#Horror Slasher oc

[thestalkerbunny]

They don't bicker often, but when they do, it's usually cause they have to eat Cop Meat.

[junkmixart]

This is why final girls and slashers shouldn’t sit at the same lunch table 🍱🔪

[jurassicass]

Back on my midwest slasher oc thang

Top left is Special Agent Rosaria Ward

And Lainey (goes by Lane) Baker

[dukesnukes]

SOME KILLARS!!!!!!!!!! JASON AND A NEW LAD NAMED BRONSON OR BUTCHER.....

[cameron-possibly]

it's finally getting warm out, so i'm declaring it slasher summer

[naninadz]

feeling sillay!!!

[clownsaint]

another slasher , this one is called eyewitness

[gh0stf4ce666]

Some gay regular horror dads :3

[kachowden]

The Farmer (prologue)

The smell of mold was thick, and permeated the room you had so dreadfully woken up in.

The back of your head ached in dull pain, that wouldn’t allow you to remember it’s origins. Your chest was heavy as if the wind had left you and your lungs had been squeezed empty.

Your skin felt greasy and stiff. You wanted to shower. You needed to shower. But you couldn’t move. You didn’t know where you were. Was there even a bathroom to shower in?

The rotting wood and rusted windows made it seem unlikely. Though you could hear the buzzing of flies and croaks of frogs from behind the wall. Most likely, wherever you were, was next to some kind of lake or pond.

The itch of your skin was making you want to jump in, regardless of what might be lurking inside.

When the door creaked open, it’s hinges scratching against each other unpleasantly, you only found the ability to glance up from where you head had slumped against your shoulder.

Dark, sunken eyes that looked ill fitting, like the skin sagged over a face that wasn’t meant to be there. Scratchy stubble littered his chin. Greasy, unkempt hair that looked to be self maintained, if the jagged edges weren’t telling enough.

His clothes looked like they needed a few washes. And the smell that followed him was…mostly unpleasant. Like stale water and must. Not the most offensive smell, but it made your nose scrunch just for a moment.

The man, who you could guess was a farmer of some kind, stepped forward into the room, nearing the faint light the spilled in from the filthy window panes. Just enough, to where you could see the odd grey hue of his skin.

“mornin’…”

Your shoulders scrunched involuntarily, folding the skin of your back as your ears took in his voice.

Deep, monotone and a bit gruff. Like the voice of a man who never slept a day in his life. But it echoed. Like two voices speaking as one, and it rang in your ear like a quiet siren.

You supposed your lack of response made this man uncomfortable, as his eyes darted to the side for a moment, and he stepped forward. Closer.

It was now you noticed the plate of food in his large, calloused hands. It was now, as he sat down beside you, that you noticed the stiff bed you had woken up on. It was now, as the memories flooded through, that you realized the predicament you were in.

Your car was busted. Your friends were missing. You, were stranded in the middle of nowhere, in the company of a stranger who offered to help you.

and a voice in the back of your mind told you, that you were being chased.

The shift of the bed and squeaking of old springs led your eyes back to the face of the farmer infront of you, who looked just as lost in thought as you were.

He mumbled incoherently to himself, brows narrowing as if he was in the midst of an argument. Fingers fiddled and curled around the saggy fabric of his shirt, and for a moment, it seemed as if this episode had ended.

Before he looked up at you. And suddenly his brows furrowed deeper and his lips set into a deep frown.

“Your car…’s not gonna start anytime soon. You might be stuck here…’a while.”

Your chapped lips pursed, uncomfortably. “Can’t you call some repair men?”

He mimicked you, glancing away almost guiltily. “Ain’t no-body around here for miles. No land lines neither.”

Of course there wasn’t. You seemed to remember having lost connection of your phone sometime before your car broke down.

“…what about my friends? I gotta find them.”

“If they passed through here…I don’t think you’ll have much luck…”

What a comforting response. The farmer acknowledged your glare with an embarrassed clearing of his throat. “I’ll…take care of ya’ till you can get back on the road…”

“I can take care of myself just fine.”

The way he looked at you made you sick. Like dread had been poured down your throat and was slowly filling you the brim. His gaze was intense and foreboding, warning you that you did not know what you were up against.

“It ain’t just the animals out there you gotta worry about…it’s best of you to stay here. At least for a while.”

And how long is a while?

-1-

You learned very quickly, that a while was more than three days. And you learned even quicker, that sometimes it was better to not ask questions.

That was one of the rules here.

1. Don’t go out at night

2. Don’t open the shed

3. Don’t ask questions.

That last rule kept you sane.

Don’t ask why you couldn’t go out at night. Don’t ask why you can’t go in the shed.

Don’t ask why the farmer talks to himself. Don’t ask why his bedroom is never used.

Don’t ask why the cattle go stalk still when he’s nearby. Don’t ask why the crickets stop singing and frogs stop croaking when he’s outside.

Don’t ask about the smell. Don’t ask about the lumps in the ground.

Don’t ask why your neck is wet and sticky every morning. Don’t ask about your car. Don’t ask about your friends.

Don’t ask how long you’ll be stuck here.

Live ignorant while you’re here. Don’t think. It’s safer, to stop thinking. You’ll lose yourself if you think too much.

Those weren’t your words. You weren’t sure who’s they were. But they worked. They were comforting.

So you didn’t think. You no longer wondered where your friends were. You no longer wondered how long you’d be stuck here, or how long it’d take to fix your car.

The farmer took care of you. He said he would, and he did. You ate well, you slept okay and you smelled better then you had when you first woke up.

You paid little mind to the lingering touches or intense stares.

Or the moments you swore you heard something growl when you passed by.

Nothing was perfect. But it was safe.

Because you followed the rules.

Until you didn’t.

The mistake of needing the toilet late at night. The mistake of leaving the farmhouse into the pitch dark land around you. The mistake of opening the shed, thinking that it had been the outhouse you were looking for.

The mistake of asking questions, when a dark mass of oil and flesh stared back at you.

“What the fuck is that?”

You didn’t feel so safe anymore.

[itsmissnight]

Here's a art dump of all the doodles I've done of my xenomorph sona, cupid!!! I love him sm, he's pink 💗

[junkmixart]

MR DICE RUNS 🏃‍♂️💨

LINKTREE

[jurassicass]

First art of them vs most recent 🥴

[OCs: Daisy Mae (blonde) Buck (Masked)] full is on Twitter but I’m sure u get the gist lol

[monstatron]

CLOVUS BARION, THE BUTCHER

finished this horror piece up featuring a prominent side character in the ekanox.

no reason to be shy, the butcher doesn’t mind guests :) quite a friendly fella… if you stay on his good side… the butcher is a notable figure in 8923. the first and last to brave the horrors of the flesh-city of empirius. almost everyone knows who the butcher is, but even then, his tale as a hunter in empirius is just as enigmatic as his killings. some are fascinated by him, others are horrified by his harrowing actions.

i was leaning for some big slasher energy with this piece. like something you’d see on some 80s movie poster haha

[hee-blee-art]

keep your eye on the rabbit

[clownsaint]

laughing kookaburra slasher

[eerie-candid]

Same person, different time; many mistakes later.