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#hi jay :3
magicmarkerz · 2 months
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I can't stop thinking about the Wilson coming out to his wife, y/n, as gay with the frickin gay song akbdjskajwn
I was sitting at the table well I am the G...
Standing at the microwave I have a heart that only loves boys...
no it's genuinely the funniest fucking thing ever . it was all chandlers idea i just drew it.
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medusacomplex · 11 months
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Each step brings a creaking sound from the wood below the weight of her foot, a moan of the old Creel house which barely stands on its own anymore. Seems like it's half-sighing as it roots further into the ground, sinking in its slow death, a forgotten relic haunted by a lifetime of misfortune and subsequent neglect. There could be many arguments made for putting it out of its misery, this old grief-stricken thing with blood and ghosts haunting the drywall. Nancy finds herself agreeing with most of them. Flashlight in hand, the Nancy Drew of Hawkins, Indiana peers down the hallway with no small measure of caution, slow in her actions and keeping one foot always poised behind her, as if ready to turn on a dime to run back out the way she came. To be here alone is a mistake: she knows this. But her hunch had led her straight here, and if no one cared to believe her when she said she knew something was wrong, she'd just have to investigate independently.
A loud, sudden woody groan lets out from just behind her and she spins, finding nothing in particular except old cobwebs and a termite-ridden plank of wood hanging loose from the wall. Jesus, she hated being doubted. Made for seriously lonely excursions.
With a deep breath she reoriented herself in neither direction, not down the hall nor towards the sound from just behind her, but instead she began approaching the staircase, moving with meticulous action up each step and holding tight to the banister as she ascended. Halfway up is when the sounds began shifting, the wooden groans twisting into something more akin to a voice, though the words themselves she couldn't quite make out, slurred and mumbled and unintelligible. At first she thought it was a trick of her ear, that her own heebie-jeebies were getting the best of her, because believe as she might in many-a-weird thing, ghosts weren't one of them. Bracing herself, yet another breath taken in with a sharper air this time, she continued, unabashed in the face of whispered murmurs.
Of course, she was reckless, not stupid; as she began to reach the top of the stairs she used one hand to pull around her backpack, balancing it against her hip, digging through to pull out the pistol she'd snuck out from underneath her bed. Just in case. She shrugs the bag back onto her shoulder, a quick action, done admittedly rather gracefully given the loaded gun in her palm but not quite perfectly enough to avoid one of the spare boxes of ammo slipping through the partly unzippered opening and allowing it to clumsily clunk against the floorboards near the edge of the steps.
" Shit! " She winces as she points the light back down towards the box, a few bullets escaping and teetering precariously, ready to fall off and roll down the entire flight. With a grimace, she begrudgingly lowers down to pick them up before realizing she's got her hands pretty full. Light or gun. Didn't feel like a good idea to risk going gunless, so flashlight it was; she balanced it gently on the stair beside her, pointed towards the small cardboard box and neighboring metal bullets. Delicate hand moves to pick them up one by one, placing the ammo back in the box and pocketing it. Got it. A bit exasperated, she sighs ––– this sucks. She should have dragged Jonathan along. The only success she's beginning to think she'll find here is that of succeeding in scaring herself near to death just by making stupid mistakes.
As she stands, remembering to pick up the flashlight, she turns to the shock of company: beady eyes and a white-painted face, staring back at her with her doe-eyed terror as she looks on in awe for just a moment before toppling back and losing her balance. Bullets spew against the stairs and fall alongside her, though she does well to catch herself midway down the staircase (not for lack of injury, there's a sharp pain in her left hand and shin that she's choosing to ignore for the time being). As she clamors up she begins to crawl the rest of the way down the stairs, forcing herself up as she meets the ground and speeding towards the front door.
She was sure there was a door there. She meets only wall. Wasting no time, she runs towards the parlor room, nearly tripping over the white-sheet-covered furniture which no doubt makes great moth-fodder, scrambling uneasily through towards a smaller room in the back, something which appears to be a study. She looks around for anything, a door, a window, something to break herself out of, but finding nothing and knowing her paths are few, she opts to duck beneath the large mahogany desk. Here the pain begins to become a bit more apparent, as well as the realization that not only had she dropped the extra bullets, but her flashlight, too. Only her gun remained. Six rounds. Shit.
Slow, steady, she moves to peer around the corner of the desk, trying to spot if that thing was nearby. Nothing. A shaky breath releases and she shuts her eyes, trying to center herself.
It is a voice which then calls out, like that old creaking wood of the house, a settling of its bones, as @pennywise asks, ❝ why are you hiding from me, nancy? ❞
Eyes bound open as she pulls the trigger by instinct alone, leaving only a bullet lodged deep into the armoire across her. She scurries upwards, turning like rapidfire to survey the room.
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" Who's there? " Her question's less so and more a demand: WHO'S THERE? She points the gun with an intent fervor, albeit a bit feverish in her demeanor, as she takes cautious steps out from behind the desk and towards the entry of the parlor yet again. " Don't ––  screw with me, I'll shoot. "
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wyrmswears · 6 months
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??lego ninjas
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quirkle2 · 6 months
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a little bit crazy
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i would do unspeakable things to this man
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lesbianjoannaharvelle · 8 months
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i am literally always connected to all my beautiful mutuals via the strong mental bond we have that was forged in hell (the destiel mass hysteria 2020-2022)
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badnewswhatsleft · 17 days
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(x) welcome back patrick's cheekbones. they didn't go anywhere im just happy to see them
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twiyke · 4 months
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just troll with it au. because riptide killed my theythemma okay.
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citruslllad · 1 year
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friends who beat the shit out of cops together
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lxikoniko · 2 months
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I will forever push the "In terms of raw elemental power, Jay would be the strongest and most versatile in terms of range of his elemental abilities out of the main group (not including Lloyd obviously)" agenda
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magicmarkerz · 2 months
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Jashpin, how do you feel about draw. how about bisexual goth draw?
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i feel great about bisexual goth draw. look at her!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the character ever!!!!
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under-lok-n-ki · 7 months
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the viking hairdos are rlly doing something for me I love that they did that
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niniissus · 4 months
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Ughh Jake is so fratboy coded and this is Jake❤️‍🩹❣️
He can do both ngl bc he has MASSIVE frat boy energy when he wants to 🤧but he looks so babygirl here👁️👄👁️
Babygirl Jake appreciation post pt.2 🤗
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ahalliance · 3 months
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Antoine, reading chat: “My favourite work/creation on QSMP?” Pomme
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quirkle2 · 9 months
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The tiles are no longer white, and the bathroom looks compressed and scintillated; hotspots of light blare in seething oranges, corners buzz in deep purples, noises manifest in confusing patterns that obscure other patterns. It hurts. The tiles aren’t white anymore. Nothing is quiet. The colors pour in. Shigeo is tired of color.
another scene from rainspeak ! suffered a bit with the colors but i don't ,, Hate this, so up it goes <3
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numberonepartyboy · 1 month
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fuck you!!!! *untwinkifies and unwhitifies jay*
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