#but in my defense‚ um... I was going through the horrors ig ?

[sopheadraws]

First round of "sketch" requests 🚀✨

Closeups below the cut.

I digitally removed some pencil indents and smudging on the closeups, but they're otherwise the same as the full page.

@connormurphysreanimatedcorpse @starmaniswaitinginthesky and @acrowbyanyothername <3

[imagine-that]

The L word

Pairing: Spike x Reader, sort of Spike x Buffy

Warnings: none really, kinda angsty ig??

AN: takes place in 4x09, also I’m in love with spike and proud of it

“Summers what did you do with my boyfriend?” You yell as you make your way to the living room of Giles’s home.

She looks up with an eyebrow raised, clearly un phased by your anger.

“Aren’t you supposed to only come out in the dark?” She asks boredly.

You groan, anger seething through you.

“Slayer, I mean it. Where is he?” You ask again, looking her dead in the eyes.

She sighs, standing up and walking over to you.

“He’s not here. Why would he come over here at all? We all want him dead, remember?” She explains again with a sigh.

“I don’t know! Where is he? I haven’t seen him in days. I thought... I thought maybe he’d come here to take something but I just... I don’t know!” You whine, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

“He probably ran off to hunt some sorority girls or something.” She responds with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, looking back at her with daggers of a stare. “You’re cruel, you know that? You think I don’t believe that he’d jump some whores bones behind my back? Or go back to Drusilla in a heartbeat? Not that the two are any different...” You mutter with a bitter tone. “But I do. I fear that every damn day I’m with him but that doesn’t stop me from staying with him always, which brings me back to my initial question: where is he?” You repeat, looking to her desperately.

“I don’t know. I tend not to keep tabs on the non threatening enemies.” She responds.

You huff a sigh, rubbing your eyes tiredly. “Fine I’ll just find him myself.” You mutter, storming out the door and into the warmth of the setting sun.

You walk your way home, laying defeatedly in your bed, patting at the side where Spike would usually be.

After a lot of worrisome hours, you finally fall into a less than peaceful sleep.

———————————————————————————

The next day is spent wandering around, hunting for Spike. You’re restless and you know you probably look crazed, wandering around the town of Sunnydale in your sweats and tank top, your hair a frizzy mess and your eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

You wander mindlessly towards Buffy and Willow’s dorm, stopping outside as you see her familiar curly head of hair. Your breath hitches as you see the familiar white head of hair suddenly appear next to her, racing across the lawn, not caring in the slightest how he ended up there. Just that he was there was enough.

You notice the conversation the two of them had started since he appeared but don’t care, jumping onto his back, your arms wrapped securely around him as you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck desperately.

He lets out a grunt in surprise, chuckling a bit as you place a kiss on his cheek, ignoring the rest of whatever crazy conversation he’d started with Buffy.

“Hello pet.” He hums, smirking as he helps you off his back, pulling you into his side.

“I was so worried.” You whisper as he breaths in the scent of your hair.

“I’m fine, I promise.” He responds, nipping at your ear playfully and making you giggle.

Buffy rolls her eyes, moving to push you out of the way. You whimper as she shoves you to the ground, watching as Spike fills with anger, going forward and punching her in the nose, only to cry out in pain and hold his head.

Buffy punches back, making him wince.

“As touching as this moment was, I have business with you.” She growls, grabbing Spike and tying him up easily.

You try to protest but every time she manages to fight you off, threatening to knock you out the next time you tried anything.

You trail after them, not wanting to lose his whereabouts again no matter what it took.

You follow her all the way into Giles’s house again, watching in horror as she tosses him to the ground.

Spike lets out a grunt. “Hey! Watch it!” He growls, glaring up at her.

“One more word out of you, and I swear...” She threatens, pointing at him with a dangerous look in her eye.

“Back off Buffy!” You warn but she gives you the same look, somehow making you back down.

You feel weak and helpless but she manages to scare you. You can’t put your finger on why, more than likely the aggression but she’s a force to be reckoned with and you know you fighting her would only end in your death.

Spike rolls his eyes again, looking bored.

“Swear, what? You're not gonna do anything to me. You don't got the stones.” He says with a small grin, making you feel slightly better yourself.

Buffy scoffs, looking at him in disbelief. “Oh, I got the stones. I got a whole bunch of .. stones.” She responds defensively.

Spike laughs, grinning to her tauntingly. “Yeah? You're all talk.” He challenges fearlessly, his tone almost bored. You giggle a bit yourself, glad he’s not completely miserable.

“GILES! I accidentally killed Spike. That's okay, right?” Buffy shouts, glaring daggers in his direction.

“Lay another hand on him and I’ll kill you myself!” You threaten, jumping in front of your boyfriend quickly.

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. He on the other hand, looks at you, a look of pride strong in his eyes, making you grin and blush a bit.

“Uh um just a minute...” Giles calls back, sounding confused.

The two bicker back and forth while you wait, uttering threat after threat.

She grabs him, shoving him into a chair harshly. You glare in protest, making your way to her to stop her rough movements but Spike makes eye contact with you, tilting his head in a way that tells you not to try anything.

