#and this is a silly theory but I need more stuff in my paper and it's an interesting theory

[social-mockingbird]

It is late enough that I am willing to argue that when Oberon put the love potion on Titania’s eyes he turned her into a succubus no I will not explain myself

[salchat]

Today I decided I was going to do whatever the hell I liked, because it's chemo day tomorrow (again). But then I ended up doing lots of useful stuff. Huh. So I needed a reward, and drawing this cute little Dean seemed like a great reward!

I decided to use my neocolor crayons. They look like Crayola, but they're a bit bigger and much softer.

They blend and layer really well and they're also water-soluble, but I didn't use that feature here. They don't erase, obviously, although once you've got a few layers on the paper, you can scratch them off with a knife. Anyway, erasing isn't an issue, usually - you just go over the top. So you don't have to get all over-careful and 'Oh, no! What if I go wrong!'

Here's my rough first stage:

I chose the blue at random, out of my little tub of lots of colours. Not that I haven't looked at colour theory - I have. But I prefer to go with a childlike, 'ooh, pretty colour!' approach.

Here's stage two:

I put some shadows in and attempted to get his mouth in the right place. Dean’s mouth is always the hardest bit!

Next:

I find if I go over the whole lot in a flesh colour I can get more of a sense of what's working and what's not. I used a salmon pink, but any of the pale pinks would have done.

It's getting there, isn’t it? Looking a bit more Dean-like. His mouth still needs a lot of work. Typical...

So, yes, there's way too much highlighting around his mouth, but I've got the shape and position better. And his eyes are looking reasonable.

Oh. Whoops. Sorry! I got a bit carried away and forgot to do more progress shots!

Anyway, here he is, corrected as far as I can so you can see the actual colours. The paper's a lovely rich orange and the dark blue is juicy and bright and luminous.

I'm pretty pleased with him. In fact I love him. (Even though I can tell his eyes are just the tiniest bit squinty for some reason - probably because I didn't actually do the boring measuring-of-proportions stage that I really should definitely do, but don't because it's boring. Silly me.) I used the tiniest bit of white Sennelier oil pastel for the highlights. And if you're drawing in crayon or oil pastel, but can't afford Sennelier (which are stupidly expensive), just buy the white. It's well worth it.

Here's a close-up:

I might put him on my Redbubble, ArtBySalchat, if I remember.

Happy arting, fan artists!

[kxa-vivn]

taps ur shoulder

engel x fem! reader pls pls

one shot or headcanon idc i just need my pookie ❤️

☆ ,. DREAM GIRL

pairs. fem!reader X engel

req by. wither !! (ily😘💘)

type. hcs or (+) drabbles

a/n. engel is so silly liek he's a such a loyal and defensive friend,,. km gon cry if he d9esnt exist 💔💔 TYANKS FOR REQUESTING BTW!!!¡!!11!21! probably proofread

a/n#2. alsoo you didn't specify about reader and him dating or not so i did both js incase if you wabt one of em 😋😋💥💥💔💔🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

⠀⠀⠀━━━━ not dating !!

chill.

he liked how chill you were in some serious situations especially when some of you guys found out that the teachers finish off students who fail the tests, quizzes and stuff. though you were kinda horrified and in disbelief when alice almost killed claire.

long story short, claire survived because of you.

he was so thankful and relieved that you saved the poor girl, he could've been in a much more painful state as miss circle threw him off the brick wall.

he kept saying thank you day by day or whenever he sees you, he gives you gifts and such. you already told him it was enough but he just kept going with the treats he gives you.

of course you didn't mind, you loved receiving gifts.

although, every now and then, he'd start to become quite shy around you, or maybe tease you or maybe even annoy you in a good way!

you hated it but you secretly loved his way of teasing, though you found it weird why he does that occasionally now.

eh!! ><

it seems to claire that engel secretly started liking you ever since you guys hang out in some places or maybe the malls. she did tell you some theories about him having feelings for you but you just told her to shake it off.

you did like him privately, though you don't know how to show as much affection as he does.

⠀⠀⠀━━━━ dating !!

uh oh ushshaus

cuddles when you guys sleep together (not in that way. you guys are still minors huhuh)

he loves spending time with you! quality time is probably his thing.

he'd let you play with his hair, braid them, put it with hair accessories and such, he doesn't mind!

watch your lockers get filled with a bunch of cards and letters ━━━━━━━ well, let's put it this way., let's just say you just entered the center of learning (alias school), wending your way to your locker trying to open it but it won't budge. magically, you grabbed a crowbar from your bag and started opening the aperture of your storage locker. only revealing tons of papers, gifts, sweets & desserts, and romantic stuff you could imagine.

oh yeah it flooded the hallways logically

he'd either just glance at you while you're having a hard time processing what happened or he'll just chuckle softly before picking you up in his arms and head to you guys' classes

yeah let's ignore the letters and stuff he placed in your locker and let the janitor sweep all those mess

he'll get a raise anyways don't mind the janitor

babe, sweetie, my dear, the love of my life, gorgeous and other nicknames that could fluster you easily idk🤷‍♀

he'll walk you home after school, he does it often now you can't blame him when you two got in a relationship

oh yeah, kisses and PDA. can't forget about those

as much as he hated PDA back then, let's say you changed him because of you guys getting in a relationship

"what once was" music starts playing in and "dream girl"

he's much more affectionate than before, forehead kisses, cheek kisses, maybe even lips if you flustered him enough.

oh yeah maybe even hand kisses, he's a gentleman indeed.

beach, picnic, fancy restaurant dates??? it's up to you honestly, if he's canonically poor then an ice cream date!! ><

likes, reblogs, comments are always appreciated!! ^^

[averagetmntfan]

MASTERPOST!

(yeah I copy pasted it from the other acc, don’t sue me)

wassup! Finally, a master post! Am I right?

(TC*ST AND PROSH*PPERS DNI!!)

hi there! I’m Jayah! You can call me jj tho. I’m js here to post a bunch of fun art and maybe some animation stuff? And occasionally, fan fiction >:). I am GenderFluid, and I go by all pronouns. And my sexuality is lesbian! (But I am also aroace)

and my lil gay ass miiiiiiight be possibly maybe simping for someone rn..?? (*cough* a literally drawing)

I also have 12 roleplay blogs! @leontheluxuriousone , @wrecking-it-raphie @gayass-blueberry-mugman, @bendy-the-dancing-doofus, @koi-the-cosplay-boy, @improv-master-mikey , @ask-miss-maple-leaf ,@blue-masked-simp , @mikey-the-magnificent , @no-ditches-no-bitches , @candy-for-the-win and @ask-olive-huchers

my current hyper fixations are: rottmnt, tadc, TBT(trolls: band together/trolls 3), The great north, bobs burgers, the cuphead show, moon girl and devil dinosaur, amphibia, the owl house, tmnt 12, cuphead and mugman in General, KREW, poppy playtime, and a SHIT TON MORE-

btw I swear quite a lot on this, so if that isn’t ur thing, u should click off.

and here’s my sona ref!

DISCLAIMER: please don’t send me werid asks, or gross inappropriate content. I’m a minor.

100 DTIYS!!

• FANART!!: •

Leo goober(@ghosty-0w0)

PRINCESS KOI FR (@mikey-rottmnt)

MY BABIES- (@allyheart707)

MY SONS<333 (@mikey-rottmnt)

YOU MADE ME LOOK SO PRETTY RAAHHH (@mikey-rottmnt)

• ROTTMNT FICS!!!: •

The sand.

shopping day! (discontinued)

1 2 3

The 4 servants Au:

Chapter 1 (ongoing)

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10 pt.11 pt.12 (currently on hiatus)

The 4 turtles work peacefully at a competing hotel with the battle nexus, with their beloved father. But one day, everything spirals out of control! And their worlds get flipped upside down! Follow Leo, Donnie, Raph & Mikey on the journey of a life time! And who knows, they might meet some friends along the way, or maybe more…

• DOODLES: •

Pissed off peeps >:[

brace face!!

• FICS: •

Colour theory thingy sorta??

• RANDOM STUFF: •

Leo being a dumb-dumb

• ANSWERED ASKS: •

what do the bros do outside of the hotel??

Mikey needs a hug

does raph break stuff often?

Do the bros like Lou Jitsu movies?

How do they feel about working there?

Time beats a dead man

(Collab au w/ @mikey-rottmnt!!)

Pt.1

A silly cuphead and mugman au Abt uh..a lot of stuff. (Heavily inspired by babtqftim)

• FICS/ INCORRECT QUOTES: •

picky eater

get served! ..or, maybe later..

portals gone wrong!! 1 2 3

Secret admirer<3

…?

the struggles of school

Is it salad?

THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT!!!

• HC’S that are canon in this silly au: •

Mugs

Cups and mugs (cups are not Canon)

How to hug the gang!!

• DRAWINGS: •

Human mugs doodles

chip and Dale!!

Koi and mugs being gay

KOI CANON IN TCHS?!

Rock paper scissors

• some lore: •

mugs lore

Hs! Mugs and euro…

Mug and cup lore

Main crews fav ice cream!!

cup lore (belongs to Ari)

Favourite drinks!

Pipsqueak!

(Coming soon..?)

“Small turtle, and even bigger problems.”

[candy8448]

Rambles Masterlist

#i do a little ramble (theories and such)

Other Ramble Masterlists:

Original rambles masterlist

Asks n interacts

Playing twilight princess for the first time

Bigenderfluid rambles

GCSEs rambles

Big Rambles:

Flora and the chain senarios

Sky and Sun headcanons

Music in BotW and LoZ (TotK continuation)

BotW cutscenes: 3 7

Legend oh Kohilint (lucid dreaming)

Portals in LU

Random details in LU

Hyrule castle tablet speculation (totk)

Sage themes ranked

Dawn part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 8 part 9 rambles

I finished TotK!!!

Stakes in tears of the kingdom

Memory system in botw and totk

Link, hero of legend (continuation)

Every zelda ost thoughts

Warrior cats new stuff 0.0

Zelda dungeon concept

Hunger games: Ballad of songbirds and snakes

Haymitch's hunger games - 2nd quarter quell

Labeling everything in the lu dec art

Reading mockingjay more dream ending

LU LGBT+ headcanons

My struggles with being raised Christian

Big island dream

We dislike the Zonai

Moving on (lu update) rambles

My art and fic process

Moving on (lu update) rambles

Smaller Rambles:

Pre-TotK speculation & discussion

-tober appreciation

Revisiting my 11yrs old self's wattpad account

The chain as benders

We need a sksw manga

Purple korok forest

SCRAPPER THAT LITTLE-

Mermays

Divine dark reflections

Whumptober fluff challenge idea

Sky and various fuzzy creatures

Surface birds

Rain webcomic

Watching sksw in drama dream

Say no to this

Disney channel all star party

Legend protection squad?

Playing totk be like

Legend & Time's birthdays

Super paper mario ost takedowns >:(

Me when blorbo-

Absolutely Tiny Rambles:

Lu boys shiny :D

Girlfriend? Ceased to exist.

Wild success kid

Official skyward sword fancams

Zom 100 animation :0

Skyward sword screenshots

Sealing ground in totk (not really)

Legend and Ravio lookalikes

Oot and Tp manga parallels

Ganty

The Warriors stance

✨Babygirl✨

Hyrule warriors silly

Time travel

Wild fics rant

Lover's pond TotK

Ocarina of time screenshots

Trans Legend

Totally a goron

Master sword pedestal

Peeta's makeup tutorials

My gender is tag game

Snake (mockingjay)

Hyrule sass & more

Warriors not canon

:D

Sad people shack

The most perfectest series of images

BOOP BOOP>:) BOOP! Boop:/ Boop? Boop:0

[sleepyheadd0]

pat pat pat!! they are so silly!!! picasso!!!!!!!!

...more stuff about picasso please?? im not really sure what to ask exactly,, but i genuinely want to learn more they're so silly!!!!!! /gen!!

oh my god im so sorry about this taking so long

the tmnt au comp gave me motivation to post about picasso lmfao

SO. picasso backstory.

the very beginning starts after the episode "Sparring Partner", S1 E18B, where we are introduced to Franken-Foot; the reformed paper ninja in raphael's care. after meeting the reformed paper ninja, mikey has an idea. at this point, hes still very babied and coddled; although now he is feeling bolder, with both "Hot Soup: the Game" and "Nothing but Truffle" already having occurred.

seeing raphael being able to reform one if their "enemies", mikey decided to replicate it, for the sake of showing raphael up and proving he can be responsible. so, after yet another battle with the foot clan, mikey slipped away to pluck an injured paper ninja out of the heap of paper after the dust settled.

the paper ninja was in bad shape, to say the least; especially after mikey had to drag it back into his room with his brothers none the wiser. after all, paper isnt exactly the strongest material on its own. but mikey knew exactly what to do, he knew how to make paper stronger. he was the artist, after all! he worked with paper a lot, unlike raphael. and his plan? paper mache.

he slowly but surely fixed the paper ninja up, it took a few days with all of the drying, hiding the living behind from his brothers, all that jazz. but if course, he didnt want to make just another paper ninja, thats boring. he needed to add his own razzmatazz to it! so, using his skills, he created his own turtle pal; complete with a painted cardboard shell.

now, this paper mache turtle wasnt exactly the strongest thing. with all of that weight, it needed something to keep it together! so mikey wrapped ribbons around its limbs, adding an extra layer of protection.

but of course, someone was going to find this out eventually. one day, while mikey was out spray painting the sewers, leo snuck into his room to grab one of his comics he let mikey borrow. only to find a strange colored turtle reading it.

mikey made leo swear to keep it a secret, but after just a week or so, leo spilled the beans to april, who brought it up with donnie assuming he knew. and finally after a month or so, raphael finally learned of the paper mache turtle when it was just walking around. mikey got in deep trouble that day.

once the family finally all knew of the paper mache turtle, it began to join them in their family time at home. its vocabulary expanded, and became almost like a toddler. donnie had some theories, but none were fully solid.

eventually, the paper mache turtle began to notice it was different from the others. no flesh or skin or scales, it was all paper mache. it felt alienated from its family. although, this didnt stop the paper mache turtle from trying to cheer itself up. so when mikey went into his room one day, he saw the paper mache turtle superglueing paper loops on the back of its head to replicate the brothers bandannas / masks.

