FORCE

kim jaejoong. force. xxix. field trainer. beta #402.

[rklino]

` fourth drink instinct.

[acxforce-blog]

acxsungkyu:

@acxforce

this isn’t the worst day of his life—but it’s certainly close.

sungkyu doesn’t remember quite well how he got into this position. what he does remember is a sweet smile, legs that go on for days and a pretty breathy voice he wouldn’t mind hearing in his ear. he remembers that vividly, but he doesn’t remember how he ended up alone, stranded outside some noisy pub with too much alcohol in his system and shaky legs.

where even is he? sungkyu doesn’t even remember, and everything won’t sit still long enough for him to read where he is, what he’s around. sungkyu’s a damned mess in all sense of the way.

“son of a—“ he grumbles, leaning weakly against a wall as he shoves a hand into his pocket, fishing around for his phone. he finds it and tugs it out, and after almost dropping it twice, manages to call a number of someone that can hopefully help him out, at least a little.

and hopefully not make fun of him.

“jae—“ he hiccups into the receiver, head falling back against the wall with a loud thunk. he lets out a low whine, squinting his eyes open. “you—i’m gonna need you to come get me. i’m outside that shitty place with the—“ sungkyu tilts his head up and squints, attempting to make sense of the picture on the sign. “—that ugly half-naked mermaid girl on the sign. i’m really drunk. no clue how to get back home—and i’m pretty sure that witch ditched me. women suck.”

as always, nights are lub-dup of synthetic heartbeats that spell boredom, thrumming underneath his skin. he lets out a sigh after his fourth shot, not wanting to let himself loose tonight. there’s no one to bring him home, after all — and there’s no one to bring somewhere else either. he is not in the mood to satiate any unbound desires, the hours grow increasingly mundane, the ticks of the seconds slowly drowning him in the thoughts of simply walking home.

there’s quite a distance between the bar and the school, yet he doesn’t mind — ambling leisurely across the road, he ignores the ogling women, not bothering giving them a smile like he usually does. he’s around halfway through his trip when his phone buzzes, the vibration notifying him of a call. sungkyu. a quirk of an eyebrow later, he receives it, listening to the hiccup. by itself, it’s quite a telltale sign of the state that his caller is in.

“a witch?” he chuckles, but he knows the place that sungkyu means. or at least, he hopefully does. there are plenty of spots with that kind of signs hung, so he hopes that the one he’s heading towards is the right one. “i thought you had hots for someone else. but all right, all right. i’m heading towards where you are... or, well, i hope i think of the right place. your direction is vague as it is.”

[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?

[acxforce-blog]

“ you’re an asshole. ”

[   ‘ — draws closer towards his fellow staff — and something more, something a lot more behind the curtain of professionalism. he swallows the shimmering laughter that threatens to spill, sighing as though he was hurt by the statement. he has always had a penchant for drama, after all. and perhaps he’s just being the jerk that he is, nothing new. ] oh, that hurts me. [   ‘ — he coos, feigning a look. ] i thought you’d never notice that... such a great observation.

[acxforce-blog]

“ your thoughts are morbid. ”

[   ‘ — he hums at the sudden claim proposed, looking at the student whose name he doesn’t even remember. his thoughts are corroding, withering at the base. memorizing names has never been his strongest suit, but he tries to locate her name in the crannies of his mind. none, nada. he resorts to not using her name, then — and offers her a meaningful look. ] well, that’s not quite new... what’s new would be the fact that you’re a mind reader — you never struck me as one.

[cqxseunghyun-blog]

❝ mixed signals.

[acxforce-blog]

acxhongbin:

@acxforce

Hongbin had never been someone who enjoyed school– which, by the way, sucked major ass when your entire country is literally obsessed with it. So needless to say when Hongbin came to Xavier’s about five years ago that little detail didn’t change. The only thing that changed, really, was that his parents were no longer breathing fire down his neck, and he was free to be the soccer team captain of his dreams.

He was on his way to field learning or training or whatever the fuck it was called. It was a class he didn’t particularly care much for because he was more concerned on his own wellbeing. Why, you ask? Well, his professor seemed to be a little batshit crazy. Kim Jaejoong– that was his professors name– scared him a just little bit. He would conduct class as per usual with a smile, but every once in a while his thoughts would be off in a world that painted a different picture.