He sneers at her with anger in his face. “I get this spell reversed, they'll be finding your body for weeks.” He growls, making your face twist in confusion.

“Spell?” You ask, ignoring the heat of the moment.

“Long story babe. You’ll hear all about it when we blow this popsicle stand.” He says with a smirk, glancing at Buffy menacingly.

“Oh please, make a move. I’m dying for a good slay.” Buffy glowers back, stepping closer to him angrily.

Suddenly, the tension dissipates between them and Buffy is untying him, as he stands he allows her the seat, barely giving you a second glance.

“Spike?” You ask, confused.

He ignores you, getting down on his knees.

“Giles!” You cry out in alarm, watching with wide eyes at the scene before you.

As Giles enters the room, you watch the moment continue, frozen in your spot against your better judgement.

“If the two of you could just remain civil long enough for-“ He starts but then he gets a picture of what’s happening.

“It’s just so sudden!” Buffy says with a small, gleeful smile. “I don’t know what to say.” She adds.

“Just say yes, and make me the happiest man on earth.” Spike urges, smiling at her with her hand held in his.

You feel tears brimming your eyes, blurring your vision slightly.

“But- but I thought I made you the happiest man on earth...” You mumble, looking to him longingly. Again, he’s too enthralled with Buffy to give you the time of day.

“Oh Spike! Of course it’s a yes!” Buffy squeals, embracing him in her arms.

A second later, their lips are pressed together, moving in sync and you feel your heart shatter inside your chest.

The feeling of emptiness sinks in as you feel the tears running down your face.

Finally, spike looks at you, a frown taking over his face.

“Oh y/n, it’s nothing personal. I did love you but Buffy and I are just meant to be. We’ve got so much history, it’s only right that something comes from it.” He explains, Buffy draped over his lap.

He reaches to give your hand a sympathetic squeeze but you jerk away, cradling your hand defensively as more tears form.

“D-do not touch me.” You growl, backing away from them and hiccuping between sobs.

“Come anywhere near me again and I’ll stake you myself.” You whisper, looking to him in a haunted daze.

The happy couple quickly gets too involved in each other to care, shrugging and distracting themselves with wedding details as you back out the door, your mind whirling with the memory of seeing them together like that.

You always doubted yourself, knowing Spike could probably find someone much better than you. But you’d never dreamed that of all the women he could get with, the one he’d want would be Buffy the slayer. He’d always hated her and her friends with a passion so strong, you never imagined that passion would go into something other than hatred.

You make your way back to your place like a zombie, your head too heavy with sorrow to think of anything else.

You let your tears roll down your face as you enter, grabbing your things as quickly as possible and shoving them all into a duffel bag, ignoring anything you see that belongs to Spike. You sniffle as you make a small accidental glance at the Polaroid you’d taken of the two of you together not long ago.

It usually made you laugh when you looked at it, seeing as it was you kissing the air considering the whole no pictures thing. Spike had hated taking it but you’d insisted and when you laughed at it you always saw a small, hesitant grin come to his face.

You collapse to the floor in tears, clutching the picture to you desperately. You longed for his touch, the cool fingertips that would send goosebumps over your entire body and warmth all at the same time.

You sit there feeling useless for what feels like hours, the ripe vision of Spike and Buffy sucking face fresh in your mind, taunting you.

Composing yourself, you rise to your feet, dragging yourself back outside.

“I will not let him unravel me like this.” You promise yourself, taking a deep breath.

You pull a hoodie on over your tank top, walking out into the cool night air and off towards the graveyard, needing to clear your head. For some reason the graveyard was oddly calming to you in a sense, the constant quiet and sense of aloneness comforting for you.

Suddenly, you see the scoobies fighting demons out of a crypt. You roll your eyes, turning to walk away but letting out a sigh as you decide to be a bigger person and help.

You run over, grabbing one of Buffy’s weapons and throwing your anger at her and Spike into fighting off one of the demons in front of you. You stab it, making it shrivel to the ground and die. You feel oddly liberated and refreshed, which makes you go after another, then another, then another. Next thing you know, you’ve killed all the demons in sight.

“Woah! Can someone say rage, party of one?” Xander jokes. No one laughs and you remain sulking, crossing your arms and ignoring the couple kissing in the corner.

The gang continues fighting demons as they come. You’re having fun for a while but then you watch as Spike gets attacked by one of them and you jump, surprised by what’s happened.

“Spike!” Buffy and you shout at the same time, both running to him. But Buffy’s faster, grabbing him in her hands and making you feel green with envy.

A second later you’re absolutely seething, watching her kiss him in a moment of worry and passion again. You bite your lip, trying to prevent yourself from saying or doing anything.

A few moments and many excruciating kisses later, a bolt of lightning crashes across the sky. You don’t think anything of it at first, but then Spike and Buffy jump apart as though they couldn’t possibly be anywhere near each other ever again.

“Oh ugh.” Buffy groans, looking at Spike as if he had bit her.

“Oh bloody hell!” Spike cries, his lips curling up in a show of absolute disgust.

The both of them wipe their lips, rubbing at their tongues like they’re on fire. Spike gags and Buffy pretends to tremble in disgust.

