MANIA. @yifanadv - Tumblr Blog

ABILITIES UPDATE

I decided to revamp his abilities after updating his points, finally, after a bajillion years. Though it’s not an entire revamp - basically his abilities have been moved into a separate page here so it’s not a clusterfuck on his profile page, the link can also be found in the navigation pop up. New abilities are as following: - psychic force-field generation - psionic inundation - mental hallucinations Other abilities have also gotten an upgrade, and i added mental hallucinations because i feel like i lumped fear inducement together, so i added it because they are two separate abilities. Though it’d be more clearer that way too. also, a whole lot of weaknesses have been added.

#data:component #//have fun kiddos

advhari

THE MIND IS A TERRIBLE THING TO WASTE

#f_reflection #//!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ADVMOODBOARD PT.2 / PARANOIA

My world falls apart, crumbles, “The center does not hold.” There is no integrating force, only the naked fear, the urge of self-preservation.

#advmoodboard #//welkom 2 my twisted mind...................................#//my dudes im all fucked up because i still have to update my gotdam points lordt #//does that now HGGGH

DATA 04 / TRAINING

- He purposely arrives late to training sessions, by either half an hour or even later. Or doesn’t attend altogether. Either he’s late or he’s extremely early, there is no in between. The only reason he’s early is because: a) He didn’t sleep at all b) Happened to be wandering around from early into the morning. - He also doesn’t always stick around during these training sessions, he would typically ‘disappear’ in the middle of it all - especially when there are activities where he’s forced to interact with others. - He substitutes these training sessions by ‘experimenting’ outside of daybreak, however it remains entirely harmless (or mostly so far). This is mostly observational (or to exercise), in order to understand and learn more to his ability, probably keeps and carries around a small book to jot things down. (note: possible plot ideas can be derived from this too) ------ *ooc: where my daybreak delinquents

#data:component #//high school au. lol jk no thenks #//anyway i need 2 do more important headcanons GOD

control

@advjaehwan

Interactions were are necessary. He kicks his feet back against hard concrete and starts counting the months he has been in daybreak, contemplating nothing in particular - purposely isolating himself, sat on a bench and ignoring the simple instruction of finding a partner for a training session that evening. In between wordless enumeration - he keeps to watching others being paired, and sees the recognition and beginning imprint of familiarity in each one. He’s unfamiliar with most, a glance sweeps past the instructor - scanning each face, compartmentalizing data, computing and filing every image in numerical order (untitled_01, untitled_02...). He recognizes familiarity, but doesn’t feel. Learning to differentiate recognition comes easy when your feet are never familiar with wherever it settles: dredged out of a river, stepping out of an orphanage he imagines has become gutted over the years, and here, miles away in an open space that makes him claustrophobic: too little space around him is known, and the expanse of the unknown too far outstretched but too close. He stands in between, cultivating a paranoia that never ends, constantly watching, consuming and collecting variables.

Yifan tries to claim home somewhere, but his feet never settle. Time feels relative. The time passing by didn’t truly matter in the end, boiling it down to simple temporal concepts, adding an exaggerated significance to something insignificant was part of the concept (weeks feeling like months, months feeling like years). But the seconds blurs past, and time felt stagnant to someone that compulsively counts time down to the seconds - how long has he been here again? That doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter. Hands close into a fist to stop counting the seconds. His eyes wander, settling onto a face and his gaze lingers longer than it should. Familiarity is still foreign in this particular face, only remembered by association to his roommate: Jaehwan. Retrieving data comes easy when your mind is blank: he registers.

#f:control #advjaehwan #//here we fokin go

DAMAGE CONTROL // YIFAN x JAEHWAN (@advjaehwan)

deathshead // sulveja // sign of evil // nightmare // somewhat damaged // relentless

#advjaehwan #//a mixtape droppin near u #//quietly starts to write out starter

#tbd.#//its ooc bullshit ok

advhari

᚜ salvage dust ᚛ hari + yifan

The door announces her presence despite everything she had done to keep it under wraps. All the effort behind her light steps and looking over her shoulders as she tailed the strange hooded figure goes to waste with the groan of some old hinges. Nighttime air greets her lungs roughly and her nerves are even harder to swallow, but she manages to function like normal once she confirms the identity of the person. The familiar outfit is a clear sign that informs her of his identity but leaves out why he’s up on the roof at this hour.

