죽음

god asked him once: what did it feel like to die alone? in which he answered: enthralling. p a r k c h a n y e o l . lucifer. 25. class d adaptive resurrection. affiliated with acolytes.

[acolyteskrp-blog]

our second prompt has come, and this time, we’re rolling with headcanons. as usual, please try and send questions to the members who have reblogged this, and please do not circulate it outside the roleplay as this is admod team’s creation ! have fun. <3

what do they think about before falling asleep at night?

do they keep their bedroom clean or dirty?

what kind of child were they growing up?

any irrational fears or phobias?

their relationships with their family members currently?

any childhood dreams when it comes to occupations?

have they grown up to be the person they wanted to be as a child?

the most memorable childhood memories?

an item that they hold dear in their possession?

do they have anyone they look up to?

what kind of theme that they have in their dreams as of late?

struggles that they wish to overcome nowadays?

trivial problems that they cannot help but think about regularly?

what would anger them the most?

are they materialistic?

do they like being in the school?

what are their hobbies? is there any significance behind them?

their most feared power?

how they feel about being a mutant?

largest burden coming from their mutation?

the best part about their mutation?

if they could switch mutation for a day, what would they take?

do they want to become x-men? if so, why? if not, why?

[acxchanyeol-blog]

acxsehun:

( * there’s depth in the darkness that lies imperiousness and avarice, and it’s mocking him like the downwards cast that’s etched upon blood-stained lips. he inhales and counts –– one, two, three. don’t flinch, don’t move. the boogeyman is going to get you. there’s prodding at his cheek but the heavy weight that splays upon his innards are stronger and it’s accelerating into patience. ) i’ve heard curiosity kills. ( * replies curtly. his eyes stare extensively, he’s inquiring in afterthought as if he wants to play into chanyeol’s past time. it’s vicious; his inability to repress his frustrations as well as the itch to dig his fingers in that metaphorical wound. there’s the beat again –– one, two, three before brown hues raise challengingly. ) why? are you all out of free shots? ( * aren’t you tired of death like me? sehun’s gaze doesn’t flatter. ) isn’t that what your mutation is for?

does it? i wouldn't know. ( the index, an itch―pressing firmly into the other's chest. ) curiousity has never been a friend of mine. ( curiousity―of fire, of infedilty, of death. it hangs as a noose of eternal strife, dangling loosely until it strings him up by the irony of his own words. he tugs uneasily at his collar, at the constricting rope. ) no, just patience. hard to find anyone around here who hasn't grown soft. ( a laugh―cruelty rises in his throat. ) but it looks like you're beginning to rust too. ( pity. and here's to think we'd get to play. but metal cuts blood with steel words, hardened insults from a silver-lined tongue, forcing lips to curl in response. pressure deepens, finger digging into the soft confines of humanized flesh. because as you know, death never rests. ) then remind me―what this mutation is for.

[acxchanyeol-blog]

@acxsehun:

( * he yearns for growth as others learn to wither and the darkness that settles upon his lips thins, mutes, while eyes harden to the touch. nimble digits urge though; they urge and urge but yet, they still. he selects the next brand of strung letters intensively because while he might he progressing in youth, the other is famed for his blackened touch. he’s quiet, quiet –– don’t breathe, don’t speak. his bravery never flatters. ) you’re a mutant? doesn’t seem important. ( * jaw hardens but not enough. he settles his gaze on lowergrounds because there are battle scars that’s lurking upon the exterior. summer days turn to dusk as he furlongs his clenched fist into the depths of the fabric abyss. he wants to punch the man in the face. his father had taught him to retreat. ) go away, chanyeol.

cute. you think of that yourself? ( pleasure curls patient lips into the widening grin of castigation: here he lies―judge, jury, and executioner―of truth, searching, for himself. because when he looks to sehun, he only sees his haunting reflection of death laced between mirrored words. ) don't tell me you're not curious. ( of me, as i am of you. he slinks from his position on the wall, folded arms dropping to his sides, as he steps forward, hardened gaze meeting the steel-cut eyes resting before him. ) want a free shot? ( there is an itch in his fingers―index reaching for his cheek, tapping it one, two, three in silent taunts, in hushed inticement. grin wavers, pressing to a thin line of unabashed hostility―as if to say: i dare you to prove me wrong. ) i'm sure it's the only thing your iron fists are good for.