And they were all sorts of fucked up. Not like Hakyeon’s I’m-trying-to-purposely-disturb-you fucked up but like genuinely fucked up.

Hongbin skitters to a stop just inside where class was meeting, having to run to class to be able to make it on time. A quick glance at a watch would tell him that he was exactly a minute late, but he doesn’t check because he doesn’t really care. He flashes a sheepish grin at the professor as he makes his way to the back of the class, doing his best to filter away his classmates’ thoughts and what was actually being said.

the history carves too many tales on his skin, the concave ink seeping into his flesh and bones. at nights, they become a body of terror, haunting his marrows with the intensity of nightmares clawing into his thoughts. he’s used to it — or at least, he’d like to think he’s used to it. the halls of his thoughts are no longer charred black by such thoughts, for he’s treaded across them in leisure, embracing them as a part of him. he deposits them in his fragments, carrying them in his veins.

they become less plaguing along with the ticking time, his thoughts no longer an aftermath of a war. his mind is comprised of his past, their shards like falling jigsaw pieces. it’s never quite a whole fable, but it’s always there with him. after so many years, he’s accustomed to it in ways that he cannot comprehend entirely. morbid imageries swim in his current of thoughts, coexisting with his engraved ‘normality’. and so, he’s almost sorry for those who can read thoughts. it’s not his fault that his mind is a casket of grotesque sights.

and in the midst of him commencing the lecture, the person in question stumbles into the class. late. he gives hongbin a little smile, before nodding. “please have a seat, hongbin,” he says, tone casual. thoughts are still distorted by blood and ichor, tiding in and out in waves.

[acxhyorin-blog]

‘ art deco

for @acxforce

the clock across the room reads 6:47pm when hyorin wakes up.

he’s asleep, she thinks after she gets up from the bed and looks at him for a moment. her movements make minimal noise to avoid waking him up as she picks up her clothes from the floor to get changed into, willing the pain that lingered away as she did so. once she’s fully clothed, she grabs her phone, a box of cigarettes and her lighter from her bag, walking to stand by a window.

after opening the window and lighting herself a cigarette, she uses her free hand to scroll through her instagram feed with her phone. the quiet would be comforting if it weren’t for the yells of some younger students running around outside. she glances back at jaejoong’s sleeping body and wonders how he was still fast asleep. for a few more minutes, she continues to mindlessly scroll until her phone vibrates and a reminder pops up on the screen.

art exhibition, 7:30pm.

and the time on her phone reads 6:53pm. “shit.” she mumbles, putting out the cigarette on the scarred windowsill and tossing it in the bin afterwards. she heads to the bathroom to take a quick shower, because it would be a little gross not to after what they just did and she didn’t want to show up to an exhibition reeking of sex. once she covered up any obvious marks with makeup, she walks out and nudges jaejoong’s shoulder, drawing him away from his sleep.

“get changed, we’re going to an art exhibition.”

[acxforce-blog]

against the backdrop made entirely out of stitched shadows, she’s a silhouette of desires. in the carnage shared between the two, she’s a ring of fire that’s waiting to burn brighter. he encages her between his arms; they are two series of motions caught in the silt of a friction, in tandem. in here, a soft kiss. in here, a quiet sigh. in here, a dance scene. everything gentle, except at the end of the day, he is anything but. loves leaving fingerprints on the skin, his residue embedded across her spine. the ridges of her ribcage comes in the shape of his prying hands, settled deep, deep, deeper. when he imbibes her, he imbibes fully, entirely. 

he is full of her when he falls asleep. in his dreams: famished fingers that suffocate. however, it’s none of the ghosts that wake him up in the midst of the night anymore — after facing too many of his demons, he’s grown immunity against them. he sleeps, tightly so, unperturbed until someone wakes him up — and that’s when he slowly gathers that he’s not sleeping alone.

he lets out a groan, trying to discern syllables that come into his hearing in a mess, words tangled up in disorientation. upon digesting her sentence, he looks at her blearily, colored in disbelief. “you woke me up just for that?” asks, grunting. “i am an art exhibition.” closes his eyes again in protest.

[acxkrp-blog]

❝   MEME SUNDAY #01 !

found under the cut below is the list of specifically tailored sentence starters for you !   if you’d like to participate, please reblog this post, and do not forget to send one to the people who have reblogged it as well !   happy roleplaying !   ps. as it is made especially for acolytes by the admin, please do not circulate it outside the roleplay, thank you.

