84c1fa No.332490 [Last50 Posts]
Been playing dead by daylight recently, and the huntress gave me an idea to make a slasher girl thread (I've also got some inspiration from the "Slashers" book from the "world of darkness" tabletop game). Any type will do:
Disfigured, Insane, Undead, Alive, Mute, Talkative, Supernatural, "Normal", Masked, Unmasked, Sympathetic, Evil, Obscene, Charismatic, Perverted, Cannibalistic, Vengeful, Artistic, Medical, Scientific, Philosophical, Political.
The one thing they all share is that they are, or were, human, and that they prefer to use Melee weapons or Traps to kill their unsuspecting prey.
But can they qualify as monsters? and would a female slasher qualify as a monstergirl?
I'd think so.
Imagine being stalked from the shadows by a disfigured mute hillbilly yandere in a mask, her leaving you disturbed love notes proclaiming her undying love for you, and her self-appointed role as your protector, getting obscene phone calls from her, which only consist of her heavy breathing and a faint shlicking sound, not knowing that she's living in your ceiling, opening the paper and discovering that the troll-girl you only talked to once at the coffee shop while waiting for your latte went missing the same day, seeing your slasher-stalker before she can kill anyone, and making her your waifu-for-laifu, putting your dick in crazy, and getting adorable slasher daughterus out of it, living innawoods at an abandoned campsite.
Or meeting a /pol/ack skin-and-bones ghoul-girl who is exclusively cannibalistic, mean that she cannot take sustainment from anything that isn't sourced from the human body, she needs to drink human blood or milk to keep from thirsting to death, and needs to eat human flesh or organs to keep from starving, so she hunts and eats evil people while wearing a human skin face mask, armed with a set of weapons made from human bones, and using her ghoul powers to fill them full of delicious, nutritious fear before she eats them, going after "untouchable" evil people like George Soros or Jacob Rothschild, and living in urban undergrounds like the catacombs of Paris. She'd be an exciting slasher waifu as well.
Along with witches, slashers are the only "human" monsters, although they can be combines with other monster types, like zombies (Jason), ghosts (Freddy), or cursed objects (Chucky).
Does the Phantom of the Opera count as a slasher?
____________________________
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694bd9 No.332577
>>332490
Thanks to my severe paranoia, she'd probably end up with a chest full of 12 gauge buckshot if she tried sneaking around my house at night.
I sleep with a short 12 gauge right next to my bed, in between my bed and night stand actually. I thoroughly check my house every week, and my room every night, as well my closet can barely fit a fucking safe so nothing can hide in it.
Also
>Disfigured, Insane, Undead, Alive, Mute, Talkative, Supernatural, "Normal", Masked, Unmasked, Sympathetic, Evil, Obscene, Charismatic, Perverted, Cannibalistic, Vengeful, Artistic, Medical, Scientific, Philosophical, Political.
>Artistic
You misspelled autistic.
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99bbd3 No.332734
>>332490
We already have some R63 of Jason and Freddy, but they look more like normal women in cosplay than actual slashers like the ones you'd expect to see in a horror movie.
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90980a No.332786
Not a slasher per se but i guess this fits here.
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b54a4d No.340770
>>332490
A yan disfigured hillbilly sounds cute. But what exactly makes her a monster? Retard strength?
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3fffb8 No.340781
I am a huge fan of things that are regarded by most as creepy/disgusting/nasty/horrifying being lewded so yes,please continue.
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fd6ae7 No.340790
I tried
>>340770
Well fella, I reckon that there is a durn fine question. Some say it's the result of testing the gov'ment did up thar on the military reserve. Some say it's residual "man-ah" from that infamous monster girl criminal doct'r had her lab 'round these parts afore the g-men caught up t'her. Some say it's the fey folk. My grandpappy always said it's due to a deal that the original pioneers here struck with a spirit what used to be worshipped by the injuns. All I can say fer sure is that every now n then a girl round these parts will be born different. Never to any of the new folks mind you. Always to one of the old families what been here for at least a few generations, usually more, and always to one on the verge of dying out fer want of issue.
These girls will always seem a little off. Not so off that you'd not want to look at em mind you. Generally got uncommon decent figures in fact. But always something wrong with em. Some folk say that's part of the price, you unnerstand. Price for what you ask? Well, it's hard to say since as a rule these girls is always secretive like, but they're surrounded by queer happenin's n strange events. Gen'ral pattern bein that one o those girls will get right interested in a boy her age. Right int'rested indeed. Common enough I s'pose. But there's always somthin gets in the way. Sometimes there's another girl fancies the boy. Sometimes lots o girls fancies the boy. Sometimes the boy's parents don't cotton to the match. Sometimes the boy hisself ain't too fond o the match! But the odd girl always gets him in the end, no matter the odds. Always.
I only been pers'nally involved in one such incident, but perhaps that'll give you a taste of it. The boy was a childhood friend o mine. Real bookish and gentle sort. Fella could tell you all 'bout a gun: who 'vented it, what battles it'd been used in, what famous men been kilt by it; and then get within 50 paces of a deer with it and be so flustered at the thought of killin one of God's creatures he'd fumble the action and miss outright. Got a lot of ribbin' on account of that gentle nature of his, but he was a real decent sort. Most honest man in the county by my reckonin'.
