#💀.RATTLE_THEM_BONES

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the one with the long legs

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@connorsg1rl​

requested by james-the-axew 

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"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned..."

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Slasher Summer but I'm trying to fuck the killer

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@connorsg1rl

shitpost status

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since i've started going to hhn i've been thinking about "unlikely but interesting" ip proposals

namely, i think a musical-based ip house would be awesome, but would struggle to be marketed to the general hhn crowd. i personally would want rhps (even though it's not really scary) or sweeney todd, but you could also throw little shop of horrors in there, too! at least with a sweeney todd house you could argue that they don't have to go based on the musical, since that itself was inspired by a penny dreadful story, "The String of Pearls"

i'd also like to see what they'd do with the original The Crow, but i'm not sure it'd make a great house... instead, perhaps, they could center the stage show around it? make it a stunt/dance show adaptation of the film? the soundtrack's already boss after all

lastly, i'd love to see a re-animator house, but like the musical adaptations, i think it'd be a bit too niche

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I've seen people caption pictures of Seymour (Little Shop of Horrors) and Herbert West as "Same guy, different font" before, but I've felt that same way about these two, too

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i'm mildly surprised NIN was never asked to compose a companion track for a saw movie, there's always been a connection between the way their music sounds and charlie clouser's soundtracks in my brain

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Fuck "Saw in Space" give me a Saw Christmas special. Idgaf if it's terrible put a Santa hat on that puppet and give me some string-lights-and-candy-canes themed traps dammit

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as summer slides quickly towards autumn, and as beetlejuice beetlejuice sets to debut in three weeks, i give you our favourite nastyman in his beach bum best 😎☀️🪲🧃

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WE HAVE A NEW SPEC MAP

[link]

for most of these, i have a semi-solid (currently) theory on what they could be

the bloody film reel could be scream, or, with a stretch, the magnifying glass ghost could also be scream

my first thought upon seeing the magnifying glass, though, was scooby-doo. i really doubt that's what it is, so i'm going to say it could also possibly be the conjuring

the security camera, though it seems unlikely we'll be getting fnaf this year, doesn't stop me from considering it as i can't think of anything else that fits that symbolism and is relevant (i could absolutely be blanking/unaware however)

not my suggestion, but my dad speculates the book and snow could be the killer kringles section from slaughter sinema 2

the 👍 seems so obviously fallout that i'd be shocked if it was something else. that's the vault boy thing

i saw on another spec map a suggestion of an original vikings house, so that could perhaps be the boat

the eyepatch and chain could be hatchet & chains from slaughter sinema 2

the trashbags could be terrifier

and now we're down to the two that have stumped me

absolutely zero clue what this could be. wwe maybe? not sure what it has to do with the wyatt sicks though

now maybe i'm insane, but does this not kind of look like the atomic monster logo. i know james wan is involved with the conjuring, so i guess this could also mean a conjuring house, but you know what would make me fucking SCREAM if it was true? THE MONKEY.

but if i'm stretching too much i would assume this is either a space-themed original or a deep sea-themed original since it could be a space suit or an old-timey diving suit, its too simplified to tell

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{ 🫀 🌀 🍰 | 💧 🐖 🩸 | ❄️ 🔧 ✝️ }

🙏 Saw OC stimboard 🙏

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saw the photo on pinterest and had to add the caption

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How To Catch An Author

Word Count: 1114

Summary: The moments just before my Saw oc was put in his trap. Cadmus Reeves is a rude, bitter, and egotistical man desperately in need of a new hit novel. Little did he know that stranger he bumped into in the lobby would become someone he'd devote his life to. CWs for themes of alcohol, brief suggestiveness, generally unpleasant main character.

Cadmus Reeves awoke to a sickly sweat and a pounding headache. With a groan, he dragged himself from his bed and yanked open the blackout curtains, hissing as morning sunlight drove him briefly blind. He then shambled his way into his bathroom to shower, haphazardly downing pain medication on an empty stomach once cleansed of the stink of his hangover.

Wrapped in his second-favourite robe, Cadmus returned to his bedroom and frowned. A young man with dewy skin was waiting tentatively in his bed.

A stale burp passed through Cadmus and he covered his mouth as spotty memories of the night before returned to him. “The hell are you still doing here?” He spat at the escort.

“I-I thought we might get breakfast…”

“Whatever I told you last night, it was the liquor talking.” Cadmus fished in his discarded pants for his wallet, pulling out a wrinkled hundred-dollar bill and dropping it on the escort’s lap. “Now get dressed and scram, I have work to do.”

The escort quickly slunk out of his bed, clearly not wanting to draw his ire further. With his company gone, Cadmus moved from one end of the apartment to the other, settling into his office with a mug of black coffee. He stared hopelessly at the draft on his laptop. He was far past his deadline and desperately in need of a hit. This had been his second struggler in a row and he feared he was losing his touch. Seeking distraction, Cadmus opened his phone. Reluctantly, he played a voicemail left by his assistant.

