Reblog if you didn’t write My Immortal

We’re going to find the author by process of elimination.

Reading & Other Fun Rituals: What To Do When Your Bookclub is [REDACTED] a Control/Supermassive Games crossover by TheIcyQueen

After pushing back the Hiss, Jesse figures the creepiest and/or crawliest parts of her job are behind her. No more monotone chanting coming from the shadows? Check. No more low-level employees floating up by the ceiling? Check. No more HIGH-level employees trying to kill her after getting possessed? Check, check, check! Surely things will be quieter now - calmer. Only...that's not really how the Oldest House works. Suddenly there's a whole book club's worth of Altered horror novels on the loose, and if Jesse doesn't manage to take them down and return them to the Panopticon's unsettling Repository (and its even more unsettling Curator), the papercuts alone might just spell the end for her. Is everyone's favorite Director in for a scary good time, or will she be undone by some killer library fees? There's only one way to find out!

Read the COMPLETE fic on AO3!

@kpdleo12

✨ Please reblog the polls to make them reach out to as many people as possible, but KEEP IT SPOILER-FREE to make people listen to the music with an open mind 💖 Artists and titles will be revealed after the poll's conclusion, check the original post for an update! ✨

I adore Sam × Ashley dynamics in your fics 😍 So I want to order something with them 👉🏻👈🏻 Have a good day! 🌸

Whatever face she was making in that moment must've been a doozy, because entirely apropos of nothing, Sam settled herself into the hospital bed right beside her, teasing, "Hey, look on the bright side - things could've turned out, like, sooo much worse," as she shifted this way and that so they weren't crammed like a couple of sardines.

Under normal circumstances, Ashley would've appreciated the optimism; today, however, she was, yeah, stuck in a hospital bed with an IV shoved in her arm, everything from the tips of her toes to the top of her scalp aching like nobody's business, and, to add insult to injury, her face was bruised so bad a bystander probably would've thought she'd just gone three rounds with a lawnmower and lost. "How...on...Earth...could things have turned out worse than this?" she asked, sleepily shutting her eyes as she felt Sam's warmth - her solidity - behind her.

She was quiet for a second, acting like she was thinking on it, then hummed, "Mmm, well, you could've ended up sharing a room with Emily instead of me, so...I mean, there's that."

After everything that had happened on the mountain, after everything they'd seen and done and experienced and survived, that caught her by surprise; Ashley laughed, then groaned at the pain in her ribs, then laughed again, too tired to form full-fledged thoughts but just cogent enough to manage, "She told me to understand the palm of her hand."

"She sure did, and you could be lying here with her as the big spoon, so maybe, just maybe, you look on the sunny side until that morphine drip kicks in, huh?"

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

I love your writing so much! I was wondering if you could do something about the Washingtons bonding together(please and thank you!)

Hell if she knew how they'd managed to do it, but no sooner had Beth realized she wasn't alone than she was up in the air, Hannah's arms under her own, Josh hoisting her by the feet, and - oh, there was no way this was going to happen. Her heart was in her throat as the jerks laughed, swinging her towards the pool with a ceremonious (if slightly out of sync) "ONE...TWO...TH - " and that was when her plan formed.

"Wait - wait you assholes! - my phone's in my pocket, my phone's in my pocket!" she yelled, thrashing this way and that, shooting a panicked look down towards her pants.

The swinging immediately stopped as Josh slackened his grip, lowering her feet a fraction of a fraction of an inch as he asked, genuinely concerned, "Oh shit, seriously?" and that's when she made her move.

"SABOTAAAGE!" Beth cried, wriggling out of his grip and pivoting hard, sending Hannah tumbling into the pool with a yelp and a splash before shoving him in after her. Standing triumphantly at the pool's edge, she laughed, "You guys are really going to have to do better than that next ti - " before a cold, wet hand closed around her ankle.