OKAY THATS ALL I HAVE ABOUT PICASSOS BACKSTORY

but more on other things, picasso uses any/all pronouns, because as paper, they couldnt care less what you refer to them as. mikey is essentially picassos older brother/father figure, taking his toddler creation out into the sewers to teach it things.

while picasso doesnt know much about the world, he isnt a complete idiot. he may be comedically bad at using things when hes first introduced to them, but he eventually learns, like a toddler.

picassos "weapon" of choice is a fork. it was originally a dumb idea my irl friend cane up with, i actually like this idea.

so. mikey spends a lot of time in the kitchen, and picasso follows him because hes her caretaker. she watches him cooking a lot, and she also helps by passing mikey some ingredients or tools for him to use. when she saw that mikey also used a fork a lot to eat, test the readiness if potatoes, whisk together eggs, etc., she decided shed use a fork for everything, just like her caretaker and best friend mikey.

this au is also completely platonic, and picasso is aroace.

thanks for letting me ramble! im thinking of calling this au "paper mache ninja turtle ", or pmnt!

[cascadiums]

Ooh, come back here and tell me more about Quincey never needing to be woken up (I am 80% sure I am aware of the Thing with Quincey Morris)

(under a cut because I'm talking about the end of the book so first time readers, please skip. also forgive me, I got distracted and ended up on a wider thing of what the hell is up with Quincey in general)

I first encountered the Something Is Wrong With Quincey Morris theories in university. My seminar tutor was convinced that Bram Stoker had been to the US between drafts of Dracula and something happened to make him disillusioned with the politics of the country, and so he edited Quincey Morris to be more ambiguous and less heroic. Before that I hadn't noticed Quincey was sort of weird, but once it got pointed out, I couldn't drop it, and that led me to this:

Simmons, James R. “‘If America Goes on Breeding Men Like That’: ‘Dracula’s’ Quincey Morris Problematized.” Journal of the Fantastic in the Arts, vol. 12, no. 4 (48), 2002, pp. 425–36.

I don't have the pdf but jstor gives you free online access to so many papers per month if anyone wants to read.

It's not the first published text on the topic, but it's the first one I read that argued Quincey is a vampire. It's a very entertaining read, it sets up all the evidence like an Agatha Christie plot and makes Quincey seem really suspicious, for reasons such as:

There is no evidence in the novel that he sleeps because he's always patrolling for bats or happens to have already got up when people go to wake him

His transfusion doesn't help Lucy

It's never explained who drugged the servants in Lucy's house right before he coincidentally appears

He fired a gun into the house, what the hell Quincey

Why the hell is a cowboy here anyway? Seems suspicious, he must be undead

For me it veers between very compelling and verging on silly, but it's definitely fun. It sort of feels like the middle ground between literary analysis and a conspiracy theory. But let's face it, there is definitely something wrong with Quincey.

So many people don't even know he's in Dracula. He barely ever makes it into adaptations despite being the man who kills the Count. Arguably, the Big Hero of Dracula. The first guy to mention vampires in Dracula. He should be iconic. Instead, even a lot of gothic lit textbooks forget he's even there. He just sort of.,, falls out of the narrative. I don't know what it is, but something about the way Quincey is written makes him lose significance. His death scene is actually really fucking interesting too! Ties in with some major symbolic themes, is really sad, and yet doesn't make much impact outside of the text. Something is Weird with him.

Some of the theories I've seen include him being a double agent and he's Dracula's real assistant (I guess Renfield is just the distraction?), he's undead, he's a werewolf (okay, I can't find any evidence of this one now but unless it was a weird dream, I swear I read it somewhere), and that he's the result of a passive aggressive character assassination of the US by Bram Stoker because he fell out of love with the notion of cowboys.

I have to confess, I am obsessed with all these theories. I don't really think most of them work, but I am obsessed with them regardless. Because whatever is going on, Quincey Morris is an Outsider. He's like the Count and Van Helsing but in some ways moreso. They get so much more dialogue than him to give you an idea of their mindset, so however separated from the other characters they are, the reader can access them. But Quincey is laconic. His past is ambiguous, his necessity to the plot is apparently debatable, and his actions are kind of baffling. The story treats him very strangely, and theories like that try to bridge the gap.

I don't know, I guess this is sort of reader-response theory? For me it's less about the content of the theories and more about the existence of the theories. Something Is Wrong With Quincey Morris is evidence of some weird stuff going on in the text with the narrative not knowing how to treat him. The novel simulated a battle between historic Europe and modern Britain, and somehow America won, which nobody realised was an option and so the whole thing folded in on itself and erased the cowboy from our collective consciousness.

[constantineshots]

i always try to be open to crossovers and ships and stuff and then i open the johnstantine tag and see the most insane things sometimes like that hob guy and then there is the danny phantom crossover then there’s shipping john with everyone known to man and also being an uncle figure to someone from friday night funkin? or something? and also keanu reeves’ version of constantine but 90% of the time it’s smut fics. or there is ship discourse like that’s not hard seeing as everyone ships every person ever with him so it comes to the point where the johnstantine tag has become EVERYTHING BUT john comics specifically vertigo and learning more about john as a character or people having their silly little theories and/or shaking this guy around and bullying him out of care and love and it makes me. *crushing paper in hand* in my head i am telling myself to make more posts. i need to make this tag about john again.

[desultory-novice]

A comment on my First Sentences post reminded that I really don’t write much or any Kirby fanfic, even though I enjoy writing non-script format stuff just fine. My other Sectonia + Taranza piece was lost along with several other Kirby works but, to my relief, I still had this little thing I’d been working on. So I finished it up to share!

-

Title: "Queen's Tear" Characters: Joronia (Queen Sectonia) and Taranza Genre: Gen, Character Study Rating: G Word Count: 990 words

-

Pitter patter. Pitter patter. 

Above, water pelted the earth, creating tremors so small the majority of creatures had no way of knowing they were occurring at all.

Not to Joronia though. It must be said, bored as she was, she was certain she could hear each individual grain of dust settling on the floor. It was another day of study. Another massive pile of old books to go through that almost certainly needed updating - some of them still spoke of the existence of other dimensions as if they were a theory, not proven fact!

The books also desperately needed to be moved out to a place with more sunlight before they became collections of mold, not paper. Alas, the damp texts smelled even worse in the rain.

There was no fencing practice in the rain.

"The rain is bad for your health, your majesty!" Joronia found herself repeating in a droning tone. Training was training. None of it was ever that fun, but she enjoyed the chance to get out and move her body. 

And besting her teacher as the old arachnid fumbled to say, "...it wouldn't have been so easy were I a few centuries younger!" That was a delight.

They wanted her to be the strongest, wisest queen their small nation had ever seen. Desires that had been hammered into her since the moment was was born. But to Joronia, it wasn't just a birthright. She would be that. She would be all that her people wished for and more. Much, much more...

But first, she ought to get at least partway through one of these dusty old tomes. Suddenly, her anterior eyes spotted a faint sparkle on the earthen floor, almost like that of a dewdrop.

She got up.

It was a dewdrop. It hadn't come leaking through the web-glass windows overhead, which kept the room lit with natural lighting and utterly dry, thanks to magic (though not moisture-free.)

No, her watery "jewel" was attached to a thread, which began to move to and fro like a cat-tease, tugging the raindrop toward the hallway just as she moved to get a closer look.

As soon as she had turned the corner, a shadow descended from the ceiling to greet her.

"Taranza!" She shouted in surprise.

"Shh!" The young spider made a hushing gesture. "You're supposed to be studying, and I'm supposed to be," Taranza affected the all-too recognizable mannerisms of her teacher as he proclaimed in a gruff, haughty voice, "...encouraging her majesty to do so. Quietly. And from a great distance."

"Did you go outside in the rain?"

He nodded proudly, then hurried to add, "Oh, but don't worry about me. My webs kept me dry the whole time!"

She laughed. "Why would I be worried about that, silly? If my future court magician was foolish enough to let himself get rained on, I'd have to ask for an immediate replacement!"

"A-a...replacement for me, Joronia?" Taranza flustered, his hands knitting and unknitting themselves, his many eyes swimming nervously about. Joronia tittered to watch. Oh, how she enjoyed to tease him.

"You wouldn't really, would you...?" He asked at last.

"No, of course not, silly!" She stilled his hands by taking them in her own. "Who else would I want at my side when I rule but you? No one could ever replace you, Taranza."

"Oh!" His gaping mouth slowly formed into a smile. "...Oh, good! And before I forget, the reason I went out in the first place!"

He turned around and made a series of motions, violet light arcing off his hands. "I brought you back something. A gift!"

The sphere floated in, wrapped in that same purple light. He moved it before her. As she touched it, the sphere opened up to reveal a beautiful flower, soil and roots secured in a web ball.

"It's called a 'Queen's Tear.'" Taranza said of the dewy pink and yellow blossom. "It only blooms in the rain. That’s why I went out, you see! To get it for you!"

"It's beautiful..." Joronia took the precious gift in her lower hands. "But why does it have such a sad name?"

"A...sad name...?" Taranza blinked with all his eyes.

Sectonia brushed at a drop clinging to one of the petals. It had an almost translucent sheen. "If it's called a 'Queen's Tear' then it means somewhere, a queen must have been crying..."

"Ah!" Taranza's hands fluttered like butterflies scattering. "S-she might have been crying out of happiness! That must be it! Or, no! Perhaps the queen was..." Taranza continued to prattle on, but Joronia found herself tuning him out.

She turned the flower around in her hands, entranced by the way the captive droplets made the blossom's silky petals shine all the more as the water slowly slid down to join the glistening, mirror-like pool at its center.

Suddenly, her study of the blossom and Taranza's nervous rambling was interrupted by an awful sound: "Ahh..."

"...Aaah..."

"...ACHOO!"

"Eugh! Taranza...!" Joronia chided him, barely covering her face and the flower in time to protect it from Taranza's earth-shaking sneeze. 

"You SAID you kept dry!"

"Ah...I did..." He spun away from her, pulling out a handkerchief. "But...it was VERY damp out there. You're not upset at me, are you?" His anterior eyes drooped low with shame.

"No, I am not." And that much was true. "But you must warm yourself up or the ministers will know what you've done and we’ll BOTH be in trouble! Now shoo!"

He turned back around, nodding. "O-okay."

Taranza lingered for a second more before Joronia waved him off with a hand. Only when he had started to leave did she say to him, "Thank you for this gift, Taranza."

He eyes smiled, "...You're welcome... Joronia."

When she was sure he was out of both sight and hearing, Joronia returned to the sight of the beautiful blossom once more.

"...And I promise you, I shall be a queen who never cries."

[faenemy]

Hii don't mind me, just wanted to ramble abt Mark and friends series in ur ask box cuz why not :3 (you've drawn fanart of them b4 btw!)

SO LETS START OFF WITH SOME CONTEXT. Mark and friends is a completed series on YouTube made by this guy ashur gharavi, it follows the story of Mark blah blah i can't talk in this format snymore I need to go silly mode holf on. SO MARK IS GHIS 'LITTLE MONSTER' KID RIGHT, AND ANOTHER CHARACTER IS BILLY WHO IS AN ADUKT HUMAN. SO THE SERIES IS KINDA LIKE A KIDS CARTOON BUT WITH BLOOD AND MURDER. BILLY KIDNAPPED MARK AND FORCED HIM TO DO STUFF FOR CAMERA. AS THE SERIES GO ON, THERE WILL BE LITTLE HINTS IN THE FORM OF NEWSPAPER OF LIKE WHATS ACTUALLY GOING ON AND WHY HES FOING THIS. READ EVERY SINGLE BACKGROUND NEWSPAPER EVEN IF IT DOESNT FEEL IMPORTANT, THE LITTLE DETAILS ARE SOOOO GOOD. MARK IS LIKE 10 YEARS OLD AND HES LITERALLY SO CUTE, HE DONT DESERVE EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENWD TO HIM. IM NOT GONNA SPOIL THE ENDING FOR U, CUZ ITS LITERALLY SO GOOD I REMEMBWR WHEN I FIRST WATCHED IT AND THE ENDINV IS JUST SO PULLING MY HEAET STRINGS AND LIKE SUCH A TENSE SCENE YK. ITS LITERALLY SO GOOD, THERE ARE 3 COMPILATIONS OF IT (PART 1,2 AND 3) I THINK ITS LIKE 2 HOURS LONG PLEASE PLEASE WATCH IT (ONLY IF U WANNA OFC NO PRESSURE) I LOVE THE CHARACTERS SO MUCH THEYRE SO WELL WRITTEN, I HATE BILLY BUT I LOVE HOW WELL HIS CHARACTER AND MANIPULATION IS WRITTEN HES SO FUCKING CRUEL. I LOVE HOW ASHUR ISNT AFRAID TO JUST FUCKIMG MAKE HIM DO TERRIBLE AWFUL SHIT. I LOVE IT SO MJCH ITS SO CREATIVE I LOVE MARK TOO, HWS SO CUTE I LOVE DRAWING HIM. OH AND ALSO, ITS CANON THAT TWOMP TAKES PLACE AFTERRR THAT SERIES AND MARK IS FRIENDS WITH ARGOS AND MR PLANT. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THEYRE SO UGHHHHH. THE ACTOR IS EYE CANDY TOO HES SO COOL. PLEASE WATCH IT ILL GIVE U A COOKIE IF U DO (AGAIN, ONLY IF U WANNA THO NO PRESSURE) :3

SOME PICTURES ^^

(This ask wasn't proofread btw)

HI HI HI Thank you for the ask box rambles I love them <3

Definitely did not go and binge the whole series, nope, not me

ANYWAY MY RAMBLINGS AS I WATCHED AND THOUGHTS UNDER CUT

I love this little green guy!

