cruel hands;

[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?

[acxsica]

white noise.

[acxsica]

acxsungkyu:

he dreams of monochrome.

everything is hues of greys and whites and blacks—absences of color that he doesn’t deem to be anything worthwhile. even in his dreams, sungkyu finds himself bored. even as his breathing hitches, the feeling of suffocation. the images of greying faces and parted mouths, strangling noises and bubbling blood—it’s a horrible dream that sungkyu has time and time again.

and he wakes just the same, choked and sweat-sodden, hand firmly grasping his neck as he gathers his breath. it doesn’t take long, seconds that turn into minutes before he’s regained his breathing pattern, calmed the beat of his heart. he swallows, body relaxing out of it’s tension driven form—and he has all the idea to fall back to sleep and fall back into black, into the void so he can’t have a sleepless night once more. but the knocking on his door has him stilling, tired eyes lifting to look at the door in brief curiosity.

maneuvering out of the bed takes a moment, sungkyu groaning at the feeling of his t-shirt sticking to sweaty skin. he tugs it away from his flesh and waves it out, feeling the cooled air on his heated skin as bare feet pad to the doorway. unlocking it, he props an arm up on the wall and opens it—eyes narrowed with sleep as he glares at the visitor—only for his facial features to shift into a bout of barely contained surprised.

the flames from the candles light up her face, casting a dim sheen of enhanced beauty that makes his tongue dry up. sungkyu blinks, once then twice—dropping his gaze to the cake, then back to her. to her mouth that parts with her song and graces her ears with her voice.

make a wish, she tells him. sungkyu doesn’t know what to wish for. so he stares for a long moment, swallowing a thickness in his throat before the thought i wish to see this image every night enters his thought. her, doused by candle light, her dainty smile on her face and airy voice. he blows out the candles then, diminishing it—and the darkness that cases them only reminds him of the continuous beating of his heart.

“thank you.” his voice is soft, sleep wrapped around the words as he clears his throat. he opens the door more, lifts his arm to give room and jerks his head. “it’s late—come inside. you’ll catch a cold.”  he gestures her in, eyes lifting to glance around her. “did you stay up just to wish me a happy birthday?”

in all honesty, the fact that she did it is quite indicative as to how she feels about him — she just does not lose sleep over a lot of things, especially not something that could’ve been done early in the morning, or even late in the afternoon. this is, after all, a birthday, as opposed to a birth hour. it lasts the whole day, logically. but sungkyu is, in all inevitable obviousness, a specific case. she relishes in the look of surprise that douses his otherwise sleep-drenched countenance, and then just how he casts a look that lingers too many seconds too long onto her own. it’s a bliss, just an occasion to see him in his disoriented state — an excuse, really. otherwise, she would’ve been too shy to initiate such a movement.

intrigue colors her as he makes his wish, but she does not interrupt. a smile spreads wider upon seeing him blow the candles, leaving them as silhouettes in the dimly lit hallway. at the gratitude, she replies with a quiet, “you’re welcome,” before listening to what else that he has to say. the fact that he invites her into his room causes blood to be suffused onto her cheeks, but in the sclera of the darkness, she hopes that he won’t be able to spot that. she does not say anything, slipping into his room as he’s right — it’s getting cold standing in the hallway with only her sleeping attire on. 

“i did not stay up,” she says matter-of-factly, slightly embarrassed to admit. “i fell asleep, and i slept through my alarm. that’s why... it’s... not exactly 12am.” slightly sheepish, but she’s more sheepish over the fact of how whipped she might have sounded. she looks around, then. his room is just like her, but it smells different. enclosed by his personal surrounding, it just feels different.

[sooyeonie]

Wonder the rainbow

[acxsica]

white noise.

* ✽   @acxsungkyu

in her moonless dreams, she’s a thought that swells, brimming to the rim of her mind. it feels like catharsis stomached at the base of her afterthoughts, and at the end of the night, it always leads to a man whose slivers embed themselves deep, deep, deep into her marrows. she thinks about him in spectrum of colors, and those hues are the ones marking her sleep like territories. primal desires cusp her reverie, sinking deep into subconscious. it’s been years, after all.

& she wakes up to a dawning reminder, causing her to scurry out of bed upon checking the clock on her phone. 2.19am — two hours and nineteen minutes late, but it’s better than none at all. she puts on her slippers, retrieving the cake from her fridge — lighting the candles, before heading out towards the second floor of the dormitory. heart beating in a staccato upon standing in front of his door, she knocks several times, hoping that he’s still asleep.

upon having the door opened, she clears her throat nervously, tucking her hair behind an ear. she starts singing ‘happy birthday’ softly, voice containing a smile. “happy birthday, sungkyu,” she greets after finishing the song. “make a wish.”

[acxsica]

helloooooooooo! this is jessica, and she’s a counsellor for the students in xavier’s. she’s been there for almost a decade, her power being emotion manipulation. without further ado, please like this if you’d like to get a starter! lengths may vary. <3

[lifeinpoetry]

          violence is a word with eight bright teeth. we are both lost in language. here this means           sweating over the page until it wears you                       here, this means never                                                                disappearing.

— Sam Sax, from “Lost Things,” All the Rage