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

Hemwooooo Queenie, I am a wee bit late with this so ignore it if you don’t want to <3

Could I get some pining Josh over Sam Mayhaps? 👀👀 maybe even some kisses?? 👀👀👀👀 it’s finals week for me so I need every sustenance I can get

And I hope you’re feeling better this weekend! ^^ thank you :D

He knew better than to go and drink, that was the thing: Drinking always led to bad decisions when it was his liver sopping it all up, decisions like falling asleep when his sisters needed him awake, decisions like running his mouth when he should've kept it closed. That was why she was looking at him like that, something in her eyes he couldn't read (probably pity; maybe concern; certainly nothing good), because he'd gone and said it, the thing he'd sworn he wouldn't say tonight, "You don't have to keep this up just because you feel sorry for me."

But he'd said it, he'd gotten drunk and he'd said it, so there was no taking it back when Sam blinked, reeling, and asked, "That's...you don't actually think that's why I'm spending time with you, is it?"

His next breath came out as a laugh, loose and not quite the shape he'd meant for it to be, then the words were pouring out of him, his voice tired and resigned, "Well, I've gotta be honest with you - I can think of roughly a thousand reasons, maybe a fucking million why I want to be around you, but looking at it the other way around, the only thing I can figure is that you've only been around me because of the twins, and - " the words threatened to choke him, but he pushed them out all the same, " - they're not here anymore, so no, Sammy, no, outside of that, I've got nothing."

Sam watched him for a second longer, that same strange look on her face, and then stood from her side of the fire, pulling the bottle out of his hands and setting it in the grass before doing the unthinkable and sliding onto his lap. "Then you haven't been paying attention," she said gravely, the zipper on her sweater hot from the fire, her hands hotter still on his face; she was kissing him a moment later, desperate and unashamed, and he realized it had never been about pity at all.

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

Can we get some silly shenanigans with the Control crew? I miss them so much

Since stepping foot in the Oldest House and beginning her unconventional career as its Director, Jesse had done some things she'd regretted - gotten into arguments with the Board, fought a fair number of the old guard, momentarily lost herself to the Hiss, everything that had happened with Dylan...but this? Oh, putting the tape into the VCR was the worst decision she'd ever made.

"GEE MEG, WHAT'S THAT AWWWFUL SOUND? HEY, ARE THE WALLS MOV - AUGHUAGHUARUHGGHHGHHH!" was what she, uh, thought Topher said before his tiny puppet body was sucked into the little cardboard set, bisected and twitching, a horrendously cartoonish imitation of a House Shift.

"I still can't believe Trench's people thought The Threshold Kids was a good idea," Jesse said slowly, her arms folded and her brow furrowed, visibly wincing as Meg waddled over and began trying to pry Topher's leg from out of the House itself.

"I know, it's unthinkable," Emily began, providing a completely reasonable and normal response to the papercraft gore they were witnessing...until she pointed her pencil at the screen and continued, "I mean, that's the worst visual representation of a building Shift I've ever seen - there's absolutely no usable information a child could glean from this!"

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

In honor/celebration of me finally sitting my butt down and playing the silent hill games *checks calendar* twenty-five years late, how about some six-sentences for the one that started it all?

(I do realize that you said it's been a hot minute since you played the og but I'll gladly take whatever words you can manage to scrounge up for whoever you see fit ☺️)

This was a nightmare...it had to be.

His hand had moved even before he'd woken, searching out Cheryl's shape to find nothing and no one. He opened his eyes and the world was fog, or maybe snow, or smoke, or radio static gone thick enough to fill the air - it was impossible to tell with his head aching from the impact, his sinuses burning with shock and the smell of gasoline. He searched again and again, thinking maybe his vision would clear and there she'd be, shaken but unhurt, startled but whole, his daughter, his baby girl, Cheryl, his everything. But she wasn't: Wasn't there, wasn't with him, wasn't inside the car, wasn't outside of it either (once his numb hands managed to undo his seatbelt and throw open the door), wasn't anywhere he could see, wasn't...she wasn't answering when he called her name.

So Harry Mason did the only thing he could, and he walked right into the trap that the town itself had set, frightened for his daughter and wholly unaware that the real nightmare had only just begun.

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

I hope you're doing good!! I'd like to ask for Sam and Josh cat shenanigans

There were a lot of ways she'd pictured today going - sneezing, grumbling, swearing, dirty looks, rolling eyes, maybe even bleeding - but when Sam walked back into the room, she had to stop and give her brain a little time to process, because...this? This hadn't been on her list.

