ghost MC is kinda hard to think about because they are directly the opposite of what original MC is, but ill try my best to keep them in the same originality.
ghost MC gets dropped in the same place original did, just dead. they may have died in their previous universe, or maybe this is just another way for the SCP universe to process their being, who knows.
the most they (want to) control is if you can see them or not because they have no tangibilty. I'd like to think body possesion is still an option for them though; but definitely not easy. but ghost MC is still a ghost, and exorcisms are this MC's death.
they may be banished to death's hand for times longer than most other MC's (with a more solid connection to it), but they find a way out—they always do. and they are back in the past, ready to find a way to survive.
HC?: considering ghost MC is just halloween edition MC, halloween is MC's favorite holiday here. they get to jump scare the researchers of their site in the name of halloween, and they get away with it too.
may come back later with more ideas, but for now i will give you this. :)
Yoooo that’s so cool!! I love the idea of like MC getting exorcised, getting sent back in time, and then spending that time just avoiding the exorcist/getting exorcised. It’s like, advanced hide and seek
It'd be really cute if you could write a platonic Crowley x angel! Reader where she looks like a child, despite being just as old as Aziraphale or Gabriel! Like, she comes to see Aziraphale after Armageddon doesn't happen and Crowley has to deal with this small child with serious wisdom who shows up asking to speak with Aziraphale? Thank you if you can! Love your blog (and you)!! -&
i finished it!! i hope you enjoy, it’s a bit short, but the rainy day one you requested is gonna end up longer <3 <3 <3 love you, too, anon!
Weird Friends
(Requests are not open. I am answering old requests as I post their respective fics.)
Pairing: Adam Karadec x fem!reader (+ platonic Shawn Spencer x fem!reader)
Summary: Karadec asks you, his girlfriend, to assist with a case. He then worries that his professional relationship with Morgan will negatively impact his relationship with you. Instead, you use your childhood experiences with hyper observant Shawn Spencer to become Morgan's new best friend.
Warnings/Word Count: r grew up with Shawn & Gus (Psych), canon typical case content, mentions of human trafficking, banter, fluff. 2.2k+ words, requested
Directory | High Potential Masterlist | Request Info | Taglist
“Your hair looks different,” Shawn muses from Santa Barbara.
Almost 100 miles away, standing in a Los Angeles police station, you smile and argue, “You can’t see my hair, Shawn.”
“I can feel that it’s different. And, actually, I can see you. On the psychic plane.”
“Then you see that I’m about to hang up on you.”
“No, that’s not what I’m getting at all. You’re at the station to work a case, right?”
“Consult, yes,” you admit, pressing the up button for the elevator.
“But there’s someone there. Someone with a badge. Someone with… a deep personal relationship.” His voice raises to demand, “Are you replacing me?!”
“Shawn, someone could clone you and it still wouldn’t be able to replace you. You’re one of a kind.”
“Thank goodness,” Gus murmurs in the background of the call.
“Hey, B,” you greet as you step onto the elevator. “Shawn, you were saying?”
“I was divining,” he corrects. “Your boyfriend?”
“Maybe you are psychic,” you muse.
“You’re dating another cop?” Gus inquires.
“Not another. This is the first one.”
“What about-”
“That does not count,” you hiss into the phone. “I told you not to bring that up again.”
“Hey, you’re right,” Shawn concedes. You can picture him raising his hands with that stupid smile that says I know more than you and I’m going to use it. “Dinner with Lassie definitely wasn’t a date.”
“It wasn’t! We got takeout to review a case. I’m hanging up now.”
“Tell Karadec we say hello,” Shawn replies.
You freeze, unmoving even as the elevator doors open. “How do you… How’d you know that?”
“Psychic,” Shawn whispers before the call drops.
You slide your phone into your pocket and shake your head, then step off the elevator and walk toward the Major Crimes bullpen.
The bullpen where Detective Karadec is currently pacing, wondering if calling you in was a good idea. You’ve assisted on cases before, but not since Morgan made herself part of the team. Morgan doesn’t have a great track record with good impressions.
