#piousx

Questions About My Character

✓ ✕

☺ - Do they prefer sour or sweet treats? 

Always sweet.

❄ -  Favorite season and why?

The scent of cinnamon and freshly baked goods, tied with the crisp air and the web of colors coming to life from monotonous green. The time to bring out the layers, breath suddenly becoming visible when outside. Fall will remain to be his favorite season, as it has been since his childhood. 

☮ - Do they have an idol or someone they look up to?

Tragically, Van Gogh. His noble pursuit of happiness is the same determination Chanyeol wishes to put into his own endeavors.

❤ - Do they have a love interest?

No, but Chanyeol is perfectly content the way he is and wishes not to mess it up.

✖ - Who is someone they just cannot stand? 

       Send me a ✘  and I’ll put my playlist on shuffle, get a song, then post a line as the starter. ( x )

➤ ( song ) ( no lyrics available online ) current status: not accepting.

    With a hand grasping onto her heart she was very good at keeping her composure, showing exactly no emotions towards the harsh words the male had slipped out. Her expression said that she didn’t care about being used, played with, stepped on; but her inner-reflection was completely different. She was hurt, but there was no way she’d go to the depths of admitting it, it was just out of her nature.

     Moments passed, silent continued. All she did was stare at him, practically throwing daggers at him with her eyes. Was she actually that stupid to believed he cared for her? That there was some deeper meaning to the kind gestures? No, absolutely not. With no experience in commitment she had no idea what to look for, and obviously he was not it, he was far from what she’d want to accept into her heart. 

「 broadway/musical songs : piousx 」

❝ I don’t need anyone to tell me what to do. I’m an adult and I make the right choices. ❞ There was a tad bit of truthin her words; she didn’t need anyone totell her what to do-- but she didn’t alwaysmake the right choices.

His eyes look at the voice in the crowded coffee shop. Usually Chanyeol is a ball of enegry talking nonstop but today not so much. Not for any particular reason other than he’s stuck in his own thoughts. He doesn’t expect the other to say anything to him when during his break he slides into the table seated across from the other. They share a few words and the man isn’t bad company as he sips his drink curiously. Chanyeol tilts his head at his next words– how true they seem. Chanyeol is excellent at forgetting and pushing unpleasant thoughts from his mind. Otherwise, how would he be so cheerful all the damn time?

“I mean, forgetting is nice.” He says. “But in my experience if you confront what bothers you it just looms around until it can strike at an opportune moment. Never really goes away but hands around. Like a ghost you cannot see but you feel.” He’s a hypocrite he knows. But even knowing that, he knows he will never be the one to face his issues directly.

Suzy wasn't sure why exactly she'd done it, why she'd left her warm bedroom on that particularly rainy morning or why she went to the little knickknacks shop on the corner near her favorite stop-and-shop market. She didn't know why she'd moved with such purpose, as if she were compelled to walk inside and head immediately for the vintage heirlooms near the back of the shop. She did know, however, that surrounding herself with such sentimentality would have a detrimental effect on her stability for that day.

Her beliefs in superstitions were as inconstant as the weather; she believed in coincidence, in deja vu, and sometimes she avoided cracks in the sidewalk when she remembered to. But this… this was practically otherworldly. She'd dreamt of the shop a few times, sure, but she'd never acted on any of those dreams. Until today, at least.

The small locket was somewhat corroded with age, the once-lovely silver now dark with tarnish. She held it in her hands delicately, a foreign wave of nostalgia washing over her; she'd never experienced such an effect from an object -- at least not without its owner present. A shuddering gasp fell from her lips and she stumbled backward, dropping the locket as though it had scalded her.