"Crates empty and ready for cleaning, your majesty," Josh said when he noticed her waiting there, his arms so full of kittens that he had to gesture with his chin instead of his hands, "your wish, my command, you know the shtick."

And...yeah, no, this just wasn't computing in her head, so she quickly nudged the door shut with her foot, dropping her voice into a joking whisper to keep the rest of the volunteers from hearing her as she asked, "I-I'm sorry, how did you, of all people, convince a bunch of feral kittens to chill like that?!"

She realized a moment too late that she'd walked right into his trap; Josh's eyes flashed, a corner of his mouth quirked up, and God was she glad she'd shut that door, because she didn't want to think of how the other volunteers - or the shelter staff themselves - might've reacted to hearing his matter-of-fact, "You know me, Sammy, pussy magnet supreme."

"All right," she groaned, "keep that act up and you're going in the crate."

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

Sam and Mike bonding after the events of the mountain, where Jess didn't make it and Josh is either dead or turning. I always thought in this version of events they would bond over what they'd lost and what they had to do. Your choice on if anyone else survived, I'm just feeling angsty :)

This was how it happened now, in fits and spurts; the walk had been serene, full of flowers and the smell of freshly cut grass, the two of them happy enough to stretch their legs and make pointless small-talk about the classes they'd just finished and what next semester might bring...and then, like a thunderclap, something changed and Mike was sitting in the grass, his fingers pressed hard to his mouth.

"We just left them up there," he said, his voice wavering - sick - a far cry from the happy-go-lucky tone he'd had a second ago as he told her about the ragtag group of freshmen trying to rush his fraternity, "in the dark, in that fucking pit where we found...where we...we found...where Beth..." He took a breath and his shoulders heaved, he exhaled and he deflated, he pressed his fingers (the ones he still had) harder to his mouth, and the mashing of his lips changed the shape of his words as he forced out, "Like it's not bad enough we couldn't save them, we just...left them."

Sam, ever the pragmatist since watching the lodge burn to so much ash in the snow, stretched her quads and told him the same thing she'd been telling herself in the mirror every morning she woke up and could stand to look at it: "We did everything we could, Mike, you know that - it took everything we had to save ourselves."

"Yeah, well," he dropped his hand, gestured vaguely at the park, the flowers, the sun, the people walking their dogs, "that's the fucking kicker, isn't it...out here in the light, and I don't feel very safe, Sam."

She lowered her foot from her stretch; she lowered the rest of herself onto the grass; she lowered her head to his shoulder; she lowered her hand to his; and when it seemed there wasn't a part of her that could sink any farther down that it already had, Sam lowered her voice and admitted, "Me neither."

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

QUEENIE you still know me you KNOW I'm gonna be asking about our favorite dumpster fires can you PLEASE give me Hawke AND/OR Varric's "oh...uh oh." moment

"Watch m - excuse me, I'm sorry, do you not see me over here doing my best to protect you against this place? Quit the giggling already, and watch my hands, Sunshine, I'm not gonna be able to sleep at night knowing you're walking around out there, oblivious to something as basic as bottom dealing, so watch my hands!"

Snickering into her drink, Hawke watched as Bethany dropped her face into her hands, her shoulders heaving with laughter as, time and time again, Varric made an absolute mockery of her card skills. When she came back up for air she was wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, taking huge, gulping breaths to try and calm herself down; it wasn't working, of course (once Varric found his flow, there really wasn't anything, save perhaps an inconveniently placed trapdoor or outraged member of the Guard, that could stop him), and as her sweet sister collapsed into another giggling fit, Hawke caught Varric's eye and rolled her own when he winked.

"He's got three up his sleeve, you know," she remarked coolly, lowering her tankard just enough for the accusation to be heard and her smirk to be seen, "he always does;" but it wasn't until Bethany, still laughing, grabbed for Varric's arm - an arm he pulled away with the quickest flash of the cards hidden within - that Hawke realized the greatest sleight of hand had been pulled on her: After everything they'd been through, after everything they'd lost, her little sister was smiling again...she was laughing.

