12 Creeps of Christmas

== Crycicles and Yulephorics ==
== Profile ==
Hey y'all, Krampus here. They/Them pronouns this time, I feel a bit... mushy.
So, anyhoo, y'all might know me as the big guy's enforcer. The big cheese of boppin the real bastards on the head this time o' year. Needless to say, I've been kinda stuck workin over time. And not just for the bastards amongst y'all, but also the bastards beyond y'all, especially with the big guy moving n all.
And on that end I've been through enough shit, that I figured I might show y'all some o the horseshit I gotta deal with this season, so you know the bullshit I gotta deal with. Startin' off with a two-fer cause; really; they gotta connection I thinks.
Well that and I had sorta kinda a mental breakdown the day I was supposed to start this but that ain't here nor there.
Anyhoo, first off, #1 is the Crycicles, the lil icety impty things on the left. You know seasonal depression? Or those feelings of loneliness and emptiness when you gotta spend Christmas alone? Boy sure to shit I know that. But anyhoo, they show up when that happens.
Some peoples say they feed offa it, but I don't think so. They don't really cause the shit so much as show up when it happens. I think, in my hypo-the-ma-sis, it feeds offa them, like a downward spiral. You get me? Ah you probably get me if you know this shit.
Anyhoo, it's not easy to describe what they do, cause it gets worse the more they show up. Things break at first, or  get lost, but when the really show up, things freeze, ice and blizzards show up in the whole house, and people stop moving. They don't die, they just stop.
Best solution: Warm n fuzzy crap. Well, the best I can do with that crap anyway; niceness; power o friendship; that kinda schpiel. Which I'm bad at. But I gotta try dammit. Cause god knows I'm the only one around here to do that.
But anyhoo, the situation is made a thousand times worse with THOSE FUCKERS on the right. AKA #2, the Yulephorics.
Ugh, these guys. They talk n talk n say nothin worth anything. The sorta shit that sure makes 'em happy but doesn't do shit for anyone especially me right now ugh. They sure love their fire n warmpth, does a body good they says, even though it's burning down your fucking house n eyes. The eyes are the worst, cause when they're hollowed out, man...
Anyhoo, the lil fire bastards do mind control shit if the burning doesn't work to try and make people "feel the Holiday spirit". Especially when they have Crycicles around. But funny thing, people don't work like that, so the more they try to make 'em fake it, the less they wanna make it, and it ends up when everything's on fire and frozen all at once.
Now you see why I ain't the happiest camper right now.
You can tell if somebody you know's a meat puppet of these things if you see wax drippin' off the back of their skull from the candles these things walk on*. Which, you might know to look out for due to; again; all the fire and fake-cheery bullshit. Best cure: Bucket o ice water. And even if they ain't it, boy is it sure fuckin satisfying...
*Which, to get into the readin I do, part of my looksin-into this shit (Because I hate them) says they might be what happened to candles that got burnt mostly but thrown away before they could get burnt down. O course, another part o it says that they're just fake-cheer-things usin those as a host, or it could be both, I dunno, fuck these things...
== Author Commentary ==
I'm doing a Christmas Special this year! Continuing over from my old Tumblr stuff of a similar nature with the Krampus as narrator, but now with sketches rather than just descriptions, it's some all-new original Christmas monsters!
Namely, I felt it'd be appropriate (especially with the minor emotional breakdown I had yesterday about the feelings of where my life and the world is going) to make these lil Heartless-type things to start off! 
And for that theme, I thought it'd be appropriate to use two things people hate about this time of year, the feelings of seasonal depression and loneliness that make people feel like crap around this time of year, and the feelings of enforced/fake merriment and cheer that make the former even worse! Cause, god knows they both suck...
== License ==
As is gonna be the case with all these Christmas Creations, these species are free to use as you see fit under a CC-BY 4.0 license so long as I; Thomas F. Johnson, am credited as their creator!
== Blatant Shilling ==
And, if you wanna support me, maybe check out my Patreon, or even just send a Ko-Fi my way! Every penny is appreciated, and I am eternally grateful for those who donate!