In any case he caught the eye of Abigail McDermott. Never saw much of her. Her family always kept to themselves, valued their privacy, and Abigail herself was terrible shy. Probly on account o the left side of her face, but I always found her pretty enough. Certainly a damn sight sweeter than most o the girls round here that gets praised for their looks. But it was my friend she fancied. We'd see her watchin us in the distance sometimes when we was out in the woods, and my friend would find little presents from her round his house or in his school bookbag. I never had any idea how she done planted those things. Every man in the county worth his salt can sneak up on a nervous deer and pick up on a baby coon tryin to sneak into the rubbish pit in pitch darkness. But she would somehow get past twenty people and into a locked room with no one the wiser, just to leave her beloved a lil gewgaw or sweetmeat.
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fd6ae7 No.340791
>>340790
Things probably would have continued that way for a while if it hadn't been for the visitors. Bunch o monster wimmin from the city. Wild bunch. Whole pack o debbil dogs with their flamin eyes. Not a real pop'lar sort round these here God fearin' parts, but they paid fer their vittles n likker, unlike some city folk, and they kept away from the married men, unlike other city folk, so it might have turned out all right if their leader hadn't grabbed my friend. They'd been roundin up bachelors for a party they wanted to have at some old cabin they'd rented. There were a few who was interested, not least on account o the fact the monsters bought half of old Jed's latest run of white lightning I 'spect, but they were one short. Well, the alpha bitch saw my friend and liked him enough that she must've convinced herself his "NO"'s was just him bein coy. Or maybe she just liked em better when they was fightin back. Hard to tell with debbil dogs.
Well, when folk heard bout this we was proper ornery. Got a posse together right quick. Folk feel uncomfortable enough with them monster wimmin plying young men with fast times and faster marriage as it is, and outright kidnappin?! Just about everyone was there, so it was a right powerful armed group headed down that old dirt road to save the men taken to that cabin. National Guard themselves would have been a mite concerned to see some of the hardware we was bringin with us. But before we got there we was stopped by a lone figure in the road. It was Abigail. I'd never seen her like this. I reckon no one had ever seen her like this. The shy girl, always hidin herself in the shadows and her face with her hair, was standin there in the open all easy and languid like. Seemed comfortable in her skin for the first time in her life. She jest smiled at us all and told us matter of fact, "Go home. They're mine."
Now I'm no coward. I don't think anyone in our group was. I've stood my ground aginst a chargin boar n kilt it with a broken knife. There was men there'd seen the fires of war n never been found wantin. There was a woman there who'd walked right into the death house during the epidemic to comfort the dyin with no more protection than her old Bible. But not one of us gainsaid Abigail. We did as she done told us. We went back to our homes, locked the doors n windows tight, and prayed. To this day I have no idea what Abigail did to those debbil dogs. All I know is that not one of the bachelors who was at that cabin will speak of it. They get a right haunted look on their faces whenever you ask em about it. And old Jed claims he saw them debbil dogs runnin, runnin!, back to civilization as if Old Scratch hisself was after them lookin to collect the debt fer usin his hellfire all these years. Though old Jed does have the tendency to drink a bit too much of his own shine, so you take that for what it's worth. We never saw hide nor hair o them again in any case.
My friend and Abigail moved onto Abigail's family's old land after that. Were married right away, had quite a few youngins. They like to mind their own business, but they're always right happy n pleasant when they do come around. I'm glad for em. Glad to see the old McDermott lands'll stay in local hands too. Happy ending so far as I'm concerned.
Oh, and one more thing I plumb forgot. The odd girls seem to have a taste for newer boys from outside the county. Maybe somethin about bringin new blood in? My friend's pappy was a scientist from up North come down here to study insects for the gov'ment, fer example. You, ah, you ain't from around here is you, Mr. "Anonymous". Heh, I'd be careful if I was you. The Mashinter girl's always been a little odd, and I think she's about your age…
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c068d4 No.340802
>>340790
>>340791
Very nice.
Now I want to read a fully fleshed out story of anon and his experiences in hillbilly territory.
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b54a4d No.340839
>>340790
>>340791
Nice. Also
>nighounds
>being anything other than degeneracy incarnate.
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448735 No.340907
>>340790
>>340791
Very nice, would love to read more
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b54a4d No.341003
>>340790
>>340791
Cute. The anonymous gifts from her tugged at my heartstrings. Requesting more famalam this is potential right here.
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08fcee No.341074
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e49e76 No.341890
I demand big, dumb revenants.
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76c949 No.341896
>>340790
>>340791
That's pretty good man
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fd6ae7 No.341943
I'm flattered. I don't know for sure what people want more of, so I'm kind of guessing here. This one turned out different and a little darker (and the length kind of got away from me). I hope you enjoy it. Always welcome feedback either way.
So, you want to know about the "odd" girls? Who told you that I- ah, I suppose it doesn't matter anymore. Everyone knows the truth. They knew it back then too. I might as well tell you the story. I'm an old woman. It won't be much longer before the only one I'll be accountable to is God anyway.
