Personal Message
STASH BOX
P.Chanyeol
if you wrong us, shall we not have revenge?
❝There are no rules.
That is how art is born, how breakthroughs happen.
Go against the rules or ignore the rules. That is what invention is about.❞
That is how art is born, how breakthroughs happen.
Go against the rules or ignore the rules. That is what invention is about.❞
for some reason..
THis plight felt oddly familiar..
It wasn't unusual that his temper gets the best of him, exuding physical strength beyond compare. Molten lava coursing through his veins and suffocating his heart, heightening his need for flight or fight. His nature chose fight. Adrenaline is always peaked with this one, in a constant state of blanketed torture that lays just beyond earthy, rouge tinted optics. His fear of touch isn't one based off of insecurities about himself, but something far deeper .. Something that causes him to lay awake each day, staring blankly up at his ceiling in hopes for the memories to leave. But they never do. Like when lava cools, it stays forever. Those images would stay forever in his mind, reminding him of the need to be detached. He speaks with crude degradation, stopping people in their tracks before they could ever come close enough to the beast that lay just under the surface.
The mutt born of fire and earth, from the very first day upon this world, molten courses through his veins like the very affinity bestowed upon him. Gracing the heavens with screeches that no child could possibly be able to emit - but he was the odd one. The temper that rose throughout his growth, stunting in teenage youth that nearly ended him in a place where he never wanted to set foot. Anger getting the best of him, under the guise of self defense - what a fool he had been. His temperament is much calmer now, undergoing extensive bouts of trials of self control, taking note of the master himself, Min Yoongi, and bringing it to his metanoia. Do not test his patience, for it wears thin some times - most times. Catch him brutally grading papers, uncaring of what your situation might be. The cinnamon aroma of tobacco lingers upon him now, spices that calm his demeanor tremendously and eases his itching, bridled heat - and not the one omegas go through..
27
november
the big, bad wolf!
taken
◉
your poison?
◌
culture; general
●
history of rituals
○
" Θαλεια "
No height, no depth, no fear, no debt.
+
never one, ⌘
The omega that never was,
"Fire and earth could not hold him down, fingers latched into his shoulders in attempts to keep the small child at bay, listening to his outbursts with poorly placed pity that only served to create his nature that much more toxic. Should have been poison, for the words he breathed caused throats to clench and hearts to cease. His transformations were forced and rippling with anger, teeth bared, a rather large omega. That scent flew around him like a unwanted staple upon his very person - come and get me. It was what drew alphas to him in his insufferable heats, suppressed by sheer will and a hard mind set. Each one was worse than the last, never taking time to relieve his shameful self of the lewd, natural instincts his ancestors had planted on him. Their antiquity values of the old ways trying to force him onto his knees before the ones that 'breathed' command. He breathed command. And he would make anyone bend to him. It was a night like any other, stalking out of his home, listening to his mother and father call tiredly after him - it was safer for them if he just disappeared for the night. His scent permeates throughout the area, coaxing unwanted visitors into the clearing that he usually sat, cooling himself with the trickling water. His skin always felt so hot, especially when his heart pounded with forced adrenaline rushes that were caused by the smallest inconvenience. He heard the snap of the twig before he'd seen the man, smelled his intentions before he even looked him in the eye. The man was the same height, perhaps taller, but much more lithe. Sharp jawed and looking like a rat, his coo lecherous and causing sickly tremors to run through Chanyeol's being. He felt violated just by being in the same area as him. It was only seconds when it happened - the lava affinity in mid shift, nails extended to claws and jaw forming into an unnatural muzzle for the halfway point. The hand connects with his shoulder - and he saw red. Blood scattering the snow laden floor, his fur covered with the iron tang of the man that lay lifeless below. Face marred with four clean, deep, rips along his face, eyes glazed over. His heart clouded his hearing .. He didn't notice the girl running at him from the side, intent on only going to the aid of the man she had been with, but he'd .. Taken it as a threat. That night, two lives were lost - he had heads for each hand. The middle is filler, disappearing for a good couple of years, coming back only when his sister tracked him down. The best nose of the family, always fishing out the trash, he said. The only alpha. That was supposed to be him. But he wasn't himself without his anger - his anger protects him. "