== Mistletain ==
So, y'all know the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe? Good. And y'all know that whole "Mistletoe arrow that killed Baldr" thing from that Norse crap? Sure you do, everybody fucking talks about the fucking Norse.
Well, something sprouted from the seeds of that mistletoe, and boy howdy is that shit a nuisance. We call it the Mistletain, because fuck me if I'm gonna give it a better name. The damn thing's a parasite on regular mistletoe, a parasite on a parasite! 
Some shears do the job if you know the signs. Which, nobody does these days, and I couldn't explain 'em to ya if I tried. No sprays or herbicides though, fuck that shit, do you know what that shit does?! Like, really, do you know?!
But, human bullshit aside grumble grumble Monsanto fuckers these things make kissing under the mistletoe even more of a bitch than the last time I got stuck doing that (Don't ask), cause they just show up and try to kill ya if you don't! 
Well, sorta. In that they start "followin'" you after you go through a mistletoe alone when you're in love with someone. Like, really; really in love with somebody but haven't said a peep to 'em. And then they hover above, slowly dropping with that pointy shiny "light-spear" to do exactly what the fuck you think it does. Yeesh.
They're pretty easy to deal with tho. Well, circumstances depending. All ya gotta do is confess to that person, and it'll stop  n disappear! Like, they don't even gotta recip-ra-mo-cate, you just gotta ask. 
Though, for some loves and some places, doin' that's a bit of a... nightmare. Specially on this time o year, ugh; family bigots am I right?! I usually gotta come and intervene on those times, either me or the Big Guy with Christmas Miracle shit. 
Tho, my way's a bit less "Christmas Miracle" and more "Get the parasite Damocles fuckers with the shears" and "bigots get in the fucking bag," but hey, that's just my style...
== Author Commentary ==
So, another day, another thing in this series. Cause, yep, I sure am making it A Thing, and I actually have several pics already finished!
== License ==
As is gonna be the case with all these Christmas Creations, these species are free to use as you see fit under a CC-BY 4.0 license so long as I; Thomas F. Johnson, am credited as their creator!
== Ghoul Log ==
Welp, this is yet again one o my own cavalcade o failures, so I might as well yap about it. Years ago, around 50 winters I thinks, the big guy wanted to make a substitute for coal for the naughty kids, said somethin about "better for the air" and how the kids who coulda used the coal to help the family back then weren't the kids being the biggest pains in the schwangus now. 
Needless to say, I got to work fixin up somethin for the worst little shits, and the big shits that little shits tend to grow up into. Mixin some petrified wood, some bitter fire of the winter sun; a few scoops of aurora borealis, and a whole lotta liquid spite later, this thing came out. I call it a Ghoul Log, a "log" that could make more of itself. It'd look like an ordinary log till either A) the dumbasses lit it or B) It got into a position where it could get at the source o the problem, the shittiest person in the viscini-ma-tee.
It'sd flare up, make some cruel ol fire ghoul, the fire'd go n spread hot-n-cold, the bastards'd run around scared, maybe we'd bump off a adults ruining shit, it was a win-win. Needless to say, he didn't go for it. Probably because they tended to go too far. And that's me sayin that shit, so he probably had a point.
But the ones I made to show it off to 'em sure did go for it, and now I gotta pick 'em up in the wild. No, water doesn't work. No, gasoline doesn't work either. I wanted to lie and say it did because that'd be fucking hilarious, but the extra bullshit ain't worth it.
Best way to stop it: Be a good person, jump in yourself to fight it out of an unselfish desire to protect others, and poof, it goes out. People who this thing's stalkin never do that except; like; one or two times and people wonder why I'm so cynical about that redemption-narrative shit, but usually it's the other people who got stuck with the "coalateral damage" of it who do that. 
You might get cool fire powers from it, you might not, it varies...
== Author Commentary ==
Another day, another entry, and holy crap it was an entry that took a long-ass time to refine the art for! But I think it came out decently, and reveals a fair bit about this version of The Krampus! I at least hope they have a distinctive tone...
== Snap-Dragon ==
Aw hells yeah, this is the best thing! Not a "warning" per-say, but these motherfuckers are called Snap-Dragons and lookit how rad these goddamn things are! They're a bowl of flaming booze containing magic-y glow-y thingies that's a part o a goddamn dragon, lookit it! 