You seem surprised at my lack of accent. Expecting a few more "reckons" and "thars"? You do realize that half the people around here delight in layering it on as thick as possible for strangers? I for one received an excellent education. Although its true cost only became apparent later - to my deep regret. At the time though, it was something I relished. These crooked legs of mine are not the result of the depredations of age, you see. I was born broken. But Mommy and Daddy loved each other dearly and loved me too. Never once did they make me feel like a burden. There are so many things a cripple can do as well or better than a normal person and they tried to teach me them all. My favorite was reading. We spent many happy hours reading through our family's small trove of books. That was all torn away from me by the epidemic which took so many people too soon, including my mother. Those were dark times. I think the only thing keeping Daddy and me alive back then was the need to be there for each other. Eventually though Daddy remarried to another plague widow, an artist originally from out West.
I hated her at first of course. Who was this alien whore who dared to sleep in my mother's bed? Who was this harlot who claimed my Daddy's love? It took me a long time to accept that the love she shared with my father was true and was never meant to displace the love he had shared with my mother. Looking back I can honestly say that she probably saved my father's life from the crushing, killing grief which enveloped our home after my mother died. Still, I don't think I could have ever permitted myself to accept her if it hadn't been for her son, my new baby brother Percival. He was like a ray of sunshine. That little towheaded boy was unfailingly kind and helpful to everyone. I was only a few years his senior but his tender innocence made him seem much younger. He seemed cute even when he cried or pouted. I couldn't help but adore him. My stepmother and I shared that at least.
Also, as much as I hated to admit it, stepmother also made us much more financially secure. The income from father's smithy met our basic needs so when stepmother managed to sell one of her works of art it was money in the bank. The financial cushion even gave us the freedom to occasionally splurge on luxuries. Soon our little library grew to an impressive size. On nice days Daddy or Percival would wheel me outside and I would hold court, playing with Percival as best I could and reading stories from my books aloud. There were rarely other children around to listen but I always had Percival's rapt attention. He had an unquenchable thirst for histories, fairy tales, and monster stories of all sorts. But his absolute favorites were stories of knights and heroes. He would practically vibrate with excitement when noble champions defeated villainous foes or rescued fair maidens.
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fd6ae7 No.341944
>>341943
It was on one of those days when we first met her. I suspect she had been there many times before, listening to the stories in secret, but that day I accidently threw Percival's ball so it rolled right next to her hiding place. Percival, God bless his sweet little heart, only saw a girl and very chivalrously invited her to sit with us. To my shame I initially only saw Isabella Beaumont the odd girl. She was about my age but, like most of the odd girls, she was rarely seen and I had certainly never met her. There was no mistaking her appearance though. Her right hand was wrapped in a crude homespun scarf which hid something far too long and large to be a girl's hand. Her hair was wild and unkempt, but she was always careful to keep a shock of it over the left side of her face. Rumor said that it hid her witch eye: an orb the size of a hen's egg capable of seeing a world beyond the mundane one of light and shadow.
I felt quite uneasy as she mutely followed Percival and sat on the grass before me. I wasn't aware of any tale of an odd girl doing anything bad to a decent person; apart from always beating us normal girls in contests of love at least. But I couldn't shake my apprehension. I nervously started reading for them. My voice quaked until I saw Isabella's eye widen with a fascination matched only by Percival's. My confidence grew and I continued with renewed vigor. When the tale ended Percival jumped up and urged us to help him act it out. His joy was contagious and soon both Isabella and I were following his directions. That shrub was a fierce dragon, those weeds a goblin army, that rock a mighty citadel. To this day I can remember how furiously Isabella blushed when Percival seated her on that old rock and proclaimed her the fair princess of the realm in whose name the dragon would be slain.
After that Isabella didn't miss one of our storytimes. She never spoke of it, well she never spoke really, but she must have been terribly lonely. For our part Percival and I were delighted to have a playmate. With my legs it was impossible to keep up with the other children and sweet Percival would never abandon me. But we soon discovered that Isabella could effortlessly lift me and tirelessly carry me wherever we wanted to go. With me on her back and Percival lugging our packed lunches (he insisted this was "The man's job.") we explored the forests around our home for the first time. Isabella was invaluable in this endeavor thanks to her witch eye. The rumors were at best exaggerated as it turned out to be relatively normal. It had no discernable pupil or iris, but that wasn't so different from Blind Jacob's eyes. The true oddity was the deep blue sclera. It had a compelling beauty which Percival remarked on repeatedly, much to Isabella's embarrassment. There was a kernel of truth to the rumors though. When looking through her witch eye Isabella seemed to be able to see things not apparent to others. She had an unerring ability to lead us to places fascinating to children: a tumble of massive rocks, a hidden glade, an abandoned cabin, or a waterfall with a cave behind it. She hid her eye not out of shame, but out of convenience. It seemed to take significant concentration for her to process the sensations from it and she must have preferred to keep it blinded most of the time. Her arm was another matter. It was a long time before the day came when she felt comfortable enough with us to share that secret.