In addition to her last observation, he sounds like an accident too. His voice comes off like an instrument in the hands of someone who’s been rusty for years. The coarseness of it all grates away the trepidation she held in her bones.

“Hi,” she answers back; her own voice weighed down by confusion. The door lets the door close quietly behind her so their voices won’t attract any other guests to join them.

She eyes him as he stands in midst of a rooftop that’s slick with the varnish left by the rain, and illuminated by the moon. The lights above fill his features in an unforgiving manner. Deep shadows meet blanched areas, and the lines between them run along his wrinkles and eye bags. The line between his smile is as worrying as the rest on his face.

“You will get sick. It’s cold up h–” The sight of his hands steals away her train of thought and her breath altogether. “Did you fight?” A poor attempt to connect the dots into a recognizable constellation, but it’s all that she has to offer.

yifanadv

The off-white spillage of fluorescent light on crack coiled concrete pools just near his feet, the shadow beyond it left uncharted like a forbidden territory. No step is taken forward, the smile on his cracked lips still mirthless as ever remains and he says nothing else besides a misplaced greeting met with muddled curiosity. He hears the uncertainty in her voice like a quiet tremor in his hands, dark eyes averting for a split moment; he’s avoiding without running, clasping his fingers in between pulling at sleeves and another aching reverberates in his nerves. He only stares - blinking at every odd moment, dark eyes gazing somewhere beyond the expanse of solid reality and right through her; there are blank spaces where his eyes should be. His head feels emptied, absent are the familiar routine stream of thoughts coursing through his mind, remnants only forming numbered ones: 1. He is familiar, and her name is Hari. 2. Some memory of a meeting is fogged. 3. Every conversation is always inconsequential. 4. This one will be too. She speaks again and he’s only half-listening to her (’-it’s cold...’) and the constant buzzing of the light affixed atop the rooftop door; bleary hyper-awareness weaving in, focusing on the wrong details (avoid, avoid, avoid). The smile on his lips fade, but fingers are still tugging at sleeves - a habit formed as a result of constant gnawing anxiety that feels more like routine. Her question is punctuated by him in a beat of silence, finding himself staring down at muddy shoes. He doesn’t deny, exhaustion weighing down the need to explain minute details. “I’m fine.” his voice slips past the cracks of his throat, and his eyes settle on her face again. “I’m fine.” repeating like recalling washed out vignettes.

#advhari #f:salvage dust

TRACKER + NOTE ON PLOTTING [ ! ]

REPLIES PENDING: zhixiang, yixing (*AU), bingbing, jaehwan OWED: jaehwan (*AU), hari STARTERS //N/A DRABBLES advjimin advxminhyuk advyongsun advhongbin yixingadv advzhixiang chanyeoladv PLOTTING + NOTE [ ! ] I am slowly getting to each and everyone that I am currently plotting with by finishing on plotting one by one instead of plotting with a lot of people at once, so rest assured that I haven’t forgotten you! It’s just so that I don’t get easily overwhelmed and all.

advjaehwan advxsanghyuk advhari advjimin hansoladv

#data:track

“Nothing can hurt me now.”

Unknown year. Incheon, South Korea.

MESSAGE RECEIVED AT 3:15AM FROM 010-XXXX-XXXX:[unknown] you know what you have to do.MESSAGE DELETED.

Contact is inevitable, feigning ignorance is a skill learnt that starts in phases, and it always begins with the eyes. A large, crisp yellow envelope is handed to him like the rest of the others always were: the same hand giving, the same hand being on the receiving end, nothing is said but he understands- a constant grainy loop, replaying, interrupted with the few dragged out, gory hours blurred out then back again. In this replay, it takes him a minute and thirty two seconds, but it takes him less to remember this time.

