#advnamjoon

[advwonshik-blog]

“letting go hurts… a lot.”

Sentence Starter Memes

The words strike a nerve. He grips the little device in his hand tighter- crunches up against the wall he’s sitting against a little more. He doesn’t know when he started talking to this strange- Dosuk or whatever. They’re chatting at night and Wonshik thinks the guy is suspicious but not in a necessarily bad way. It’s not like he’s one of the plant people or maybe even another stranger trying to pull some weird shit. No, Dosuk just seems to be a shy guy hiding away because he’s got problems and Wonshik can relate to that. Problems exist and they suck.  Problems are the reason that he almost cracks the radio in his hand. Problems are the reason that he’s got a bottle of liquor with him tonight. Minhyuk’s suggestion: drink. It’ll make him feel better. That’s what he was told, but he’s not so sure. He didn’t drink before. It still feels gross- tastes even worse. He’s hardly touched the bottle yet- so he thinks- but his body already feels weirdly heavy. He wants to cry.

“Yeah.” The words are slow. “I’m sorry, man... I’m... I’m so sorry. There’s never a point where it’ll be easy, you know? Even when their total dicks it just... it doesn’t go away. You could get shoved around and near broken by a guy and sometimes you jus’... You still miss the good times, y’know? Miss gettin’ t’ smile with them and laugh... All the nice shit.” He sighs and clicks his claw against the mouth of the bottle. He’s bad about letting things spill, no matter who he’s talking to. So he just lets out a low growl to himself and shakes his head. He’s not even sure how this conversation started, but at least he can distract himself from his stupid thoughts. He doesn’t even need the stupid liquor. Throwing himself into other people’s service is a lot easier.

“Any way I can help ya’? I know it’s not easy but... if you need anythin’ just... Let me know. I can do a lot of crazy shit.”

[hansoladv-blog]

“hello? it’s me. i was-”

Sentence Starters

"Dosuk?” His voice is clear as he listens to the voice on the other side of his phone. He’s a little shocked that the person he has only communicated with through walkie talkies at a nice distance is calling him, but the shock is far more at the fact that he doesn’t really recall giving Dosuk his phone number. It doesn’t matter that much to him, though. It’s certainly nice that Dosuk is calling. Hansol was starting to worry that the two of them might not get a chance to talk... Particularly after his day or being bedridden and even more so because he then went into a nice coma for about a week. It has been far to long since he’s gotten the chance to check in on his friend. Maybe Dosuk wants help yet again.

“It’s so nice to hear from you!” He’s cheery as he rolls over on his bed and draws small circles on his bed with his finger. He feels like a giddy teen who’s getting a call from the person they have a crush on or something... Only this is a very different situation. It’s just a metaphor and he mentally makes a note to think a little harder about them if he ever plans to say them out loud. Still he lets out a little hum and kicks his feet slightly. It’s surprisingly comfortable for him to just lay on his stomach to talk.

“I’m not sure how you got my phone number, but I’m still really glad. I’m so sorry I’ve been out of touch... Some really awful stuff went down.” He lets out a sigh. “You know about the explosion, right? I can’t believe it... I was there with a friend of mine and-- well... I guess I sort of got messed up. I’m doing better now, though! I was just in a coma for-- uh... A week?” He’s giggling just a little. Is he saying these things to earn a few sympathy points? Probably. He wishes it was more because he wanted to explain his absence, but there’s definitely something else there. Sometimes he really hates the dark intentions his heart insists of having (other times he’s just so glad he’s able to act on them).

“Oh! But obviously you didn’t call me for me to complain to you! God... I’ve got to think more before I start running my mouth.” He laughs a little more awkwardly and switches which hand he’s holding the phone in. “Did you need something? I guess I sort of interrupted you there. I was just so shocked to hear from you! And happy. I’m glad you weren’t hurt or anything.”

Somewhere inside, he feels sick. His words are dripping with a sweetness that only his mask is capable of. It does it’s job. He sounds like he cares. Maybe because he does. He sort of feels like he does. He wants to.

[advheechul-blog]

“everything will fall into place.”

meme link

Zen is a blogger that Heechul himself has been following for awhile, mainly because the internet is a vast place of reading materials, and also because there are times when he is bored enough and there is no conventional bookshelf lying around for him except the use of his mobile phone. 

The kid has some pretty interesting ideas, Heechul has to admit. There isn’t anyone that he’s ever read up before that has such a backed-up knowledge of the supernatural and a knack for words, with most bloggers or even writers in general sounding very artificial to him due to the lure of publicity and money. There’s an air of innocence in Zen’s writing that Heechul quite enjoys because it feels like a breath of fresh air to have someone write straight from the heart, even for the more depression topics. 

Sometimes, there’s a part of him that wonders if he should comment on certain posts, just so he can discuss certain things like the ‘theory of evolution’ or the whole concept of what it means to be alive or dead. He thinks that he might appreciate this sort of discussion with Zen, and at the same time, he wonders if he’ll come off as annoying because he knows a lot of people tend to tune him out the moment he starts to get… Intense with details.

(Granted, he has written a couple of them, only to backspace in the end when he realises that all he did was write a wall of text that only someone who wasn’t sane would read) 

It’s a lazy Friday afternoon when Heechul reads Zen’s latest posts, in some expensive hipster cafe that was definitely trying a little too hard to be different. Maybe it’s the coffee, the extra boost of sugar in his diet from the slice of cake he decided to order, or Zen’s last line about how it will all fall into place and make sense to the world eventually that he decides to crack out his old blogging ID from the dark corners of his email. 