"Fire and earth could not hold him down, fingers latched into his shoulders in attempts to keep the small child at bay, listening to his outbursts with poorly placed pity that only served to create his nature that much more toxic. Should have been poison, for the words he breathed caused throats to clench and hearts to cease. His transformations were forced and rippling with anger, teeth bared, a rather large omega. That scent flew around him like a unwanted staple upon his very person - come and get me. It was what drew alphas to him in his insufferable heats, suppressed by sheer will and a hard mind set. Each one was worse than the last, never taking time to relieve his shameful self of the lewd, natural instincts his ancestors had planted on him. Their antiquity values of the old ways trying to force him onto his knees before the ones that 'breathed' command. He breathed command. And he would make anyone bend to him. It was a night like any other, stalking out of his home, listening to his mother and father call tiredly after him - it was safer for them if he just disappeared for the night. His scent permeates throughout the area, coaxing unwanted visitors into the clearing that he usually sat, cooling himself with the trickling water. His skin always felt so hot, especially when his heart pounded with forced adrenaline rushes that were caused by the smallest inconvenience. He heard the snap of the twig before he'd seen the man, smelled his intentions before he even looked him in the eye. The man was the same height, perhaps taller, but much more lithe. Sharp jawed and looking like a rat, his coo lecherous and causing sickly tremors to run through Chanyeol's being. He felt violated just by being in the same area as him. It was only seconds when it happened - the lava affinity in mid shift, nails extended to claws and jaw forming into an unnatural muzzle for the halfway point. The hand connects with his shoulder - and he saw red. Blood scattering the snow laden floor, his fur covered with the iron tang of the man that lay lifeless below. Face marred with four clean, deep, rips along his face, eyes glazed over. His heart clouded his hearing .. He didn't notice the girl running at him from the side, intent on only going to the aid of the man she had been with, but he'd .. Taken it as a threat. That night, two lives were lost - he had heads for each hand. The middle is filler, disappearing for a good couple of years, coming back only when his sister tracked him down. The best nose of the family, always fishing out the trash, he said. The only alpha. That was supposed to be him. But he wasn't himself without his anger - his anger protects him. "
without the other. ⌘
+ trxsh atelier rpr edit @ vivaldi
Description
o.sehun
he's breathtaking, and he's mine.
for some reason..
THis plight felt oddly familiar..
It wasn't unusual that his temper gets the best of him, exuding physical strength beyond compare. Molten lava coursing through his veins and suffocating his heart, heightening his need for flight or fight. His nature chose fight. Adrenaline is always peaked with this one, in a constant state of blanketed torture that lays just beyond earthy, rouge tinted optics. His fear of touch isn't one based off of insecurities about himself, but something far deeper .. Something that causes him to lay awake each day, staring blankly up at his ceiling in hopes for the memories to leave. But they never do. Like when lava cools, it stays forever. Those images would stay forever in his mind, reminding him of the need to be detached. He speaks with crude degradation, stopping people in their tracks before they could ever come close enough to the beast that lay just under the surface.
The mutt born of fire and earth, from the very first day upon this world, molten courses through his veins like the very affinity bestowed upon him. Gracing the heavens with screeches that no child could possibly be able to emit - but he was the odd one. The temper that rose throughout his growth, stunting in teenager youth that nearly ended him in a place where he never wanted to set foot. Anger getting the best of him, under the guise of self defense - what a fool he had been. The cinnamon aroma of tobacco lingers upon him now, spices that calm his demeanor tremendously and eases his itching, bridled heat - and not the one omegas go through..
27
november
the big, bad wolf!
taken
◉
your poison?
◌
culture; general
●
history of rituals
○
" Θαλεια "
No height, no depth, no fear, no debt.
