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Taken from a prompt by frostbite883 on tumblr; An Icy/Bloom fic in which Bloom is being haunted by a ghost and doesn't know why until...

Before I start with the actual story, the A/U comes from the fact that both Icy and Bloom will be human. They live on Earth. Bloom is a college student—living off on her own in an apartment and Icy has been out ‘in the real world’ for some time, has a job, etc.


The darkness loves you.

It needs you.

You need it.

It’s cold in here.

The whisper was soft and sweet. It lingered on the fringes of her dream. Still present as Bloom returned from a deep sleep.
Still present after the girl’s eyelids fluttered open.

So cold.

Always cold.

It was a nightly mantra.

It was growing so tiresome.

Bloom picked up the small sheet of paper resting on her nightstand. She toyed with it for a moment and put the paper to her lips. She was skeptical about doing so… but she’d call in the morning.

The two had run into each other one morning. It was a chance meeting. Bloom was running late for school, the other woman for work. It was a classic movie meeting; Bloom in an all-out sprit, a pretty stranger holding a cup of—well Bloom couldn’t remember what the drink was—as she waited for the early bus.

Naturally Bloom slammed right into her. Unlike in the movies, the drink hadn’t spilled onto its holder, but onto Bloom instead. Instead of an apology the woman looked at her and laughed. If Bloom remembered correctly there was an added ‘nice going.’

Bloom wasn’t in the mood. Not only was she late for school and covered in some drink, but she was up all night dealing with some ghost named Marissa as well. So the girl decided she’d return with an attitude; ‘not my fault you were in my way.’

The woman raised an eyebrow and asked Bloom ‘what had wormed its way up her anus and burrowed there?’ And that was rephrasing it nicely.

That only served to flare Bloom’s temper further. She couldn’t remember exactly what she had yelled back but the woman put her hands up in some feigned submissive gesture and asked ‘no seriously, what’s your problem?’

Bloom clearly remembered the conversation from there; “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Try me.”

“No seriously. You’ll think I’m totally insane.”

“You’d be surprised at how much ‘crazy’ I’ve encountered in my career.”

“I think I’m being haunted.”

The woman gave her a half smile and ran a hand over her oddly colored hair. “Well luckily for you…that is my area of expertise exactly. I’ve earned various degrees in demonology and the study of paranormal. I’m free for the week…” She scribbled her number in elegant cursive and handed it to Bloom. “Feel free to call.” It was said over her shoulder before she disappeared onto the bus.

Bloom turned on her bedside lamp and examined the sheet of paper. The woman hadn’t even left her name. How mysterious.

The light flickered out.

The dark loves you.

You love the dark.

“No. Actually I don’t.” Bloom yelled and tossed the pillow over her head, groaning rather loudly into it. Perhaps she should just call tonight.

It was around two in the morning when Icy’s phone rang. She scowled to herself, mumbling about how only idiots actually attempt to call others at two in the morning. With some reluctance she picked up the phone.

“Is your offer still on the table?”

“Hello to you too.” Icy muttered into the phone. “I suppose it is.”

“Can you come over now?”

“Well you are very straight to the point.” Icy found herself shrugging. “Let me just see if I’m free tonight.” She rustled the nearest sheets of paper to her—doing so extra loudly so the girl on the other end could here. “Unfortunately, for you, it would appear that I am scheduled to sleep from 11:30 p.m. to 8:00 a.m.”

Icy heard the girl on the other end of the line sigh.

She thought for a minute. “I suppose I can come over…since I’m already up.”

“Thank yo—” The line went dead.

Icy rubbed the back of her head. Perhaps she should get over there as quickly as possible. She’d never had a ghost hang up on her before. Maybe this would be a more serious case.

Bloom hadn’t seen the ghost’s face before this moment. She was peering down at her with these huge shadowed eyes. They had this psychotic glow and yet they were filled with the dark she kept speaking of.

The ghost cocked her head to the side at a horrendously odd, cringe-worthy angle. A cascade of long, dusty, blonde hair falling to the side.

Her lips parted, unleashing a foul smell.

Bloom found herself backing up against the wall. What more could she possibly do?

The ghost hissed and drew closer, her intent couldn’t be anything less than vicious.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Bloom asked. “Leave me alone!”

The darkness.

Calls.

Darkness.

Her voice was like static and it was painful to listen to. Bloom could feel her ears start to burn. The more the ghost chattered the more Bloom’s ears rang and throbbed. Bloom cupped her hands over them. It did little to block the sound. That damned ghost girl was going to pop her eardrums.

The doorbell’s ring cut through the white noise.

The ghost hissed and fell back.

Bloom had never sprinted to get the door as fast as she did then in her life. She eagerly pulled it open.

The woman stood there in her sleep cloths; a white tank top and these flannel baggy plaid pants…clearly she couldn’t be bothered to change her outfit. And yet her hair was perfectly styled…silky and smooth. She must have a thing for hair, Bloom decided.

