#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 🍱🔪

[yumykon]

Yumykon, the Fearstalker 🐰🪓🩸

[cheydlerarts]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! 🎃🔪👻 here's some ghostface TobyChevJack 🖤

[gh0stf4ce666]

Some gay regular horror dads :3

[cameron-possibly]

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

[naninadz]

feeling sillay!!!

[dukesnukes]

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

[rabdoidal]

a late halloween piece of my horror movie OCs! had to colour/shade/etc this with my trackpad because my tablet died 🧎 if anyone has any spare change to contribute to me replacing it, my kofi is https://ko-fi.com/rabdoidal 🙏

[clownsaint]

another slasher , this one is called eyewitness

[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.

[junkmixart]

MR DICE RUNS 🏃‍♂️💨

LINKTREE

[artsydudejude]

*bolts upright in bed, drenched in sweat* where am i

[cherryskyies]

A Fight with Bo

I can't believe it has been ten months since I have posted, but here I am! Hopefully it is decent, college has been eating me alive. Was supposed to be a one-shot, but it is too short, so it is hdcs. Plan to expand on it later and post another with the rest of the slashers. Warning: Foul language, reader is female, but it can be read as GN. Masterlist || Navigation || aO3

Your hand falls through your hair, pinky finger catching on a knot. The nervousness surrounding the situation makes you hesitant to speak. “I feel like I'm giving too much of myself to you, Bo,” the words flow out before you can stop them, but it is the truth. “My innocence, my morals… You’ve ruined me, Bo, you know that right?”  

The words sting as you say them, the realization that you will never live a normal life with the amount of blood staining your hands hits like a ton of bricks, but Bo does not bother to look up from the car in front of him, eyes inspecting a cracked coolant hose. “I didn’t ruin you darlin,’ you did that all on your own; I don’t need no credit.” he mocks, finally making eye-contact, “Can’t blame me for the lives you’ve taken.”  

You feel anger rise within you, the betrayal of his words sinking in. “Hard not to when you’re the one that made me do it. I never wanted to kill,” you pause, eyes searching his face for an ounce of empathy. “— even Lester knows this. Says a lot about the ‘love’ you have for me when you don’t even listen to me!” You spit, feeling as if Bo is the worst thing that has ever happened to you. “I hate you,” and you swear you have never been more honest. 

Bo slams his fist against the side of the car before angrily pointing a finger in your face, spit flying with every word he says, “Then leave,” he seethes, face contorted in anger. “Leave and never come back to this fucking town!” and he swears he has never told a bigger lie; he does not want you to leave, but his anger is its own animal, and it consumes him whole. “Never want to see your ungrateful ass again,” he adds, much quieter as the weight of the situation settles on his shoulders. 

You pause at his outburst; all your fights were never this bad. If your mother had raised you any weaker, you would have begged for forgiveness right then and there, but neither of you dared to back down. “I don’t know how or why all of this love turned to anger, but I do know that you are a nasty man, Bo.” 

You will leave, he will not follow. Bo will be damned if he is going to chase you and beg you to stay — even though he really wants to.

He simply cannot help it. Bo is not the kind of man that can apologize, at least not right away. Guilt will follow him, but he will convince himself he was in the right.

In the end, life will go on and your picture will remain on his night stand. You will never see each other again.

[spacezombie-731]

THIS TOOK ME FAR TOO LONG TO DO (inspo: spookysweaterblog)

[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 💗