#north writes

now give me carlton “took the divorce HARD” lassiter whose boyfriend is suddenly acting weird and distant and he’s fucking terrified that shawn is going to leave him too

give me lassie overcompensating by trying to correct whatever he thinks shawn doesn’t like about him (read: all the things victoria complained about towards the end of their marriage) and exhausting himself in the process because there’s a new murder case with bodies piling up and for some reason shawn is distracted so he’s of minimal help and the chief is breathing down his neck to get it done and despite him and o’hara being a great team, they just cant figure it out

give me shawn wondering why the hell lassie is suddenly taking time off of work to spend with him and cleaning their apartment every night in a frenzy and taking him to expensive restaurants he knows lassie can barely afford on top of all the stress from the case and stretching himself too thin

give me shawn feeling even guiltier about lying and clamming up further

give me shawn finally saying “we need to talk, i have to tell you something” one night and a sleep deprived and stressed out of his mind lassie dropping to his knees right then and there begging shawn not to leave him, and that whatever it is, he can fix it just please don’t leave me, shawn

give me everything clicking for shawn as he crouches down to lassie’s level to quietly reassure him that he’s not going to leave, but lassie just might because “i’m not a psychic, lass. i never have been”

gonna start posting my fics here if it's all the same to you guys. i wrote this based on this post by @sidetrek because it gave me brain worms and wouldn't leave me alone, i hope that's alright.

(tw for noncon, specifics outlined in the tags and notes)

summary:

Parmen smiled with satisfaction and turned to his wife. “Should we outfit the Vulcan as well?”

Ah, so they would be made to fight each other. This, Spock knew well.

Philana tilted her head and a gleam appeared in her eyes that Spock did not like. “I think not,” she said, raising a hand. “It seems we have mischaracterized his passions, my love. How about… this?”

Jim flipped the sword so that it pointed towards the floor and lurched downwards so that he was kneeling before Spock.

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Currently working on chapter 3 of "I Dare You (To Be Mine)" and this might be the most idiotic thing I have ever written in my life.

I love it dearly.

Another late summer, another EnderCon.

Oak Creek went from quiet to bustling within hours as demonstrators and merchants and coordinators and attendees all flooded in for the convention. This year was a bit lamer, in Aiden’s opinion. No Order of the Stone appearance, just the building competition. The only thing that could change his opinion is if they won this year. They’d gotten so close last year, second place, but lost out to a veteran team. As if that was fair. He was sure they got extra points for being favorites.

I can’t recall if I’ve actually put this on my blog properly tagged (when I post fic I usually do some bullshit to try and make it show up in the tags), so here it is.

November 3rd. 1942.

It doesn't feel right. The sudden disappearance of the mayor, the abnormal deaths of Y/N and the Actor Markiplier... My senses and many sessions proved there was something... Not natural, going on in A/C.

Thankfully, ACPD flew me in via private jet. I was settled in a hotel nearby, and they let me in on the case that was to be opened to me.

It was a very curious case. And thankfully, one of the people of question, the groundskeeper, was usually found in the local Tiny Boxcar Tim's Bar downtown. I walked in to question him, at 9:00 in the evening. He was at the bar, drinking a shot of whiskey. He must have reached his 70's, as his once blonde hair was now a silvery glint beneath his hat. I sat down next to him, and he looked me over as I merely asked for water. I wasnt going to risk my own senses for this mission.

"Investigator?" I heard the groundskeeper ask, a bit of a slur in his accented grumble. I nodded, turning towards him. He downed his whiskey, and asked for another- must have been his 3rd. "Yes, and I presume your the groundskeeper, of Markiplier Manor?" I inquired. He seemed to shudder at the mention of the scene of the crime. He looked towards me, his eyes seemingly telling me to be careful. "What do you want to know of that old hellscape?" He grunted.

Hellscape? "What do you mean, hellscape?" I asked, as the bartender gave me some water. The groundskeeper wheezed a laugh, and said, over his whiskey, "I know that whatever damned demon in that murder house is still there, and I had to move out before it got me." He said, slamming his now empty glass onto the counter. My ears perked up at the word 'Demon'. "What do you mean, demon?" I questioned, my senses automatically kicking into gear. He looked at me once again, and chuckling. "That's a whole other can of worms I won't say. Whoever is there definitely ain't the mayor. Not anymore. Everyone is gone. Dead, insane, missing... That house has a curse on it, I tell ya. And for a psychic like yourself, I suggest staying away from there- it likes those with power." He slurred. The barkeep refused to give him another. I nodded, and got up, and before leaving, I felt him grab my hand, and say "Lis'n. If you want to go there, m'ke surrr is in the day. Be careful. Bewurr the man wit' no shadow." He then let go of my hand, as I scurried out of the bar.