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fd6ae7 No.341945
>>341944
It turned out that was also the day Percival won Isabella's heart. He noticed that she was scratching her bound hand constantly and he so persistently asked her what was wrong that she finally relented and let him examine it. I remember she couldn't look either of us in the eye while he unwrapped it. We both gasped when we saw what lay beneath. I gasped in shock. Her right hand was more of a claw. Each of her fingers was elongated and narrowed to a wicked point. Worse yet, each of those sharpened fingers was attached to cable like tendons going up and down her arm. I shuddered to imagine the terrible blows she could unleash if she so desired. Percival, as usual, was better than me; he gasped in sympathy. Percival saw that her skin was horribly dry and cracked and that the condition had been greatly exacerbated by the coarse homespun she wore. He quickly pulled a little pot of ointment out of the panoply of odds and ends all little boys seem to carry around in their pockets. Isabella practically jumped out of her skin when he started to apply the medicine and babble about how she needed to take better care of herself. I could see the emotions flash through her eyes. Shock that she didn't repulse him. Gratitude that he wanted to help her. Most of all, I saw a sense of a deep longing fulfilled. Her eyes grew wet with tears of joy as she, a girl who was never looked at, let alone touched, had a nice boy who cared about her gently caress her hand. It was such a pure, sweet moment for her I felt like a dirty voyeur watching him tend her claw as she awkwardly hugged him with her normal arm and her heart surged with love.
From then on helping Isabella became a project for Percival. It was doubly sweet since I'm certain that at that time he had no designs on her heart. He was certainly too young to have designs on her virtue. He just did it because he wanted to help his playmate. He collected all sorts of topical creams for her skin and soft fabric scraps for her to sew into clothing or bindings. He was always after her to take her arm coverings off and let her claw get some fresh air and sunlight. He saw her knotty hair and saved up his allowance to buy her a nice ox horn comb from one of the craftsman farmers down the way. When he noticed that she was unconsciously clenching her right arm trying to make it seem smaller and getting cramps for her efforts he started massaging her arm muscles in addition to her hand. But the most important thing he did was constantly tell her to stop trying to hide herself. She never heeded him, but the continuous reminder that there was at least one person in the world who liked her for who she was served as a balm for her very soul.
I could see the new happiness shining in her eyes every day. She just seemed more comfortable somehow. She would be on cloud nine when she listened to me read while Percival massaged her claw. They would cheer at the happy parts, hug each other during the scary parts, and when the story was over she would leap up with him and act it out. She even came to peace with her claw to the point that she started to relish stepping into the role of monster, brandishing her gruesome hand and making scary throat noises as she chased "Sir Percival" around. The fact that the "monster" got to grab Percival and hug him when it caught him may have played a part in her preference for the role. She even stopped clenching and hiding her arm so much, instead letting it move freely and naturally. She would still cover it with one of the crazy quilt bandages her mother made from Percival's scraps whenever anyone else was around, but she had clearly ceased to see it as some horrible thing apart from her. Honestly, it was a little bittersweet for me to watch her. I was happy for her but an uncharitable part of me felt like I, the cripple, now occupied a point below even that of a monstrous Odd Girl. But she and Percival never showed me anything but love and respect. In fact they practically treated me like an adult. I picked the stories, I decided what we would do, I chose where we would go, I judged who had won our games… in a way I was the fairy princess of our childish Wonderland. Looking back, those were among the happiest days of my life.
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fd6ae7 No.341946
>>341945
Of course childhood and its simple comforts must end eventually. Mine ended shortly after my stepmother got a commission to make mosaics for a respected private secondary school in town. She had always valued education and negotiated free tuition for Percival and me as part of her payment. Each day that year we would ride the bus down the mountain to go to classes while stepmother worked on emplacing the countless thousands of stones in her mosaics. I was in heaven. There were so many books and laboratories and the teachers knew so many things. I could feel my world expanding and a craved more, more, more. In my selfishness I didn't notice that Percival wasn't having such a good time. I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for that.
Percival was no dunce. At first he was as happy as I was. But he quickly become detached and moody. Daddy and stepmother both thought it was just teenage rebellion and seemed relieved it was so mild. To my shame I barely noticed at all. Isabella didn't notice because he always put on a brave front when she came by. At the time I was a little miffed that he was treating her more cordially than me. If only she had used her witch eye… but she didn't ever use it on people back then. She changed her policy after- but I'm getting ahead of myself. The situation finally exploded one day when Isabella came over to visit. She went to hug Percival when he suddenly pushed her away and ran to his room sobbing inconsolably. He wouldn't let any of us girls into his little room, not even his mother. It took Daddy over an hour to calm him down enough to get the full story out of him.
