#jintenerate

[yoseop-ssi]

bogus

honestly, if yoseob were to honestly, honestly address the extent of his uh -- finesse in dealing with that final, concluding scene of a tedious relationship, he'd tell you, words lathered in bullshit, that there is no such thing as a messy break up for him.

despite his general incompetence and absolute lack of evidence regarding the aforementioned statement, yoseob feels relatively skittish tonight; tonight, oh tonight, there's a steady build up of peril and uneasiness that gurgles in his stomach like the forewarning of a calamitous storm. his girlfriend -- 'vi', he silently reminds himself, recalling a disastrous previous break up where yoseob had accidentally forgotten his ex-girlfriends name in the midst of a hectic work season -- has tightly clasped her hand in his tonight, and he loosens his grip a little, almost lifeless in its response to the tightening of her fingers.

she's excited apparently; it's been a while since he's taken her out to such a fancy restaurant, she'd told him, and he mourns a little at the impending dent in his wallet. like magnet however, his thoughts meander to work and ah, he's forgotten about that early meeting tomorrow, but he also thinks about the brief midday meeting they'd had today -- that one had been perfect, concise and efficient -- and like this he thinks about work, work and work, while his fingers steadily scroll through his messages, waiting for a certain prick’s response --

he notes the selfish bastard has seen his message and ignored it, unsurprisingly. it reads: 'help, emergency break up pls, pretend 2 b my fake ex bf and do things ASAP!!! im at that super expensiv steak restaurant we went to for ur bday if u rememb ??? reach now.' 

aggravated now, yoseob quickly types out a, 'fuck i ll pay u, u piece of shit, help a brotha out u heartless prick’.

"who are you talking to? you've been looking at your phone all day -- "  yoseob snaps his head up at the bite in his girlfriends voice, like she's been holding it in for too long and he steels himself as he locks his eyes onto her suspicious ones from across the table. he maintains his apathy then, and with a slant of his lips, throws in a grimace like he's miffed.

a silent shrug then.

"no one, babe." is his curt response and he drops his gaze back to the phone, burning holes at the name 'jisoo' and its lack of response.  

[alleiore-blog]

5,10,15

                                                                              { Off the Record }: 

                          A list of intrusive questions designed to make your Idol think.

#5. What do your non-idol/celebrity friends think about what you do?

At first, everyone thought it was impractical but still gave me their full support. After seeing the progress I’ve made, they actually approve of it and love that I’m enjoying it! They do think it’s easier said than done, not really thinking about the dark stuff but, hey-- it’s a secret for behind the scenes.

#10. Look ahead five years. If you were still doing this then, can you honestly say it would make you happy?

I honestly do not know. I guess it fits the circumstances then but.. I really can’t imagine doing anything but singing. As long as I get to sing, I’m happy!

#15. What do you think about your company? If given the chance to leave it in favour of somewhere else without any negative repercussions, would you take it?

I don’t know. I don’t know how I’d be under a different entertainment or even no entertainment. I just know that I’d rahter stay close to my girls then stray so only if they weren’t there too.

[punchdrunksarchive]

+ jintenerate it still felt weird. there had been an influx of foreigners living in korea and speaking in korean (sometimes even better than him) for years now but it was weird when he knew one of them and they spoke fluently (or fluently enough for jisoo to understand) in korean to him. leaning against the rails of his veranda, he put out the butt of his cigarette against it. lightly tossing the small bit of his cigarette into his ash tray on the floor, he turned his head towards his friend. “is there?” he questioned as he pushed himself away from the rails and stood up straight as he watched the scene of the thunder crashing down in front of them. “and how does one do that? they aren’t in some kind of a pattern, are they?” watching the night view flash a few times, he shoved his hands into his pockets before making his way back into his apartment. “is that what you did as a child? count how far they are?”

"Woah, that’s a lot of questions right there.” Suddenly overwhelmed by the other’s wave of inquiries, Ace let out a chuckle as he walked around the veranda, gaze fixed at the grey sky. “When I was a kid I was told--I forgot by who, I think it was my mom--that you can determine your distance from the lightning by the thunder. ‘Cause I was scared at the time. Although I’m not sure if this is even true, but I’ve been doing it ever since.” With a roll of his eyes, he began explaining, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Once you see the lightning strike, count the number of seconds until you hear the thunder. The period in-between tells you how far the actual lightning strike is. You know, ‘cause light travels faster than sound. So, for example, if you hear the thunder right after you see the lightning, that means it’s close. There’s a formula for this I think, but I never bothered to do it. What mattered to me was if it’s far or close.” The foreigner anticipated Jisoo’s reaction to this because halfway through the informative speech, he was starting to laugh and it didn’t seem as if he was serious. But Ace wasn’t messing around; the matter of searching the Internet whether it was true or not just didn’t really happen to cross his mind before. At least, based on what he’s learned, it makes enough sense to him.

[ximpvlsive-blog]

jintenerate:

why, why was it so surprising to people that he could cook? was he supposed to be greeting his guests into his home with smoke from burning a pot black? or were they expecting him to be ordering deliveries from around the neighborhood. he rose a brow as he took a look at the table full of food and then at the younger of the two, “why do you sound so surprised?” it was weird how people acted when they saw his dinner table filled with food. it wasn’t anything grand (after all, he wasn’t a five star chef at some hotel or diner).

even his mother had been surprised to see some side dishes hidden away in his fridge inside a plastic container. his mother had taken half of the stuff she had brought for him to eat and survive with. his father had only gave him a pat on the back of his head and then on his shoulder before leaving. “it’s not that bad. if anything, it turned out exactly like the blogger describe on their page about these dishes.

placing each of his hands on each of her shoulders, he pushed her towards the empty seat, “i swear it’d edible.” 

Appearances were always deceiving, so seeing the other whip up a meal for him to enjoy. And possibly herself since she always had space in her petite stomach for a couple of bites regardless of her having a whole meal a few hours before. Nonetheless, she’s inspecting the entire kitchen curiously with a brow arched, noticing how there wasn’t too much misplaced. There’s a mess lingering but it’s typically a normal image to see when cooking, Hana experienced it plenty of times whether it’s in the past until today. 

❝I see. I see.❞ Hana’s trying to figure out a response for the other male, it’s an -- endearing sight to see. Wishing that more men would actually take the time to prepare a meal for themselves. At least from what she knows from her male friends, they enjoying eating out to restaurants. 

With her behind pressing into the seat, scooting the chair further in as she looks back at the latter. There’s no pout formed and not even a single frown either. Confusion but somehow, she’s excited to try. ❝Alright fine, but we have to eat it together.❞ In the young woman’s words, if she’s bound to catch food poisoning -- he will too.