Keep reading

[acxforce-blog]

spillage.

»   another electromagnetic construct for @acxhyunjoong .

these days have become a series of russian roulettes, reminding him that when the bullet is placed in the right slot, everything turns into a bloodshed. probability is a null when it comes to his world — nothing is ever a coincidence, just a momentum placed on its feet. at the end of the clockwork is always someone who can manipulate them — from seconds, to minutes, to hours. probabilities. momentums. every single aspect, he knows, is never beyond the realm of his kin’s abilities.

which does not correlate positively with his paranoia — the fact that nothing is above their capabilities to manipulate. hence, his absence from xavier’s as of late, trading his dorm for motels. not that it matters when he’s a field trainer, supposedly meeting students for practices outside the school’s haven. it’s the twelfth day, and he thinks it’s eventual, the day of his return.

thus, his presence in the hallway, heading towards the west wing. he’s on his way when he spots a familiar face, swimming into his peripheral view. at that, he grins. just the kind of break from ennui that he’s been needing.

he approaches hyunjoong with a grin fixed on his countenance. “hey, remember me?” he asks, knowing that if the answer is a yes, hyunjoong would swear at him for tricking hyunjoong into believing that it was his birthday every day for a few consecutive weeks.

[acxforce-blog]

through the night.

»   another electromagnetic construct for @acxdks .

the evening stirs into a familiar sense of comfort, blanketing him with the weight of the past put behind. in a dragged motion, everything swirls in the vortex of thoughts, silently smothering — history’s crooked fingers are never kind, curled around his throat with the nails digging crescents into the skin. and in here, he dwells alongside each story, each tally carved on each ridge of his bones. each mark is drowned with each shot downed, and then another, another, another.

hours fly past him with the flair of bottles emptied into his glass. a solo dance through the shift of the night, time a fleeting measurement dreaming of his private demise. there’s nothing like murdering a man who’s lived through so much with the knife sculpted out of afterthoughts.

and that’s what the momentum is performing: an act of personal massacre, as witnessed by more and more of the liquid confidence swallowed, trails of fleshed burn downed through the throat. he’s lost track of how much he’s imbibed; all that he knows is that everything starts getting blurry, and that’s always an omen. with his self-control ditched, he starts laughing. and laughing is a good sign — it always is, isn’t it?

from the corner of his eyes, he catches the flighty sight of his assistant. and so, with no vacillation confirmed, he drags his feet to drape himself around kyungsoo’s shoulders, before peppering the face with slobbery kisses. “kyungsoooooooooo,” he drawls. “sooooooo-sooooooo!”

[acxviolet-deactivated20170424]

❛ midnight hues.

checked out by @acxforce​ !

∘ ⁞    it was quite chilly out; gray clouds filled the sky as if threatening to drop rain at any minute, but none of this stopped sungkyung from taking time out of the night to wander. with a knitted cardigan wrapped around shoulders and a book in hand, she doesn’t even have a second thought before walking straight out of the room, speeding right through the exit of the building. 

she started to walk at a slower pace once the dormitories were at a further distance, releasing the breath she unknowingly had been holding. god— she was an experienced mutant,  yet she still couldn’t handle being around so many ‘emotional presences’. it was the major downside to her ability— being able to sense everyone’s emotions literally gave her an update every second where everyone was and what they were doing. 

it was maddening. 

often times, she’ll just choose to block them out, but she doesn’t always have the focus to do it. ( plus, what’s the point if it’s only going to make her more exhausted at the end of the day? ) thankfully, most people within the school grounds were bound by curfew so she could find some peace and quiet during nights. but tonight was only close to being one of those days. 

as she stepped forward to the back entrance of the school building, she picked up on someone’s presence and immediately wanted to return from where she came. however, the fact that there was a person out at midnight had her more intrigued, making her feet continue. moving with a careful pace, she rounded the corner and came to the clearing, catching sight of the vague familiarity of a male. eyebrows crinkling, her eyes narrowed as if to try and get a better look before calling out, “are you a student?” as much as she doesn’t like depriving anyone of their enjoyment of the night, she needed to enforce the rules.

