#uhhhh how else to tag this

[gingerteaonthetardis]

WIP Telephone: "Spooky"

if you don't want to see what might become an increasingly long tumblr post, feel free to block the tag "WIP telephone." (i'll also be tagging it "long post," just in case. don't want to clog up people's dashes.)

when i logged on this morning and opined what to do with all the WIPs i know i'll never finish, it was brilliantly suggested that i offer some of them up to be collaboratively worked on by my pals here on tumblr. it's intended to be a tag game, of sorts, with each person adding maybe a hundred words (obviously, since my WIPs are all more than a hundred words, my starting excerpts are going to be… a bit longer than that, oops; and feel free to add more than that, if you feel like doing so) and then tagging someone else to add more, and so on, etc. etc.

if it's fun and anyone's interested, i'll do more, but i thought i'd start with something... 🍂 seasonally appropriate. 🍂 i'll be sharing additions as they come along!

also, tagging you for the next hundred words, because you're the one who started it all: dear @mrunmione (i'm not telling which doctor this is supposed to be; i'll let you pick!)

-

She hadn’t meant to say it.

“I’m not sleeping in here without you.”

In all honesty, she’s perfectly capable of sleeping on her own in a strange place; she’s done it plenty of times before. Living with the Doctor means getting used to sleeping in unusual spots. Hospital gurneys. Motel rooms in the far future where the beds float. Under ballroom tables, though that was just the once, and she’d had a lot to drink. The occasional jail cell.

Needless to say, she’s well acquainted with catnaps in odd places.

Only “odd” isn’t really the same as “haunted.”

And this place—wherever they are—is definitely haunted.

No matter what the Doctor says.

-

"Spooky," she decreed as they trudged up the damp path toward the house on the hill. "Think it's haunted?"

"There's no such thing," he insisted. The Doctor rolled his eyes in clear scepticism, but they both knew there was some reason the TARDIS landed them there. 

Entering through the unlocked door, they set about taking readings of the entrance hall and cramped lower rooms, all covered in dark wood and heavy tapestries. The decor was decidedly out of date, like something from a period film. No modern lighting, no electrical outlets to speak of. 

But though the place had something unsettling about it, it also seemed decidedly empty.

“This house is old,” the Doctor said, eyes intent, scanning over the low ceilings. “A few hundred years, I’d say. Maybe more."

When Rose wandered to the hearth, his supposition was confirmed by two small, framed sketches: two different women, their hair pulled back in artful ringlets and their faces set in gentle Mona Lisa smiles. One was dark and the other fair. And there were no names. 

They were both dated 1781. 

Before she could point them out, the Doctor was already running up the main staircase, rattling off jargon that she couldn’t even begin to understand—nonsense about atmospheric pressure and residual readings of… something—his voice too-loud in the stillness of the house. 

She trailed after him, only sort of half-listening. But as she turned the corner back into the hall, the whole place rumbled—and thumped, a sound like stones grinding against the bottom of a ship. The floorboards shook perilously under her feet, and she reached out on instinct, steadying herself against the base of the bannister.

“Doctor?"

The Doctor, of course, didn't so much as move. He remained stopped about halfway up the stairs, effortlessly balanced despite the unstable terrain. His head cocked and a half-smile on his lips, he said, "That wasn't a quake."

Of course not.

"What was it, then?"

His smile spread, becoming a full, face-overtaking, slightly manic sort of expression. "I have no idea."

To her very great alarm, he sounded delighted.

-

"Don't tell me you're scared, Rose," the Doctor laughs, sending the torchlight juddering through the darkness. "Look, it's cosy!"

"I'm not scared," she insists. "It's just—"

"Yes, spooky." It's a little too dim to tell, but she's pretty certain he's rolling his eyes. "So you've said." 

He'd picked her room for the night seemingly at random, nudging open doors until he found one with a suitable bed. And in the faint light, the bedroom does seem—nice. Less haunting, maybe, than the rest of the house. But still… off, somehow, in a way she can't quite put her finger on.

As she steps around him, careful not to cut off the wavering beam of the torch, she peers around, making note of all she can see: the crisp linens, the intricately carved wooden bed posts, the glint of polished glass—an oil lamp, she realises.

Something catches at the back of her mind, and she turns toward the Doctor with a frown already creeping over her face. "It's all sort of… clean, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's not musty or anything in here." Gesturing at the bed, she waits for the torch to illuminate the bedspread; startlingly, the coverlet is tucked down, as if someone had only just recently got in or out. Though, perhaps not. Maybe the last occupant of the house just really went in for turn-down service.