What if Morgan invades your personal life? Karadec worries as he turns to walk toward his desk again. What if Morgan says or does something that makes you nervous? What if you mistake the relationship for something more? What if Morgan irks you?
But, when you walk in, his mind silences. You’ve been dating for several months now and though most of your dates are over the phone, you know that what you have with Karadec is special.
“Hey,” he greets softly as he approaches you. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course,” you reply, smiling when he spreads his hand on your back. “Where is everyone?”
“Oz is getting evidence reports from the CSI guys, Daphne is in with Soto, and Gillory’s around here somewhere.”
“Gillory — your consultant, right?” you check.
Karadec nods once, suddenly struck with the idea of getting Morgan sidelined from this case, or fired altogether. He’d do anything to keep you and Morgan from being at odds with one another in any way.
“If the vending machine takes fives, it should be able to give ones as change instead of sixteen quarters,” someone complains outside the bullpen. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“Speaking of Gillory,” Karadec sighs, watching you rather than the door.
You watch Morgan enter the space. She’s wearing pink heeled boots, a pleated mini skirt, and a zebra print tank top over a mesh t-shirt. And her bangs are styled perfectly, you notice.
“Oh,” Morgan says when she sees you standing by Karadec. Her eyes drop briefly to his hand at your back, then she smiles at you and offers her hand. “I’m Morgan. You must be the secret weapon.”
You shake her hand and reply, “I’m not sure about secret weapon, but I do what I can.”
“Daphne said secret weapon.”
“Well, I can’t argue with Daphne.”
Morgan nods in approval and tells Karadec, “Smart.”
“There you are!” Oz announces when he returns. He sets a box of papers and evidence bags on his desk, then wraps you in a hug. “Long time, no see.”
“Karadec limits my enrichment time,” you joke.
“Hi!” Daphne exclaims, rushing to your side after she leaves Soto’s office. “I’m so happy to see you!”
“You saw each other last week,” Karadec points out flatly.
“If you don’t feel yourself diminish more every second you’re apart, you are the problem and maybe a new boyfriend is needed.”
“Boyfriend?” Morgan repeats. “That explains some things.”
“So,” you begin, stepping toward the case board. “What’ve you got?”
Karadec stands at your side, pointing with his pen as he walks you through the case. “Hayden Harris, 32 years old, single mother of a twelve-year old boy, works as a paralegal at a law firm in Northeast Los Angeles. Her boss called yesterday afternoon for a welfare check because she didn’t show for work and wasn’t answering phone calls or text messages.”
“Contract law firm,” Morgan interjects quietly.
“Officers responded to her residence around 4 p.m. and find the son sitting on the stairs. No sign of forced entry, the house was clear, and her car hasn’t been located yet.”
“She took the kid to school?” you check.
“Dropped him off at 8:35, said she’d see him after work, and then vanished,” Daphne answers.
“The boy?”
“Staying with the grandparents,” Oz says. “They’ve all been very cooperative.”
“Tracking the phone gave us nothing,” Karadec adds, as if he knew you were about to ask. “Car doesn’t have GPS monitoring, and it looks like her phone was turned off about a block from the school.”
“Did you go?” you ask.
“Go where?” Morgan clarifies.
“The last location her phone pinged.”
“Not yet,” Daphne responds. “We were hoping she’d turn up during the night, have an excuse of some kind.”
“Women like that don’t visit boyfriends, lose track of time, and go missing for a whole day,” you muse. “Any theories?”
“I’ve got a few in the chamber,” Morgan answers.
“Of course you do,” Karadec grumbles.
You ignore him, turning to face Morgan. “What do you think is most plausible?”
“She’s driving to work, stops for some reason, and gets abducted. And I know your average single woman wouldn’t stop to help someone with a flat tire, but there’s been an increase in abductions that utilize minor traffic accidents or someone running out in the road to force someone to stop.”
You nod along with her explanation, thinking back to all the times you helped Shawn filter through theories until he solved a case. First with missing gum in elementary school and later with high-profile murder cases. Morgan is similar to Shawn — she’s hyper observant, remarkably intelligent, and brilliant. But when you have that much in your head and are around people who don’t understand the point you’re trying to make, it can be difficult.