Marks parents seem to be murdered (go figure)

I'm assuming he was kidnapped in an ice cream truck/van??

Mark is kept in a cage without an actual bed it seems, at least when he isn't on camera

Are the puppets the actual children, or do they just represent them?

Mark keeps rubbing his side/stomach, maybe where his kidney was removed??

Child star shows an actual person so kidnapper might have started as a child star?

Grandma knows her kiddo is still alive (GET HIS ASS)

Is the plant guy who killed Big Monster Mr plant?

Donovan escapes???

Cupcake monster gets killed (very sadge)

WHY THE FUCK DID THEY PUT TOMATOES IN A FRUIT SALAD??? JAIL!!!!

apparently monsters are edible, might be some cannibali going on?

Also humans are considered monsters in this world

In "cooking" the newspaper is obscured, but it seems to read (missing childs body found, but not his head) Cupcake Monster???

UPDATE DEFO CUPCAKE MONSTER NOOOOOO

No Illinois, Minnesota or Indiana

Maybe the other kids were from Minnesota and Indiana, since Mark is from Illinois?

Aight my man was defo the child star, I'm assuming he is repeatimg the crimes of big monster???

Oop so search led to Indiana, snap my prior theory lol

Big monsters cousin changes last name

Frame lasted long on that, so I assume it's important

I keep forgetting Billy's name LMAO

Big monster and sewer? Seems like an It reference

So they're near Michigan now, noted

WHY MUST YOU TORMENT ME :(((( I luv paper bag dog NOOOOOO

Mark seems more vocal and challeging billy more now

Billy straight up gave the kids psychedelics my god

Someone save the child pls

Donovan my beloved is traumatized:((((

Oooooh the photos in the background are crying now, I think those are Marks parents?

Mr plant defo killed Big Monster, king shit

OOOOOH

okay so kid star (johnny) met with big monster in the sewer, got murdered

But Billy was the one who encouraged him to, Billy was going to star in the movie before Big Monster was convicted. So he was the kid who was crying in the article because his role was dropped

NOOOOOO MARK IS ADDICTED TO DRUGS

Get HIS ASS GRANDMA

I can't read the teleprompter, get this dude some glasses.

Just remembered how Mark cannonicly has his photos taken???? And sold I think??? Wtf???

Donovan had started a charity:((( he thinks his friends are gone

The date on the newspaper in the back keeps changing

Can I fight Billy??? I think I could take him easy

Mark straight up ate a razor blade get this kid a doctor

OH MY GOSH THEY'RE GOING TO THE DOCTOR

APOLLO HAS BLESSED ME

the eye test in the back reads "Mark has one more week before I kill him" if my new son dies I riot

Can I adopt Mark

Goal list; dispose, replace, repeat

I wonder if there are other shows featuring Donovan and Cupcake Monster?

Why were they kidnapped?

Befriend that strange man??? NOOOO

Did my son just kill Billy???? HELL YEAH

RUN BOY RUN

MY SON IS SAFE!!!!

In conclusion, I would like to adopt Cupcake Monster, they are now my child. I would also like to punch Billy repeatedly :D

[scorpiongrassfield]

You Return To the Motel 

Start | Prev

You bring both the supplies and the food into the room with you once you get back. 

Pat checks the fridge for something and says, “Ah. Damn,” upon not finding it. 

“I thought we had more water in here,” they mumble as they shut the door. 

They look around, seeming like they’re thinking of a solution. They grab their wallet out of their purse and hand you some cash. “There’s a corner sto- wait that won’t work,” they cut themself off. “There’s a vending machine over near the check in desk. Mind getting us some drinks?” they ask. 

“Sure,” you take the money from them and leave to find the vending machine. It’s not very difficult. 

The person at the desk doesn’t look up at you as you pass them. 

You get two bottles of water, and return to the room. 

Your food is on the desk, waiting for you. 

You know you promised you’d eat it, but for some reason you can’t make yourself do so. 

Maybe in a little bit… 

You hand Pat their water. 

“Thanks,” they say, and turn their attention back to taking stuff off the cork board. 

They’re separating the papers into two piles. 

“Some of this stuff will probably come in handy when we make our next one,” Pat says, gesturing to one of the piles. 

“Can I help?” you ask. 

Pat shakes their head. “You’ve got something else you need to work on,” they say. 

They aren’t going to let you squirm out of this one, it would seem.

You head back over to the desk and make a concerted effort to eat the grilled chicken sandwich that’s waiting for you there. 

You just can’t do it. 

It feels like it’s not for you. Which is silly, because you know that it almost certainly is for you. 

After what seems like an eternity, Pat comes over to check on you. “I see you haven’t made any progress on your task there, kid,” they say. 

You shake your head. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. This was an experiment,” they say, patting you on the shoulder. 

You look up at them with a frown. “You couldn’t, you know, ask before doing the experiment?” 

“Nope. I needed to test something,” Pat says. 

They don’t say anything more. The silence stretches. 

“Well, what was it?” you ask. 

“You knew you were supposed to eat this, you promised you would. And I believe you had every intention of doing so and weren’t being a brat, but you didn’t. Why is that?” they ask. 

“I don’t know. I tried, I just… Couldn’t,” you say, helplessly. 

“It’s alright kid. I’m not mad at you, and you’re not in trouble,” they say with another reassuring pat on your shoulder. 

“See, I did this because I noticed something,” they continue, “You don’t eat anything, ever, under any circumstance, unless someone has directly handed the food to you, or otherwise told you that it’s for you to eat,” they explain. 

Oh. 

That… is probably true, actually. 

“Why?” 

Pat gives a half-chuckle, but it lacks humor. “I don’t know, kid. I was hoping you could tell me,” they say. 

You shake your head. 

“Well, we can think it over together. In the meantime, eat,” they say pushing the sandwich a little closer to you. “I won’t have you starving on my watch no matter what.” 

You sigh, but you are finally able to pick up the sandwich and eat it. 

It is, to no one’s surprise, completely flavorless. 

“It could be some sort of weird psychological hangup,” Pat muses. 

You cut a look at them for calling you weird. 

“Or…” Pat says, drawing out the word. 

You wait for them to finish. 

“Or you could be a vampire,” they finally say. 

You set your sandwich back down on the paper it was wrapped in. 

“What.” 

Pat shrugs. “It’s just a theory, but it would explain a lot of things,” they say. 

“Like what?” 

“Well… you’re like, really pale, even for a white guy. And you survived something that really should have killed a human. Sometimes you smell really strongly of blood but when I check you over for injuries you’re completely fine. I don't think you've aged at all in the years I've known you... And you can only eat food if you’re invited to, which I know is usually supposed to apply for entering houses but sometimes legends are wrong, you know?” they list off. 

“Wouldn’t I know if I was a vampire?” you ask, incredulous. 

“Would you? You don’t remember anything before we started this trip,” they counter. “And, if you forgot that you’re a vampire, that would explain why you’ve been fainting so much lately, you haven’t been eating properly,” they say. 

You can’t deny that this theory would explain some things. But. 

“There’s no way I’m a vampire,” you say. 

Pat shrugs. “It’s the best theory I’ve got right now. See, this is why I don’t share my theories until I’m sure of them. People look at me like I’m nuts,” they say with a sigh. 

“You’re not nuts, you’re just… jumping to the wrong conclusion. It happens,” you say. 

Pat shrugs again. “Finish your sandwich, kid. Then you can come help me make stuff for the murder board,” they say as they return to their task. 

You see no reason not to do as you’re told.

Next

[titlemewickedwonderland]

Secret Santa (Part 2 of 2)

Summary: You and Eddie have been best friends growing up. One year for Christmas you start getting secret admirer letters every morning for every day of the month up until Christmas of beautiful poems. Driven by the need to find this secret admirer you enlist Eddie's help to discover who it is only you don't know that you're closer to the secret than you could ever imagine.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: Fluff and more fluff

<< Previous Chapter

He'd told you you were crazy. He picked on you for wanting to do this. But in the end despite his bluster Eddie caved. He always fucking caved. You'd come up with a plan the night previous on how you'd execute the plan. The plan being trying to find who was leaving those sweet little poems in your locker. You had come to the conclusion that since you didn't see anyone put said letters into your locker in the morning; a theory you'd tested out a few days in a row just to be sure you'd finally figured out that perhaps they were leaving it after everyone had left to school. When you'd proposed the idea to Eddie you didn't expect him to scoff and brush it off. Calling you silly for being so driven to find your secret admirer.

"Why can't you just take the pretty notes whoever leaves for you and be happy? Why does it always have to be a 'who' behind everything? Just enjoy someone doting on you." He said stuffing some potato chips into his mouth messily as the pair of you stayed behind in the gymnasium as you waited for everyone to leave for the day. Idly watching as the janitor cleaned the floor as you sat on the bleachers pretending to be busy so as not to look suspicious.

Well granted you were busy. You were doing your homework assigned by your literature teacher Mr. Hicks to pass the time while Eddie lounged on the cold unyielding metal of the bleachers one seat above you; idly watching over your shoulder with his legs spread out in the space next to you.

"Because, i-it's important to me okay Eds? I mean…I don't like being kept in the dark on things. It's a scary mindset to be in. And…perhaps I want to know who has feelings for me. I mean I'm not exactly a girl most guys look at you know." You reply by rolling your eyes but never looking up at him as you continued your homework.

There was a beat of silence between you two besides the occasional crinkling of the chips the metal head was eating. When you realized the janitor had left the room and the lights got clicked off you're head finally rose and you grinned at Eddie. "Show time!" you said as you scrambled to put away your stuff into your bag.

Eddie looked at you apprehensively as he rose and grabbed his own bag. "Maybe they already put it in your locker." he suggested hoping you'd drop it and they could go home but you were a stubborn little thing and shook your head.

"Perhaps, you could be right Eddie my boy. But! we don't know if we don't check." something flashed behind those dark eyes of his as he watched you skip down the bleachers.

"Hey! Hold on a minute! Stop woman you're going to hurt yourself!" he srambled down with his lanky legs after you but you were already out the door of the gymnasium and he had to run to catch up with you. By the time he had managed to catch up though you were already at your locker keying in the code.

"Running in the halls ma'am I think that is an offense." he panted looking up at you from where he was bent over catching his breath.

He watched as the big smile on your fade slowly faded when you opened the locker to find it void of any new pieces of paper. "Guess not…" you mumble to yourself dejectedly. "I surely thought this plan would work."

Your best friend's frame came up behind you and a hand reached over your should into the depths of the locker to pull out one a trinket that he'd given you when you guys were just kids. But as he did so the pile of papers and other things fell from your locker onto the floor.

"Eddieeee!!!" you whine as you crouch to pick up the scattered papers and plastic binders.

"oops sorry princess!" he bent down and began picking up scattered papers with a kicked puppy look.

You giggle at that cute little pout and lean over to kiss his cheek startling him. "Everyone makes mistakes bud! No harm done! Come on though, it's getting late and I don't want to be caught by the teachers leaving."

You didn't notice the way Eddie's eyes seemed to follow you as you closed your locker door after all was put back in and began walking down the hallway. It took him a moment before he cleared his throat. "Aye, I gotta go pee real quick! I'll meet you at the car."

"Really Eds? Now?!"

"What! I had too many cokes!" he protested but was relieved when you caught his van keys when he dug them from his pocket and tossed them at you.

Giving him a salute you began brisk walking down the hall and out the door into the cold December weather. It wasn't cold enough for snow just yet but it was damn near close. Hawkins was known for the gloomy side of mother nature whether it be rain, clouds, or snow in the colder months so the residents of Hawkins were hoping for a white Christmas this year. You'd gotten the van blasting the heater inside warming up the space and making the scent that was particularly Eddie's a little more prominent. You situated a little more comfortably in your seat and waited for the man of the hour to appear. He didn't take long; his large lanky frame dashing across the street to the parking lot before he hopped in with a blast of cold air in his wake.

"Right now, since that's taken care of! My place and a movie?" he offered turning to look your way.

Catching your smile his own grew a little more as you nod and he cranked the engine before buckling up. "Movie night here we come!" he cheered as he began pulling out of the parking spot and down the road.

~

You'd watched 2 terrible movies at this point and you swore if you were going to have to watch a third you were going to tear your eyeballs from your sockets. Wayne had already gone to bed halfway through the first movie so it had been just the two of you on the couch cuddling up under a warm blanet in his trailer. You loved moments like these when you didn't have to worry about the outside world. But right now you were pretty sure you'd rather pull your eyeballs out. Nudging an elbow into Eddie's side he looked down at you from the rim of his can of beer to see you peering up at him with sleepy eyes.