“Spike lips! Lips of Spike!” She bellows, shuddering.

“I happen to think you’d be lucky to kiss those lips.” You murmur hoarsely with a sad smile. Spike looks to you in shock, clearly knowing what all had happened.

“Y/n baby...” He says but you turn away, starting to walk away while rubbing your arms for warmth.

“Go away.” You sigh, making your way out of the graveyard quickly.

“Y/n!” He calls after you, running to catch up.

“I don’t want to talk to you Spike.” You say weakly, not even convincing yourself that it’s true.

He runs a little faster and gets in front of you, grabbing you gently by the shoulders to keep you where you are.

“C’mon pet... I would never do that to you, you know that.” He promises. You sigh, looking at him for the first time in the past few days.

“That’s just the thing Spike; I don’t know that. You still pine after Drusilla so I know you’d leave me for her in the blink of an eye. You still chase around college girls, even if you can’t feed off them. And now you’ve gone for Buffy. The slayer. The girl you’ve hated since day one.” You ramble, needing to get everything out in the open. “I’ve always been here for you but you will always put them first Spike and that kills me, it breaks me. But I live with it because I love you. But even with that, I’ve had enough of this whole focus on what you want all the time. It’s... I can’t do it anymore Spike. I’m tired, I’m so tired.” You cry, tears flowing out of you like a river once again.

Spike holds you in his arms, rubbing a hand over your back unsurely. “There there...” he says hesitantly, clearly unsure what to do in this situation.

With his minimal efforts of help, you recompose yourself and dab your eyes, waiting for him to start talking.

“Listen to me alright? That thing with the slayer was not real. Drusilla hates me and I want nothing to do with her either. The sorority girls? Just entertaining and good to take out my aggressions. You’re nothing like any of them. You’re better. You’re better because you’re you and you’re mine and because I love you damn it!” He exclaims, his tone one of desperation and desire as he’s meeting your eyes through his entire speech.

Your eyes open wider as you look up at him, sucking in your bottom lip.

“Y-you love me?” You ask quietly with a soft smile.

He nods, smirking and taking in a sigh. “Yes, I bloody love you with every piece of me.” He promises, running his hand over your hip while the other cups your face.

You stay stunned for a second. He’d never said the L word with you before. It was implied, it was shown through actions and gestures but never actually spoken. The words being directed at you from his lips though, that was the sweetest sound you could ever hear.

“I love you too Spike.” You say with a smile, closing the tense gap between you with an electrifying kiss. You both feel it all through your bodies, the connection binding itself once and for all.

He growls into your lips, making you smile.

“That slayer had nothing on you pet.” He promises, holding you close to him in an almost possessive way.

“Really?” You murmur doubtfully.

“Without a doubt.” He confirms roughly, digging his fingers into your hair.

You let out a moan and without hesitation, he hoists you up, your legs wrapped around his waist. The two of you stay glued to each others lips as he carries you back to the cavern you live in where he shows you just how much he loves you and only you.

[dreamscript]

File #666

“So let me get this straight, Yoongi: you’re saying that this thing is the reason why your friends were found hanging from the ceiling fan? That this was the thing that nearly killed them?”

Yoongi’s convinced a double suicide attempt is actually a murder, and you’re busy stalking a comatose student’s blog.

request - 666: for continue file #666 from welcome to ff.net ; badpasta gone cereal.

horror triggers apply.

5.5k words, horror/thriller, yoongi + reader, college/cop au.

You tug the thick manila folder from the stack of files. File #666, marked as “resolved.” You take it from the storage and back to your cubicle. Ruminate over the case a bit. In a strange, twisted way, it’s funny: for months, members of the department had been making bets and dark-humored jokes about what the six hundredth and sixth case would be. Would it be bizarre? Or something more commonplace?

When case #665 turned out to be the kidnapping of twenty-six schoolchildren and gained international attention, speculations for case #666 grew exponentially. A mass murder. A mysterious outbreak. Or maybe someone would actually manage to summon Satan.

And yet, after all the debates and guesses, case #666 turned out to be a double suicide attempt. It’s uncommon—of course, but it was underwhelming compared to all the expectations it had garnered. You lay the folder on your desk before taking a seat. Two college students. Roommates. Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung. You review their profiles, just to make sure that nothing’s been changed.

Nothing has, as expected.

According to the case file, one of them was a blogger—Jimin, you think—and a link to the blog is hastily scribbled on the bottom corner of the folder:

mochi-min. university . blog . com

Dutifully, you type the URL into your browser.

The notes in the folder say that nothing of importance was found on the website; it was simply a loose, carefree, lifestyle blog. The last few entries talked about gaming—but the psychologist’s notes say that the “sudden recession” into “nostalgic times” and the “gaming world” suggest the two stressed students were simply “trying to find an escape from reality.”

And eventually, the two boys realized that the ultimate escape was Death itself, not a digital world of fantasy. So, together, they tied each other’s nooses and hung themselves from their ceiling fan.

Or so the story goes.

You think back to your talk with Yoongi earlier, the way his voice was cracked with desperation, determined to prove the facts wrong. The webpage finally loads.