But then, she sees it, on the pillow…

She ducks down, looking closer at the little shadow against the pale linens. A faint waft of something carries up to her nose, and it takes her a moment to register just what it is: floral, reminding her faintly of Mickey's Gran.

"Lavender," she murmurs, thumbing over the little bundle of flowers, held together by faded ribbon. "It's fresh."

With a click, the torch light blinks out, and for an instant, she is overtaken by unstoppable, irrational fear. The Doctor is in the room with her, and as he's reminded her several times tonight, they've swept the whole house, searched every nook and cranny: there's nobody here.

But the wind howling outside the window, the faint blueness of the night, and the whisper of dry, bare tree branches scraping together all press in around her, thick as shadow, making her skin crawl and her breath catch.

The prospect of passing a whole night like this, alone with the dark and whatever lurks inside it, is almost too much to bear.

So, fine. She is a little bit scared.

Then there's a rustle, a scrape, a hiss, and then a match blooms with fire, lighting the sharp lines of the Doctor's face from below. He's grinning as he lowers the match to light the oil lamp.

"You're right," he says pleasantly. "This is spooky."

[smudgethegrudge]

all of ken’s clothes fit him!

[oceandiagonale]

reference for a thing I'm doodling (approx. 1870)✨✨✨

[puppytopper]

sort of getting obsessed with the idea of having a puppy boy and passing him around as a party favor. having a group of friends over and letting them warm their cocks in him. tying him up in his in his cage, his cunt held open so everyone can play with it. some people fuck and come in him with their cocks, others use various items (soda cans and beer bottles and pens etc), and others lick and suck on his tdick and eat the cum out of his warm cunt.

the night continues on, people getting rowdier and drunker and being rougher with my sweet puppy until someone ‘accidentally’ uses him as the toilet. everyone slowly stops to watch as a butch with a massive STP packer empties her bladder in him, and he whines and wriggles against his binds the longer it goes on, until I step over and slap her. I remind her she didn’t ask for permission before using my pet that way and force her to her knees to apologize. she whispers how sorry she is, she didn’t even think about it, and begs to make it up to me. so I make her untie my poor used up pup and clean him up gently, then take one of his collars and wrap it around her throat. understanding dawns on her face and she blushes bright red before getting in place in the cage.

the party resumes while I lay my puppy down in his bed to sleep off the evening, and when I get back I immediately go to the cage to empty my own alcohol filled bladder in her before making her come on my strap.

the party doesn’t end until everyone has cum in her at least three times. I finally release her and clean her up before laying her down, too, and just as she’s drifting off I whisper to her that I’m so excited to finally adopt a second puppy.

[hall0wedwyrm]

sorry franklydear enjoyers i didn't mean to hit you with this one so soon (i did)

based on the idea i had when i was analysing the newest WH update so obviously spoilers for that. anyway enjoy <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a few days since Homewarming festivities had ended. 

Eddie had left the party abruptly that day, and no one had really seen him since. It was a point of concern for everyone... but also no one really knew what to do. 

Frank had spent the past day asking and looking around, clearly reaching his peak of concern. Initially, he thought that Eddie just needed some time for himself. He looked overwhelmed when the two of them had made eyecontact, and it was best to let him take some time off. But eventually he couldn't wait any longer. He started by asking some of the neighbours, but they came up with nothing.  

“He did look awfully tired...” Sally sighed, “But I don’t think even Eddie could sleep that long...”  

“Have you seen him leave the post office since?” Frank asked, using the question that he would proceed to ask every other member of the town. 

“Hmm... now that you mention it...” She pondered, “I haven’t no... I support the sentiment of going to check on him, though.” 

“Eddie was supposed to deliver some things to my shop!” Howdy threw his hands up in despair, “I haven’t had my batch of new stock... but Eddie is more important. I just hope hes okay.” 

“Maybe... he’s doing something that's taking a long time...” Julie remained her joyful self, “What if he’s making us a surprise?!” Frank appreciated her ideas, but this wasn’t helping. He thanked her and moved on. 

“Oh dear, I do hope he’s okay...” Poppy placed down her baking tray, “I’ve been so busy baking and trying out this new cookbook that it’s completely passed my mind... Would you keep me updated?” 

Barnaby seemed to be the most passive about the situation, “Eh. Maybe he’s just holed up in there for a reason.” He shrugged, “He’ll come out of there on his own. I’m sure of it.”  

“Very nice of you, Barnaby,” Frank rolled his eyes, “I’ll keep you updated, I suppose.” 

Frank took this as the last stand. He began his march towards the post office across town. It wasn’t that far of a walk, but it felt like hours. The dread building slowly, making Frank worry about what on earth he would find in there.  