"I think we should head to bed. I'm tired and we got school in the morning." you were trying to be reasonable but the smirk on the man's face as he spoke made you laugh

"Or you're going to kill me if I pop in another movie right?" he jested.

"Bedtime Munson." you giggle as you hop up from the couch allowing the blanket to fall in the ground at your feet. Reaching down you grab the man's large hands and pull him to his feet before he was being dragged down the hallway towards his bedroom.

"Oh shoot I forgot to tell yah I had to throw away your toothbrush when I was cleaning the bathroom earlier; it sorta uh…fell in in the toilet." Eddie called as he took pause inside said bathroom.

"Ew!" you wrinkle your nose before shrugging as you continue towards his bedroom. "It's okay, you still got that spare one in your desk right?" you call as you disappear inside.

"Mhm~" he was already brushing his own teeth and couldn't reply before he suddenly stopped staring at his own reflection with wide eyes before spinning around to run into the bedroom. "No wait not my desk!" but it was too late.

You stood there facing the door holding something wooden in your hand and a small jar in the other containing little green beads. Your face was blank as you slowly raise your eyes from the objects to peer at your best friend standing there at the door.

"Eddie…what is this?" you ask slowly raising the two objects higher as if his gaze wasn't already fixated on them.

He backed out of the room and went to the bathroom without a word but you weren't having it. Following him you repeat your question with a little bit more urgency as you stand in the bathroom doorway as you watch him spit his toothpaste out out and rinse his mouth with water.

"Eddie what is this!? Why do you have these?!"

the man rubbed his hands down his face a moment as he swallowed and turned to lean his back against the edge of the sink; grasping at the corners in a death grip as if he needed it to steady him. His head was bowed but you could see the slight panic he was feeling due to the way his chest was rising and falling quickly and the way his grip on the edge of the sink seemed to tremble slightly. You move into the room, it was small enough that it made the space between the two seem so intimate as you siddle up to him. Standing between his parted feet you set the items down on the edge of the sink. He mumbled something too low to hear but you needed to hear it louder; you needed him to look at you when he said it. So you lightly place your hands on his waist trying to peer up into his brown eyes that he hid from you.

"W-what?" you asked softly. You knew, he knew you knew but god you needed to hear it coming from his own two lips. Your heart pounded so heart in your chest you swore he'd be able to hear it too.

"It's a stamp and wax beads." his voice came a little louder as he raised his head slowly to meet your gaze.

His face held all the emotions he had been trying to hide from you all this time. He was scared, that much was evident as he peered into your pretty eyes. The very eyes that those letters had once confessed 'I could stare into your eyes all day and still believe those are the most beautiful eyes in the whole world.' those eyes that stared up at him now as if seeing him in a new light; the look in them that expressed the hope and the awe you where feeling.

"Eddie…" his name from your lips like a reverent prayer; a prayer pleading him for something you shouldn't put into words.

And Eddie never disappointed you. Never held you back and damn sure never left you wanting for anything so as you stared up into those big brown eyes you felt such comfort in everytime you looked at him his lips spoke the words you'd never thought you'd ever hear; shattering your world and putting it back together all over again.

" I am who I am and you loved me because of that makes me feel special."

His vision blurry behind the tears that gathered on your waterline but you didn't care as you're hands fisted in his hellfire T-shirt to pull him down towards you just enough so that your body keep push against his and lips meet in a searing kiss. Tentive hands held your hips as his lips moved against yours in slow and shy movements trying to express in ways words would have been impossible to explain but you felt it. Felt the love there, the admiration, and the desire this man had felt. For years. Having watched you grow as a woman and falling in love with the depth that was your heart and soul.

Pulling away from him you peer up at him with such adoration and happiness that you swear you're high. But you weren't high. Well, not off of drugs anyways. Just him, you're Eddie.

"I'll be the queen in the kingdom of your heart and you will be the king so that we will never be apart."

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

A lot of interesting stuff has been happening in the rationalist world these last few weeks, and I've wanted to write about it, but I've been really tired a lot recently and felt like there was little point.

But I've had thoughts about the ideas and arguments going around (I think?), and I've wanted to write them up, because I think they might be worth looking into if you have time for it, even if you don't share many of the interests or preoccupations of the tumblr rationalist community.

Some of what I've been thinking about follows. Note: I'm not an expert on any of this, I'm just sort of thinking about it, and I have a few caveats about what I'm about to say, so be prepared for that. (I'm going to focus on the world-building/fictional-setting aspects of this discussion, but it applies to the ideas as well.)

----

So, I think the sort of project you see around a lot in the rationalist world is a project of creating a world where the sort of arguments in question can be made without the sorts of difficulties they typically have.

I don't think this is a silly project -- the sort of thing you might say about, say, "let's come up with a hypothetical world in which the things in question could make sense." You could come up with a world on the basis of any principle, if you want. But this project seems different -- it involves building an actual world, rather than a hypothetical one.

A good reason for doing that is that the standard set of assumptions we use to prove things about the world does not guarantee that all the arguments we use to make them about the world will always work. "I don't like X," say, may well be well-founded, but if you want to say "X isn't good," then you have to actually come up with an argument about why not. You have to be willing to do a lot of careful empirical, sociological, psychological, and other work, and present a case against X.

And that's fine, if you don't have anything else you need to do. But if you want to endorse certain hypotheses, you need to be willing to back them up. You need to be willing to put in the work and stand up to the criticisms that can come your way (especially from people who really do like X), even if you think doing so will be a waste of your time.

It's hard to get a good sense of what works like this. But I've been reading a lot of essays that describe the kind of problems one has with the social sciences (especially sociology), and what's striking is how often they come from fictional worlds. I'm not saying that you can't find this sort of thing in reality -- but what strikes me is how easy it is to do it without even trying, while writing about this sort of project for non-fiction publication. You can say, "okay, imagine people are stupid because I'm a stupid writer." But if you're writing a social science paper, this has the same kind of implications as writing a fantasy story with the premise that some fantasy element is real.

----

A good example of this is a post by Scott called Are You a Caffeinated Person? (or "You Just Don't Know About It Yet"):

I often wonder if people really are like this. I'm not sure why, but a theory occurs to me: I suspect that the average human is not yet conscious that there is a level at which caffeine alters perception, cognition, and behavior. The fact that so many people take so little notice of the subtle effects of caffeine in their daily lives is a symptom of a much wider, more troubling phenomenon. I call this the Caffeine Anomaly, and my suspicion is that most people will need to be confronted with it before they begin to understand just how important caffeine is as a drug.

Here are three small instances from my recent life that strongly support this hypothesis.

Last Sunday morning I left the house for a walk in the woods. It was a clear, cool day; everything was beautiful and quiet. I've gone on a lot of walks like that in the past several months, and every time I thought about it I felt great, like I had discovered a real source of joy in the world. Something clicked into place: I suddenly realized I knew how it feels to enjoy coffee—and in that moment I felt a great sense of relief. For years I have been struggling to understand the subtle effects of caffeine. I've struggled to define a way to relate to other people that wouldn't be so tainted with anxiety and dread. And that morning I felt, for the first time, like a part of myself had been finally found.

Yesterday, while reading my sister's blog, I came across the essay "The Doom is Wrong". I was struck immediately by how familiar it felt (even as I was reading a totally new text). One of the author's recurring themes is the way people misunderstand each other. He asks, "How do people understand their own bodies? How do people relate to each other? What exactly do people mean when they say things like 'the world needs more love'?" All of these are questions that had been weighing heavily on my mind for years. I felt like I was finally on the path to understanding them—and then the second I started reading the essay the light went out of my eyes and my heart sank. In that moment I realized that every time I thought about those questions, I had been missing the answers to something as important and obvious as this:

DINNER. I don't mean the meal that fills your belly and soothes your soul after a hard day's work. I don't mean the meal that tells a story and brings you back to happy memories. I don't mean the food that lets you feel that you belong in this world. For me, the food of life is a hearty and nutritious meal of coffee, cheese, and apples. "This stuff is great," I say, "but who eats it?" And sometimes people do, but more often people do not. It's sad and frustrating that I have had to learn this the hard way—but the hard way must be learned, or we'd never have gotten here in the first place.

Readers don't know about the Caffeine Anomaly? I don't know how many people can be assured "Yes, reader, there is a way of thinking and relating to things that works without the need for empirical work, without the need for sociological study, and without the risk of the sort of thing-of-the-mind-that-could-endanger-your-lives." This is a pretty good reason to believe in the Caffeine Anomaly, and one that I'm not even aware of!

But Scott is not writing about this Caffeine Anomaly, he's writing about the Caffeine Hypothesis, which postulates (for reasons just discussed) a relationship between caffeine and cognition, caffeine and behavior, and other phenomena. He doesn't actually believe in the caffeine hypothesis (as far as I can tell). But he's writing about it nonetheless, because he wants it to work, he wants it to stand up to empirical criticism and the sort of criticism that has to be endured if one wants to endorse X.

It's hard to get a sense of the problems in

[a-dusty-emerald]

Till it sinks in: Draco x Reader / Hurt-Comfort, Fluff Fic

A hurt-comfort fluff fic, with a slytherin Y/n being the girlfriend of the softie-who-hates-to-be-called-softie-so-he-bitches-all-day Draco Lucius Malfoy.

Where Umbridge uses her quill on you.

_____________________________________________

Dolores Umbridge, maybe the most hated teacher to set foot at Hogwarts, had a special dislike against anyone who disobeyed. And while that may be all teachers, not all teachers dismissed sobbing students from their detention. Every single student that got detention with Umbridge looked broken afterwards, but no one knew what she said to them; it was a mystery.

Professor McGonagall, for instance, made sure the students that misbehaved researched a wide topic for a few hours during the week, with the intimidating presence of her self. Professor Snape, on the other hand, locked students in the Potions classroom and let them out after the successfull brewing of a potion of his liking. Hence, it must be something similar.

Y/n strolled into class, her curls bouncing around the embroided slytherin crest of her robe. Defence against the dark arts was her worst subject, she only thought it was interesting when Professor Lupin taught it, and had done surprisingly well. Then, it was a hands-on, useful and fascinating module, while now, Umbridge followed the Ministry's policy to teach the students in a "risk free" way, by only reading through the theory. Not only were the lessons incredibly boring, the whole book was utterly useless.

"As if Voldemort will ask you the theory of Merlin's rule of categorisation of spells when he Avada-Kedavra's your ass", Y/n had scoffed when she saw the chapters. Draco had laughed, but told her that his father had owled him that Umbridge was a family ally, and hence he could not be out of line in her class.

"When did you become such a nerd?"

"Oh shut it Y/n", Y/n recalled.

She had also implemented some stupid rules, like "no touching between boys and girls, and a six feet distance at all times", and reduced the hours that students could go out of their dorms. While Dumbledore wanted the students to be at their dorms by 10pm, Umbridge thought that 6pm was acceptable.

As if.

Y/n entered the class, the only class she did not sit with Draco. Apparently, boys and girls could also not sit with one another, since they would eventually touch. And in a doomed world controlled by Umbridge, that was a sin.

Draco spotted his girlfriend entering the room, wearing a bored look on her face. He was not excited about DADA either. His parents might have told him that Umbridge was the best thing that could happen in this school, but he was not blind or stupid. The stuff being taught were useless and her teaching method was more boring than 5 hours of Divination with no breaks in his eyes. At least then, he could laugh at Trelawney. Now he just was supposed to stay silent and listen Umbridge reading the most basic book ever again and again.

He realised he got lost in his thoughts and was staring at Y/n longer than intended. She seemed bored as hell, but her eyes always intimidated him - yet, he would never admit out loud. Even the plainest of her looks had such passion beneath it, her deep dark orbs had a fire in them, surrounded by thick eyelashes, making her look coy and mischevious even when she was not planning to.

Y/n noticed him looking and smirked back at him.

"Stop staring, people might think that you like me" she mouthed silently to him. He grinned and shook his head. 'She is something else', he thought.

An unpleasantly familiar trotting of heels approached the creaking floor at the centre of the classroom, making students focus on the short, evil woman that was tormenting the school; Umbridge.

"Hello, my dear students" she smiled in a sickly manner. "Today we are learning about the theory of protection spells."

Y/n groaned, thinking other students would join her, however, it was this uncomfortable and awkward moment that everyone had decided to stay deadly silent, making her disapproving groan loud and clear to be heard.

"Is there an issue, miss Y/l/n?" Umbridge smiled in the evilest way she could.

"No, no, of course not. I always wanted to listen about the theory of protection spells." Y/n smiled in the fakest way possible.

"Is that irony I am sensing, Y/l/n?" Umbridge had a more serious look now, her smile not decieving anyone.

"Nope." She said, emphasising the "p" sound in her lips. Out of the corner of her eye, she quickly glanced to Draco, who had a warning glare. "Don't aggravate her!" He mouthed. Y/n rolled her eyes, and unfortunately for her, Umbridge saw that, taking it as it was directed at her.

She scrunched up her nose and stomped her heel lightly on the floor, when she exclaimed: "Detention after class, miss y/l/n! That attitude of yours is no match for a young witch!"

Draco did not know why everyone was saying Umbridge's detention was horrible, he had heard she only requested some lines. Even so, her detention had gained a horrible reputation, and he didn't like it one bit that his girlfriend would be the one going there.