The big guy was skeptical when I found these critters somewhere in the hidey-holes o Europe don't ask but when I showed 'em what they could do they were more than happy to welcome 'em aboard! Good thing too, poor bastards were almost dead as a species, cause every douchebag aristocrat dumb-hatted stupid-wigged douchebag back then was huntin' 'em . The Snap Dragons didn't even do shit to hurt 'em, the bastards just wanted their booze and ftheir treasures.
Cause, it ain't just me say-a-ma-tizin' that they're "magic-y glow-y thingies", they're just that, pure glowin magic, immersed in moonshine pure enough to boil away the despair o winter. And also yer hand if you fuck it up! And your whole body if you fuck with 'em, they do got a breath weapon serve you right if you get stuck by it.
I heard it tell they may've been where the Star O Bethlehem came from because you Christians always gotta make it about you, but the damn things are powerful winter-Christmas magic! I was gonna hunt downt he bastards hunting 'em and clickety clack, beat 'em in my sack until they... well, yeah, but the big guy didn't go for it.
So, we made the procedures a game! Dive into the booze, dodge the flames and don't get set on fire, grab as many as you can protip, only take three; don't get greedy, and you gotcherself some wild-ass Christmas miracles to dole out as you and the Christmas Spirit please! And if you try to cheat and hurt 'em, I get to beatcha senseless, it's a win-win!
You people made it into some kinda drunkass party game on a smaller scale, but I says nothin beats the real thing! Plus, they share their booze with ya either way! And boy oh boy am I gonna need it these years...
== Author Commentary ==
It's an obscure bit o Christmas trivia I made into a monster, as is my way! Man do I love finding weird stuff to show to people! And yes, this is supposed to be an origin story for the old-timey Christmas game of Snap-Dragon, which sadly died around the time Christmas specials were a thing and didn't get its own stop-motion based musical. Pity that...
== Short Miser ==
Oh, this guy, this fuckin guy.
He calls himself Short Miser, but he's no fuckin big-shot amongst the elementals. He's just some goddam twerp of a winter-lightning-dude who got too big for his britches when you all started doin shit with lightnin, sayin we should call him "The Professor." Nobody calls you the Professor fucko. Even if you do hawk gimmicky science bullshit like a cheap-ass robo-whore.
He can be helpful-adjacent, sometimes. Gadgets certainly do the trick half the time. Half of the time they wreck shit in new and exciting bullshit ways! And he fucking hard-sells you either way. Like, "cuts the power and shorts out shit" hard sell. 
Certainly makes him more obnoxious, cause that pic ain't my limited drawing skills, that's what he actually fuckin looks like, some bullshit wireframe covered in lights, animated like a fucked up puppet-cartoon thing. He'll say he came before those electro-light wireframes if you ask though, he always does.
First solution to his shit: Yeet 'em out the window. Not so confident about being "lightweight" now, are ya fucko?! 
Failin that, you can buy his shit and he'll go away...-ish. He's a pushy fucker when something goes wrong; if only because he's a little egomaniac who doesn't want it to reflect bad on 'em. And he will never shut the fuck up if his shiny horseshit "saves Christmas" or some bullshit like that.
Personally, I'd go with the Yeet option. You damn kids say that these days, right?
== Author Commentary ==
Main impetus for this character was basically trying to come up with a Lightning character to complete a Fire/Ice/Lightning trio with Heat Miser and Snow Miser, and thinking about what stuff Christmas-wise is connected to electricity.
This character's not quite a "villain," as much as Krampus just does not like him. Which, to be fair, he is kinda obnxious and punchable. 
If he were to be animated in some stop-motion Christmas special, I'd probably go with 3d printing the flat "frame" and replacing it every frame, a bit like George Pal's Puppetoon process if you're familiar with that. The lights, presumably would be added in post...
== NORAD BUGGER ==
You remember the cold war? I remember the Cold War so many bastards who shoulda had it coming,  BUT ANYHOO, your "N.O.R.A.D." tracks the big guy, and the Russkies thought "Wow, what a great way to own the 'Muricans and commit crimes against life!" 
