HUGO @c0nnextion - Tumblr Blog

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joliees-deactivated20141229

the way he looked at her; oh god, she felt so stupid. why did she do this? why did she so bluntly tell him to get coffee. and that’s when he mentioned hot chocolate. although she thought that this wasn’t going to work out—her mouth parted and words flowed freely. “Starbucks has that too,” her brows perked up and she tugged on his sleeve. gosh, this guy was freakin’ hot. and jolie never really thought that about too many. her head tilted to the left as her lips curled into the most awkward smile she could muster. she couldn’t handle this all that well. that idiot.

c0nnextion

the usual female may have been scared of him. he had met many who thought he looked at them and judged their appearance—how their hair was, if they were too fat or skinny. he truly wasn't doing so, but he didn't try to prove them otherwise. however, he was truly looking at her up and down now. she still tugged on his sleeve, despite how he may have been assessing her features. she was attractive, he wouldn't deny that. she also seemed too stiff to really hold a conversation with him. it worked to his advantage— he didn't have to try hard to make conversations. "Lead the way." And despite how he hated human contact, he carefully snatched her fingers away from his sleeve and returned them to her side.

#[oh i do #it's c0nextion #]#r;#joliees

He recognised the elder male from pictures inside the STC building, but they hadn't run into each other on his visits before he'd signed his contract. When they ran into each other, though, it was one of the more awkward encounters of his life. He didn't know how to talk to the new people in this company, his old labelmates had been used to his oddness but now he had to go through it all again. He dipped his head a bit to bow to the other, biting his lip. "Ah, hello."

Hugo was tired. His bed was lumpy and uncomfortable and nightmares had caused him to wake up in the middle of the night; clutching his sweat-soaked t-shirt. This had been happening for a week. There were noticeable bags under his eyes and a dusting of purple under his eyes that reminded him of bruises he had received after brutal fights.

He was in no mood to socialize with new members of the company. But, he wasn't outright rude. " 'ey. Somethin' you need?"

#answer #r;#jayhyunny

daughterhobbs-deactivated201809

Send ∩ to my inbox

and I’ll use this website to generate a snapchat from my muse to yours

#games;

she was never one for conversation, never one to get to know those around her. but life changes, people change. and in turn, you must change with it. so jolie decided to suck up her idiotic tendencies and take a step further. slender fingers reached out to tap the others shoulder, brows now perked. she was bad at interaction; and it showed in her movements, in her awkward tone of voice. shaky, nervous, it was evident. "Let's go get coffee,"

hugo never stuck around after practice was over. he didn’t enjoy the buzz around the place and usually felt himself stiffen if he bumped into any other artist. it was inevitable, and it was not a reaction out of fear — he just couldn’t hold conversations, or people, for long periods of time. an offer — which he mistook as an order — was made and he could only raise a brow at the awkward woman. her features were intriguing and pleasing to the eye, but confusion washed over him. he glances at his clock and at the entrance of their company. “More of a hot chocolate kinda guy.” It wasn’t a no. He hated coffee.

#r;#answer #[sorry #i took so long to answer this]#joliees

baskuiat

"Oh?" He spoke with an airy chuckle, barely audible, but detectable to those who knew what kind of character Tommy was. Being one for very little eye contact, he drove his gaze back down to where he stared at the moist concrete. The way it glistened at night reminded him of a speckled, night sky; except he had not noticed a starry night in the city since he arrived.

The mysterious stranger was interesting looking. A sight for sore eyes. With his chiseled face and nose ring, Tommy began to feel a greater kinship. His accent was what interested him the most, though he was unsure whether it was alcohol-induced. What group was he in again?

No questions asked, the R&B singer grew up speaking and being Korean even if Korea was only a foreign home. It was a nonissue, for he was the perfect embodiment of a bilingual child. Puberty changed that and as he began to be filled with vindictive resentment, he began to speak less and less—especially Korean. In the end, the language to him was formal and old-fashion: two things Tommy really lacked some sense in. "Don’t do it often? That’s funny. Most of my friends wanna speak to me in English ‘cause they think it’s above the rest or some shit. Even if their English is…" he trailed off unknowingly.

c0nnextion

"Shit?" The pierced drummer tried to add. He had only caught tidbits of conversations in English from Korean natives — that seemed as if they had not stepped a foot off the country — and it wasn't good. But then again, he could understand more of the language than speak. He was getting better, despite the lack of social and conversational skills he held. Re-learning Korean had not been in his plan. He wasn't tied to his "roots" and he considered himself a born and raised Brit.

Getting a good look at the stranger, he seemed like so many he had encountered in his home land that he was put at ease. His stiff frame became more lax but his features stayed the same— it was just the way his face fell naturally. However, there was something about him that screamed he had more on his mind than when to get the next fix or another bottle. He was a musician. Probably something to do with Hip Hop or R&B, he guessed.

With nothing for his fidgety, thin, fingers to grab on to, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He was fresh out of joints, so the nicotine fix would have to mellow him out. Producing light and warmth from the end of his zippo, he lit the death stick between his lips and inhaled. His words were quick to expel the smoke from his lungs, forming a cloud that soon withered away in front of him. Habitually, he kept the cigarette pressed between his lips at the corner of his mouth. "S'just, Korea is different. Very different."

"I know with all our time spent here," Tommy spoke with a languid tongue, in an almost-hushed tone; though he was not whispering any secrets. Any secrets he had to tell could easily be pinpointed with the way he smelled. He reeked. "We've never spoken. But we should. I mean, with us speaking English and all."

sure, hugo had spoken in his native tongue (english) since landing in south korea. it had been a blessing and a misfortune in disguise. it made him miss the constant downpour or the filth on the streets. it was too peaceful and clean. it gave the impression that it was all for show. he knew the underground life, knew it was dirty and had found solace in it. now, that he was with others who also knew what it was like, in the company, it felt a little foreign.

the stranger reeked, but the smell was not one he was unused to. in fact, he probably mirrored the smell—with traces of weed, tobacco, beer and sweat. it wasn't pretty, but who was? "doesn't sound like a bad idea. " he responds in a tongue he had not spoken in months. "just like riding a bike."

#answer #r;#kuddoe

they’re at the company’s party and intoxication’s coursing thick throughout the orphan’s blood stream, completely hindering his ability to make sound decisions. ‘hence why he has his arm slung around your neck with his temple to your shoulder. his speech is all slurred, cheap whiskey stringing words to his teeth. “not a big fan of these shoes. my friend told me to buy them.” a beat. “guess you could say i’m easily per/suede/ed.” he’s talking about his new suede shoes. what a comedian.

sometimes hugo forgets things. like people, they manage to slip through his fingers and wither away. he had no recollection of having heard of or arriving at the party, but there he was— leaning against the wall with his band mate draped along his shoulder. obviously inebriated, the fellow continued to babble while he held a rolled up joint between his fingers. it was that kind of night. "m'hm... s'funny." he half-slurred himself; features still devoid of any emotion.

#answer #r;#abelardrichter