#;i see that town -ic

[gotaletter-archive]

@creatureshrieks liked for a sentence starter (for Bubba!)

James is taking a huge risk by approaching the killer, but there's something in the way that Leatherface is cowering that reminds him a lot of himself. Timidly, he extends his hands in a way that one would try to calm down a large animal.

"H-Hey..." He stammers, tilting his head to try to get a better look at the masked face tucked away behind large, work worn hands, "You... You okay?"

[bacchuschucklefuck]

typical tavern scene

[lizzybeeee]

"So, how was your time in the south?"

"...eventful."

[gotaletter-archive]

Her kindness in the face of his need for isolation stings sharp. James feels bad. He should feel bad. It's what he deserves. She doesn't deserve any of this. Laurie shouldn't be talking to a strange man like him. She would just be better off if he was -

"Yeah." He speaks, agreeing not only to her, but to his intrusive thoughts, "You're right. We... I'll look out for you too." He almost says 'you can count on me' but he knows that isn't true. He doesn't want to give her that false hope. He doesn't ever want her to put herself at danger just in the hopes he might show up. Laurie needs to live, no matter the cost.

James does offer her a smile. It was nice, even if it was a little awkward, to talk to another person for a little bit. Makes him feel a little more solid than when they started this conversation.

"See you around."

Laurie can't help but offer him a smile, though it wasn't clear if it was more sympathetic, apologetic, or just plain pitiful. James hadn't been the first Survivor to struggle with life in the fog, hadn't been the first to be anxious or just plain anti-social. They all handled it differently and even Laurie, after being here for god knew how long, still felt the need to constantly look over her shoulder. Even if the campfire was safe, some off-limit zone for the various monsters, that didn't mean they didn't prowl just on the edge of the light. Seeing him still instilled with her an overwhelming sense of fear and anger. She'd gone through her fair share of trials, faced off and been the victim of more than a dozen different murderers, but still none managed to get to her like he did.

Perhaps he had something like that.

Laurie takes a moment to look at the campfire, at the other Survivors off doing their own various things. She did have friends here, though it still wasn't uncommon for her to feel othered either. Most people were older than her, save for a handful around her age bracket, but they were still from vastly different eras. She wasn't certain what e-sports were, didn't have a cellphone, and couldn't name any of the movies they all saw. There were a handful they called classics that had just recently came out before Laurie got abducted she'd seen, at least. It felt strange to be confronted by the time discrepancy, to see the future through another's eyes. Laurie once dreamed of her future. Now she felt sick thinking about everything she might never get to see.

She looks back at James and, despite her own reservations, gives him a nod.

" That's okay... I'll, uhm, I'll still be around if you need me, okay? We all have to support each other. "

It was really the only way they could survive.

[violetren]

Things that cannot defeat the TARDIS...

Being jettisoned into the Z-Neutrino energy core of the Dalek Crucible.

Being turned into a self cannibalising paradox machine by The Master.

Being shunted into a human body while it's own body gets possessed by a sentient TARDIS devouring asteroid.

Things that can defeat the TARDIS...

One cup of coffee with a splash of cold milk.

[feketeribizli]

saint george imaginery...

[gotaletter-archive]

"You're stronger than you think. I believe in you." - Mary.

The note comes as a shock to him.

He recognizes the handwriting immediately, and his hands begin to shake as he can almost hear her say the words. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and as his fingers grip the page he lifts his head to try to see where exactly the letter came from. Who would have left it for him? Was she really here?

"M-Mary?" James calls out, emotion choking his throat as he takes a few steps in a random direction. He looks so lost. He looks so hopeful even though he knows what he did. Maybe this was some kind of sick joke. Maybe someone knew of what he did. Maybe this was another form of sick punishment that he deserved.

I love you, Mary. He thinks, tears now threatening to run down his cheeks, Please forgive me.

[gotaletter-archive]

The fact that Wesker can so easily overpower him does something to James. It causes his breath to hitch, and as the Mastermind leans in to close that gap once again, he tries to breathe in through his nose as not to tip his hand and reveal himself. It backfires. Immediately he's greeted with the scent of cigarettes, and that warm, spicy smell that seems to emanate from Wesker naturally. It's that same smell that clings to that coveted jacket. The same one that slides along the back of his skull like an oil spill.

And then he's free.

James stumbles a bit, his mind returning to his body as he realizes that he's no longer in Wesker's hold. He rubs his jaw, hissing slightly at the pain before smoothing his gaze back over to the other man. He's... really not sure what to do now. Should he run? Was that tempting fate? Should he stay? He sort of... grimaces, bringing up his shoulders before looking away again.

"... Yeah." Whether or not he means it is another story. Most likely he does, but the situation he's found himself is so bizarre and that feeling is still slithering along his brain that he's sort of half aware of what's really going on. He's probably going to have some bruises later.

"I'm... sorry for- ... for touching your things." It was probably going to be the last time he touched anything related to Wesker. The thought gives him a confusing swirl of emotions, and he looks away once again.

"Not yet."

The answer cuts like a knife. Emphasized by the tightening of the hold that he has over the other man. Even when the sorrow begins to spill fourth he offers no pity or concern. It feels like victory, like rubbing salt into a wound he has only just detected.

"Look at that face, so deflated and downcast. Like a wet cat in a human's body." He scoffs, tilting James head back ever so slightly as if to inspect him better. "You could die at the hands of every single killer in this place and never hope to escape. Death will not free you."

The memory of what the other man had dared to say to him, just moments before, reignites Wesker's temper. He leans so that his much taller form crowds the other - lower his head so that it inches away from Jame's. "Speak to me like that again and I will make you wish that you never laid eyes upon me. Do you understand?" He presses, speaking each word like he's grinding salt into an open wound.