Even so, he was angry at her, he had warned her so many times. She was such a brat every time she spoke to Umbridge, when he had told her that every student that was leaving her detention was crying.

The DADA lesson had finished, when Y/n saw Draco stomping towards her, stopping around the 6 feet limit, keeping his distance.

"Why do you never listen?!" His angry hissing voice aggravated her even more.

"I rolled my freaking eyes, Draco, chill."

"You were sarcastic. You know you were. Are you happy now?" His glare was piercing her soul.

"I am not, actually. I would prefer no stupid rules, but I guess my boyfriend is too much of a wuss to think for himself and see how ridiculous Umbridge is."

"She just wants order. Besides, its temporary!" He half whispered, half yelled.

"Sure. Tell that to yourself to feel better, darling." Now she was mad at him. "Now excuse me, I have a detention to go to." She closed the gap between them - breaking the rule- just to bump on his shoulder angrily, and stomped past him, going to detention.

"Fine! I don't give a fuck, then!" She heard her boyfriend's voice. She knew he didn't mean it at all, but she silently prayed he changed his mind after her detention, he had an hour to think by himself after all. She was hoping for an apology.

Y/n lightly knocked on her door, listening to Draco's advice for once. She should be polite, calm and collected no matter what she said to her. She couldn't risk an expulsion. Umbridge's sickly laugh was heard. "Come in, y/l/n."

Y/n opened the door, fighting back her urge to laugh or roll her eyes. Her least favourite colour, fuchsia pink, was plastered everywhere, cats trapped on the walls, and a heavy, sickly, sugary aroma filled her nostrils, she did her best to keep her pokerface.

"Sit", the teacher ordered. "You will do some lines today, Y/n."

Relief passed through her. That wasn't that bad. She grabbed a piece of paper and moved to grab her quill, when the fuchsia toad in front of her stopped her. "Oh no, dear. I'm afraid you wont need that." She smiled, and handed her a large black feathered quill from her own collection. "Use this, please. It is one of my favourites."

Y/n grabbed the quill and moved again to reach for her ink. "Oh, silly me, I forgot." She heard the professor giggle. "You won't need any ink, dear."

She looked at Umbridge confused, her tamed eyebrows furrowing to her words. Still, she went with it. She grabbed the quill and before she started, Umbridge directed her "you shall write the line: I must not be arrogant." Y/n resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"How many times, Professor?" She said.

"Hm... let's just say... till it sinks in." Umbridge giggled once again, sipping her tea.

Y/n scoffed silently and started writing the lines, red ink magically appearing on paper. Her left hand was uncomfortable the whole time, but she ignored it. As soon as she finished the first line, though, the discomfort became a burning sensation, and hurt so much, like someone was creating small cuts in her skin. She looked at her hand to see what was going on, only to see the line she wrote engraved in her hand.

'You evil bitch' Y/n thought.

Every time she would rewrite the sentence, it was like the invisible knife digged deeper and deeper in her skin, twisting at each twist of the quill. She looked at Umbridge with teary eyes, a silent plea to stop this torture. Blood was seeping out of her wound uncontrollably now, staining her robe. Umbridge just glanced at her and said "one more page."

Through silent tears, a wrecked bloodied hand, trembles and gritted teeth, she finished her torture without making a sound. She excused her self, said goodbye to the professor, and closed the heavy door behind her, exhaling with a trembled sob escaping her lips. An exhale that she was holding for an hour.

She contained her tears and hid her hand from plain sight. She did not want to worry anyone, and she sprinted with all the energy she could muster to the dungeons. She just wanted to wash it off, wrap it in a clean cloth, and have a good cry.

As she was approaching the dungeons, it dawned on her: she could run up to Draco there. What should she do? On one hand, the thought of making him feel bad enticed her, she was still mad about his behaviour. On the other hand, she knew he meant no harm, and that he would make her start a legal war with Umbridge. She really didn't want to do anything right now, as much as she hated her guts.

She hid her hand better, wiped her eyes, took a few deep breaths and prayed that her boyfriend was not in the common room, as she opened the door.

Unbeknownst to her, Draco was waiting restlessly at the common room all this time. He didn't like the fact they fought before, he hated not being on good terms with Y/n. He didn't think he was entirely on the wrong though. 'Maybe if she listened to me once in a whi-'

His thoughts came to a halt when he saw a trembling Y/n enter the common room. Her eyes were red and glassy, and she was crouched in a weird position. He instantly forgot everything he was thinking of and sprinted towards her. When her eyes fell on him, she inhaled sharply, sttaightening her posture. He was terribly worried and she could feel it.

"Darling?" His soft voice was music to her ears.

Her eyes avoided his, refilling with tears just from his worried voice.

"I-I need to go to my room." She said with a lowered gaze.

"Tell me what's wrong please-"

"I thought you didn't give a fuck." Her voice was low when she said it, her teary eyes finally meeting his. She did not mean to snap at him, but everything was too much.

He finally locked eyes with her now, the emotion he saw in her overtaking him. He pursed his lips and looked down.

"I'm sorry. You know - baby you know thats not true. I want to know what happened. What did she say to you that made you cry? You don't cry easily, I know that. If you want I'll report her!" He was frantically searching for her gaze again, his grey irises full of concern.

"She said nothing bad to me. She instructed me through my lines." She avoided his gaze once again.

He lowered his gaze as well, and broke the -for once- uncomfortable silence, his voice slightly broken.

"Do you not trust me?"

His words echoed in her head. She did. She did with her life. She could not stay mad at him, no matter her anger. "I do. I'm sorry, I'm a-a bit of a m-mess, i'll tell you, j-just give me a few m-minutes..."

His hand grabbed hers to pull her into an embrace, to hold her close, to calm her. As soon as his hand grasped her own, though, a strong wave of stinging pain shot through her, a hissing sound escaping her lips as she yanked her hand away. She was holding it close to her heart, a few hot tears escaping her eyes. There was no escape now.

Draco looked at her wide eyed, a blank expression of confusion mixed with worry resting on his features. "What-"

He looked down on his hand. Blood.

He inhaled sharply. Blood? His heart was pounding in his chest now, his fury for Umbridge boiling. What exactly happened in her detentions?

"Darling." He spoke. His voice was low and steady, and Y/n could swear she could hear her own heartbeat. "Your hand. Please." He extended his own to signal her to give her hers. Slowly, she put her bloodied palm on his own.

"Did she do this?", he hissed angrily. Y/n nodded but winced at his tone, not ready for facing an angry Draco. He saw that, and his features calmed down.

He grasped her shoulders carefully, gently pulling her in a hug, lightly kissing her forehead and letting his lips linger there. He tilted her chin up, pressing a quick peck on her lips.

"Im not mad at you". He said steadily, to show he meant every word. "I'll kill her, honestly" he mumbled, as his eyes examined the wounds.

"I must not be arrogant?!?"

He felt his anger rise again, as he managed to read the cuts that were filled with blood.

"She h-had a black quill. I would write on paper and it would transfer the letters in m-my hand. Must be c-cursed." Y/n said between small sobs.

His one arm cradled her head and she felt him moving the other one on her waist, urging her to move. "Come on, lets get you cleaned up. I'll send a letter to my father. She will be out of her position tomorrow."

Y/n's eyes widened "No n-no I-"

Draco didn't let her finish "Y/n, I love you but please shut up."

For the first time in a while, Y/n giggled, music to Draco's ears.

He took his time being extra gentle on her wound, making sure it is clean, before putting a few healing spells on it, muttering apologies whenever Y/n would wince.

"Tomorrow your hand will be good as new. Trust me."

"I trust you Draco. Thank you."

His eyes looked up from her wound, and Y/n was sure she could melt. He had the softest gaze ever. They fell asleep in each other's embrace, soft kisses taking away the pain.

The next morning, Y/n could hardly stiffle a laugh at the annoucement of Umbridge being suddently fired. She turned at her boyfriend, who looked smug as ever.

His eyes glimmered and his eyebrows wiggled with smugness, as he said:

"She should not have been that arrogant. Guess karma is a bitch." He shrugged.

That Malfoy boy was your everything and you knew it.

FEEL FREE TO LIKE AND SHARE!! Feedback is always welcome, love you all!

[oliviayamaoka]

The Roseville Murders

Danny “Jed Olsen” Johnson x Female Reader 

After getting yourself into a rather tragic incident, you are reassigned to work elsewhere to protect your young career as a detective.

Your life would sure but slowly change when you meet a bright journalist named Jed Olsen, always looking to get inside information from you regarding the murders in Roseville. Seeking Jed Olsen’s help in finding the Ghostface, a spark ignited between the two of you.

Chapter One: Roseville

Y/N rubbed her eyes, tired from the long car ride you just endured. It was a long car ride from your old home but at least the day was nice. It wouldn’t be long until dusk came. In a way, you were glad. You often thrived in the nighttime and took it as an opportunity to wind down and finally rest. It was a large rental truck that you had taken on your journey to your new home, Roseville. You didn’t necessarily choose the location; you were assigned to go there. After the incident, you were assigned to help in the investigation regarding some gnarly murders. This piqued your interest since you had an interest in crime and journalism, more so crime.

It was quite the strange time, being a junior detective, or that’s what they called you anyways. Your time in the police academy was short-lived, it didn’t take long to become a detective in the nineties. Even so, you managed to impress some detectives and officers. You also had an eye for stuff that would normally slip other people’s mind, the small details were more or less important to you. Admittedly, your interest in detective work stemmed from the fact you loved horror movies and shows. Even books. It would be a silly idea in the eyes of others but you figured you could do some good. You were also extremely annoyed at how incompetent other officers could be, not writing reports in detail or straight up refusing to do a full investigation. It was ridiculous and you figured you’d try and change this.

Johnathan Stevens was the name of your supervisor, an older gentleman. He formerly investigated murders and unsolved crimes in the fifties and sixties, his prime. Some would even consider his work to dabble in the supernatural. You weren’t sure if you believed such things, not that you were a skeptic since there were small things you couldn’t explain growing up. His work was great nonetheless and he saw the potential in you. You admired him and he gave a good word to others on your behalf. He was the reason you got a job in helping the investigation in Roseville. Ah yes, Roseville.

You were excited in a way. Johnathan was able to get you a role in the investigation of the Roseville Murders. The prime suspect was a man in a costume who went by the name Ghost Face. They ultimately branded the series of murders as the Ghost Face Murders. Y/N read the files and you began to think of your own theories on who this mysterious murderer could be. The murders were premeditated and were always executed in a similar fashion. Y/N saw some photos left behind by the Ghost Face, he enjoyed posing and took pride in his work. Your train of thought suddenly ended when you saw the town’s sign.

“Welcome to Roseville.” You subconsciously mumbled. There was a slight feeling of regret and worry that itched at you from the inside but you brushed it off. No going back now, you wanted to be a good detective and help those in need.

Your hands brushed towards your turn signals. The apartment you rented wasn’t too far and you didn’t have too many things you brought with you. Roseville seemed like a quiet little city, very peaceful and tidy. A part of you had trouble even imagining that such grizzly murders could take place in what people would consider a perfect town or city. This seemed like a place where somebody would want to raise a family or live a quiet life, it pretty much had everything you needed. You didn’t blame them, the big city life was horrendous, as were the crimes there committed. Y/N sighed deeply as you pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building. It was red and looked somewhat old. Not that it mattered, you were happy with anything at this point. You rubbed your eyes again before resting your forehead on your steering wheel, putting your car into park.

It was about 6:00 PM, you didn’t have to be at the station until 7:30 PM. Much to your dismay, it was enough time to talk to your landlord. You had met prior on a phone call and you got the apartment rather easily. You saw pictures and were instantly keen on getting a lease for it. You checked your mirror to quickly fix your hair up and refresh yourself. After a moment or two, you got out and walked towards the door. Y/N pushed it open and caught a glimpse of the lobby. It was well-furnished and tidy. It was a lot better than your old apartment building in the city. Your mood lightened up, looking forward to a somewhat quieter life. You figured you had your share of the city bars and nightclubs, other shenanigans you encountered when you were slightly younger. You took a few steps in and walked towards the main office. Your shyer tendencies made you hesitate but you knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open.

“Hello?” You called out as you made eye-contact with a blonde woman.

“How can I help you?” The woman asked you, putting away some papers into a filing cabinet.

Her hair was actually kind of long and seemed natural. Her skin was fair and her eyes were a darker shade of blue. The woman’s dark eyebrows helped in bringing out her beautiful features. She was a thin but tall woman. Her attire consisted of a white turtleneck with a cardigan, dress, and black dress shoes with long, white stockings. It was a healthy mix of coziness and business. Y/N smiled kindly and extended her hand out.

“I’m Y/N L/N. I assume that you’re Deborah?” You asked as she quickly returned the smile, a more charming one. She shook your hand, her touch felt welcoming, something that was needed in Roseville.

“Yes, I am. Lovely to finally meet you! How was the trip?” She asked as you shrugged slightly.

“A bit boring but I made it.” You replied as she giggled a bit.

“Take it from me, Roseville is happy you decided to come. The rumors and murders have driven a few people away. We’re happy to have another officer to help.” Deborah said to you.

“Yeah, well, if anybody ever gives you trouble then you’ll know where to find me.” You said as she perked up. Deborah quickly walked towards her desk and grabbed a set of old, somewhat rusty keys. With a sweet smile, the woman planted the metal in your palm.

“Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate you choosing here to live. If you need help unloading your stuff, my brothers are one call away.” She said. With that voice and attitude, the woman would have made an excellent commercial woman.