Y'see, there's these lil insects called Rods in the atmosphere, lil wavety flying things; faster than they should be for their size; fucky with radar; the tiny larvae tend to drop down here. Nutbars talk about 'em on camera, 90 percent o 'em are wrong about the signs n miss 'em when they do get 'em, BUT I DIGRESS. 
Some fucker got the bright idea to use fucked up genetics bullshit; breeding and some good ol fashioned radiation to make signal-producin mimics of the sled, ideally to make 'em into radar-jammers n weapons after ruinin' the Big Guy's day to piss off Uncle Sam. Project NORAD BUGGER, tho I just call 'em Buggers for short!
Guy who made 'em probably studied under that fucker who tried to make humanzees, I think. You can probably tell from how bullshit they are. But, man was presumably a genius because he was able to pull it off, even the aesthetic mimicry shit, which he apparently said was important to fucking with NORAD for reasons of phenotype or whatever? 
Personally, I think he was bullshitting cause he just wanted some Christmas Cheer bomination. But, they were useless as weapons cause they didn't give a shit about who's side they were on, and they were too aimless to be proper radar jammers. They didn't even wreck the big guy's shit with NORAD because of; well; yours truly...
...God I love it when I get to use the wrench. 
So they were discarded. And let loose. And now they're you guys' problem like the rest of your Cold War shit god I wish I'da gotten to take chare o those fuckers, one good whack on Kissinger and...
The damn things breathe fire. I'll just say it straight out. And not just fire, but some weird bullshit christmas-colored-napalm shit. And of course we can't forget the fucking up of electronics like; say; yer phone in addition to all the radar jamming. Or the fact they're roughly the size of the big guy's sleigh. And can take a few bullets before they even crack. And; since they were made to mimic the sled; they fucking fly.
They tend to do that cicada thing where they go underground for a time to pupate before they go screamin out, usually a lot more than 7 years, under cornfields instead o trees. They fuckin love Big Agra monocultures to pupate in after they eat every fuckin thing they can eat in the previous town over (Humans included), prolly because Big Agra doesn't give a shit!
Corporate fuckwheats, I swear; when I get the chance with the wrench...
But yeah, best advice for dealin with 'em: High explosives. Or a big enough gun. I ain't the best advisor on this, cause they're like a fuckin horror movie. And that's even before the mutant varieties that came out after Cherno-ma-bill or whatever, god those things are fuckin weird, you could build a fuckin franchise on those.
I mean, I'd watch that movie. Hell, I'd pay for the damn thing to get made! And that's why they don't let me handle the budget much...
== Author Commentary ==
The core idea for this was somebody mentioning the idea of NORAD's Santa Tracker as the basis for a monster, somebody mentioned Rods from Cryptozoology, and thusly I came up with these damn things! 
I like to think of them as a subject for an unconventional seasonal monster-movie, a bit in the vein of stuff like Tremors...
== Skeleton Geese ==
It is Christmas, and there is a horrible goose skeleton. There is always a horrible goose skeleton.
Yeah, they used to do so much shit with geese, from those shitty goose-feather Christmas trees, to the "goose clubs" the poor used to pay into to get a Christmas goose. Turns our, some of those poors were anarchists. Hold your surprised face, I know.
Anyhoo, that whole "Propaganda of the Deed" shit which never shoulda stopped if you ask me combined with the fact that somebody apparently knew some necromancy and used it for this shit. They had a lotta goose detritus, so they made dead goosemonade I suppose.
I mean, it didn't work that well, cause even skeleton geese, aka Bastards do what the hell they want , but they did some neato stuff  as distractions and mayhem-makers, and I can respect the spirit o that. Still doesn't help these things are still around.
Aside from being never able to die; even if ya crush 'em to itty bitty grains of goosey powder with a steamroller (I should know, I tried), and flyin with those goose-tree thingies they have as propellers, they basically can't do much more than an ordinary goose. 
This is still bullshit if you know anything about geese, and then you add to that zero sense of self-preservation.
My advice: Grab 'em by the neck and yeet 'em. Like, that won't deal with 'em, but it'll make 'em respect ya as much as a shitty fuckin goose can, and they'll leave... 