“What about trafficking methods?” you propose. “We’re assuming she’d already left the school. Los Angeles middle schools start between 8 and 8:30. If she dropped him off at 8:35, she would have had to sign him in late, right?”
“And then, as she’s leaving the school, it could have been the dollar under the tire or rope around the mirror tactic,” Morgan agrees, nodding rapidly as her eyes bounce around the case board.
“There’s a lot of people milling around a public school,” Daphne points out. “It’d be hard to abduct someone there.”
“Her car isn’t there,” you and Morgan say together.
“She had to have been approached either before taking the kid to school or at the school,” Morgan realizes. “This wasn’t an abduction; it was some kind of ransom!”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Karadec argues, “there’s nothing to ransom.”
“Let her finish,” you murmur. He meets your eyes and nods, shifting his hands in his pockets so his elbow is against your arm.
“Someone approaches Hayden, tells her these precise things to do or something happens — maybe they threaten her, the kid, her parents — and so she does it. She takes the kid to school late, sees evidence that this person or people are nearby watching so she keeps doing what they ask,” Morgan hypothesizes. “Then the question becomes why did she turn off the phone and where is she?”
“Sounds possible,” you agree. “Terrifying for humanity, but possible.”
“We need to go to the last spot we know she was,” Karadec agrees. “Daph, you work on getting us camera footage from the school. Oz, call the family and see if you can find out why she was late getting the kid to school. We’ll go check out the last location on the phone record.”
Leaning against the side of Karadec’s car, you watch Morgan walk along the side of the road looking for clues or evidence or anything else that could help get Hayden Harris home safe. Karadec is at the back of the car, staring at you. He should have known that you’d get along well with Morgan. But he hadn’t expected you to fit into the dynamic they took so long to build as easily as you did.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” you inquire without looking away from Morgan.
“Doubtful,” Karadec mutters.
“She’s Shawn in a different font,” you point out, smiling over your shoulder at him.
“I got it!” Morgan yells from fifty yards down the road.
“Evidence?” Karadec checks.
She points into the neighborhood across the street and says, “The car!”
You run to her while Karadec pulls the car up. Hayden Harris’s car is parked on the curb outside a house with a poorly maintained yard. Karadec calls Oz and Daphne, then approaches the front door with his hand on his gun.
“Hello?” a woman asks through the barely cracked door.
“Ms. Harris?” Karadec replies. “I’m Detective Karadec, LAPD. We’ve been looking for you.”
“I’m fine,” she replies.
“Your son is safe,” Morgan interjects. “Whatever happened, we’re here to help.”
“It- it’s not just about my son.”
Karadec’s phone buzzes, so he passes it to you. While he tries to get Hayden to open the door, you step back and watch the video Oz sent you. A man in a pressed suit approaches Hayden as she exits her son’s middle school. He shoves folders at her, tosses his hands up in exasperation, then speeds away in a Corvette. A Corvette that would not park at this house unless the tires happened to fall off at the precise moment it sped by.
“Morgan,” you whisper. “It was a client.”
“Ma’am, if one of your clients is harassing you or keeping you here against your will, we can help,” Morgan promises.
“It… It’s complicated. I should go.”
“Close the door and scream,” you advise. “We’ll get you home safe.”
She blinks and closes the door. You think she’s going to ignore your advice because she’s scared, but then her scream filters through the chipping stucco of the porch.
“Get backup,” Karadec tells you before he kicks the door in.
“Contract law is cutthroat,” Morgan says at her desk while Daphne gets Hayden’s statement and Oz brings her family in. “Annually, contract disputes account for over 46% of civil state court filings, and, federally, over 31,000 contract breach lawsuits are filed. Those are just the ones that make it that far and aren’t settled through mediation outside of court.”
“But some people are reckless and vindictive,” you add, glancing toward the conference room where Hayden’s son is tapping his toes on the floor as he waits to see his mom again. “31,000? Really?”
“Filed, yeah. Hey, can I ask you a question?”