The minimalistic layout is aesthetic, functional, and the sidebar contains a sunny biography of the blogger:

Jimin. University, ‘19. I love giving advice and writing about my day!!! Dance is my passion and graphic design is my major. Hmu ! ig: @mochi-minz15 sc: @pjm995

Underneath the block of text is a small photo of Jimin. You study his face, compare it to the shots in his file. Yeah—that’s him.

You quickly skim over a few posts, not exactly lingering on a particular one, before sorting them based on chronological order, oldest to newest. Twenty-four entries total. Not bad. You’d been expecting more.

First post!!

“

Hey! I’m Jimin. As an up-and-coming college sophomore, I thought I’d start up this lifestyle blog to provide advice and other college-y things for my younger followers (or at least those who were as anxious and curious about the whole college thing as I was).

School doesn’t begin until next week, but um, here’s this post anyways. I guess I’ll see y’all laters!

”

0 comments

“You’re still on that case?”

Heejun’s voice startles you. Talk about meddling co-workers—seriously. You swear that he and Sehun are the nosiest and biggest gossipers you’ll ever meet.

“Huh–wha–yeah, duh,” you say, turning around to face him. He’s got a mildly amused look on his face, one arm resting casually on your cubicle.

“Didn’t we all conclude it was just a double suicide attempt by two stressed college students?”

“No, you guys did,” you say, turning back to the blog. You’ve still got twenty-three more entries to read. “I wasn’t even assigned to the case, so I never got a say in the manner.”

“So why now?” Heejun shifts his posture. “Why all this sudden interest? And why don’t you think it’s a suicide attempt?”

You turn back to him; it feels a bit awkward talking at a computer. “I was contacted by their best friend, you see. And, funny thing is, their best friend is actually my–oh, what is it? My sister’s cousin-in-law?” Heejun raises his brows skeptically. “Well anyways, we knew each other - kind of - and he insisted that Jimin and Taehyung’s case wasn’t just a suicide.’”

“Then what is it? An almost-successful double murder attempt?” He shoots you a look and you shrug, knowing that a double murder attempt on a college campus is significantly less likely—and plausible—than a double suicide attempt. Heejun crosses his arms.

“I mean, I guess, since besides suicide, there’s no other plausible reason as to why they were both found hanging from the ceiling fan… Thank god Yoongi–that’s their best friend’s name by the way–found them when he did, and the paramedics came when they did, because otherwise those boys would’ve been goners.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be too sure about that. They’re both unresponsive and in critical care. They might be still be goners after all.”

“Have some sensitivity,” you say, and chuck a book at him. He smirks as he straightens up, carefully running a hand through his perfect hair. Prick.

“But seriously, why is that Yoon–Yoonji, was it?–guy so adamant about it being a sort of murder attempt? I can see why the murderer would try to hang them, you know, as a way to fool others into thinking it was a suicide, but what’s the motive? And this was done in a college dorm. Did no one hear any shouting? The walls are pretty thin. The room didn’t seem to show any signs of a struggle, which is weird because this is two full grown men we’re talking about. Not little grade schoolers who will follow you around anywhere ‘long as you got KitKats.”

“KitKats are good,” you say defensively. “But yeah no—that’s what I don’t get either. Who’d want to kill two average, not-rich-but-not-poor college students? What’s there to gain? A higher ranking? A slightly quieter dorm? Was someone jealous that the two of them managed to score a suite? I don’t get it, and Yoongi didn’t have many ideas either, but he vehemently insisted that Jimin and Taehyung would never do that, and that they did not seem to exhibit any signs of depression.”

“And, despite the lack of evidence to back up the claims other than pure intuition, you believed him and are currently studying the case right now.”

“…Yes.”

“On your own free time.”

“…Yes.”

“Please tell me that at least that Yonghi guy or whatever is helping you.”

“Yoongi was actually planning on starting his own investigation, if I hadn’t agreed. So, yes.”

Heejun still continues to look at you judgmentally, so you turn away.

“Well,” he says. “Suit yourself. Don’t forget: we got another briefing at 1.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

//

Friend opened a new shop !

“

So have any of you guys heard of Etsy? I actually didn’t know what it was until one of my friends opened up this like… shop on it. Or at least that’s how he describes it.

Anyways, I went on the website and it looks pretty cool. Kinda like a hipster E-bay and super (SUPER) artsy. My friend asked me to do a promo for him on here, so here it is:

https:/ /www .etsy .com/shop/JoonDaily

He likes to design his clothes and is practically a fashion snob in that respect, but his stuff (I hate to admit it) actually looks really nice… So y’all should go check it out!

”

3 comments

NamsgotJamz commented: Thanks for the shout-out, man. You’re a real     homie.

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Pink_mario commented: what the fuck you never told me you were doing     promos, hit me up too. I’ll give you cookies.

The web page buffers for a while before the “no connection” sign comes up. You sigh, tuck your phone back into your pocket. The speeding subway car careens through the tunnel, heading towards Yoongi’s dorm. You check the time—5:06. You’re running a bit late, no thanks to Heejun.

“...the next stop is…”

You get up.

//

“So?” you say. “Come up with any new ideas?”

