering darkly beneath the heavy folds of a midnight-black cowl.

“Free Beer!” proclaimed the hand-lettered sign above the glowering mascot for Eerie’s most recently opened micro-brewery. “Hand-crafted in Eerie! Brewed with soul!”

A pair of rangy figures in blood-stained denim, their faces obscured behind rubber sheep-skull masks, handed out plastic cups of rich brown brew to the gaggle of eager station employees that had formed around the van.

“You have got to be kidding me,” said Dash.

“No!” said Marshall. “I’m telling you, Hooded Ram Breweries is a front for the forces of evil to harvest the unwitting souls of Eerie!”

“Yes,” said Dash. “An idiot could see that. They’re not even being subtle about it. What I mean is, do you really want to go to the effort of saving the people who couldn’t see through it, even though this has got to be the most transparent Deal with the Devil since the guy who literally had people sign in blood?”

“He’s got a point there,” said Simon.


Read the rest of the Microwave-verse here )
froodle: (Default)
[personal profile] froodle
The thing on the doorstep wore an eye-patch and a well-groomed goatee that did nothing to distract from its lumpy and yellowish face. It grinned a curdled grin half-hidden behind the heavy black barrel of the gun gripped in the misshapen fingers of one hand. Moving in slow increments of congealed time, it raised its other arm and pointed one slimy digit at Marshall Teller, who recoiled in fear and revulsion.

“Give it your wallet!” snapped Syndi, her voice muffled by the sleeve pressed against her mouth and nose in a futile attempt to block out the stink of rotten dairy.

Marshall opened his mouth to protest the loss of his hard-earned paper route money and accidently inhaled. Retching, he fumbled for the neon green Velcro wallet in his back pocket. He tossed it at the creature’s oozing feet, then backed up towards the dubious safety of the family sofa.

The horrible being born of evil and things forgotten at the back of the Teller refrigerator scooped up six weeks of tips and, still smiling, shut the door behind it as it left.

“I told you that milk was bad,” said Edgar.

Marilyn surreptitiously plucked the ForeverWare catalogue from the bin.

Read the rest of the Teller Family History here )

Read the rest of the Milkman verse here )
deifire: (dash in library (slinkhard))
[personal profile] deifire
I'm not sure if this is just a ficlet or eventually going to wind up being part of something larger, but here's a little bit of Tod and Dash just in time for World Goth Day.

Rating: G (there's some implied swearing)

Tod had probably never said more than eleven words total directly to Dash... )

PS: For some reason DW is giving me errors when I try to tag, so apologies for those not being here.

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Eerie Indiana

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