He begins to type, not forgetting to press enter this time. 

[hansoladv-blog]

‘No promises’ he’d written, but Namjoon’s heart doesn’t work that way, even if he tells himself he really ought to pay heed. The note is a little messier this time, letters just a tad heavier, scrawl just a fraction looser from hands that drew the pen rapidly across the page. “We can meet. You shouldn’t come near me, though. I’ll leave a walkie talkie by the elevator.” Then, in place of a signature, “Thank you.”

This note was just what he wanted. When he had started to open it, he was somewhat afraid. It hurt to have a written contract refused... Enough that Hansol was likely to lose his vision for a bit, but none of that really mattered. The stranger had agreed. A smile found it’s way toward Hansol’s face as he folded up the note and placed it by his bed. This was the perfect way for this to go. He would get the chance to learn everything he needed about the new guy and... Who knows? Maybe he could find a way to contract some help.

All he had to do was grab the walky talky.

[hansoladv-blog]

For: Hansol-ssi “Hello, it’s alright, at least the mail slot is getting some use. Sorry if this sounds rude, but how do you even know you can help me?” the note reads, slight indents from letters where other notes have been written on top, the message presented now the product of several rewrites. Faintly the grooves for “Dosuk” can barely be seen, removed from the final draft as an afterthought, a blank space left where a signature should be.

He wasn’t exactly looking out for the note. In fact, he had almost forgotten entirely that he had dropped on off in the stranger’s room in the first place. That didn’t stop the smile that came to his face when he planned to leave for work in the morning and found the paper though. Surely enough, it was addressed to him. He read it over multiple times; head tilting along as he tried to think of what to do. It seemed he had hit the nail on the head assuming that the stranger in D4 needed help with something. That was, after all, the most logical real Hansol could come up with for why someone never left their room and pretended they didn’t exist. Now it was just a matter of faking his way into talking him out of his room.

A smile came to his face as he decided he wouldn’t go to work today after all. He had much more important things to think about.

[advyoongi-blog]

Ghost of Floor 6

@advnamjoon​

It was the middle of the night and things were going just fine. This was when Yoongi liked to be outside. He could stretch his legs and sometimes leave to get a drink or maybe attend a party that would supply a fix. Recently, though, his nights weren’t just used for his time outside his own room. No, he used his time to turn furniture around, rearrange papers and drop things loudly. He played the role of a ghost as though it was the most natural thing he could think of to do. A ghost was something worth being afraid of, and so was he. A normal person might not recognize that he was something to be feared, but he would make sure that they got the message. They needed to stay away or they would end up suffering…

So he worked quietly. His head was pounding for no reason and his body felt heavy. He wondered when he had last slept for a good amount of time. It certainly wasn't earlier in this day. There had been too many odd things manifesting in the corners of his eyes and speaking in hushed tones about life and death and whatever other stupid things they liked. The smog was probably trying to to tell him something. It would force its way out soon if he wasn’t careful… Not that he knew how to stop it. He didn’t even know if the recent influx in hallucinations was a sign that the smog was agitated or not. It bothered him just how alive he allowed that stupid green gas to feel. He didn’t want it to feel alive. It was bad enough when he thought of it as inanimate. If it could actually think then he felt even weaker.

He shook his head just a little; making sure to look around to see if any hallucinations had decided to show up. There was nothing, and that was something he was glad for. It was dark enough in these halls that he carried a flashlight to make himself feel like it was less likely for him to start seeing monsters in the corners, but he wasn’t actually sure how well that worked. He quietly began to adjust the curtains. He really didn’t want to think about the chance of his fears creeping up. It was far better to just… Continue the whole haunted idea and get out of the hall quickly. He wouldn’t go out tonight. His head felt too fuzzy. Maybe with the lack of hallucinating at the moment he would actually get a chance to sleep.

The sound of footsteps was something he ignored at first. They sounded vaguely human, but the shuffle to them made him assume that they were probably just an auditory hallucination. He would need to go back to his room before too long if more were to come. He didn’t mind making some noise, but if he was going to be tortured with images he would rather the screaming come from inside his room. It stood less a chance of waking people up from inside there. He pulled out a sheet of paper and a knife as he turned toward the sound. He didn’t look up for a moment, but when he did his eyes became wide with shock.

He didn’t expect to see anyone; hallucination or real, at least not yet. His eyes stayed wide as he stared at the dark figure poised in the middle off the hall. The image wasn’t something he would call frightening, not compared to what he had seen, but it wasn’t something normal either. Another man, tall, dressed in black with white hair. He didn’t know him, that much he could say.  He slowly began to slip the knife back in his pocket as he continued to stare. Surely this was just another hallucination. He wasn’t real enough. There was no reason for someone else to be out at this time… But he couldn’t be sure.

“You’re new... You look good...” His voice sounded as tired as he felt. “A lot better than some of the others...” Part of him hoped this hallucination wouldn’t be like the others. Maybe this one would not scream and tear itself apart. His body felt oddly heavy and his mind got fuzzier. He wrote it off as being tired, but none of the tired explained his desire to grab a drink.

He stared, eyes unfocused, at his new hallucination. He didn’t have the energy to run. If this hallucination wanted to make him cry, it would.