“I should be fine.” You assured the woman before exiting the office space.

You swiftly walked out towards the parking lot. It was a rather nice evening so far. The sky was a mixture of pink and red with a nice breeze. You held your forehead for a second, having small flashbacks of a man grunting and swearing. You shut your eyes tightly for a moment before sighing stubbornly. Y/N didn’t want to waste anymore time remembering what happened, it was pointless. A part of you felt gross and weird. Your eyes narrowed in an annoyed manner, looking at the stuff you had to bring in. 

Maybe you didn’t want to bring in that stuff anymore. You looked around, there was a bakery and a coffee shop nearby on the beautifully constructed sidewalks. Each shop had a small garden or some sort of plant in the front. Roseville was old in an industrial sort of way but the shops, houses, and plant life made it have a rather beautiful aesthetic. Not only that but you enjoyed the weather. You sighed softly, deciding that you should just walk to the police station. Ignoring the lazy and depressing feeling you had, you decided to just walk to clear your head of the memories. And so, you locked the doors to the rental truck and began your little adventure.

“You realize what you’ve done, right?” Jonathan questioned you, his nostrils flaring slightly. In his eyes were a deep stare of concentration. You felt numb but remorseless, you kept your head down. 

“He was going to hurt me, Jon.” You mumbled to him, your eyebrows tightly knitted as you looked for any sort of agreement within his eyes. The man sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. Jonathan seemed tired.

“I know he was, kid... but you shot a man. You took a mans life. I understand you did it to defend yourself but the court might not see it that way.” He said.

“Well, I’m glad I did. He would’ve hurt more women. Innocent women.” You replied with bitterness in your voice. He sighed before sitting down, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. His eyes met yours as you looked away.

You thought about the incident a lot. You replayed your own screams in your head before the distinct sound of a gun fired in your ears. Before you even realized it, you were staring dead ahead, reliving it with intense focus. It’s not like you wanted to, it was automatic and you still didn’t process most of it. In fact, it felt like a dream. Y/N shut her eyes, exhaling sharply before looking at the man in front of her. Your eyelids rested, the numbness overcoming the raw feeling of the flashback you had just endured.

“There’s... a case in a city. A smaller city. If I talked to the others and reassigned you somewhere far, would you do it? We’ve known you for years and we care. I know that man could’ve hurt my wife, my daughter, my sister... we understand. Not many people know about this. We could help you.” He said.

“What do you mean? Won’t I be charged for it?” You asked him.

“Np, not if we... sweep this under the rug. But, if we do this then you have to do something in return. Do you want this?” He asked you. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise as you pondered his offer for a moment, you looked around the room.

“I-I do, but... will they actually do this? For me?” Y/N asked as he nodded. He seemed a bit gruff, just tired from the paperwork.

“We’ve discussed it but listen to me. You can’t tell anybody about this. We’re doing you a big favor, a huge one. The director said that more officers and detectives are needed in Roseville, he said they’d be glad to accept you. This will be a lot better than telling the court what happened.” He said.

“I, yeah, yeah.” You said, nodding in slight anticipation. Nonetheless, you were very grateful for this opportunity. 

“Whenever you’re ready then but it might have to be in the next week or two.” Jonathan said to you as he looked around, somewhat nervously.

“Thank you...” You replied a bit awkwardly, not sure how to display your gratitude for him. He only nodded with a small smile, patting your head. 

“Go home, kid. I’ll handle the guy.” He said as you nodded.

You sighed as you looked upwards, the sky was a mixture of purple and blue. This was your favorite type of weather. It brought peace and calmness. A small smile curled onto your lips when you thought of the old times, when you first experienced freedom and happiness. Your hands slid into your pockets as you continued to walk down the sidewalk, your gaze averting to the large building ahead. The Roseville Police Department, your future workplace. 

The building looked rather strange for a police department. It had gates and vines around it, it almost looked like a school. Then again, school was indeed prison. You didn’t think about school much, in fact, you hated it. You never could relate to the other teens. Aside from writing and art, you really enjoyed watching horror movies. Anything horror intrigued you, books and movies alike. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that you were a horror fanatic. Strangely, it sort of inspired you to pursue this career. You were always pretty tough, blood and gore never bothered you. Even when you went to a morgue, it brought a small feeling of peace knowing the deceased were at rest.

You got closer and closer to the station, quickly since you were so lost within your own thoughts. The doors to the station were wooden yet grey, very large. Y/N looked around, there were very few police cars. Maybe being understaffed wasn’t the problem, it’s the fact that they seemed to be very poorly funded. You pushed the large door open, looking around the inside of the station. It was very eerie and quiet but seemed very cozy. A perfect image of the nineties. With your arms crossed, you walked up to the front desk. There was a cup of coffee, you assumed it was cold and took another look around. There were medical beds and tons of chairs stacked together. Not only that but there were statues and paintings. The paintings seemed old but the faces were creepy. Upon staring at them, you soon found inspiration in their haunting gazes.

This was going to be an interesting job, you thought.

Jed Olsen sighed deeply as he looked through different piles of papers that were piled together. It was rather stressful to have to proof-read his coworker’s work. Some of the work he looked over was really badly written. No wonder somebody of his talents got that job really easily. Ever since he arrived at Roseville, he thought he made a good impact on the city. Roseville lived in fear and that’s how he liked it. 

As the young man’s thoughts turned towards his other line of profession, he smiled widely and rested his eyebrows. His name wasn’t actually Jed, it was Danny Johnson. Jed Olsen was the alter ego that Danny created when he came to this place. Aside from killing, writing was one of his professions. Danny was good at it and he even got to write about his own murders. It was exhilarating, to say the least. It brought excitement to this city, it brought excitement into his own life. The journalist façade was a great gig, he needed a job anyways. It was very convenient nobody questioned him or invited him to the bar. Then again, he was a bit younger so his coworkers didn’t bother to hang out with him much.

Danny looked around cautiously before pulling his bag towards him. He only carried around his camera. In his office, there weren’t any cameras and his door actually had a lock. There wasn’t anybody around since it was the evening and he decided to stay late to proof-read papers. His camera was black yet worn out and scratched up. Still, he chose to ignore it since that thing was his prized possession. Danny pretty much checked on it everyday to make sure it wasn’t broken and to just simply admire his work he did on it. 

“Hmm...” He hummed to himself as he clicked through the photos on it. He smirked looking through his work. 

His next murder was going to be perfect. Danny planned on getting more photos of Ghostface doing his heinous crimes. Jed Olsen managed to get photos of the serial killer taking pictures of his murders in rather cocky ways. And of course, the police had no idea that it was him who did it. The police here were amateurs that didn’t do their job right. It was incredibly easy getting away with the murders and surprisingly, the FBI didn’t get involved.  Oh well, the law enforcement probably had other things to deal with right now.

As he clicked through the photos, thinking about his next murders, his thoughts were interrupted when he heard the familiar chime of the front door open. Maybe it was his boss? Danny quickly put his camera away in his desk drawer and rushed to unlock his door. The Roseville Gazette was usually a quiet place. He looked up as he noticed a young woman at the front desk of the gazette. 

“Hey, how can I help you?” He asked, immediately switching to his Jed persona. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N. I was wondering if there was a Jed Olsen around here? I didn’t realize it was quiet here.” She said with a smile.

For a moment, Danny focused on her smile. It was a beautiful and genuine smile. Strange but not everybody was as shallow as his victims or the people he met. His gaze averted to her eyes and then her face. She was indeed a very beautiful person. A pleasant surprise, not that Danny ever indulged in romance. 

“You’re speaking to him.” He replied with a playful shrug.

Y/N stared at him for a second before raising her eyebrows in surprise. 

“Oh. well nice to meet you, Mr. Olsen.” You said as you extended your hand.

“The pleasure is mine.” Danny replied as he shook your hand.

The touch of your hand was rather soft. He didn’t know it yet but he felt slightly flustered. Danny never really met anybody that he considered attractive. Maybe he did but he never paid attention to that sort of thing. 

“Do you have time right now? Or wanna schedule a date to quickly go over your work?” You asked him.

“A date?” He asked blankly. Danny didn’t know what you meant but his brain took it in a romantic way since he thought you were pretty. Your eyebrows furrowed awkwardly in confusion as you nodded slightly with a small smile.

“Um, yeah... I can come back sometime or we can meet at a coffee shop. I’m a detective so... yeah.” You say, automatically getting awkward around people your age. Danny nearly facepalmed himself but his mind quickly went to darker places.

A new detective? A detective who wanted to talk to him one-on-one? None of the detectives decided they wanted to question him. Did this woman find something? Did she suspect him? She looked like she could be a psychologist or something so maybe she wanted to see how he’d react when explaining the Ghostface articles he wrote? He’d have to get her last name and see where she lived. Y/N looked like she’d be easy to kill.

“Jed?” She asked in concern.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely... I have time right now. Sorry, I just get zoned out when I think of the murders and the sick photos he took.” He apologized.

“Don’t be sorry, that type of stuff is something nobody can get used to.” You reassured him. Jed was actually quite handsome.

“Yeah, you’re right. Come into my office.” He said, signaling with his head where his office was. You followed him in.

The office was old. It seemed rather boring at first but that’s what office jobs are for, anyways. His desk was quite clean. Jed seemed to be a very organized person. It would make sense considering his work on the Ghostface murders. You took a seat across from his desk and smiled a bit as he sat down. You were a pretty diligent worker so got straight to the point.

“So, Jed... as you know, there’s an ongoing investigation on the Ghostface Murders that I was assigned to.” You began. Danny nodded, leaning back in his office chair comfortably. He stared at you intently, watching your expression as he worried.

“I took on the liberty of reading your work on the murders. You write about him in a very peculiar way... admirably, almost.” You said to him. Danny tried to hide his worry but he was trying to figure out a way to kill you quickly. Maybe you were FBI? You were already sharper compared to the other officers/

“Anyways, I really love your work, Jed. I’ve taken a personal interest in the Ghostface. And as a detective, I’d like to get to try and get to know him as best I can.” You said with a hint of excitement in your eyes.

“Get to know him…?” He replied, slowly reaching for the knife taped under his desk.

“With your work and your input, I could put together a psychological report on him. If we want to catch him, we should figure out what type of person he is first.” Y/N said.

Danny’s fingers stopped right above the knife. His hand slowly backed away from the bottom of the desk. So, she didn’t suspect him? Danny almost laughed out of relief and at her. He was stupid for thinking she could’ve found out he was Ghostface. Y/N only seemed to be interested in his work.

“Oh, I see… yeah, that would make sense.” He said to you as you crossed one leg.

“I’m glad you agree. I’m determined to catch him and maybe even see his motivation.” You replied to him. Danny’s eyes sparked for a moment as he stared at you.

“His motivation?” He asked as you thought for a moment.

“Probably sounds strange, I know but… he must have a reason, right? And I find it so interesting how he goes about his murders. I actually have a theory about him.” You explained.

You seemed to trust Jed Olsen. The other officers and detectives said he liked to bug and probe them all the time for more information regarding the murders and what their progress was like. And truth be told? There was very little they could go off of. Ghostface was too methodical and careful, left absolutely no trace of himself besides the pictures Jed retrieved. He was a hard-working journalist and you had a good feeling about him, anywyas.

He was also pretty cute.

“I don’t think it’s strange, at all. I’ve never seen any of the detectives so passionate about the case. They always brush me off… so, what’s this theory?” Danny asked you, watching your expressions.

“Well, I only just saw your work today but I thought about it when I walked here. Ghostface seems to be rather cocky, a common trait in younger men. But, since we never caught him or anything, I know he’s really careful with what he does. The murders are also premeditated. They’re too… clean and carefully executed even if it is a bloodbath.” You sort of rambled on.

A weird feeling tingled inside of Danny as you continued to explain your theory.

“He’s really cunning and methodical. And based on my other observations, I think he uses the murders as a way of expressing himself. I’ve read about other serial killers caught… they usually leave marks, take trophies, and know the victim in some ways. Or they’re just cold-blooded but not in his case. I think he sees the murders as a form of art or something along those lines.” You said to him.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. Who the hell was she? Danny thought for a moment. She was right, he did see his murders as art and something beautiful. Did she see it that way too? This woman was strange, indeed. As as young detective, he admired her naive nature.

“That would actually make sense… he does seem to make an unnecessarily big mess when killing and yet, the police can’t find anything on him? It makes total sense.” Jed replied.

“Right? Anyways, I was going to ask if you can type of a report or something along those lines. Give me every single detail you know about him and your analogy. Your input could be vital to solving this case.” You said, standing up.

“If you don’t mind me asking, detective, why are you so interested in him? You’re really passionate about this.” He said to you.

“I wanna understand him and see more of his artwork… it’s pretty fascinating. Also, you can just call me Y/N. Have that report ready in a week?” She asked him.

“Yeah, definitely.” Danny replied to you.

“See you then, Jed.” Y/N said as she nodded with a confident smile.

Y/N was indeed young and naive. Although, she didn’t share anything confidential, she placed a lot of trust into the journalist. Then again, why should she be untrusting of him? The young woman was so passionate, intelligent, and seemed to have a very strong sense of independence. Danny assumed she came here without any authority, taking matters into her own hands. A by-the-book cop? Maybe, maybe not. Danny found that strangely attractive. However, she might even hinder his efforts and catch him. He couldn’t let that happen, yet…

There was something so intoxicating about her. Danny never met anybody that was so compassionate and understanding to his cause. Maybe, he saw her motivation in his own twisted way. This woman wanted to understand him, to see things as he does. Nobody has ever went to that length for him. Not only that but, she had no problem talking about such grimey things in a way that she didn’t get disgusted. The man had a bit of a crazed stare in his eyes as he began to recall her features.