With that he loosens his hold. Letting James free once again.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Someone should make an analysis of Amphibia's geography for fanfic writing purposes and by someone I mean Oh god please let there be something out there so I won't be tempted to procastinate on studying for my finals working on a detailed world map for a fantasy Disney show about talking frogs and polyamorous lesbian divorce when the writers themselves probably didn't think much about it beyond what would be funny in each individual episode

[uncanny-tranny]

Something beautiful about the word transsexual is that contrary to popular (often by transmeds) belief, it has always included people who don't medically transition in anyway. It simply is an older word for what a lot of people would now call transgender and there are so many transsexual elders who never went on hormones and never had surgery but have identified as transsexual for decades and still do. I know transmeds have been around back in the day too, claiming that transsexual is only for medical transitioners, but many elders will disagree. Even if you look at some trans glossaries from 15 years ago they will define transsexual the same way that we define transgender. Transsexual and transgender are largely synonymous with different connotations to different people. The beauty is that we as trans people get to choose whether we want to reclaim a term that was put on us by cis people, or if we want to claim a term that was created by us for us, and both are beautiful and radical in their own way.

The thing about the history of transness is... we have documentation of trans people having existed for at least a thousand years. Trans history is ancient. We are a fact of humanity, not an option.

The interesting thing about transsexual is that it's a new word - coined in German as Transsexualismus by Magnus Hirschfeld in the 1920s, introduced later as transsexual. Around this time, more people were interested in what would be known as transsexualism. It's around this time and after the war that more and more medical transition options became wide-spread and practiced. Medical transition is by no means as experimental as people fear monger it to be, but in terms of trans history, we're living in a vastly different era than our trans ancestors.

The understanding of transsexual depends on who you ask, but it's my opinion that we ought to include as many transsexuals as possible. The idea that transsexuals are the Good Trans People, the ones who Put In The Work is an idea that's based on transphobia, not the language that's used. The attitude is the problem, the idea that we are inherently broken or must prove ourselves worthy is separate from the words that we identify with or are used to describe us.

It's for this reason that transsexualism is important to me. It's for this reason that I want as many people to be transsexuals as possible, whether or not you medically transition. I personally started preferring transsexual because I see it as political, as personal, as a community of beautiful people I want to help make good. If you don't identify as transsexual, that is great! But, please, know that transsexuals are also not stereotypes. We're not the Good Ones. We are part of the broader trans community, and thus, we should all work together.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EPISODE 2 AND 3 HAVE BEEN SOOOO FUN im already so emotionally attached to each of these characters.. if anything bad ever happens to any of them im killing everyone and then everyone.

[daily-tf2-medic]

Its BEARY nice to meet you.. EUGH EUGHAHHEYUWYHHQWHHWHWHHHHHUAGHHHHHHH

-✈

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

god tywin lannister deserved worse

just remembering elias death and i wanna puke and the way tywin talks about elia and what happened is so damn gross

but rip tommen and myrcella we all know what’s about to happen in the next book :/

the cycle of violence just keeps spinning and damn you tywin for beginning it

(i got a bit crazy in the tags 💀)

[gotaletter-archive]

The "reply" to the note does not come in the form of a written note of his own. instead, it manifests as the crumbling of wood when The Mastermind unceremoniously claws his way through the nearest breakable door.

"You request is denied." He curtly says. "Now start running..."

Jesus FUCKING Christ.

James practically leaps out of his skin, letting out a surprised yell as the splinters of wood clatter onto the floor. The halls of Midwich are cramped and even more so when there's someone like the Mastermind on his tail. He's already running, booking it down the tainted corridor sprinting at full speed.

"What about the chocolate?!" Really James? Really? Honestly you can't blame him. It's probably a nervous response.

[gotaletter-archive]

Static.

It ripped through the silence and the fog like a knife. The sound caused James to tense, sweeping his head left and right before focusing on a singular building in particular. Without warning, without explanation, he pulled Dana along with him more forcefully, bringing her to the shadow the brick wall cast from above. With his back against the wall, he reached into his jacket, turning the volume down on the radio so it could be heard just by the two of them.

Eyes the color of lake water stared out, vigilant. His entire body language and demeanor changed within just that small span of time, and the timid and uncertain James Sunderland was left behind for a man who had Seen Too Much. Who Knew Too Much. Who had Done Too Much. His hand let go of Dana's, and retrieved the pistol he was keeping tucked away.

"Keep your voice down." Confidence. Assertiveness. "They go after light and sound."

Everything around her felt as though it were a scene from a film, one that she could hardly see herself as an actress in. With each blink of her eyes, it felt as though she was pulled DEEPER into it all, the questions beginning to pile up and reside in her chest with each passing moment. Her eyes gazed about as they walked, trying to pick up on ANY sign of life that she could find; everything felt hollow here.

"Yeah?" A part of her didn't believe him, and yet she couldn't be so FRANK. His tone felt off, but so did the rest of the world around her now. Perhaps the more time she spent here, the more off the world around her would feel. It brought a sense of unease to her stomach, her eyes flickered from him before she glanced down at her feet. How long had they been walking for?

"Sounds good," her head nodded as she continued on, eyes still focused on her feet. There was a peculiar feeling, the sense that she felt more GROUNDED the longer she stared at the ground versus the place she was now. It brought back the feeling of her own control, as though she had a larger hand to play than she felt originally.

"So... I guess we should sort of talk about the elephant in the room," Dana's mind was finding the courage, the need for answers. "How did you end up here? I mean, this place isn't exactly on the map-" she almost wondered the same for herself, the longer she thought about it, the further from the answer she seemed to get. "It sort of felt like I always knew the way here, but I don't think.... I've never been here before-"

[just-another-colin-kinnie]

made these awhile ago most proud of echo because LOOKAT HIMMMM