Karadec, sitting at his desk, stares at you as you nod. He’s somehow fallen more in love with you in the last five hours you’ve been together than the last several weeks combined. Despite all his worrying, you fit into his crazy life like it was made to hold you. You can get along with Morgan, which is evidence of both your perfectness for Karadec and your patience.
“Why’d you let me ramble so much?” Morgan asks. “You- you actually listened and you asked questions. Everyone else shuts me down after a while or just wonders how I know this stuff.”
“Oh, you don’t ramble,” you counter.
“Her childhood best friends make you seem like a nun who took a vow of silence,” Karadec agrees from his desk.
“Besides, I liked hearing your thought process on it,” you add. “I learned a lot. That never happened when I assisted Melon.”
“Ooh, speaking of Melon,” Morgan begins.
“Tell us later,” Karadec requests, standing. “We need to get home.”
“Karadec, you dog.”
Karadec sighs as you chuckle, leaning over Oz’s desk to get a sticky note. You write your number, pass it to Morgan, then take Karadec’s offered hand and follow him out of the bullpen.
“Shawn and Gus don’t talk that much,” you murmur.
“Shawn told me the entire history of chocolate chip cookies the first time we met,” Karadec reminds you. “But it makes sense that growing up with them prepared you to roll with Morgan’s punches.”
“You’re just jealous you can’t understand her like I do.”
“Sure,” Karadec deadpans. “Whatever you need to hear.”
“I need to hear you say you love me and you’ll buy me dinner.”
Karadec squeezes your hand, silently communicating that and more.
Oooh! Can I get a gin and tonic with eldritch blood for engineer Mark please? Congratulations on 500!! You’re so creative and wonderful, you deserve every bit of support you get! -&
Author's Note:
The Eldritch Blood is just flying off the shelf! But of course you can, poppet. One fluffy, vampiric engineer coming right up. And thank you, you're so sweet >///<
There was so much to do now. All of you were working as hard as you could, trying to get the planet ready for the colonists. Non-stop. Constant. It felt like you were being dragged in so many different directions all at once, all the time. A moment of rest was so hard to come by these days, but you couldn't be mad about it. Not truly. You had earned this. You had fought through countless worlds for this.
What you did take an issue with, however, was watching Mark burn his candle from both ends. He was exhausted, you'd been able to tell the moment you entered the last meeting with all the department heads. Your Head Engineer was paler than usual, cheeks a little sunken, energy sapped away. Which could only mean one thing.
Which was exactly why, the moment you could, you found and cornered him. He'd perked up when he saw you approaching, eyes lighting up despite the exhaustion that shadowed them. Despite the awkward tension that had lingered after everything. "Captain! What's the--" You didn't let him finish his question. You just grabbed him by the front of his flight suit and dragged him, unceremoniously, into the nearest room with a door that locked.
It was an empty server room. The inside was dim, allowing the glowing dials and sensors to act as your only light source. "Computer, lock the door!" You called casually, before turning on your Head Engineer, hands moving to settle on your hips. "When did you last feed?" You asked, then. Curt, immediately to the point.
"Uh... this morning?" He replied, straightening up then, head tilting upwards. Unfortunately for him, however, you knew his tells well enough by now. Your unimpressed expression didn't drop.
"Mark." You said his name once in that voice. Your no-nonsense voice. Your Captain voice, as Celci called it. The one that made people stop fooling around and do exactly as you commanded, with no further argument. Even Mack and Gunter knew to shut their mouths and get back to work when you pulled out that specific tone of voice.
Mark wasn't immune, deflating like a cheap balloon as you stared at him. "Okay, so maybe it was a few days ago-- but! We've been so busy, there's a lot of this ship that needs doing, and--" While he continued to ramble with his excuses, you finally moved. Pulling the glove off your left hand and rolling your sleeve up. "--so really it- uh... Captain? What're you doing?"
"You need to eat," You replied simply, "and if you're not going to use the blood supply we have on the ship, then you're going to drink from me." He opened his mouth, fangs flashing in the dim light as he prepared to argue with you, but you fixed him with another firm look. It only lasted a moment, though, before your expression softened. "I'm worried about you. I need my Head Engineer at his best, alright?" And that seemed to hit him right in his chest.