[acxnox-blog]

tangled up.

`   a rendezvous in sleep, @acxchanyeol .

a night riddled with too many question marks, engraved on the moonlit floorboards: she knows him by the discoloration of his dreams, transfixed into the halogen of nightmares. the terrains of his sleep have always been sonorous, resembling waves tiding in and out. textures tessellated with crawling insomnia, he should have been another reprisal of her aid, nothing more. but he’s exactly that: something more. a new design of her heartbeat, sighing against the walls of her atriums. 

she’s been assigned to help him with his struggles, but on the pathway towards the end of this conundrum, he carves her struggles instead.

he, who has faced ( and defaced ) deaths a number too many — and through his dreams, she sinks into the ocean of demise’s sclera. in there, tales of the macabre, rested with the skeletons of somnium. deposited at the base of his subconscious is the plethora of traumatic incidents, transforming the plateau into something… grotesque, to say the least. she’s seen the pattern of his nightmares too many times before, but it doesn’t grant her any immunity. still, a cringe.

delves deep into the aphotic zone, where she taps the realm of repressed memories. tries to untangle the threads, but the filaments are sometimes too soft for her to fiddle with, that she keeps her hands off them. for someone with such a countenance worn on his expression, chanyeol is incredibly stained with gentleness. surprisingly so, disturbingly so.

the latter, for it does not help with the swell that bruises her core purple.

in the stretch of the thoughts about him, she feels a tug. a strong one at that, and before she knows it, she’s back to reality, where she sits beside his bed, fingers pressed against his temple. “oh, you’re up,” she speaks softly as to not startle him.

[acxchanyeol-blog]

a dance with the devil  —  @acxnox //

the darkness—sits. heavily, unevenly, it rests. a hitch in his breathing, a stir in his consciousness—it pools, mercilessly, into the folds of poetic tragedy, of euphoric ruin. bruised, hades clings to the thin veil of calmness persephone drapes before his blackened eyes—entranced, persephone peppers pomegranate kisses into a sea of marooned dreams.

              as if to say: i will heal your burning knees.

because here, death finds solace in a heart not of his own—but in one, silk-veined and tender—in one, anchoring him to the yearning sea. because here, star-woven hands scour the breadth of reddened skies, silencing cosmic despair before the moon’s blind eyes. 

              as if to say: i will be your guiding light.

but something, pulsates—echoing within the chasms of his collapsing mind, as the illusion of stillness opens into a mouth choked by ash. eyes, eyes—red and famished—carve themselves into his abysmal awakening, an inferno erupting between the cracks of his feigned darkness until something shifts, until something finds itself screaming into

                                                          n o t h i n g .

the darkness—sits, awake.

a chest, rises and falls, on the backs of hindered breaths. he stares at the ceiling, silent—frustration sleeps heavy in his bones tonight. 

                            "yeah."

moments of hushed uncertainty sink into the congested air, eclipsing hesitant lips with caution’s tongue. sigh escaping, his back erects a barrier lost between them, as he turns to face the wall, deterred. “does it hurt?” he asks, eventually, voice dipping into the deep velvet pools of his chest, “inside...—there. i...—it must be tiring.”

[acxchanyeol-blog]

cries my way into ur heart

me: writing this 900 yrs late

Also me: accidentally deletes the Entire thing and nOW IM SCMRENNASDNANFFASF

OK TAKE 2 WHAT THE H*CK IS UP I FUCKIGN HATE TUMBLR ????????? aNYWAY i’m abe (they/them) and ur residential sleepy grandpa. i like angst and cryin so hit me w w/e u got tbh ~ uhm thank u so much for all the wonderful welcomes and messages (i promise i will get around 2 replying 2 them soon ok hahsdf) and ??? this is my first krp on here so if i seem a lil lost then pls feel free 2 come yelling at me ok ??? Also if i’m not here then u can find me scremin abt pork chokehold on twitter or tumblr (otherwise u can ask for my skype, slack, or discord instead if u would like !!!)

so yeah i ??? think that’s it ??? lmao uhm below i will attempt (again) 2 poorly explain his bg (bc pls forgive me, Big Baby Abe™, as i still haven’t properly finished his profile or plot page yet) and add some Cool Hard # Fax if anyone is interested hooray !!!