Yoongi shrugs. He’s still moody as ever—but now there’s this unsettling darkness about him. Determination. Vengeance. Everything brewing just beneath the surface of his pale skin, his lips thinned into a harsh line.

“I visited their dorm yesterday,” he says.

“Oh? How?”

“Got a key.” He flashes it at you before pocketing it. “Tae used to forget his all the time, so I ended up with a copy. Got it illegally replicated, but that’s beside the point.”

“Not sure if you were supposed to tell that to a cop, but okay.”

He gives you a wry smile. “But right now I consider you my partner in crime.”

You shrug. “Sure.”

“Anyways,” he says, brushing past you and towards the door. “I think that, before I say anything, you should go take a look, too. I saw some pretty… interesting things in there.”

Your chest constricts.

//

What I do in my Downtime

“

A few of you guys have been asking about what I do in my freetime/downtime—especially since I keep on telling you all that I have so much more of it now that I’m in college.

Well, most of the time I just sit in my dorm and blog, or I’ll go and hang out with my friends. Or I’ll hit the gym.

Recently, though, I’ve been getting kinda nostalgic for the old days—like, the way old days—so I’ve been kinda playing a few childhood games like Smash and Mario Kart. I actually just downloaded this PC version of Pokemon Emerald from, quite frankly, a sketchy website. I don’t think I got any viruses or anything, though. Hopefully.

So. Anyways. I really encourage people to join clubs—I’m part of a few myself—because they give you a community, and they’re always doing fun stuff so you’re never bored. Don’t be like me, though. Actually attend the meetings and get involved. I mean, I do attend some and such, but like… it’s a lot better to be really involved in one club. That’s when things get super fun, because then you really connect with everyone over that one interest….

In the meantime, you can catch me catching ‘em all…. In Pokemon Emerald (I haven’t started it yet, been kinda busy. But I’ll begin it next week and maybe post about my progress on here?)!

”

2 comments

Guest commented: COME TO THE NEXT MODEL UN MEETING, SLACKER!!!     We’ll kick you from the next conference otherwise >:(

jungl3-c00kie5 commented: wow college sounds lik so much fun. lmao nxt yr     vs me in smash ill shcool u also how much can you benchpress jw

//

“Just before we go in,” you say, “I just wanted to let you know that I brought their file with me.”

Yoongi nods wordlessly and pushes the door open. “Okay.”

“And according to the file, Taehyung was genderfluid.”

“And?” The door squeaks open. Just as the files say, there appear to be no signs of a struggle; it’s disorderly, yes, but nothing seems to be… violently tossed about. No blood on the walls, or scuffs in the paint.

“He was struggling with his sexual identity and appeared to be having trouble coming to terms both with himself and his parents.”

Yoongi looks annoyed. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but he—he was making it, okay? He was doing well, and we were working on it, and he was slowly just getting his parents to understand.”

“And do you know if he ran into any...problems shortly before his suicide? His parents didn’t tell the cops anything of the sort—but maybe you know?”

“No,” he says bluntly. “I don’t know, but I doubt there wasn’t much of anything. Not when he had so much to live for.”

He leads you into their living room. There are no bodies, but the sense of horror is still in the room, lingering by the ceiling fan. Silently. You and Yoongi both know it and wordlessly move onto their shared bedroom.

“Yoongi,” you say, softly. His back faces you. “I know this might sound a bit… rude but… are you sure you aren’t in… denial?”

He flinches. His fists clench. You steel yourself. And then his fists unclench, and he takes a deep breath.

“Think what you want.”

You chew your bottom lip.

“Come on,” he says, jerking his chin over towards a desk. “I need to show you something.”

He heads over to a laptop, which sits open and blank. It’s been turned off. Yoongi slowly, deliberately pushes it aside, revealing a gray-black skid mark along the cream-colored wall.

“Here,” he says, pointing at the mark. “I was sent over here to help collect the valuables and have them shipped back to their families.”

You nod. “And so what’s so special about this mark?”

“It’s a long story, but in short, I’m 90% sure it’s from the laptop, which means that Jimin—that’s whose desk this is—must’ve like, pushed or thrown this thing against this wall to create such a mark. And like, he’s Jimin. He treasures his computer a lot. Hardly lets anyone touch it and is such a neat freak—like, look. He wipes his keyboard and screen daily. Not a speck of dust. Well, now there is, but before there wouldn’t be.”

Yoongi takes in a deep breath and you urge him to continue. “So he must’ve like, saw something or heard something frightening while on his computer… But I don’t know what. It must’ve been really scary, though.”

“Maybe he was watching horror movies? And this mark could’ve been there before either of them even moved into the apartment. Or it may have appeared during moving. How are you so sure?”

Yoongi shakes his head, slightly frustrated. “Jimin’s a wuss. He wouldn’t do that. And even if he did, he wouldn’t like, throw his computer. One time Jungkook pulled a scare prank on him, and all he did was scream at the screen and back away. This—it’s almost like….” Yoongi shakes his head. “It’s almost like he sensed danger from the computer itself.”

He pauses and meets your skeptical gaze. “Oookay. But that still doesn’t explain how you know that it came from the laptop, and was pretty recent.”

He shrugs. “I’ve done tests. I’ll submit them to you later.”