Detective Y/N, just who were you?

And so, the obsession begins.

[mrwinterr]

Die Happy

Pairing: Ghost!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader; tiny hint of Sam Wilson x Female Reader

Summary: You summon a really friendly ghost.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual vibes all around, masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral [female receiving]) and language. Dabbling into the occult (use of a Ouija board).

Disclaimer: I’m a spooky bitch, I like how Ouija boards look like, but I would NEVER mess with them.

Title Inspiration: “Die Happy” by Dreamers  

A/N: I was on Reddit and I stumbled across an erotic audio that inspired this, so I definitely owe it to them. I’ve just been dying to write a ghost AU. I decided to hold back on the smut on this for now and maybe save it for later. This can be turned into a series, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Idk. You tell me! Enjoy!

It’s here.

It’s finally here. The package that would help you find the answers you were so desperately looking for was finally here.

Package in hands, there’s a skip to your steps as you happily make your way back into the living room of your somewhat new home. You had moved in almost six months ago, but it still felt so surreal. You, a homeowner. All those years of saving up and house hunting - you finally did one of the most adult things you could do in your life.

The small house had been in the neighborhood for decades and owned by plenty before you, in fact, too plenty, but for a home in Brooklyn, New York it was surprisingly affordable. You’re still patting yourself on the back for how you managed to score this place at such a bargain price.

It was the ideal place, really; surrounded by friendly neighbors and with a great home association. It was at a reasonable distance from your workplace and the city. Furthermore, cosmetically, it was your dream home. You never took a second to ask why someone would quickly put this home back on the market...until recently.

The realtor had assured you that everything in the house was functioning properly before you signed away. There was little to no refurbishing on your end, which was part of the dealbreaker, but now you can’t help to wonder if the realtor was duping you. A young, pretty woman and a first-time homeowner? That was easy bait for them, right? There had to be a catch or information that they were withholding and well, you weren’t about to wait any longer to find out.

Lately, strange things had been happening and while at first you brushed them off as mere coincidences, they were becoming almost too outstanding to ignore.

First, it was the air conditioning unit acting all wonky. You kept the house at a reasonable and comfortable temperature, but you found yourself often sporting hoodies even during the warmer seasons. The technicians couldn’t find a single problem with it and besides whenever you scheduled a visit for inspection, it was magically working just fine. Never mind the breeze that blew past you here and there…

Next, much like the AC unit, the electricity started to have a mind of its own. Before you could flip the light switch or press the button on your remote, it was always one step ahead of you. It was almost like you were living in a smart house, but instead of acting on voice command, it read your mind.

Not to mention, things disappeared and reappeared every now and then. Small things like the morning paper would vanish from the coffee table and if you couldn’t locate where you last left your keys, you never searched too far.

Then the eeriest one of them all was the unexplained smell. There was a distinct yet alluring scent that would waft by when you felt that breeze pass over. You had deduced that it wasn’t any like of your fragrance collection nor was it from the only friend that visited you. It was a pleasant odor and almost calming to you.  

You didn’t want to believe it, but these weren’t just common occurrences - these were tall tale signs of a haunting. The spirit wasn’t vengeful, that much you gathered since it didn’t make attempts to harm you in any way. Sure you could just either ignore these oddities or relist the home, the latter which wasn’t in your favor because it wasn’t that simple. Instead, curiosity won the best of you and you opted to take matters into your own hands.

Literally.

“Whoa!” You hear your close friend Sam Wilson exclaim and watch as he scoots to the other end of the couch as far away as he could when you pull the Ouija board out from the box. “Shit, girl. I knew you liked Halloween, but I didn’t think you were that spooky!” He said, his eyes bugging out in disbelief that you’d ordered such a thing.

You roll your eyes at him and place the board on the coffee table. He immediately gets up from his spot and sets what he deems is a safe distance from it as if the object was cursed. You’re not deterred by the Ouija board at all. It had quite the opposite effect because you were all too fascinated with the supernatural.

“You really shouldn’t mess with that kind of stuff,” Sam warns as you handle the remaining piece, the planchette.

“I don’t know why you’re so scared,” you respond, blowing him off and kicking away the now empty box.

“And you’re not?!” He says incredulously, “trying to speak to the dead is not right!” Well, it certainly wasn’t normal, but so weren’t the things that were happening in your home lately.

“I need to find answers, Sam!” You bite back, the volume of your voice matching his. You didn’t miss the hint his exclamations gave off and it bothered you. “What do you expect me to do? Continue living like this? I’m not in control of my own home.”

Oh, he knew. He was your closest friend and you trusted him enough to share your theories about your home and the experiences in it.

“You really think this place is haunted.” It comes off as more of a statement because he can see you’ve clearly made up your mind on how you’re going to prove the theory.

“Why do you think I can’t have Sarge or any pets over?” You absolutely adored Sam’s dog Sarge, but he made it apparent that he didn’t like something about or in your house.

Before Sam could try and spit out an explanation you’ve already heard, you stopped him, “I’m not going crazy! And I certainly am not going to spend another fee on having a technician tell me there’s nothing wrong with the units again.”

“Look. Why don’t you just come spend the night at my place and we can think of another way to approach this?” He offered and you knew that offer all too well. It had always been on the table. When you decided to move to Brooklyn and were looking for your own place, Sam had offered you a room, but you were hellbent on making it on your own. You were proud and independent...and weren’t sure about taking the next step with him.

Sam was everything your past lovers weren’t and you while you both weren’t official, a couple of dates happened here and there, something was holding you back. You cherished his friendship so much and a part of you feared finding out what it could be that you weren’t willing to jeopardize what you two already had if anything more came out of it and then failed miserably. He made it clear how he felt about you, but you brushed it off casually each time. Sam knew you simply weren’t ready.

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.” You reply, breaking away from seeing the look of concern on his face and back to the planchette your hands were fidgeting with. You knew he was a skeptic on these kinds of things and only worried for your safety.

The nights he had spent here nothing strange ever happened. It’s like these occurrences were only happening about you. Sam wasn’t sure if he believed in ghosts or not, and he deeply cared for you, but he wasn’t about to stick around and find out. He knew that you could be stubborn, but there was only so much he could do to change your mind from where he stood and he just hoped he hadn’t lost you yet.

The small crack of thunder in the sky indicated a storm was coming and you took that as a sign to convince Sam to leave for the day. You didn’t want to fight with him about this. The few times you did talk about a possible haunting were just humorous conversations to Sam, but you were always being serious. It was evident that you two were not on the same page.

“You should probably start heading home before the rain comes,” you advise, standing up to walk over to the front door, hoping it’d sway him, but he knew what you were doing. Sam wasn’t mad. He was always very patient with you.

He only nods in false agreement before following your lead. “I’m coming back first thing in the morning to check if you’re still alive though,” he jokes, before pulling you in for a hug and giving you a kiss to the side of your head. His words elicit a light chuckle from you, but is mostly muffled against his biceps, then you’re playfully shoving him out the door.

As soon as his car disappears from the end of the street, you jolt and head snaps quickly at a sudden crash from the kitchen. You make your way in that direction to find the mug gifted to you on your last birthday from Sam shattered in pieces all over the kitchen floor.

The last roar of thunder must’ve been a strong one or the elevation of the shelf had been slightly off or maybe the house didn’t like Sam…

You shook your head at that last silly thought from your mind and sighed preparing to clean up the mess. Once that was done, the gloomy weather quickly casted a blanket over the sky and with a remix of fast raindrops against the windows and pavement and the lag in thunder, you didn’t waste time on the mission.

What better time than now? It set the mood. Were you scared? You weren’t sure. You were already convinced you were living with a spirit. You didn’t ponder long enough to think about the aftermath. Was this all just a bunch of hocus pocus or pseudoscience? Would you get possessed by a demon or would he be like Casper?

The use of a Ouija board, especially by someone inexperienced as yourself, was highly not recommended and very much frowned upon during your upbringing. If only your parents could see you now...

The spirit in your home couldn’t be that bad though, right? If they wanted to possess you, they would’ve done so by now; unless they were just waiting for an invitation. Well, there was only one way to find out.

You dimmed the lights and lit a few candles around you. Was this insulting? You did some fair share of research, but most of what you knew about Ouija boards were credited to horror movies.

You take a deep breath and begin to summon your supposed roommate.

Bucky felt bad as he watched you clean up the mess he made in your kitchen. He knew you liked that mug, but he didn’t and he certainly didn’t like how Sam made you feel. Sam made you feel all sorts of things and Bucky knew that, which explained why Sam never experienced anything unusual in the house because Bucky didn’t like seeing you with him.  

He was aware of how silly it was. A ghost jealous of two living humans. He had his turn, but it was tragically cut short. He was so young. He left everything behind to fight a World War. There was a high chance he wouldn’t come back and he was sadly part of that statistic.

But why did his afterlife have to consist of seeing the most angelic living human being just waiting to fall in love with the perfect living man? He didn’t get a chance to live out that part of his life, so was he bitter? Yes. And especially outraged at any distress that was brought upon the current tenant of his old home.

Bucky wasn’t sure why he was able to roam around his old stomping ground over the last couple of decades. He tried his best to communicate with the previous owners but he always ended up scaring them off. When you moved in, if he wasn’t already dead, and you could’ve seen him, he just knew he would’ve been as pale as a well...ghost. He made sure to not send you running for the hills.

He tried to help you with everyday things, trying his best to be subtle. He didn’t even spy on you during private moments like in the shower or on those lonely, needy nights. He proved himself to be a ghostly gentleman.

He even tried to not eavesdrop on your conversations and almost always disappeared when guests were present, but he heard you raise your voice earlier at Sam. He wasn’t sure what you two were arguing about and sure it was petty on his part, but before he could summon enough energy to knock over the mug, Sam was already gone.

Bucky followed you back into the living room and watched as you lit the candles scattered around. He lightly smiled believing you were attempting to relax. If only seeing you in peace was enough to put him to rest - permanently - but when he sees you take a seat back on your couch his expression fell and he swore his heart would stop again if it could.

“Oh no,” he says as he watches you stare at the Ouija board on the table before you. Bucky starts pacing in front of you, his hands over his head. Anyone that set foot and stayed long enough knew this place was haunted, and he knew you weren’t stupid and besides he wasn’t as subtle as he’d like to have been lately.

“Is anyone here?” He hears you ask the first question. He looks over your direction and sees your eyes are closed with both hands on the planchette.

“Oh my God,” he barely whispers and realizes, “she’s really trying to talk to me.” He couldn’t believe you’d be so brave to risk such a thing and importantly willingly reaching out to him.

“Yes! I am! I’m here!” She can’t hear you, idiot. “Fuck, of course she can’t hear me.” Bucky argues with himself on what to do before he remembers how Ouija boards work.

He almost can’t believe it when he does it, but he’s able to delicately move your hands and slide the planchette over to the word ‘YES’.

Your eyes pop open and you gasp when you see that you got an answer. You're frozen and look up in front of you half expecting the spirit to show itself to you, but you don’t see anything.

At least that’s what you think. Unbeknownst to you, you’re staring right at Bucky or rather through him. His expression mirrors yours - complete and utter shock. He was never able to easily move or touch anything solid in years. The incident with the mug earlier, that kind of stuff usually required a lot of concentration and energy on his part. He’s also scared that he’s frightened you with that move, but at the same time excited that he’s successfully communicating with you.

You’re unsure if you should continue. You were half expecting this to be a bust, but it moved. It actually moved! While you were excited that this worked, the tiny voice in the back of your head had you considering that maybe you shouldn’t go any further, but who ever really listened to them? You blink a few times and refocus your attention on the task.

“What are you?” You ask.

“What am I?” Bucky repeats the question, “I’m dead.” Wait. He starts to spell the letters ‘D-E-A-D’ with your hands on the planchette. He compares the sight of the corners of your mouth lifting, amused at that response, of course he was dead, as to what angels must’ve felt like when they earned their wings. If anyone believed in that sort of stuff...either way he felt very blessed.

“You liked that one, didn’t you?” Bucky said more to himself with a big smile on his face. He loved this! It was like he was having a conversation with you. It was something he only ever dreamed of for the last six or so months.

A particular flash of lightning followed by a thunderous sound startles you and you breakaway from the Ouija board. You weren’t going to lie. You were still absolutely spooked out and decided that maybe that was enough contact with the dead for the day.

When your heartbeat finally returned to its normal pace, you got up and turned on the lights, made sure you blew all the candles out and turned in for the night. Before you left, Bucky watched you look around the room and bid goodnight to seemingly nothing, but he knew it was meant for someone - it was meant for him.

The days that followed, you were growing curiouser and curiouser that in your spare time, you started digging into how much can come out of the Ouija board, but first you needed to figure out who you were dealing with.

With as much access as you were granted, you found out about a man, who was around the same age as you, that had died during World War II and the hauntings that would start to occur after the first tenant took residence upon this home.

The house belonged to a man named James Buchanan Barnes, but signed it under the name Bucky. How cute. You thought to yourself over the nickname, then you saw an accompanying photo of who you assumed was living with you. It was in black and white and the quality wasn’t that up to par, but from what you could make out you could determine enough. Cute name for a cute guy.

You read the experiences of others that lived here before you and they all seemed harmless. They were just spooked and you didn’t blame them. They had every right to be scared, but you didn’t scare that easily.