BETTER BG 2 SAVE U FROM READING HIS HORRENDOUS APP:

      ( tw: less hardcore death, suicide, and graphic stuff)

mother passed when he was three, hitting the family hard; father became somewhat isolated 

first death at five (”””unknowingly drowned”””); came to a few hours later while people were attempting to resuscitate him; incident hailed as an Unlikely Miracle 

due to his aquatic adaptation, got really into swimming (not really understanding Why he was so good); was preparing to participate in the next summer olympics for sk until

he cheated on his Hellion Girlfriend™, leading her to Literally burning him alive

resurrection took more than a week, causing his family to flip when he finally revived; father cursed him, implying he was a bad omen and the reason for his mother’s death all those years ago

lost it between that and the trauma of his Very (Kinda First) Death; older sister contacted xavier’s for potential help, forcing a violent reaction from him (aka u betrayed me !!!)

felt like he was being cornered like an animal, ultimately offing self during confrontation (hence the unhealing scar around his neck); revived several hours later in the infirmary; unbeknownst to most, so many rumors circulate to how he Officially came to be at the school

has been wreaking havoc ever since (more or less for 6 months)

SOME COOL # FAX:

the biggest asshole u will ever meet with his holier-than-thou, anti-mutant attitude (mostly due to the nature of his ability and how he vehemently hates it)

doesn’t believe he’s meant to be or possesses the qualities to become a hero 

residential half-flirt (Half bc he flirts 2 distract himself from the weird infatuation he has for lisa while Also… flirting… with lisa)

will eat All ur food and then wash it down with the milk from the carton with ur name on it while looking at u straight in the face as u yell at him

Always wears something to cover the scar on his neck (i.e. turtlenecks, under armor, chokers etc etc etc) due to him being highly self-conscious and embarrassed of it

one of the ~older students, but surprisingly Not Actually Terrible (he just doesn’t give enough of a shit)

rly rly rly scared of fire

can usually be found hanging around a pool (if there is one ?????? lmao hahshdhsadf)

kinda keeps to himself, kinda confrontational; spent his first few months fighting with people and getting patched up for various reasons

morally ambiguous; views death differently than others due to his relationship with it, causing him to be somewhat morbid in nature

doesn’t use honorifics and treats everyone the same: Bad (aka u disrespectful punk); alternatively, known to give everyone an unwanted nickname (consider it a thank u gift for how he received his)

for the time being, can’t gain immunity upon death unless his mother comes before him (doesn’t understand the reasoning behind this yet)

POSSIBLE PLOT POINTS:

you ~lovingly bestowed the nickname lucifer to him upon his arrival at xavier’s, which stuck and he has passionately hated you ever since. unlike most, you are unafraid and cutely refer to him as “lucy”―much to his chagrin.

remember the broom closet in second hall? you two have consistently hooked up with each other, though deny any involvement with one another. (open to characters within five years of his age―older ones do not matter)

rivals / arch-nemesis. you two have fought since his first day at the school, where he embarrassed you by flat out breaking your nose in front of a gathering crowd. the two of you have been at each other’s necks ever since, insulting one another at any opportunity given.

you catch him snoozing in the pool, afraid he possibly drowned. do you help him or let him continue floating around? (shit, hopefully nobody sees you.)

training buddies. what more could you possibly need when your sparring partner can’t die?

you’re both in detention, when an unstable science project goes wrong. suddenly rather than sulk and loathe each other, the two of you must work together in order to escape the room before it’s too late.

unlikely friends. despite your differences, you two having strangely become close to each other during the past few months. he feels as if he can trust you, and you somehow look to him in the same way too.

you don’t trust / find him suspicious for reasons you are unable to put your finger on. he, on the other hand, is a professional at making this situation # Worse.

anything and everything else is welcome !!! if u wanna kill him then hmu bc he (quite literally) has a death wish ok ~