You narrow your eyes. “Sure, I’ll take a look at them.” You lean in, study the skid mark. Straighten up. “Okay,” you say. “So let’s just go along with this theory you’ve got here. Jimin sees something on his screen, sense his computer is a dangerous object, gets scared, throws and-or pushes it against the wall out of fright. What did he see? And what happens after that? Something crawls from the screen and hangs both him and his roommate?”

Yoongi sighs and deflates slightly. “It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

You say nothing.

“Hey, you know,” he says. “You said you brought the files, right? Mind if I take a look at them?”

“You’re technically not allowed to,” you reply. “But if it helps us both, then I don’t mind sharing information. You just need to ask for it specifically.”

“Fair enough.”

//

“He had a blog?”

“You know, for someone who claims to be his best friend, I’m very surprised to know that you didn’t know he had one,” you say. “I mean, so many of his other friends did.”

“I mean like, I did, but I thought it was just some kind of hipster-fluffy-animals Tumblr kind of blog, not like, a legit blog!” Yoongi sounds astounded. “Damn.”

“Well, now you know.”

“Hold up,” he says. “Let me—lemme check this out. How many entries have you read up to?”

“There’s only twenty-four. I’ve read through most of them. Want to look at the rest together? The ones at the beginning didn’t really say much at all.’

“Okay.”

He chuckles at the screen as it loads, comments how the layout is “so Jimin.” He visits the Etsy link, blanches, exits. Most of posts are, just as the file says, carefree and loose.

My new Addiction

“

Oh god, I think I’m addicted to Pokemon now. I’ve only just started Emerald and already I’ve got like, 10 hours on the game. Fuck. Thankfully midterms are over but still…

(I even got my roommate hooked LOL)

Anyways, since we’ve already played this game before, my roomie and I are having a race to see who can beat it the fastest. Loser has to do chores for a week and make food. I’ve invested so much money in repellant it’s ridiculous… but hopefully I’ll be able to make it to the Elite Four like, tomorrow. Maybe.

Oh—almost forgot. I don’t know, maybe it’s because it’s a PC version and such, but this copy of the game has got some really cool (and slightly creepy) mods. And glitches. Like some of the music gets played backwards—especially Lavender Town’s. Man, that is creepy as fuck, lol. And what’s really cool, though, is that some of the people you fight against will have more than 6 pokemon. Like, there was this dude who had 10 magikarps LMFAO.

For any of you guys wanting to play this version (some of you have asked me for the download link and I’ll post that later) just know that sometimes Pokemon in your party will get swapped out/go missing… so always make sure to save!

”

2 comments

tea-HYUNG commented: wtf investing in repellant is such a good idea     THANKS FOR THE IDEA MAN NOW GET READY FOR AN ASS WHOOPING TOMORROW BC     GUESS WHOSE GOING TO BEAT HTE ELITE 4 B4 YOU?!!! Thaats rite me ho

jungl3-c00kie5 commented: lul kek

After that, the entries stop. There are no other updates after that date… And, with a twisting feeling in your gut, you note the post was made the day right before his death.

Yoongi knows it too, as his breathing stills for a second and he backs away slightly. “This—this is going to sound kind of crazy,” he says. “But do you think… the game… had anything to do with their deaths?”

“You think this is the thing that Jimin saw?”

“I—I don’t know!”

“It’s literally a rip-off Pokemon game. How… Would this kill them? In any way? And it’s two of them, mind you. Plus, to hang them…” You shake your head. “None of this is making sense. I’m sorry.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare at the ground.

“That brings me to another point, Yoongi.” He doesn’t respond, still lost in thought. You gently prod him on the shoulder.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm?” He looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?” He looks away but this time you know he’s listening.

You take in a breath. “How did you know to go to their place at half-past midnight?”

//

Jimin groans and cracks his neck, flexes his fingers, knocks back a Coke. The taste is getting a bit overly sweet and the fizz is practically gone from sitting out so long, but he drinks it anyway. Outside, the insistent pitter-patter of rainfall threatens to lull him to sleep but he resists, shifting his position. He’s finally made it to the Elite Four, and there’s no way he’s calling it quits now. Not when he’s so close, and when he knows that Taehyung’s also hard at work playing in the living room.

Ah, rivalry. Jimin tips back his near-empty Coke can, tosses it towards the trash can. He misses. Shrugs. He’ll clean that up later—right now, he’s got to focus on beating the game. His PC finally manages to load up the scene, and, unsurprisingly the music is backwards. He rolls his eyes and turns his volume way down; it’s past midnight and he’s really not in the mood for creepy glitches right now.

The battle begins. The first of the Elite Four sends out her Pokemon and the sound it makes is uncharacteristically loud—especially with his volume turned down so low—and strangely, vaguely reminds him of a twisted cry.

It’s hard, no doubt. His Pokemon are pitifully underleveled—a downside to avoiding all possible confrontation and rushing through the game—and he’s only got a few potions and full revives on hand.

“Come on,” Jimin says under his breath. “I need that critical hit—gimme that critical hit, you can do it, I believ—YES!” He jumps up in his seat, ecstatic.