"I don't know how to break it to you, Hawke, but I think this one's a lost cause - here, you deal this hand, maybe the kid'll actually try if you're the one tearing your hair out," Varric joked, and as she took the deck from him and their eyes met once more, she realized there wasn't any use in pretending the flush she felt rising to her face was from the drink: Bethany had been swindled of her coin, sure, but she'd get that back...Varric had stolen Hawke's heart, though, and Maker help her, she didn't think he'd be returning that any time soon.

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

Re-reading the first two chapters of TA, I curious how Ashley came to the decision to apologize to Sam for what she said

She couldn't say when she'd started, couldn't even guess when she'd first grabbed the paper towels, but despite the jumbled, blurry mess the past few hours had proven themselves to be, Ashley knew why she was doing it - she was cleaning because she couldn't just sit around waiting, she needed her hands to be moving, she needed her brain to shut off, she needed something to focus on that wasn't Beth or Hannah or Josh or, now, Sam.

There was another 'why' she couldn't escape; she'd said what she'd said not because she'd wanted to hurt anyone's feelings or lay blame at anyone's feet, but because...no. No, that was a lie. She wiped the glass cleaner off of the mirror's surface, and when she met her reflection's stare, there was no point in trying to hide anymore - she knew herself too well, she could read her own face just fine, thanks very much. She'd said it because her feelings were hurt, she'd said it because she was scared, she said it...because if there was anyone among them who deserved to be blamed, she was at the top of the list.

For a while, long enough that the streaks on the mirror dried and formed new stains where the old had been wiped away, Ashley stood staring at herself: She didn't like what she saw.

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

Would love some more Dr Hill and Curator with the kids!

The story wasn't even halfway through, and he'd been reduced to sitting with his hand keeping his head up, his fingers pressing against his mouth - not with shock, not with fear, not with awe, not with any of the things such a story could be expected to bring out of its audience, but with resignation.

The shed had been one thing, but this? All of this?

"She cannot be taking a bath," he droned, the tone robbed from his voice after witnessing such an unspeakable degree of incompetence from the protagonists, "she simply...did he just startle that girl so badly that she fell into a freezing str...oh, this can't be how the story is meant to go, it cannot."

"You would think that," Hill cut in, alarmingly chipper for a man doomed to watch this sort of lunacy ad nauseum; he tapped one of the monitors, offered him a flippant smirk, and remarked, "you would be wrong, of course, but you would think that."

His eyes followed his finger, and lo and behold, his relief was palpable: "Well those two appear on top of things at least, I suppose I - did he really just leave their only weapon behind?!"

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

Hey there, Queenie, I hope you're having a lovely weekend! 💕 Since it's another wonderful Six-Sentence-Sat(or)Sunday, I'm here to ask for some LauraMax again 😅 You may write whatever you want, but in case you're feeling like incorporating a prompt, how about: "You should see the other guy"?

Max hadn't said a word about it in all the time it took them to get there - not the long row across the lake, not the longer walk to the main road, not the endless trek that finally brought them to the seedy little motel - and for that, Laura loved him more than she had yesterday (if such a thing were possible).

When she'd given him a tight smile and looked away, he hadn't asked questions either; he'd gone into the motel himself, gotten their room key, and joked, "Shoulda seen the eyes that guy was giving me! You better watch out, hun, I think you've got competition," as he made a show of tugging her sweatshirt to cover his belly - she loved him even more then (if a person could love that much).

And when she'd gotten into the bathroom, her plan to take a long, hot, much-needed shower knocked off its tracks by the sight of herself in the mirror, all it took was that one extra moment of silence before he'd joined her there, holding her close despite how awful she looked, how terrible she must've smelled. It all came crashing down in a wave then, every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week they'd lost, and she scrambled - desperate - trying to ignore the tears already rolling down her cheeks as she only half-jokingly said, "I know I look bad, but...you should really see the other guy." She'd watched in the mirror as his arms only tightened and his lips found the spot behind her ear, already hushing her, telling her it was all right, reminding her that they were free, and as her tears fell, washing the grime and blood and fear and regret from where it had all stained her cheeks, Laura loved him more, more, more than anyone had ever loved anyone else.

That she knew for sure.

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!