...-ish. Sorta. Kinda. Maybe.
== Author Commentary ==
I wanted to make a thing based on Goose Clubs and Goose Feather Christmas Trees, and the game reference came in because it was just too fucking perfect.
== Watcher Shelves ==
Firstly, I cannot stress enough, we did not make these things. Or, rather, the horrid little panopticon-elves they "evolved" from. Somebody just produced 'em and they just started showin up under some brand name we don't like to encourage. We just call 'em Watcher Shelves. Because some goddamn elf is too goddamn fond of puns, Herne bless 'em.
IDK if it's the fact that they absorbed resentment because; jesus christ; fuck those little snitch-dolls, or if there was always something rotten weaved into these things. My guess: both. But, they started to live and become animate. 
Lil Timmy prolly got the belt several times when these things woke up, knowing the households who buy this shit I swear it's those parents who deserve the bag n the chains most; some of these people... 
But they're there, and they breed. By budding, we think. They mostly scuttle about and just... watch. On the walls, on the celling, out the corner of your eye, you know the drill; typical horrible sleep-paralysis-demon shit. Except the staring into your soul is a bit more... literal. Lemon juice can fix that tho.
We don't know who they send your data to, but we know it's bad. Like, "mysterious accidents" bad. And, the thing is, we have no idea where the "judgements" these things make come from. Tends to hurt the people who feel more guilty than those who are the most. These fuckers, I swear...
Also, yes, those are big fuckin tatas, and yes, they lactate this horrible aqua "elf milk". Don't fuckin drink it. It's a mutagen, and not the fun kind. Best case scenario you end up as one of them, worst case scenario is either a Broodmaker or a "hybrid," which, yeesh...
Thermite works to destroy their hives, combo of iron and fuckin scorcher-fire I suppose. There's professionals for this shit; you can find 'em online, or call the hotline, which you can also find online cause I ain't legally allowed to give it. One hint: Lemon Juice.
They regenerate if you smash 'em up any other way, tho if you stick 'em in a box in a church they die after a year and a day. But I wouldn't know, never go near the damn places...
== Author Commentary ==
Would you believe this is the second time I made a horrible lactating thing based on Elf on the Shelf? And yes, the "elf milk" is based on a real thing, in defiance of god and nature...
== The Mummer King ==
Oh ye gods this guy, The Mummer King. or, as I like to call 'em, The Usurper. 
If ya don't know, ya should; what do they even teach kids these days that they don't know; Mummering is like yer Trick Or Treat except for Christmas and without Stingy Jack and his bullshit (THAT'S RIGHT, I SAID IT JACK!). You put on a bunch o brick-a-brac, as much crap as possible to disguise you including a probably-creepy cloth mask, to go around in people's homes and do the performin arts for stuff. You know, nice honest shenanigans.
And the usual lead of it is Maryi Lwyd, nice gal who's a robed horse skull on a pole, who seems to be gettin a fair bit more popular these days gods bless 'em. But there's been attacks on 'em rcently, by rogue Mummers, and they all seem to be lead by this fucker. Wartps their mind through their masks, and leads them.
He makes music wherever he goes, spews trash and bugs where he walks, and has a shitload of violent and violin instruments he pops out. And I know it's a he, cause they always sing that horrible jolly song. So, be on the lookout for that.
I aint sure where he comes from, tho the cloven hoof could be a clue, but the fact that bugs spew from him, the way he speaks with those buzzing nnoises, the fact when you try to kill 'em nothing's there but a bunch o bugs, the fact that if you get rid of one (Easy if you get past the crowds), everyone starts spittin up bugs for a couple o' minutes before comin to their senses makes me think he's somethin worse.
Cause, long before the big guy, there was a holiday round this time of year around bugs. Now, I ain't got nothin against bugs, they're good eatin, but this day... Eugh, I can't say shit about it it was so fucked up. The day I drove a knife into its personi-ma-fication when I was young is prolly the proudest thing I ever done. 
But bugs don't die so easy. And it looks like they want back in. And, they seem like they remember every time they died, so even if it's a buncha different bugs or bodies, there's only one Mummer King, and they want to take over. If only I could find whatever the fuck hive they...