NAME: Huang Zitao

The name wasn’t unfamiliar, the blurry printed photographs clipped onto the crisp pages served as a glimpse more than it was an unspoken a reminder: here is who he should be looking for and who shouldn’t be found when he’s done. A pair of ink printed eyes blankly stares back into nothingness and beyond the peripherals of paper, every picture framed in oblivious seconds slipped past. Buried familiarity begins to unearth itself from the back of his mind, and that’s when Yifan slips the papers back into the envelope. Like every other time, it always starts with the eyes.

Here are the settings:The Time: years agoThe Place: nondescript building, somewhere underground and dirtyThe Characters: two young boys, one a year younger than the otherAction: The older of the two sits sniveling, the younger towers over him with a blank look and a dull knife in hand; he only looks. Dialogue: Man One: What are you fuckin’ waiting around for. (flick of cigarette ashes, a sharp stare at the younger boy and a snarl just for show.) Man Two: Don’t be a fucking faggot. (he then laughs, bearing yellow teeth.) The older boy is on the ground, there are traces of blood beginning to dry underneath his fingertips, and dirt begins to collect under his fingernails. He looks defeated, biting back tears that always fall, thinner than the younger boy but just as damaged in ways that are different. Fucking faggot is all he hears. The knife in the other boy’s hand is clasped so tightly that he starts to feel a dull ache in the bones of his palm, but he still says nothing. Here, they are both given a purpose- sometimes the other boy’s purpose is behind a closed door, different rooms, but always closed doors becoming one. Different men with different faces, but sometimes they come back, faces bleeding together into one gory portrait. He never knows what happens (or was it that he didn’t want to know?), but he’s always bleeding afterwards. But for Yifan, his purpose is the knife in his hands. When he realizes this, the knife digs into a bony shoulder- the blade twists into flesh and hits bone. He should feel something at this moment (maybe), a child is supposed to have his palms outstretched when he waits for the smack of a ruler as punishment, a child isn’t supposed to know what exactly a faggot meant, a child isn’t supposed to know about older men who- [ …a thought is cut off here, but it sticks to the roof of his mouth when the older boy screams and is punctuated by a laugh ] a child here is searching for his purpose and is answered by the metal clatter of the knife dropped to the ground, the feeling of warm blood coating skin and pooling at his fingertips. Yifan never looks into Zitao’s eyes after that. Every other time is the same, to hurt as a purpose instilled, and to bleed as a consequence. He learns to close his eyes after the second time, and sees with his hands for every time he reaches him just to fulfill that purpose (a stab in a thigh so he couldn’t move, a fist landing underneath a rib so he couldn’t breathe). This cycle is perpetuated until he never sees him again, there were other boys too - one by one. CUE TIME LAPSE: PRESENT TIMEThere is a purpose to everything. Betrayal too is inevitable, and as a result, there are men like him shaped as a consequence - crossing out names in red. Promises are only part of business, made just to fulfill an objective on a proverbial check list, and this is what he’s doing. Deconstructing thoughts, sentimental gestures mean nothing, boiled down as contact having to be made, and leather shoes stick in a congealing pool of blood, and- feigned ignorance only teaches you how to run. What do they call that- coping mechanisms, disassociation- bullshit.“Nothing can hurt me now.” This time Yifan looks into his eyes, and like the first time, he says nothing and pulls the trigger; hurting him one last time.

#advzitao #//this au. idk what au but!! i had an idea.............#//actually does have an idea #tw: violence. child abuse. homophobia. murder.

rediscovery

@advbingbing The musky smell of dampened earth permeates the air. The sky is water-colored in deep grey hues and faint blues; thin, timid rays of sunlight peaks behind wind torn patches of fogged clouds. From the view behind smudge-blurred windows, it is a scenery from sloppy paint brush strokes, recreated.

Here are the observations that follow beyond the view of the windows: a) Bare palms and carefully plastered fingertips are smeared with dirt. Flecks of dampened soil are clinging underneath the fingernails of hands muddling through soil, painstakingly in search of something uncertain. b) The sleeves of a now slightly dirtied shirt are rolled up and crinkled. Washed-out blue jeans are dampened at the hems in ruddy water and worn sneakers are planted in shallow mud, soaked through the socks and to the skin. c) It’s raining, not so much but its intermittent pattering of raindrops gradually begins to dampen the man- but another glance makes him appear more boyish with grubby hands and black hair over his eyes.