[acxforce-blog]

the nights illustrate too many thoughts at once: the star-studded sky represents the multitude of white asterisks on the blank brain canvas, reminding him of discolored aftermaths of pre-slumber ruminations. he observes them through the window, blind drawn. midnight ticks languidly, as though the needle does not move. minutes stretch into subjective hours, and he hums, shuffling across the dark room, moving around the silhouettes shaped by the illumination from the artificial light outside.

lets out a sigh. teeth remembering the stain of cigarettes, he longs for the toxin to travel across the streams of his system again. it’s perhaps past lethality benchmark, but at the end of the day, everyone dies. carpe noctem, yada yada.

splinters of a moment later, he exits his room, then the establishment. vacant hallways echo his footfalls, silence another privilege that he doesn’t bother affording.

outside, a transition — after hour quiet ensues, followed by the breeze.

within quite a radius, he comes to a halt. deeming it enough to block out all the presences necessary to relish in the solitude, he fishes out the cigarette pack previously crumpled into his leather jacket’s right pocket. the ember that glows at the end of the stick would’ve notified someone of his presence, otherwise cloaked by the shadows. and then, an interruption.

he doesn’t say anything until the figure closes the gap between them, asking if he’s a student. he chuckles lightly, identifying the source of the voice. “yes, i am. a hella old one at that,” he replies, stepping out of the darkness. “hello, sungkyung.”

[songoshen]

jaejoong; cosmopolitan march 2017

[acxforce-blog]

a helping hand.

»   another electromagnetic construct for @acxjieun .

these nights, the mouths of the beasts are agape, their throats filled to the brim with anticipations to swallow. their teeth bleed purple with his mental bruises, sunken into the depth of his thoughts. this is how he thinks: at a point of this moment, someone, somewhere, wants his head. shrapnel desires, mortal memories. hollowed reminiscences that come with an empty crucifix, its splinters embedded in his flesh with the echo of amen, amen, a-men.

he’s lost track of time. a walk has become more of a routine than not, with him spending less and less of his evenings at school. not that anybody needs him anyway; the number of students under his tutelage has been dwindling, with more and more of them not being ready for anything field-related. sometimes, he still hangs out with them, finding the older teachers not as entertaining, but as of recent, he’s occupied more and more by the vortex running in his mind.

however, tonight he feels wearier than usual. it feels like even the iron in his blood demands rest, with his thoughts plagued with sleep. he makes his way to the bus stop, the slight drizzle coming soon after. he’s drawing his hood up when a kind stranger hands him a flower, and he bows at her to show his gratitude. weights the rose in his hand on his way back to xavier’s, and upon arrival, he meets exactly the person that he thinks he needs to meet. “hey,” he starts. “you’re the plant girl, right? mind helping me with planting this?”

[acxforce-blog]

chipped paint.

»   another electromagnetic construct for @acxbenedict .

his teeth are cigarette-stained from days and days of consuming too much carcinogen, lungs littered with the weight of ennui that sinks deep, deep, deeper, he lost thoughts in the hands of weary hours. lately, there are nightmares, diminishing sleep from the pores of his mind. they overstay their welcomes in his bones, clarifying the history written as forgone prior to that. making its comebacks, the static horror that slips into ruminations has become something more than just small ripples, now streaming in faster rivulets. he drowns further, and with the absence of training over the past week, time has become a feast for endless thinking. 

and tonight, he’d like to rest. even just for a fraction of moments.

hence, he finds himself on the mouth of the staff cafeteria, ambling towards where the bar is. it’s a weekday, so the majority of the staff members are still occupied with their jobs. but on a stool, sits a man whose posture is familiar to jaejoong.

heads towards the stool next to the fellow staff, fortunately vacant. he sits there and clasps benedict’s shoulder briefly as a greeting, smirking. “the night is still young. are you halfway drunk yet?” asks with the tone tinged with mirth. “a lot of classes today?”

[acxforce-blog]

hiii, hello! tis me, siren, the typist behind jaejoong and jongin. basically jaejoong is my second character ( speaking of the obvious ) and he’s a field trainer, as well as a strong candidate for the next x-men. he’s a lot more cheerful than jongin, indubitably, and he’s so laid-back he doesn’t seem like he owns so much power in him. he mingles with students a lot as he’s a bit childish ( he’d say it’s called youthful ), but he was an assassin prior to joining xavier’s, which makes him quite dangerous, with or without his abilities. also, if you’d like to plot with either jongin or jaejoong, please like this! and i can also be found on twitter if you’d like to plot there too.