Her eyes looked rather tired, she wore a blank expression. In the most nonchalant way—using her middle finger only—she adjusted the position of her glasses on her nose.

“Help me unload.” Icy pointed to the car.

“Well, I…” Bloom started.

“Look. You’re lucky I dragged my ass out here at this ungodly hour.” Icy shrugged. “The least you can do is help me set up the equipment.”

“I guess.” Bloom replied.

Bloom found herself heaving the heaviest equipment out of the woman’s car. “My God! What is in this?” She huffed.

“Cameras, motion detectors, EVP equipment…” Icy listed.

“E…V…P?” Bloom asked.

“Electric voice phenomenon.” Icy replied. “We’ll be using it to talk to your little friend.”

“I really don’t want to hear her speak again.” Bloom frowned. “I just want to know why she’s here.”

“Can’t have one without the other.” Icy replied as she set the last of the equipment on the floor. “You want answers, you’re going to have to listen for ‘em.”

“Now…before I came here I took a little detour…”

“Nice to know that you were in a souvenir shop while I was getting assaulted.” Bloom replied.

Icy smirked. “I must admit, you have an admirable amount of wit…” She paused. “I went to the courthouse and printed out the history of this property.” She slammed a small file folder down on the table.

Again she readjusted her glasses and skimmed over the sheets. “Highlight any points of interest will you? I’ll set up the cameras and what not…at which location in your small, small apartment, is the highest paranormal activity?”

“My bedroom…of course. And the bathroom is pretty bad too…”

“You sure you want me to put a camera in your bathroom?” Icy questioned.

Bloom took the file folder. “Whatever solves the mystery the quickest.”

After Icy walked off, Bloom got to work on the highlighting. The first thing that caught her eye was the woman’s signature scrawled on the papers; Icy...Just Icy. The woman really was full of mystery. And so Bloom highlighted it. She couldn’t help herself—Icy did say to highlight anything of interest.

“Any particular reason you highlighted my name?” Icy asked.

Bloom shrugged. “I don’t know many Icy’s.” She went silent waiting for an explanation that never came.

“When I said points of interest I meant things like deaths on the property, gave sites beneath the apartment, rituals done here, suicides, so on and so forth.”

Bloom frowned slightly and went back to skimming. “All I see are purchases dates and a page or two about how the apartment complex used to be an old daycare.”

“That’s perfect. Anything…menacing happen there?” Icy asked.

“I don’t know, you’re the ghost hunter, aren’t you supposed to do this?”

“I prefer paranormal investigator.” Icy leaned back in her chair until it rocked on only two legs. “No, you do the research on your apartment—which by the way you should have done before you bought it—and I do the research on the spirit.”

“There was a shooting…”

“That’ll do it.” Icy pulled out a laptop. Without bothering to tell Bloom what she was doing, the woman pulled up an image. “Any of them look familiar?”

Bloom pointed at the eldest looking child.

Icy traced over a long list of names with her finger, muttering each as her finger ran over it. “Fourth person, second row… Marissa? 15 years old. Elder sister of Louise.”

“Yeah! That’s her!” Bloom declared.

“I can’t imagine that a little girl would pose much of a threat…”

“You’d be surprised.” Bloom mumbled.

“She was shooter.” Icy read on. “Killed her own sister first, then the nanny, and then herself. You may have yourself a triple haunting.”

“Sounds like a pain to deal with!” Bloom exclaimed.

“A pain, not necessarily. Timely, yes.” Icy informed her. “Can it escalate the activity? Certainly, so you may want to invest in a nice hotel.”

“Or I can just live with you, forget about this place, and call it a night.” Bloom suggested.

“And you’ll find a new place to stay in a timely manner?” Icy asked.

“Nah, I’ll just stay with you and your family.”

“I’m a loner.”

“Then there’s no issue!” Bloom decided. “I’ll start packing.”

“You just met me…” Icy rolled her eyes.

“I can imagine that we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other when we get home.”

Icy sighed. “I thought we’d actually be kicking some ghost ass.”

Icy had indeed dealt with some pretty wild and strange things…been on some rather insane and whimsical ghost investigating missions. But this one was by far the oddest of all. Never once had any of her clients taken more of an interest in her than the ghosts or her studies.

It would only be a matter of time before the red head decides she wants to tag along on other missions and learn a thing or two about the paranormal.

Not that Icy would truly mind.

Yes, in this A/U Icy has glasses. More specifically those classic adorkable square framed ones. :3
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Request from a tumblr anon.

Another stupid love letter whooshed onto Icy’s table. In the hour she’d been sitting in the coffee shop, she’d received about five of them. Each one barring a new and different sappy poem.
Roses are red.
Your eyes are blue…ish
I want the Winx dead.
And so do you.
Okay so that one wasn’t sappy, but it was the most recent and her favorite.

Each letter was completely unsigned. But she already knew who they were from. Darko had been eyeing her all day from afar. Icy took a sip of her coffee. Or maybe they were from Gantlos, the man had already asked her to attend...
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