Miss Elders was from old money in the county. The family had fallen on hard times but as the sole heir Miss Elders had turned things around. She was a widely respected expert on education and held advisory and leadership positions around the state, including a headmistress position at our school. She knew everyone from the governor on down and often hosted high society gatherings at her family's mansion on an isolated mountain property. At some point Percival had caught her eye and she started to get very friendly with him. It started out with simple praise, then some private instruction, then "please sit on my lap", and so on. At the later stages Percival had known something was wrong, especially when he saw her treating other boys the same way. But he had been afraid to say anything because from his perspective this had all been his fault, a perception she no doubt carefully cultivated. She had also hinted that if he told anyone his mother would lose her job and I would be kicked out of school. The situation had come to a head that very day when she had started to… touch him. That was too much for him and had he fled, hiding in a maintenance room until the bus came. Now he was convinced that his mommy would lose her job and I'd be kicked out of school all because he was a dirty, used up slut that no girl would ever want. The last was why he had broken down. He was convinced that Isabella, I, and even his mother would never want to be near him again once we found out what he was. Daddy had comforted Percival as best he could, but Percival couldn't be moved on that last point. He had explicitly asked Daddy to tell us the truth so he wouldn't "Deceive us."
After Percival cried himself to sleep Daddy and stepmother had an intense whispered argument. I think Daddy wanted to get his kith and kin together to lynch Miss Elders while stepmother was arguing that we should call the police. I don't remember as I was too busy feeling my world fall apart. My baby brother had been used because of me, and I hadn't even noticed? I felt like the real monster of the story. I was snapped out of my funk when Isabella started wheeling me out to Daddy's smithy. Her expression hadn't shifted from neutral since Daddy had relayed Percival's story. Once we were alone she simply looked at me in askance, as if she wanted my permission. Somehow I knew what she wanted to do and, God forgive me, I wanted it to. I nodded. Isabella nodded back and took one of my ribbons to tie her own hair back, revealing her witch eye. I had never seen it like this. The eye was surrounded by pulsing blood vessels and the beautiful blue had changed to the ugly red of congealed blood. She looked meditatively in the distance for a moment and then shredded her arm wrapping with an angry flick of her claw. Before she walked into the woods she turned to me and said the only words I would ever hear her speak:
I SEE HER.
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fd6ae7 No.341948
>>341946
< As previously hinted at, this spoilered bit is the horror movie part of the story which I deliberately omitted last time. I'm not sure if this is what people wanted or not when they asked for "more". You can safely skip this spoilered section if you understandably don't want actual slasher movie stuff with your "slasher" monster girl romance. Suffice to say the monster girl exacts horrible vengeance on the false ara 3DPD and her vile minions.
The next day the town paper released an extra edition covering the "MANSION MASSACRE". The police had finished their preliminary investigation of the crime scene and had given the press their tentative conclusions. First, the attack had to have been conducted by an animal, probably a rabid bear. All of the victims had been killed by massive trauma from either claws or heavy objects. No human could have possibly been strong enough to perform the feats described. Second, although the body had not been found the animal was certainly dead. There was a significant discrepancy between the number of empty shell casings found at the scene and the number of bullets found embedded in objects. The police surmised that those missing bullets were inside the animal and, given the number, they must have caused the creature to expire soon after it had left the scene. Third, and most shockingly, the animal had done the Law a huge favor. Miss Elders hadn't just been molesting my little brother for fun; she was a procurer. The police found several runaway boys from troubled homes hiding in small basement rooms below the mansion. Based on their testimony Miss Elders had used her positions at schools to befriend and groom them, enticing them with promises of wealth and adventure in the big city. Documents found in her office told the true story: those boys were destined for lives as prostitutes in grim urban brothels. The most damning evidence of all were the remains of several Mafia notables and soldiers found at the mansion. Miss Elders had been hosting some sort of underworld meeting on that fateful night.
Using the positions of the bodies, shell casings, property damage, and testimony from the boys the police were able to provide a rough outline of the battle. The first two to die were Miss Elders' chef and chauffeur. They had been playing cards in the kitchen when the "bear" exploded through the thick wooden servant's entrance door. Both bodies were impaled with multiple wooden shards and each was practically decapitated by a powerful blow from a claw. Neither managed to draw their weapon. The noise must have alerted the entire mansion since all of the other victims seemed to have been aware of the danger and died either fighting or attempting to flee. There's some confusion about the order of events in the servant's quarters after that. The bear seems to have taken a circuitous course through the warren of rooms, killing those it met either by chance or some imperceptible design. One off duty bodyguard was killed by a blow which eviscerated him and threw him against a wall hard enough to break his spine. The butler was found attempting to hide in an armoire. The bear somehow detected him and punched through the wardrobe to literally pull his guts out. Another, more alert, bodyguard managed to get off a shot with a hunting shotgun. He missed and the bear retaliated by opening him up from pelvis to jaw.
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fd6ae7 No.341949
>>341948
At this point the residents of the mansion had to have known something was very, very wrong. To their credit the mobsters reacted in a calm and professional manner. The main body forted up on the second floor and sent two armed groups of three to scout the route to the garage, and escape. One armed team encountered the intruder by the main staircase. At this point the "bear" story becomes particularly difficult to swallow. If the police are to be believed the bear crashed through a wall in order to surprise the mobster with the submachine gun. After a practically surgical stab through the heart it pivoted and punched its claw underneath the shotgunner's jaw and into his brain. It then somehow accidently knocked a decorative sword off a wall display hard enough to send the blunted weapon spinning across the room with enough force to almost cut the third gangster's torso in half. An impressive feat for a dumb animal.