He looked between your face and your wrist as you offered it to him a few times, eyes softening even as they flashed red at the promise of blood when he caught sight of the raised scar where the warp crystal had once sat embedded in your skin. "... Are you sure?" He asked, voice softer. His hand raised, fingers gently curling around your wrist as he pulled it closer. You moved willingly, watching as he nosed against the fragile flesh there. "I don't-- I can't hurt you again." He dropped the title then. No Captain, just your name.
Your other hand lifted, gloved fingers scratching careuflly through the stubble on his cheek. "I'm sure," You reassured him. "I trust you." Still. Despite everything. And you always would.
Mark made a sound like a whimper in the back of his throat, swallowing thickly as he pressed a brief, quick kiss to the skin of your wrist, before his lips parted and he carefully sank his fangs in. You hissed quietly, but the pain was brief. Minimal. And then warmth spread through your body, crawling up your arm and swirling in your chest as you watched his throat bob and listened to his quiet gulps. He was careful, taking down one, two, three mouthfuls, before he detached. Tongue stained crimson, sneaking out one final time to lave over the two pin-prick marks that were already closing.
Immediately, he looked better. More colour was already creeping into his skin, cheeks filling out. You hummed, content. "Good, much better," You declared, simply, before leaning forward then. Mark blinked at you as you stepped into his space just long enough to press your lips against his scratchy cheek, then you were gone. Pulling your glove back on and your sleeve back down. "If you need to feed again, find me, alright?" You told him, already moving towards the door. "Computer, unlock the door."
Mark was left, stunned, blinking at the space where you had once stood as the system he'd programmed agreed without hesitation, and the door opened with a metallic hiss. If he still had a heartbeat, he was certain it would have been racing.
He really needed to get around to asking you out on that date...
who is even shipping Washington and Hamilton?? They have a father-son relationship to me, idk about anyone else. But seriously-- are you trying to stand out or are you actually serious?
It is okay to ship a popular ship. You don't always have to be quirky.
About Armand, do you think it was a mistake to cast a POC to play a problematic character like him? knowing what he will do to Claudia, his crime is also racially charged, and if he were white it would be even worse.
Hmm, it's tough.
If the show can make it nuanced and etc, I think it's fine. I also think that Assad can bring that performance.
It's also not so much the writers but the viewers. If he had been white, would it be much worse? I don't think so because the white characters are given the grace that POC aren't. That's the issue.
This post is an example of what I'm talking about, linked here
All in all, we won't know until the show comes on but for now, I understand people's fear.
Could you write something with the Septic Egos having a best friend who plays horror games on their channel even though they’re terrified of them? They play other games too, but the horror ones (like FNAF) are the most popular? -&
They knew about your youtube stuff but they never really knew how popular your horror videos were
It's not until one day they hear an oscar worthy scream coming from your recording room
They all rush in except for Anti who teleports in, already brandishing a knife
They find you on the floor by your chair, hyperventilating
A FNAF game over screen burns bright on your computer
Anti is mostly annoyed that you made him worry
But that will absolutely not stop him from standing guard outside your recording room whenever you play a horror game
Henrik checks your heart rate and makes sure you’re stable before you’re allowed to record again
Everyone else comes to calm you down and make you feel better
Later Robbie and Jameson would be confused as to why you would actually put yourself in that situation
It’s definitely hard to explain to them in particular
Chase, on the other hand, thinks it’s incredibly cool.
He’ll always request to be in your videos and he’ll actively suggest new games for you to play
You have to warn them in advance if you’re going to be playing a horror game otherwise they’ll continue barging into your recording room at any sign of distress
They’re just…. They’re just very protective
Anti watches over you when you’re recording to make sure the others don’t ruin everything
If he hears you scream, he’ll pop in the corner just to make sure you’re okay and then go back outside to hold back Jackieboyman and Henrik
They all want you to be happy in their own way
Of course most of them will immediately go to comfort you after you finish recording a scary game
Lots of snuggles and funny movies
Like I said, they all have their own ideas of cheering you up
This is short, late and not very good but i hope you like it anyway because you’re super sweet and i adore you.