== Author Commentary ==
The base design was inspired by the fact that mummers' disguises are as creepy as all fuck, and because mummering as a practice is wildly underutilized in these sorts of things and "The Mummer King " sounded creepy as hell.
The implied origin however is an idea I wanted to include in this but had forgotten about until now. Cause, you see, there's a surprising amount of media using the idea of a pre-Christian sinister winter holiday, and the proceedings of such somehow involving land-dwelling arthropods.
Silent Night Deadly Night 4, Lovecraft's story The Festival, the "bug day" Oogie Boogie was originally a part of, and so-on. And I think that'd be a neat idea to make into a full -on Thing regarding Christmas lore! Maybe I'll do more on that next year...
== The Ghost of Christmas Null ==
This... this is the end of all things. The Ghost Of Christmas NULL.
There's a Ghost of Christmas Past, Christmas Present, and Christmas Future, but there are other ghosts. The ghosts where Christmas is but a melted puddle in cinders. The ghost of not future Christmases but the time when christmas is gone, when cheer is dead or dying.
They don't move, they don't do anything. But I can see 'em, I've seen 'em. More and more, beyond and beyond, over the years as things get worse and worse! 
Their hands that hold the chains and the sack cannot touch them, and yet they don't do anything but stare into my eyes! Don't look at me! Don't look at me! I know, I know, I know it's all my fault! Why won't you leave, why won't you leave?!
== Author Commentary ==
So yeah, this got... dark. Basically a running theme of my Krampus stuff (If you've seen on my Tumblr), is that they feel miserable that for all their efforts the world is still getting worse and they feel like it's all their fault!
This may or may not be related to some personal venting regarding my own feelings of powerlessness and failure. 
On a lighter note, another idea I had related to this "alternate temporal Christmas Ghost" was a Ghost Of Christmasses That Never Were, of timelines regarding Christmas that never happened. I may have to use that in the future...
== [not sure what to title this narrative bit but it feels like it needs its own heading] ==
As I write this, I'm sitting alone in a wine cave, helpin myself to the wine. No, not that wine cave, tho the fucker who had this one still has it coming, 
God damn the "Beat Musk" operation was a fucking disaster, all the human creeps managed to get away, and the not human stuff, well, it's just getting worse and worse. I barely get in touch with the Big Guy or any of my usual haunts, and god knows it's not cause of time, it's just... 
Fuck me, it feels like humans are creating new and fucked up ways to make things get worse and worse, and I'm trying to get out and things are melting around me, and I'm drownin. Heh, drownin, I suppose that's appropriate with the situation. That's why the Big Guy left anyhoo, for that place in space.
I don't begrudge 'em, he was only able to do it cause he got lucky. But, god, why am I still here? Why am I still fighting when everything gets worse and worse, and I keep fucking it up again and again?! Why can't I do anything right, why can't I save anything and anyone?!
...Ah well, cheers to whoever's reading this. If you're alone on Christmas Eve; hopefully we can feel alone together this once...
-Yer pal, the Krampus
== Author Commentary ==
So, yeah, this is also very much based on my own feelings that've been steadily ramping up over this year. For anyone else feeling this way, know that you are not alone.
== Bitey the Box ==
...Well, last night was depressing. Like, "blackout drunk in some asshole's wine cave" depressing, but dammit, it looks like the Big Guy left a lil somethin for me. Specificamally this lil friend. 
I call 'em Bitey the Box! They look like a present, can disguise as a present, and act like a goober. I think the big guy filed 'em with as much Christmas Cheer read: Christmass-y wild magic as he could. It is very hard to be sad with this lil fella around.
I'm sittin by the fire, which I set this rich asshole's Wine Cave on, with a friend. Maybe things might not be so bad after all. Have a Happy Holimidays, and a new year that hopefully doesn't suck! Gods bless us, every one!
== Author Commentary ==
So, yeah, a bit of a happier note to end on, inspired a little by the classic Mimic trope, but also by the idea of hope in the back of Pandora's Box. because, no matter how bad things get, there's always the hope they might get better.
Happy holidays, to each and every one of yas!