When he gets to Lance, however, Jimin is more than irked. First of all, Lance isn’t supposed to be in this game; the Dragon-type specialist is supposed to be Drake. However, that’s not what’s bothering him—what’s really pissing him off is the fact that all six of the Pokemon in his party have been replaced with unknowns. His annoyance increases when he realizes the unknowns spell out “UR DEAD.”

Seriously? What kind of sick joke was this? This was probably one of those dumb glitches or mods—only this time it came at one of the worst times. He’s practically blanching at the thought of having to restart and fight the other Elites all over again—especially since the main reason why he’s made it so far is purely by chance. And an immense amount of luck.

“Of course I’m dead now,” Jimin hisses at the screen. “All I’ve got are unknowns! You can’t expect me to go into this fight and win, especially since I don’t have Rayquaza with me now…” He glowers angrily at the Pokemon.

Internally, Jimin fights a raging battle. To restart or not to restart? He chews the inside of his cheek.

“Fuck it, ‘m goin’ in.”

He’s probably going to have to restart the game anyway, so he may as well give it a go. Maybe he’ll luck out.

The battle begins, and the music changes.

Lance sends out his first Pokemon—except, to his pure, unadulterated horror, Jimin sees himself and Taehyung. Bloodied and lifeless. The sound the thing unleashes is eerily akin to screams of terror, shrieks of pain. A violent shudder runs down his spine and, throat dry and heart pounding, he shoves his laptop away from himself.

It makes a loud thump against the wall; the screen flickers. Jimin stands up, staring wide-eyed at the screen. When it flickers back again, the image of him and Taehyung is no longer there. In its place is Lance’s signature Dragonite. No blood, no shrieking noises. Just an orange, big-eyed dragon. Jimin blinks, slowly. Was he—was he imagining things?

In the next room he can hear Taehyung curse out loud. He’s fine. It’s okay. He was just seeing things; sleep deprivation does that to you. He knows—he read it in a psych textbook once. Shakily, Jimin sits back down in his chair, carefully drags his laptop towards him.

It’s just a game, he tells himself. And it’s in his computer. Like, what’s it going to do to him? Flash the Blue Screen of Death? He laughs nervously. It’s fine, he’ll be fine, he just needs to finish the game… And then he can go over and gloat to Taehyung and they can laugh about all the dumb glitches. Yeah—that’s right. That’s what’s going to happen.

\\

Thirty minutes later, Jimin stretches back in his seat, a happy—albeit tired—grin on his face. The final Pokemon screeches in defeat before disappearing into the ground. He’s finally beaten the Elite Four—somehow.

With a jump in his step, he triumphantly skips—and almost trips over various objects—to the living room, where he knows Taehyung will be sitting on the couch, PC in his lap, still furiously battling the Elite Four. He’s practically giddy with the thought of getting to see the defeated, disbelieving look on his roommate’s face.

Jimin sucks in a deep breath, grasps the handle, and throws the door open.

“Hey Tae? Guess wha—oh...fuck.”

He stares, horrified, at the shadowy, limp, very Taehyung-shaped body that swings ominously from the ceiling fan.

And then when he feels the foreign touch of fingers—no, those are bones, he realizes—on his shoulder and the brush of a skull against his cheek, he knows that he’s next.

The rough squeeze of the noose and the sudden up-and-down drop from the ceiling fan cut off his screams before they can begin.

Darkness is all that’s left.

//

Yoongi’s silent for a moment. And then, quietly, without moving to catch your eye, “What does the file say?”

You flip it open. “It says that you were going to sleep at their place after coming back from a party. Both because of the proximity and to allow your own roommate some… privacy.”

You look up at him, raise a brow. “But was that all it? The timing is almost impeccable. The coroner said they’d only been strangled for a minute or two before you’d found them. Granted, the nooses weren’t the best, but still.”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I mean, yeah, I was planning to crash at theirs after my roomie told me he was going to take some girl home, but I also felt this thing deep down telling me that something was really, really wrong. Call it a sixth sense or intuition or what—I just really felt a need to check on them.” He pauses, takes in a deep breath. “It sounds suspicious, I know. But just to be clear, I have an alibi.”

You nod. “I know. Otherwise I wouldn’t be so willing to help you.”

He swallows, then gestures at Jimin’s computer. “Um, so, about that game he was playing… He never got around to posting the download link, but I happen to know the password to his computer…”

“You’re planning to play that game?” You put a hand on your hip. “How do you know it’s still on there?”

“I don’t, but it won’t hurt to check.”

“So let me get this straight, Yoongi: you’re saying that this thing is the reason why your friends were found hanging from the ceiling fan? That this was the thing that nearly killed them?” You gesture at the computer.

He shrugs. “I mean, what else do we have?”

“That’s true, but…”

“All that’s left is to play and see. What’s there to lose?” Yoongi shakes the mouse and boots up the PC.

You roll your eyes. Whatever. “Who knows?”

//

Three hours later, and the two of you have yet to encounter any of the glitches that Jimin reported.

“That’s weird,” you say. “Could it be possible he may have been exaggerating them a bit…?”