“Mr. Reeves, this is your assistant, Bailey Eliott. I’m calling to remind you that you have a meeting with the manager of White Pine Books to discuss the date of a signing event this afternoon, and that you’re exactly two weeks late on your current deadline. Your agent isn’t happy, Mr. Reeves, and frankly, neither am I. When do you plan on packing in the booze and clubbing so you can finish this thing?”

Cadmus scowled, rubbing his temples. “You know, Bailey, if you’re so unhappy with me, why don’t I just fire you?”

He scrolled further into his contacts, finding a text from his friend, Patrick. Despite it all, Patrick always stuck by Cadmus’ side, and though Cadmus enjoyed Patrick’s company, even that didn’t save him from the typical verbal abuse.

Still struggling with your book? Let’s get breakfast at that new café on Potter’s Street.

Cadmus closed his laptop, quickly texting back, I’ll meet you there.

Dressed and groomed, Cadmus left his apartment, hiding his puffy eyes behind dark sunglasses and deflecting stares with a high-collared jacket. As he passed through the lobby of is apartment complex, he bumped shoulders with an older man.

“Sorry,” he spoke shortly, not meaning a single syllable as he tried to continue on his way.

“Forgive me for asking,” the man started, making Cadmus reluctantly stop in his tracks, “but would I happen to know you from somewhere?”

Cadmus sighed, turning towards the man. He didn’t look like his usual audience. “Have you been in the New York Times Best Seller section lately?” He wasn’t sure why he was even entertaining the stranger’s question.

The man chuckled. His voice was rough and deep, but Cadmus found something warm there, beneath the gravel. “Ah, yes, I remember now. You’re that author, Reeves.”

“Do you want an autograph?”

The man put up his hand dismissively. “No, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’ll be honest, I’ve never picked up one of your books.”

“Right, well, I’m meeting a friend for breakfast…” Cadmus tossed his head with an air of finality, then instantly regretted it as church bells rang in his skull. He turned on his heel and continued walking.

Behind him, the man continued, “I may not be familiar with your work, but I am familiar with the bind you find yourself in. The creative blocks, the self-doubt, I’ve been there before. I find it’s helpful to reflect on the ‘why’ and not the ‘what’ in these situations, Mr. Reeves, and I believe you will, too.”

Uneasy goosebumps patterned Cadmus’ back as he stepped out onto the street and began looking for a cab. What the Hell did that mean? He was glad to put some distance between himself and the stranger.

“Well, you certainly look worse for wear,” Patrick commented when Cadmus arrived at the café, sliding into the seat across from him.

“Went a little too hard on the Sherry Shrubs last night and picked up some downtown boy,” Cadmus admitted lowly. “That and the final third of this book refuses to show itself to me for a second week in a row.”

“Maybe you need a vacation. A little change in scenery to get the mojo flowing again.”

“Jesus, who the Hell says ‘mojo’ anymore??” They paused to order breakfast. “Besides, look at me, do you think my agent’s going to let me slither off to some white sandy beach while I’m sitting in a hole I personally dug?”

Patrick shrugged. “Then why don’t you just cancel this book for now and step out of the limelight for a second?”

“Patrick, I’d laugh in your face if it wasn’t for this damn hangover. I need a hit and I need it soon, or I’ll be saying ‘bye-bye’ to my career whether I like it or not.”

Patrick gave him a sad look. “I’m just looking out for you, Caddie…”

“Don’t you fucking ‘Caddie’ me, just keep your nose in your own damn business.”

After breakfast, which had really turned into brunch, Cadmus ran to meet with the manager at White Pine. If there was one positive to Cadmus, it was that he never forgot the names and faces of event managers, though perhaps it was because they were attached to a paycheck. As soon as he saw the manager, he remembered his name instantly, which saved him from a completely disastrous meeting and won him a signing event later that month. He was just feeling like he might be able to write when he got home when something struck him as odd.

When Cadmus stepped back into his apartment, it seemed far darker than he remembered leaving it. Had he shut the curtains before he left? That seemed like a strange thing to do when he lived so far up. Just as he reached for the light switch, a large hand clamped over his mouth. An involuntary scream was muffled by leather as he felt a pinch in his neck. The darkness swam before his eyes as his body went limp.

For the next twenty-four hours, no one would even know he was missing.

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IF we were to get a RE8 house at HHN (I'm not sure how likely it'd be but I'd LOVE to see it), I think they should either

A) Focus on one lord and theme a house entirely to their area, since that's kind of how the game is broken up anyway. Personally I'd want either Castle Dimitrescu or Heisenberg's Factory if they went this route, but any of them could work. (I also think that Castle Dimitrescu and Heisenberg's Factory would be the obvious favourites to pick from, but Moreau's Swamp and the Beneviento House are equally scary settings imo)

Or, B) Theme a house to the main village and maybe set it prior to Ethan's arrival, maybe at the peak of it's downfall when the most chaos is happening, and involve all four lords + Miranda somehow. (Granted, it's been a second since I watched a playthrough, so I don't remember the full story behind why the village is practically empty by the time Ethan gets there, so this may be a completely rubbish idea in hindsight)