+
never one, ⌘
The omega that never was,
"Fire and earth could not hold him down, fingers latched into his shoulders in attempts to keep the small child at bay, listening to his outbursts with poorly placed pity that only served to create his nature that much more toxic. Should have been poison, for the words he breathed caused throats to clench and hearts to cease. His transformations were forced and rippling with anger, teeth bared, a rather large omega. That scent flew around him like a unwanted staple upon his very person - come and get me. It was what drew alphas to him in his insufferable heats, suppressed by sheer will and a hard mind set. Each one was worse than the last, never taking time to relieve his shameful self of the lewd, natural instincts his ancestors had planted on him. Their antiquity values of the old ways trying to force him onto his knees before the ones that 'breathed' command. He breathed command. And he would make anyone bend to him. It was a night like any other, stalking out of his home, listening to his mother and father call tiredly after him - it was safer for them if he just disappeared for the night. His scent permeates throughout the area, coaxing unwanted visitors into the clearing that he usually sat, cooling himself with the trickling water. His skin always felt so hot, especially when his heart pounded with forced adrenaline rushes that were caused by the smallest inconvenience. He heard the snap of the twig before he'd seen the man, smelled his intentions before he even looked him in the eye. The man was the same height, perhaps taller, but much more lithe. Sharp jawed and looking like a rat, his coo lecherous and causing sickly tremors to run through Chanyeol's being. He felt violated just by being in the same area as him. It was only seconds when it happened - the lava affinity in mid shift, nails extended to claws and jaw forming into an unnatural muzzle for the halfway point. The hand connects with his shoulder - and he saw red. Blood scattering the snow laden floor, his fur covered with the iron tang of the man that lay lifeless below. Face marred with four clean, deep, rips along his face, eyes glazed over. His heart clouded his hearing .. He didn't notice the girl running at him from the side, intent on only going to the aid of the man she had been with, but he'd .. Taken it as a threat. That night, two lives were lost - he had heads for each hand. The middle is filler, disappearing for a good couple of years, coming back only when his sister tracked him down. The best nose of the family, always fishing out the trash, he said. The only alpha. That was supposed to be him. But he wasn't himself without his anger - his anger protects him. "
"Fire and earth could not hold him down, fingers latched into his shoulders in attempts to keep the small child at bay, listening to his outbursts with poorly placed pity that only served to create his nature that much more toxic. Should have been poison, for the words he breathed caused throats to clench and hearts to cease. His transformations were forced and rippling with anger, teeth bared, a rather large omega. That scent flew around him like a unwanted staple upon his very person - come and get me. It was what drew alphas to him in his insufferable heats, suppressed by sheer will and a hard mind set. Each one was worse than the last, never taking time to relieve his shameful self of the lewd, natural instincts his ancestors had planted on him. Their antiquity values of the old ways trying to force him onto his knees before the ones that 'breathed' command. He breathed command. And he would make anyone bend to him. It was a night like any other, stalking out of his home, listening to his mother and father call tiredly after him - it was safer for them if he just disappeared for the night. His scent permeates throughout the area, coaxing unwanted visitors into the clearing that he usually sat, cooling himself with the trickling water. His skin always felt so hot, especially when his heart pounded with forced adrenaline rushes that were caused by the smallest inconvenience. He heard the snap of the twig before he'd seen the man, smelled his intentions before he even looked him in the eye. The man was the same height, perhaps taller, but much more lithe. Sharp jawed and looking like a rat, his coo lecherous and causing sickly tremors to run through Chanyeol's being. He felt violated just by being in the same area as him. It was only seconds when it happened - the lava affinity in mid shift, nails extended to claws and jaw forming into an unnatural muzzle for the halfway point. The hand connects with his shoulder - and he saw red. Blood scattering the snow laden floor, his fur covered with the iron tang of the man that lay lifeless below. Face marred with four clean, deep, rips along his face, eyes glazed over. His heart clouded his hearing .. He didn't notice the girl running at him from the side, intent on only going to the aid of the man she had been with, but he'd .. Taken it as a threat. That night, two lives were lost - he had heads for each hand. The middle is filler, disappearing for a good couple of years, coming back only when his sister tracked him down. The best nose of the family, always fishing out the trash, he said. The only alpha. That was supposed to be him. But he wasn't himself without his anger - his anger protects him. "
without the other. ⌘
+ trxsh atelier rpr edit @ vivaldi