Upon hearing the fight the second scout group moved to assist and met their end in an even more improbable fashion. Not seeing the bear they rushed to help their fallen comrades. Apparently, by some miracle of God or Satan, the bear had "accidently" pulled the pin on a grenade carried by the dead machine gunner who had "just happened" to fall in such a way the spoon hadn't released. Thus when the other gangsters disturbed the body the grenade armed and exploded, killing two of them. Perhaps the "bear" should have bought a lottery ticket. At this point the last scout must have panicked. The police found a circle of shell casings and there where bullets from his gun embedded in every wall of the room, as if he had turned in place while firing in full auto. Most likely scared out of his mind he then put his back up against a large marble statue so nothing could sneak up on him. That was when the bear, who had been hiding on the other side of the statue, pushed the massive stone over for some reason. Needless to say the gangster was killed instantly.
Having killed everyone on the first floor the bear then ascended the main staircase and attacked the main body of gangsters. The creature seems to have dispensed with subtlety at this point. It simply knocked down the door to the room they were in and attacked. This should have been the end of it. There was only one entrance and the men had cleared the room to create a killing field. Based on the evidence the gangsters must have scored multiple direct hits here. But the creature wasn't deterred. In fact, it managed to kill several more gangsters with its miraculous ability to accidently fling objet d'art from the wall with deadly accuracy. One man ended up with an engraved silver platter where his diaphragm was supposed to be. Another managed to catch a beautiful glass seashell with his eye socket. I particularly liked the granite bust of Caesar which careened from a wall alcove to shatter the skull of an unsavory character nicknamed "Leering Larry". A real meeting of the minds there.
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fd6ae7 No.341950
>>341949
No doubt disturbed by the bear's resilience the remaining mobsters retreated to the room behind them, barring the door with materials they had prepared beforehand. This room had no other exits, but they had readied rope to make an escape from the window. The mansion overlooked a very steep incline on that side so their plan was to reenter the mansion via the first floor window directly below them and escape while their pursuer wasted time breaking through their barricade. However once again the "bear" displayed cunning far beyond that of an animal, or even most humans. As the remaining gangsters quickly descended the rope one by one they discovered that the bear was already waiting for them in the room below. It must have killed them remarkably quickly and quietly as they lost another three men before something alerted them to the danger and they cut the rope. Here the psychological strain began to tell as the survivors started to behave very erratically. One of them either committed suicide or was shot at point blank range by his associates for reasons unknown. Another attempted to escape the building by leaping from the second story window. His scheme was foiled by the steep slope as he broke an ankle upon landing and tumbled several hundred yards down the hill where he lay helpless for almost an hour before succumbing to severe internal injuries. At this point the only living criminals were the mob underboss DelTonio, his lieutenant "Chisel", and Miss Elders herself.
Here once again the sequence of events becomes somewhat unclear. For whatever reason the bear did not attempt to force the barricade and the survivors cleared the barrier and left the room of their own free will. The police were at a loss as to why they were willing to leave a place where they seemed to be safe, at least temporarily. In any case the survivors split up with the two men making their way to the garage and Miss Elders going to her office, again for reasons which the police could not even guess at. A running gun battle then erupted between the two gangsters and the bear. There were spent shell casings from their weapons all the way from the main staircase to the garage. This did not seem to have been panic fire as the bullet holes had surprisingly good grouping and there were more casings than bullets found, indicating multiple direct hits. All of the evidence points to two hardened criminals with combat experience retreating in good order all the way to their vehicle. Why the criminals then died of simultaneous massive heart attacks is a mystery. The only clue is that both men had looks of horror on their faces and both were looking at something directly in front of the car when they died.
Miss Elders got the absolute worst of it. Whatever killed those people saved her for last and did a real thorough job with her. Nothing fancy, it just worked her over with the claw to the point where the police had to carry her out of there in a bucket. I think she knew she was doomed pretty early on. Whatever else she was, she was from around here. I think she recognized her fate roaring down on her and knew she couldn't fight it. She just went to her office, sat down, and started drinking heavily. I do wonder why she didn't kill herself though. A bullet would have been a lot quicker than what the "bear" did to her. Maybe she couldn't bring herself to do it. Maybe she retained some tattered shred of fear for God's laws. Who knows, maybe in the end she felt she deserved it for the horrible things she'd done.
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fd6ae7 No.341951
>>341950
The events of that night's "Mansion Massacre" had rendered Daddy and stepmother's argument rather moot. Miss Elders would never hurt anyone ever again and the convincing defeat of her gangster associates kept organized crime out of our area for a generation. People might scoff at our superstitions and ghost stories, but they still want to be in a nice busy town with lots of lights when it gets dark around these parts. Especially after being shown such a graphic reminder of the power of the unexplained. Given the generally positive outcome the police didn't investigate much after that. They stuck with the rabid bear story and focused their efforts on chasing down the Mafia leads found in the late Miss Elders' papers. A lot of those cops were mountain boys at heart. They might not have known what spook or ghostie did the deed, but if a creature of the night wanted to help them balance the books of law and order they weren't going to complain.