He had to tell himself that Eddie was fine, and that he would walk into the office and find him doing something incredibly mundane, like organising the mail or sweeping up bits of paper from his latest craft. 

“Where are you going, Frank?”  

A voice cut through his panicked thoughts. He jumped in surprise, immediately spinning around to be met with a familiar empty stare.  

Wally Darling... 

“O-Oh! Wally!” Frank stammered, “What a... pleasant surprise...!” He tried to pull of his shock in any way that wasn’t a weird mild fear he suddenly had, “I’m... going to visit Eddie! I haven’t seen him since Homewarming so I was worried about him.”  

“Oh...” a very blunt response, “That’s very nice of you.” Wally pulled his best smile he could, considering he had some kind of permanent grin anyway. Frank smiled back, but it was more of a strained grin.  

“Good luck, Frank.” Wally didn’t move, hinting at Frank to make his own exit from the conversation.  

“Ah... Th-Thank you.” Frank hurries off, leaving Wally to watch as he leaves. 

The door to the post office was covered by the blinds that Frank didn’t know it had. It also looked completely dark inside, adding to the dread. Frank tried his best to peek inside, but it was futile. He thought it would be best to just go inside. 

Frank took a deep breath... and opened the door slowly. 

The lights were off inside, as he has suspected, but there was no sign of life either.  

“Eddie...?” Frank could barely speak, his nerves getting the better of him.  

He looked around the empty room. It wasn’t in any sort of disarray, rather that it was organised. Like it had been untouched for a while. Not a speck of dust though, as if something had been looking after it, or it had become stuck in time without Eddie. 

“Hello...??” He calls out again, standing in the middle of the main room. He had spun around a few times, hoping maybe one turn would help him find something he hadn’t seen before. Unfortunately, it didn’t work like that, and he knew it.  

Frank went behind the counter, into the back room. On the counter in front of him was Howdy’s parcel, wrapped and assigned to him. Eddie was going to deliver it before whatever happened to him or wherever he went.  

Panicking further, Frank rushed out of the back, and then trying to find an upstairs or where Eddie would have been living. Off in the corner of the room, there was a very plain looking door, leading Frank to suspect that it was potentially what he could be looking for.  

He approached, took another much deeper breath this time, and placed his hand on the door handle. He hesitated for a few moments, the dread lingering harder than before. He had a voice in his head screaming that something very bad had happened to Eddie... or he had done something to...

Eddie would never. He’s probably just having a bad spell, and he’s be fine... 

In a swift movement, he turned the handle and flung open the door.  

Silence. 

Eddie’s room was completely untouched. It has been perfectly organised and cleaned. Not an item out of place. It was unsettling, to say the least.

A shiver went down Frank’s spine... He was completely clueless.  

...

Where is Eddie...?

[hollowsart]

Misc. screenshots of Insomniac's Mysterio/Quentin Beck

for reference use, but also just to look at and admire 🔮💖

[peterofthedrakes]

i was gonna do a background but i. dont wanna. anyways i attended a Family Event and now there are so many pictures of me looking incredibly cool but also very very uncomfortable. i have immortalized this experience via raccoon.

[the-good-ol-art-corner]

With Breakdown's introduction into ES, I thought it'd be fun to try my hand at a ES Knockout!!

Thought it'd be fun to make him more serious and "up-tight" to play off how reckless and free Breakdown is <3 Might elaborate more in the tags I dunno :P

Reblogs > Likes, thank you! <3

[brother-emperors]

You talked about Crassus not getting his wealth in "traditional" manner, and it made me think of Plutarch taking about how Sulla's wealth was also viewed with suspicion because his father actually left him nothing so becoming wealthy was a subversion of his inheritance. I'm just ... having thoughts.

IT'S SO FUN there's such a specific kind of wound that digs into both of them happening there, Sulla's wealth is a mark of suspicion the way that Crassus' wealth is a permanent stain

it's not to the same degree, but there is something almost thematic about Crassus being brought up in a modest household and Sulla having lived in cheap lodgings (or to continue the almost: the way that there is a specific kind of familial absence in the early narratives of their respective biographies). the ways that they both gained wealth and power taking unconventional turns (whether the suspicion is warranted or not), even by the rapidly unraveling standards of the time.

it's not a perfect comparison!! but in a way it's poetic to me?? recognition in a reflection that doesn't line up so instead it's unbearable and grating. Sulla was the only Roman who could hold Crassus to the floor, and Crassus got up anyway. they both crawled up the Roman political ladder, ruthless in achieving their goals. its the mortifying ordeal of being known enough and not vibing with it.