Yifan is neither hurried or slowed by the gradual rain and its wet touch, and is unpersuaded, keeping hunched over a newly forming hole in the ground, the water pooling in his sneakers beginning to warm against his skin - the aching of his back almost like a beckoning of his body to his quiet stubbornness. But his muddy hand remained gripped onto the wooden handle of a trowel, ruining the perfectly trimmed edges of green surrounding it. A small cardboard box is set aside him, placed onto a torn plastic bag as a make-shift mat, crinkling noiselessly with every curious patter of raindrops.

The few simple observations that are made here never answer why, only highlighting the idiosyncrasies that shape him as the hole becomes deeper and his hands become muddier.

#advbingbing #// :-)#f:rediscovery

“you look like an accident.”

He looks at his hands. Faded blue ink blurred into smeared incoherence of once-reminders, peels off in a mixture of sweat and ink rolled eraser dust sticking to the lines in his palms. Underneath the pale fluorescent light, the blue looks like blood- he clenches his hands, and the stiff papercut scabs littering his fingers sting. A sudden sharp piercing, mitigated into nothing more but a dull ache and the feeling of sweaty stickiness in between his fingertips. They say everything starts with your hands, and Yifan unfolds his fists, outstretched hands swallowed beyond the darkness. On an isolated rooftop, after the downpour of rain and the time being far too late - 3 am, and he shouldn’t be here. Damp hair, black strands sticking to his forehead, grey shirt and black hoodie, white sneakers soaked to the skin - an alien isolated, lost somewhere. “Shouldn’t be here at all,” he mutters to himself. He remembers again: they say when you don’t pay enough attention, certain things that cease to exist, come to exist. He hears the familiar creak of rusted hinges, and a familiar face emerges, pale and harsher underneath the pale blue light. Uncertain, but her quiet voice is jarring against the reflection of shadows stretched over her face - distorted in a way, but Yifan recognizes her. “You look like an accident.” Tired eyes only appear more exhausted under the harsh lighting, blinking at her - a ghost of a ghost, unsure and lingering. A faint smile stretches across, his voice is lower, quieter, a little raspy, as though he had never been spoken to. “Hello.” No explanations given here, and it’s all he says, staring and blinking, same tattered smile still patched onto dry lips beginning to meld together. He thinks she’s paying too much attention for something that shouldn’t exist.

#advhari #//made this into a starter since u wanted something angsty #//made this pre-established too. sort of?? feel free to add to things!

yixingadv-blog

[ ✉ → Yifan ] Why do you always respond so late, I could’ve died you know.

[ ✉ → Yifan ] Wait, you’re out? Shit.

[ ✉ → Yifan ] No, sorry. I shouldn’t curse – you’re younger and all. I should set a good example.

[ ✉ → Yifan ] I need you to come home as soon as possible. It’s a matter of life and death.

yifanadv

[ ZHANG YIXING @ 13.20 ] - Sorry. [ ZHANG YIXING @ 13.20 ] - ...It’s fine, I’ll try and get back quickly.

#yixingadv #c:txt

advgone-blog

* DRABBLE PROMPTS 08/02

HELLO, DARLINGS! Admin Frost here– and i’ve noticed it’s been quite a while since we’ve had an inbox meme! Three months, actually; yikes! It’s okay though, with the recent closing of the event, I thought this would be as good of a time as ever to release another prompt to encourage activity. With the posting of this meme, however– postings of our prior meme will not be continued! Feel free to go ahead and answer these memes at your own pace, but please ALSO BE SURE TO POST YOUR THREADS AS NORMAL. Remember, memes and prompt responses do not count towards activity (unless you are using them as starters, etc.). We want to promote activity but we also want you to focus on the threads important for your character development!