You’re so engrossed with your findings, you barely paid any attention to Sam, even when he’d come in to check on you. He had the spare key in case of emergencies, and you ignoring most of his unreturned phone calls and missed texts, uncharacteristically you, to him was deemed as an emergency.

Sam was only less than thrilled to see your enthusiasm on all this. Normal people didn’t go around poking at the dead. He pointed out you were lucky you didn’t get possessed, not paying any mind or adhering to you claiming he was probably a friendly ghost.

“This isn’t an episode of Casper!” Sam says fed up again. His face falters as he watches your shoulders visibly slump. He hated killing the vibe, especially when you were excited, but you were excited about something all too unreal and that shouldn’t be messed with at all in the first place.

“What if I can help him?” You try reasoning with him, “What if I can help him pass on? Then I can live in peace...and so would he.”

“You’re already lucky that you’re unharmed,” Sam reminds you, “I’m just worried about you.”

“I know you are, but I’ll be fine,” you assure him, hoping you could keep that promise. After all, you couldn’t even confirm you were really communicating with Bucky.

You were relieved that the conversation with Sam didn’t take a turn for the worse like it easily could have. You understood where he was coming from and you were lucky to have someone like him care so much about your wellbeing. The realization never fails to punch you in the gut for not allowing yourself to give in.

So why were you more scared to commit than of willingly reaching out to a ghost?

Take two.

You sat perched up and ready to communicate once more. Bucky, on the other hand, is more than ready and the cool familiar breeze that passes you by lets you know that he’s here.

“Who are you?” There weren’t exactly formalities with contacting the dead and your heartbeat starts to pick up as you’re slowly spelling out ‘B-U-C-K-Y’.

“Bucky,” you whisper. Boy, did Bucky like the sound of his name coming from your lips.

“How did you...die?” you had to swallow in between the last word in that question, hoping it wouldn’t trigger a negative response. Even in the afterlife, death couldn’t be an easy topic.

The letters ‘W-A-R’ and the number ‘2’ gives you your answer. It was him! Internally, you’re overjoyed that you’ve figured out your ghostly John Doe, but you try to remain at ease.

“Did you knock down my mug?”

Bucky rolls his eyes at that, but swiftly moves your hands over to ‘YES’.

“Okay. I mean that wasn’t very nice,” you couldn’t just bite your tongue as the sass flowed right out of you.

‘S-O-R-R-Y’.

The apology takes you by surprise, and suddenly you weren’t mad about the mug anymore.

“It’s alright. It was just a mug,” you try to assure him. You’d just have to explain to Sam another time that the ghost broke it. No biggie. Yeah, right. What with the tiny arguments, he’d most likely believe you destroyed it out of anger and frustration at him.

Your arms were getting tired from the position they were in. Several minutes had passed since you last said anything to Bucky and you weren’t sure of what to ask next.

Where does this end? Do you ask him to leave? This is his home. No, it’s not anymore. It’s your home now. But he doesn’t belong here anymore. How do you help him pass on? Did you have that ability? Do you hire a medium? Enlist the help of a priest? Call a ghostbuster? Your mind grew tired all too quickly, you slumped back in your seat, breaking away from the Ouija board.

Bucky watched as you rubbed the muscles of your sore arms. He felt helpless. He wishes he could ease or take away your pain. Instead, all he could do was watch and make sure you were okay until you were ready to start talking again.

With your hands back on the items, you ask, “are you still here?” Bucky responds with ‘YES’. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, mentally preparing yourself, before proceeding with the next question.

“Can you show yourself to me?” There the ultimate question and Bucky can’t help but ask why? Why were you interested in seeing him? He was a lost cause.

“No?” you ask more to yourself, still staring at the word through the eye of the planchette, and frown at his response.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to show himself to you, but he didn’t know how. For decades he was nothing but a gust of air. No matter how hard he tried to show himself to previous owners, he was never successful.

You pull your hands back away and place them in your lap, unsure of where to go from here. Well, you couldn’t force a ghost to do something they didn’t want to do, but you hoped that maybe perhaps seeing him would make it less taxing while communicating.

There’s a sudden iciness that covers the side of your cheek, sending a chill down your spine, causing you to flinch and your hand rising quickly to warm the spot.

Bucky almost disappears at the sudden reaction. He can’t believe it. You felt that. You could feel him. It was different than pushing your hands in different directions because this time, neither of you needed the help of the Ouija board.

You’re not sure where he is as your eyes scan the room, you wanted to feel that again. Sure, the cold was a bit alarming, and as sharp as his icy touch was, so was the surge that flowed through you. It was unexplainable, but soothing.

It sucked for Bucky because he couldn’t keep your eyes trained on just him.

“Are you sure you can’t show yourself?” You ask again, this time convinced you didn’t need the Ouija board anymore.

However, Bucky needed the board to reply. You sigh in defeat as you watch the planchette slide across to the word ‘YES’. You couldn’t allow yourself to get mad. You just couldn’t understand how it was possible for him to do all these other things, but not be able to show himself. Whatever it was, you’d just have to accept that you’d never understand ghost logic.

The sound of the planchette scraping against the board, offers you the word, ‘F-E-E-L’.

Feel? You definitely felt a presence, but now it was confirmed. It was him. He was trying to communicate through touch.

“Yes, I felt you,” you let Bucky know quite eagerly. The planchette remains unmoved after that and instead of what would appear to be awkward silence, the seconds that were passing by could be more appropriately compared to that of a ticking time bomb.

“Touch me,” you request.

Bucky’s stunned. If he were alive and well right now, he’d no doubt be on his knees for you with a command like that. He floats over to you and is only more than eager to touch you again, but he’s not sure of where. Feeling a soft anticipation of a ghostly tingle, he hesitantly places both hands on the underside of your jaw, in a cradle-like fashion, hoping it'll stop your wandering eyes.  

You stand still, frozen in place, now seeing the breath of air that escapes your mouth in a cloud of smoke. He’s definitely here and in front of you.

“More,” you say barely above a whisper.

Fuck. Bucky inwardly swears at himself as you unintentionally egg him on. Testing his limits, what more could he already lose? He was already dead.

He goes all in. He leans in and presses his cold, dead lips to yours in the most gentle and light kiss ever. When he pulls away, he sees that your eyes have closed and he can’t help immediately start to wonder if you actually felt that or not. He sure as hell felt it. He can’t be certain as he tries to gauge at the expression on your face. Shit, why did he do that?

“Do it again,” and this time with a more affirmative tone, Bucky doesn’t question anything anymore and obeys. His lips dig deeper against yours, you let out a small moan and purse your lips to respond. You don’t think about how silly it must look to be making out with practically nothing, not knowing what to do with your hands because there was nothing to hold onto, but despite that it all felt too real. He was real.  

Bucky’s mind is reeling at the sound of pleasure that spews from your mouth, he can’t comprehend how this is even possible. He’d been dying to know what kissing you felt like - what you felt like at all.

When your lips start to get numb and turn blue, you reluctantly pull away. You open your eyes to a dark room and wish you could at least hear him, the sounds of ecstasy played a pivotal role in intimacy.  

Your body temperature returns to normal, blood rushing, mind a haze. You stand up and head towards your bedroom without another word. Would he take the cue to follow you? You can’t be sure. You can’t see or hear him, but your actions say otherwise and make you both feel as if he wasn’t dead at all. It was now a game of cat and mouse.

Bucky or not, you were unabashedly turned on. In moments like these, it was hard to be in control of your own body and the only thing you could do was give in to the desires. In this instance, your body couldn’t make up its mind because as if you weren’t just freezing your ass off while kissing Bucky, you were suddenly hot all over.

Flustered, you pulled down your shorts, tossed them carelessly across the room, perhaps a little too harshly. If he wasn’t going to help you out, then you would do the job yourself. A mad smile on your face, surprised you weren’t the least bit embarrassed if he was going to watch you or not. It only added to the thrill and the excitement.

Trying to regulate your breathing, you lie down on the center of your bed and run your hands over your face down to where you needed them the most. Your fingers experimentally graze along the wet spot of your panties, groaning in acknowledgment of the sudden arousal. There’s no sense in conjuring up a justifiable explanation as to how something so seemingly innocent as the kiss you shared with Bucky got you so crazed. Not wasting any time, you lift your hips up and bend your legs to slip the flimsy garment off.

No longer a thin barrier between, your entire body shivers slightly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips, when your fingers make first contact with your clit and you begin to rub slow slow circles over it. Your stomach sinks in with each relieving exhale, your breathing growing heavy. Your fingers run off course and dip into your folds, past the floodgates, your fingers resurface coated in your own wetness and you use it to an advantage in invigorating your clit.

Eyes closed, you start to think about Bucky. You want to feel guilty or believe this was all wrong. Instead of getting off to someone like Sam or someone real for that matter, you lied there baring yourself to a ghost. You try to picture that baby face of his, and all that you could based on the lone image you found of him on the Internet.

The curve of his full lips that you were fortunate enough to feel on yours moments ago. You already knew they were soft, but what about his other features? Did his eyes sparkle or were they like black holes? What color were they? They had to be of a set that could hypnotize someone. Maybe it was okay that you couldn’t see him because if you had you just knew that you’d be at his mercy.

And that was just on the surface of it all. How was he like in other areas? How would his tongue feel against yours, on your skin, in you...The simulation causes your thighs to clamp up, knees involuntarily knocking into each other; your other hand clutching onto the bed sheets. He made it that easy, but you needed one more good push to dive in the deep end.

A thin layer of sweat coats your skin from the increase in body heat, then an abrupt familiar cold sensation runs through you, his alluring scent filling your nostrils, your legs forcefully separate; all tells you that Bucky was here. You pick up your head, always a small hint of disappointment flashes through your features at the fact you still and won’t be likely to ever see him.

It shoots a wild pang through Bucky’s chest because he doesn’t miss it; never knowing he could read someone so openly. He missed out on a good chunk of his life. He missed out on someone like you. Life was so cruel.

Your thoughts aren’t as far away from his as you start to wonder, why was it all so easy - seamlessly flawless - with him? Running with only first-party information and two silent conversations, you were already willing to go headfirst for halos for Bucky. Was it pathetic? You didn’t care anymore, whatever would ultimately bring you to him, you just knew in the end you’d die happy.

Your head falls back in defeat and you try to keep your emotions at bay, until you feel the hem of your shirt being lifted, exposing your midriff. Your lips cave in and you wince at each uncalculated cold peck Bucky’s lips leave on you. Whereas you felt a minor sting at how cold his touches were, for the first time, Bucky felt like he was on fire at how hot to the touch you were in this moment. This moment with him.

His lips create a path down to your core, and the contrast in temperature feels good. Not knowing what to do with your hands again, your arms lie sprawled on the bed on either side of your body, then you mentally curse at another sad truth that you had no one to hold on to.

A cool breeze brushes past your folds and your heartbeat spikes up again. Bucky never imagined he’d ever be able to make someone feel this way. It was pointless for him, but he dreamt about it countless times. And then he wickedly thinks how he was dumb to not spy on you during those nightly sessions. He was missing out. You were absolutely divine in his eyes.

“Bucky,” his name slips past your lips when his make contact with your swollen clit. It started off so innocently, but when he pulled his lips back and ran his tongue over the wet spot you left on them, giving him a taste of what you had to offer, he wanted more.

The cold, with each bit of contact from Bucky, was no longer a thing as your body quickly acclimated to it. Bucky uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips apart and allows himself to get a better taste. Your head lulls back, sinking in deeper into your pillows.

There’s only so much you could do to communicate with Bucky, you want to feel his hands all over, but instead you pick up on the slack as you grab and squeeze handfuls of your breasts, massaging them and adding onto the sensation. Your groping proves to be successful when you draw out more noises.

Bucky’s eyes never tear away from watching your reaction, the way your body moves from pleasure - pleasure he’s bestowing on you. His mouth doesn't require guidance as his tongue pulls all the right moves, weaving its way through and between your folds. He drags out a long moan from you when he dips his tongue in and then captures your folds between his lips, tugging as he sucked on them.

“I-I need,” you try to voice out your desires, but you’re reveling in so much, especially in being able to feel Bucky’s fingers digging into the sides of your hips; you bite down on one of your fingers, trying not to let out a crazed scream.

Bucky doesn’t want you to hold back though, so he introduces his fingers into the mix as they take turns in you. You wished you could hear him and all the sounds of his onslaught. To hear those pretty boy moans, the filthy pops and slurping noises. Was he a dirty talker? God. Imagine the things he would say.

He gets the message loud and clear. You want to come, and so he quickens his actions until your body goes into overdrive. When you reach your peak, your eyes snap open, pupils blown, and your back arches up in perfect bridge-like fashion. It almost looks like you’re being possessed before you come back down releasing choppy gasps of breaths.

Exhausted, you struggle to stay conscious wanting to communicate with Bucky one last time, but it felt like the orgasm almost sucked the life out of you. The puffs of cool air against your pussy are an indication that Bucky is still present and he wasn’t going to go anywhere just yet. He hasn’t moved from his position and is short of breath, in awe of seeing you coming undone for him and more so the fact that this happened. This wasn’t just another one of his dreams.

For as long as he’d been an apparition, he’d hoped to be able to finally pass on and if this was his actual last day on Earth, then he’d gladly accept it because one night with you was enough. 

Bucky would die happy.

A/N: Yeah, the ending wasn’t strong, but I wanted to leave it open for interpretation. Let me know what you think! A simple like and reblog is enough to help a sis out! Thank you for reading!