#samgiddings

"Settle something," was all the warning she got, her personal space disappearing in a puff of air and artificial cheese powder as she was bookended, made the literal middleman in an argument she hadn't been having, "tell this idiot I'm objectively correct."

Ashley didn't even have time to take a breath, much less open her mouth; immediately Chris was on the defensive, snatching at the bag of Cheetos to no avail. "The point is to have orange fingers by the end of it - that's the point! - cuz then you get to lick them off later, or stain your pants, it's how you're supposed to eat them!"

"Again," Josh interjected, giving his (admittedly ridiculous) plastic tongs a little click-clack before sliding them into the bag, bringing them up with a few Cheetos clutched tight, "I'm the one who's reached true enlightenment here, right Encyclopedia Brown?"

She glanced between the two of them, knowing full well there was only one way to end this particular war: "I mean, neither of you are dipping them in mustard, so...if we're going for objectivity, you're both wrong."

by clicking this link you will be redirected to 113 icons of SAM GIDDINGS in the UNTIL DAWN REMAKE. the icons are sized 1024 x 1024. this is an ONGOING pack !

I AM hardly active on tumblr, and more active on pinterest where you can find my video game only icons - featuring games such as: resident evil, until dawn, and modded packs. @eternityeiicons.

If nothing else, we share the canadianisms that are the 'never eat soggy weiners' mnemonic and that if shit has hit that fan, then that was one hell of a gong show 🇨🇦

I hate this empty bed.

So I go to crowded places.

I keep seeing you in,

Stranger's faces.

Drunk trying to reach my friends;

Chasing your ghost to get in; crowded,

Places.

~

She'd been quiet for such a long time that there really wasn't any question what was going on in that precious little head of hers, but Josh wasn't the sort of guy who interrupted someone when they were having themselves a good, long rumination; nah, he was happy enough to stand there, waiting, one of his hands resting on an upholstered arm as he pretended to scope out his own bathroom with a guest's appreciative eyes.

"So, it's...hmm," and that's how it began, her posture shifting so her head tilted to one side and the hip opposite jutted out, her eyes slowly tracing the couch's sight-lines, "...it's...what's it for, exactly?"

"Depends on who you ask." He lifted his other hand (the one not supporting his weight), ticking them off one by one, "According to Pops, you can use it for just about anything - clothes, towels, sitting and doing needlework like a chaste Victorian lady as you wait for the suds to really hit - Mom says it's good for getting black lung, Beth claims it's the primo spot for perverts - and who am I to correct her? - and dear, dear sweet Hannah likes to pretend it's full of a studio audience listening to her being interviewed on the world's first bathtub-based talk show."

Sam let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh before shaking her head, coyly turning her eyes to him as if she already knew the answer to the question she was about to ask; "And, uh, you think...?" she teased, her eyebrows arching high.

"Oh, I like to think of it as the Titanic special," he answered, smirking but not laughing as he patted the couch's arm, really making her guess at whether he was being serious or not, "by which I mean, play your cards right and who knows - maybe I get all nice and cozy on this bad boy, draw you like one of my French girls, see where the rest of the night goes, huh?"