Be sure to reblog it if you’d like to participate! Be kind enough to send out memes as well, not only receive! There is no cut off date, so do them at your own leisure. Again, do not neglect your starters or current threads for this! :>

Have fun kids! :> Half of the list will be placed under a read more for cutting length purposes!

Note! Credit for these lovely prompts go to ( @an-exotic-writer ) on tumblr! We don’t own these prompts in any way, shape, or form!

“actually… i just miss you.”

“alright, i’ll leave you alone.”

“and slowly… i was forgotten.”

“and then everything just disappears.”

“and where do i go?”

“anyone could tell from here.”

“are you finishing that or…?”

“are you stupid or stupid?”

“anything, just call me, okay?”

“bitch better have my money.”

“bro… that’s so… not cool…”

“but did you do it?”

“call me now. it’s urgent.”

“can’t you listen to me?”

“cross that. don’t answer that.”

“don’t even think about it.”

“don’t you dare walk away.”

“do it. i dare you.”

“did you think i forgot?”

“eventually… you just move on.”

“even if you still do.”

“everything will fall into place.”

“fight me, you attractive stranger.”

“for once, i need you.”

“for once… i was right.”

“for once… i was wrong.”

“forget i even asked you.”

“forget it. you fucking suck.”

“fuck’s sake, what’s your problem?”

“fuck off. i mean it.”

“give and take. that’s life.”

Keep reading

#//literally suddenly wakes up. reblogs this.

MAINVERSE PLOTS

#f:plots #//mostly basic plots

DATA: 03 / *MISC DETAILS (MUSE AESTHETICS)

tastes: dried or unripe fruit, cough syrup, dried blood from chapped/split lips, lozenges, medication tablets, stale biscuits, cold soup, the aftertaste of vomiting, tasteless coffee

smells: artificial smells of hand soaps, disinfectants, something being burnt, damp earth after rain, pages of old books, nose clogged with blood sights: neon lights in dark alleyways, flickering lights, chipping wall paint, old blood stains that have turned brown/black, unfinished construction sites, demolished/abandoned buildings/places, boarded up/broken/fogged windows, fading signboards, sun bleached colors, colors of paint in a palette turning grey, graffiti under bridges, untamed gardens/abandoned farm fields, dust lifting and sifting into the air, phone books, museums, used band-aids, sticky notes with reminders scrawled onto them, silent films, things in flames, broken pencils, a protest, tear streaks, roadkill, prescription slips, rewritten letters

sounds: off-key piano melody, constant ringing of phones, heavy footsteps in an empty hallway, an overheard conversation, television/radio static noise, glass shattering, obscure songs, the sound of screaming from somewhere afar, echoes, the ticking of a clock in an empty room, alarm clocks, muffled sounds from above the surface when submerged underwater, a muttered prayer, buzzing/humming of machines, the squeal/creak of rusted door hinges, a panicked crowd running, hearing a diagnosis from a doctor, listening to documentaries, the echo of a fired gun, gasping

sensations: suffocation, the stinging feeling after a cut, feeling of heaviness in the chest when holding back crying, anger, scratchy sore throat after yelling, scratching skin with fingernails, falling and scraping skin against tarmac, emptiness after a scream, manic energy, fidgeting, restlessness, anxiously bouncing knees, sudden sharp pain, sore muscles, hitching breaths, blood rushing to the head, a bruise forming, cracking fingers, irritation, drowning

outfits: worn out sneakers, old white shirts beginning to turn yellow, printed graphics on shirts that are peeling off, hoodies, washed out denim jeans, loose threads in sweaters, over-sized sweaters

body: deep wound scarring turning white/raised, scabs, clammy hands, bloodshot eyes, bruises, ruptured vessels

#data:component #//ive wanted to do this for awhile

ADVMOODBOARD / PT.2

hand covers bruise (reprise) // it seems easy // left of me // corbeau // fingerprints // paranoid android (piano instrumental) // learning // plastic taste

#f_insp #f_reflection #advmoodboard #/sort of #/sad songs. sad face. sad yifan #/also a music moodboard i guess?????#tw:blood

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MANIA.