A Year of One’s Own: Dating the Praetorship of Marcus Crassus, Martin Stone

like, Sulla knew Crassus well enough to know how to hurt him, and boy that sure feels like something.

Plutarch, Crassus, trans. Warner.

ANYWAY, I'm getting off topic. oh my god I have gotten so far off the original topic of this ask.

to wrap it up: something something Sulla keeping the company of actors and such, and this text comparing Crassus to an actor about to enter the stage of politics once more, Sulla's role in freezing Crassus out of the traditional avenues of political power.

A Life in Pieces, Plutarch, Crassus 12.1-16-8, James T Chlup

Many Things Are Weird About The Main Cast Of The Last Generations Of The Roman Republic. lots of subversions and transgressions happening all over the place.

heughghh to finish this off, I've been thinking about this a lot while I write other things, but uhhhh my thoughts are Not Particularly Coherent. I've been reading lately on the Rizal-Bonifacio relationship and what it means to conflict with someone who is partially responsible for making you what you are—

Decimation: Myth, Discipline, and Death in the Roman Republic, Michael J. Taylor

—and it's bleeding into all the other filing cabinets in my mind.

[sluckythewizard]

i keep forgetting i can post wips here. thisll either be a small part of a bigger doodly page, OR ill make the bodies look scarier and give this THING a life of its own. in the meantime im PROUD so it can try to break containment. if it wants to.

[chaos-theoryyy]

Following the Adventure Line™ somewhere we should not be going!

Dun dun dun dun 🎶

Aka hello TSP fandom population on Tumblr dot com I have finally decided to start posting <3

backgrounds aren't my thing so have this little colored sketch 〽️

[genialtomfool]

I drew this on the bus with my FINGER

[mikumikugerms]

christmas time with my lovelies 🤍 + i finally have a fursona design that i'm happy with!

@rayfoxx918 @dyst-blogs love you both so so much

[snowangeldotmp3]

kas!max mayfield

okay, this is a thought i've been rotating in my mind for a while (since vol2 dropped) and maddie (@verymuchablog42) and i were talking about the ever popular kas!eddie (which, while fun to explore, likely is not going to happen)

do you know who is the perfect candidate for a kas figure?

max mayfield.

i don't think max is out of the woods, and while it might not be an exact kas the bloody handed scenario,(i don't think the duffers would add vampires this late into the show, lol) i think we can all agree that vecna isn't done with max. yes, technically el is the one who brought her back, not vecna. but i think max is still the perfect candidate.

reason number one: she's in a coma, meaning she's basically defenseless against vecna if he were to strike again. (unless el is consistently monitoring her, which, from the looks of episode 9, she is, but still!) we know vecna/the mind flayer can possess people, and that vecna possession is way more powerful. we've seen vecna/the mind flayer possess people before, and though he's been knocked down a few pegs, he's not completely powerless. though el is the one who brought her back, vecna could be the one to give max her life back, meaning no more coma.

reason number two: the whole puppet master thing. the master of puppets is vecna, and who's the perfect puppet right now? a semi-dead girl who has a connection to el and will and the rest of the party. vecna could tear the party apart from the inside with max. (and a girl who vecna is now seemingly attached too, both with billy's possession and subsequent death, and then with max's death.)

reason number three: if we assume that max will tear the group apart from the inside, we also have to assume that she will be the one who rails against vecna with them in the end, too. because we all know max, there is no way that she wouldn't be fighting off vecna with everything she has, even while he's the only thing keeping her alive. she's going to make him pay.

reason number four: the emotional potential. god, could you imagine? not only would it break lucas and el (and the rest of the party + steve, robin, and nancy) that their best friend and girlfriend is now a puppet for the enemy, but they can't do much about it. it won't be as simple as 'play kate bush' and it saves the day.

not only that, but from max's pov, it would be emotionally devastating. 'do you accept the risk?' and this is the consequence of that risk. that tiny, seemingly insignificant acceptance, has led her to this. she didn't want to end up like billy, spent her years with him defying him the best she knew how, and yet, at the end of the day, she would have the exact same fate as him. her fate is no longer her own (has it ever been?) and she becomes the puppet for vecna's ultimate plan.

anyways, this is half me theorizing about max's s5 fate, and the other half trying to reconcile the fact that max could very well just, die. and i don't want that to happen, i want her (if she does have to go out) to go out with a bang. a 'fuck you!' to vecna, if you will. but i think if max does wake up in season 5, this is one of the routes that they could very well explore.

[domokunrainbowkinz]

Uh oh!!!!

[greatbridge]

spidersona time! Meet diving bell spider :)