I was rather impressed when the police released their final report. They claimed that based on their forensic analysis the mansion intruder was struck by 29 bullets. They were dead on. I counted when I helped Isabella pull them out after she got back in the early morning. She was able to get some of them out by squeezing herself the way you'd pop a pimple, but I had to go fishing for the rest. I was terrified I was hurting her but she would just shrug and shake her head a little every time I asked. There was bizarrely little blood. The only injury which bothered her even a little was the silver monogrammed letter opener someone had stuck her with. Once that was extracted she was more concerned about checking on Percival, but I made her sit until everything was out and she was cleaned up. I swear, she was worse than a five year old getting a haircut. If I wasn't so horrified at the fact she'd been shot I would have been much firmer with her. I finally let her go and watched through the window as she tiptoed into Percival's room and sat by his bedside. She looked so sad for him and what he'd been through. But she put a smile on her face the instant he started to stir. Percival woke up to Isabella beaming at him and moving one of his stuffed animals around like it was happy to see him too. The look of relief on his face was heartbreaking. He really believed we would think he was dirty and unlovable because of what happened. When Isabella and Percival both started hugging and comforting each other I turned away with tears in my eyes. I could never repay my debt to Isabella. But that didn't mean I shouldn't try I thought as I started melting down the evidence I'd pulled out of Isabella's body earlier.
It took me a few attempts, but I eventually managed to turn the silver letter opener into two simple cast silver rings. I gave them to Isabella and, with her parents' and our parents' permission, they were officially "betrothal rings". Old Father Seamus and Pastor Angus cooked up a betrothal ceremony in a rare display of non-denominational cooperation between the two drinking, sports, and theological rivals. A few months later Percival and Isabella were betrothed in a touching, albeit non-binding, ceremony at the little chapel down by the lake. Isabella had made it clear that since Percival was underage he be left the option to break the agreement in the future if he wanted. She needn't have worried. He wouldn't have accepted any other woman in the world. As he got older and went from absolutely adorable to breathtakingly handsome I watched him summarily reject just about every beauty in the county. Isabella had won Percival's heart forever by standing with him when he felt less than worthless.
They later married for real of course. Percival took over Daddy's smithy and used everything he'd learned from his mother to expand into artistic metalworking. He did quite well by Isabella and the children. Isabella never again had much cause to unleash her strange abilities, although she did periodically check on everyone with her witch eye and she would sometimes show the children her claw to scare the devil out of them. It was with no small amount of wistfulness that I left their cozy home to start my own household with my own husband. They both died long after their children had grown, peacefully in their sleep, on the same night, holding each other in their arms. I miss them terribly.
But, as I said, I'm an old woman. Soon I'll be going home to see them. Then we can act out fairy stories in a sun kissed meadow once again.
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bbdff3 No.341979
>>341943
>he returns
Finnabust.jpg
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99bbd3 No.342052
World of darkness classifies slashers as monsters in their own category.
Slashers are defined by their possession of "capabilities that exceed the normal human spectrum." aka supernatural powers: The type of powers vary depending on their undertaking (equivalent to clan, auspice, or path), whether it's the supernatural presence of a charmer (which can resemble that of a vampire), the supernatural strength of a brute (which can resemble that of a werewolf), or the supernatural intelligence of the genius (which can resemble that of a mage), to the more obviously supernatural abilities of the Legend or Mutant, Slashers are no longer fully human.
Slashers also gain power over time, as they have access to all the abilities normally reserved for the other supernaturals faced by hunters (vampires, werewolves, mages, etc: all listed under the general category of "dread powers", which are how hunters see things like vampire disciplines, werewolf gifts, and mage rotes, they also have access to the many supernatural powers listed within the other general NWoD/CoD supplements), with the only limitation being that are restricted to the lower tiers, regardless of the undertaking status, slashers are expected to be less powerful than your average monster from the proper lines (vampire, werewolf, mage, etc.), but solidly above humans, making them low-power antagonists for hunters to face.
In addition, slashers can also be undead, this gives them all the basic abilities for undead characters, and makes them an automatic medium.
Slashers can also be psychic, this gives them access to "psychic magic", such as telekinesis or telepathy, it also gives them the ability to use "second sight", which works like "mage sight", allowing them to see supernaturals and their abilities, and possibly gives them the ability to "precog", or see into the possible near future.
Despite the name, Slashers can use any method of killing, this includes the use of any weapon, including ranged weapons like firearms, or no weapon at all (bare hands, supernatural abilities), to indirect methods like drowning, freezing, burning, electrifying, poison, bombs, traps, "accidents", or methods that involve tricking other people, such as sending people to their deaths, getting one person to kill another, getting one person to kill themselves, etc.