Yoongi reaches back and scratches his head. “I don’t think so… But at the same time I can’t come up with any other reasonable explanation as to how this is so different…”

You shrug. “I don’t know—maybe giving all that suspense attracted more blog viewers. People do strange things to attract more views, you know. Just saying.”

Yoongi seems reluctant and lost. “Maybe there was something wrong with the wiring that would explain some of the sounds…” He continues to mutter to himself, checking the sides of the PC before picking it up entirely. “But how does the ethernet wire affect the speakers? Maybe I can take it over to the Geek Squad at Best Buy or something…”

You sigh, check the time. “It’s getting late, Yoongi. I’m sorry, but I think I need to go. If you want, we could schedule another meeting next week? I’ll see if I can pull any more information from the servers.”

He nods absentmindedly. “Same place, same time? Wait, no actually, can we do it a bit later? Like, is 7 okay? I know it’s going to be dark and all but…”

“Sure.”

//

The final Pokémon faints, fades away, before the triumphant, happy music comes in. You yawn, stretch back in the chair. Behind you, with his legs crossed and elbows propped on the armrests, Yoongi lounges in his seat, thinking.

“So I guess that confirms it.”

You blink at him. “Confirms what? That I suck at Pokemon? It’s not my fault that you’re so crap at levelling them up—the only one above level 20 is your starter! How the hell am I supposed to fight a team of level 25 Pokemon with this mess?”

“No, not that,” Yoongi says. “And by the way, I don’t normally do that. It’s only that way since I was just messing around—wasn’t taking the game all that seriously.”

“Oh.”

“But anyways, back to the point. I was playing this game on and off through the week, sometimes alone, other times with friends and… I noticed that… the glitches only happened when I was alone…” He looks down. “And…”

“And?”

“And at one point… when one of the guys sent out a Pokemon… I could’ve sworn for a second there that... Instead of a Pokemon, it was a picture of me… except, well, bloodied. Brutally.” Yoongi swallows. “But it quickly disappeared right after a friend of mine walked into the room… Everything went normally after that. But um, I’m really really sure I wasn’t imagining it. I think I’m probably going to post on the forums and see if anyone else experiences something similar… I tried searching for stuff and the original file of this game but not only was I unable to find it, but for some reason the file is locked. Encrypted. I can’t get to it without a password, and I have no idea what it could be. Fortunately, I have a few friends who are heavily involved in cyber, so after we finish examining this game, I was planning to call them and have them help me somehow upload the game onto an online download link so we as a community can post about our experiences and stuff. Y’know?”

He fiddles with his fingers. Your eyes narrow.

“Anyways,” he says, “We should probably finish up with this game anyways. You wanna continue playing or...”

When you don’t answer, he prods you on the shoulder. “Hello?”

“As I thought,” you say, “You’re too dangerous.”

He gives you a confused, slightly suspicious look. “What?” You whip your head around, get out of your seat.

“Nevermind that,” you say, and, quickly, before he can attempt anything, shove a cupcake-shaped stress reliever—it had been sitting on the desk—into his mouth and quickly straddle him, holding his wrists together in one hand with a vice-like grip. He makes incoherent noises as he attempts to fight you off.

“It’s too bad, Yoongi,” you say, as you fumble out the length of rope with your free hand. “If you hadn’t been so adamant about it all, we could’ve avoided this fate. But the thing is you didn’t—you continued to meddle and stick your nose into something that you shouldn’t have. And now, unfortunately, you are going to have to be—well, silenced.” His movements are getting more frantic now.

“Min Yoongi,” you continue, as you swiftly—or as quickly as you can manage with one hand—loop together a noose, “a college student overcome with grief upon losing his two closest friends. After countless hours of research that ultimately led to nothing, he succumbed and hung himself in the very room his late friends took their lives in. How unfortunate.”

You gently place the noose around his neck. He fights hard against you, hands desperately trying to pry themselves from your grip. You giggle.

“That’s not going to work, you see. The undead have much greater strength with the benefit of having no muscle to tire out.” As you speak, a beam of moonlight filters in through the window and reveals you for what you really are: the human skin and flesh disappears under the silvery rays, leaving nothing behind but knotted and rotting bones. A skeleton, with no fingerprints to leave behind or heart to feel emotions.

His struggles stop abruptly as fear overtakes his body. You give him a lopsided grin. “Goodbye, Min Yoongi.”

//

Inside the University Hospital, on the fourth floor, two heart monitors beep. Their slow, mechanical sounds echo off of the walls, seeping through the cracks and diffusing in the stale air. The place smells of antiseptic.

The monitors continue to beep. In unison, the spacing between each sound growing longer and longer until finally, there’s one long, unfaltering beep that continues for nearly a minute.

And then there is nothing at all.

a/n: @goldfishh , after reading this: What The Fuck

helloooo i have a chem test in two days that i know nothing about it’s chill. so. many. projects. holy shit. and then exams starting next week fuuuun

anyways if you watched the video this was based off (it’s hilarious--it’s supposed to be a parody of bad creepypastas) then like. maybe the ending was kinda obvious lol

tbh if it was up to me (like if i weren’t trying to base it off the video) then the ending would have been much different. you, for one, would not have turned into a skeleton lmFAO