There even exist slashers who haven't killed anyone yet, including who actively resist their desire for murder, and want to be cured so that they can live a normal life, and slashers who tried and failed to kill someone (incompetent cute slasher girl), the malicious desire is all that matters.
some slashers are forced to kill by some quirk, for example a slasher who can only sate their hunger by eating "other" humans, another example is a slasher that returned from the dead, but has to kill one human in the same manner and location every year or else they will die again, a third example is a slasher who was forced into it by an organization (a hunter conspiracy maybe?) on pain of death/torture, and became a slasher in the process, a final example is someone who was cursed by some supernatural means to become a slasher, and is on a quest to remove the killing urge before it overtakes them.
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fcde18 No.342131
>>341943
Very nice story. Isabella a cute, and I liked the police-report writing style of the massacre. Helped it stay grounded while still keeping the slasher in slashergirl. If you've got more stories in you, I'd enjoy reading them.
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76c949 No.342134
>>341951
Very good stuff writefag. You have a gift.
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694838 No.342229
A shy hikikomori vamp moquito girl keeps you chained to a bed and gagged, she tortures you by biting you and leaving you for one hour unable to scratch the afflicted area she does this every hour until you agree to be her boyfriend
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cf6534 No.342236
Just don´t let your slasher waifu get jealous
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2ccbc6 No.342292
>>342236
What makes a slasher waifu jealous?
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f48df5 No.342489
>>342292
Watching some other slasher movie?
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cf6534 No.342500
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e7217e No.342506
>>342500
>implying the men aren’t also trying ti gay ntr her
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d40313 No.342515
>>342500
>She busts your door down shanks the THOTS and makes you eat her out.
Nice tbh
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45f094 No.342637
>>341951
That was beautiful, anon I hope you make more
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b54a4d No.345910
Crazy waifu? or smart, condescending waifu?
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90980a No.346768
Grooming an unkempt waifu would be fun.
>Combing the knots out of jason-chan's hair and helping her brush her teeth. >Maybe stiching a badmouthed, tomboy living doll's overalls while she mumbles under her breath.
>applying burn ointment and toothpaste to freddy-chan's burns. It doesn't do much but it's the thought that counts. Getting her a new sweater every couple of months.
Can't think of any others right now.
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90980a No.350905
>>342292
Seeing you talk to other girls.
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3bc4d4 No.353219
>>346768
something to do with pic related? also, are yautja girls acceptable?
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accc44 No.353294
>>353219
>scrubbing a predator's dreadlocks with soap and conditioner like it's hair even though they're like tentacles.
>buying pinhead a new set of fishhooks and kitchen knives.
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5614ad No.353298
>>353219
>wanting to waifu cenobites
>>>/d/
>>>/chaos
>wanting to dick yautja
>>>/xen/
BEGONE HERETIC
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aa9863 No.370203
>>353219
>tfw you will never help a predator girl on a hunt
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90e3a2 No.374855
this thread needs revival
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ddc039 No.374886
>>374855
>trying to sleep
>can't because freddy with tits won't stop scaring you
>but instead of getting stabbed or killed, she destroys your pelvis
>discover If you get fucked in the dream you get fucked in real life
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240783 No.374898
>>353298
>he wouldn't fuck a predator
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bbde2f No.374939
>>374886
Just like in the simulations.
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ddc039 No.374959
>>374939
Watch out for those wrist rockets
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7a8593 No.375074
I mean the movie just cane out and still no mention of this?
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b8cbb9 No.375099
>>375074
Imagine the sexhair.
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25d31b No.375111
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3895ce No.375114
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971d03 No.389490
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777d3c No.393778
>>374898
the design is just so sleek and sexy
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9b73d9 No.393787
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ead155 No.393788
>>341951
Pretty good overall, but you kind of went overboard with the details. The odd girls aren't as scary if they aren't a mystery.
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2a8737 No.393790
>>345910
>smart condescending waifu
>Hannah B. Lecter
>you already got her locked up for yandere crimes
>but you’re a detective, and her innate knowledge of the yandere mind is an important asset in finding and stopping similar cases
>she is surprisingly cooperative and amicable, but you can’t stand the endless flirting
>or her smug assurance that “you’ll be mine in the end”
>little did you know she’s actually been manipulating events from inside the cell to end whatever love life you could’ve had, secure her early release, and lock you into a “cohabitation agreement”
>it might take months or even years, but sooner or later she’s going to taste your seed, paired with a glass of Chianti
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03592c No.393792
>>393790
>Stopping yanderes
You're the real monster
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2a8737 No.393800
>>393792
Look, it’s not about the stalking and mental problems, she can still get the man if she wants him. It’s more about stopping all the collateral damage from a yandere that kills multiple girls because they said hi to anon once or twice.
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a6b0c2 No.393881
>>393787
/xeno/ is /monster/'s autistic little brother, don't bully them.
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c1ba23 No.393889
>>393881
What about /clang/?
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bb3f4e No.393897
>>393889
/xeno/'s autistic little brother.
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0330de No.393917
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bb3f4e No.393936
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425472 No.394044
>>393917
I've been to /clang/ a few times but I don't think they are fur fags. There certainly is some gay shit but /clang/ is /monster/'s autistic little brother by proxy.
No bully, please.
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341602 No.395597
>>340791
On the off chance you're still around, this was amazing, could've been an episode of Lights Out! or Quiet, Please.
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