#p;downtime

[lgcwoobin]

downtime.

Starter for @lgcxmax !

Moving into a new dorm for the duration of Future Dreams seems odd to Woobin—why couldn’t they simply film them during practise and performances, rather than 24/7? He’d liked his privacy before, even if it was mildly hindered by the watchful eyes of managers in the dorms. Now, there’s cameras on him day and night, and he’s not been enjoying it so far. Though he doesn’t think he’ll have to worry about it for too long—surely he’ll not make it through another round, given he’s pretty sure he was dangerously close to elimination last time. 

One good thing about the new dorm arrangements is that he doesn’t need to get use to an entirely new group of people. Once again, Woobin finds himself in a dorm with Max, who thankfully he gets along well with. It’s a rare moment of downtime after a long day of practise, and Max had suggested they play some mobile game together—Woobin had never heard of it, but was completely willing to attempt it (and get his ass beaten in the process). He’s laying at one end of the couch, his limbs aching from a days hard work, and frowning down at his phone as his thumbs begin to feel far too big for whatever this game is. 

“What’s this called again? And... what am I doing wrong? Are my thumbs just too big? Am I meant to be dying this fast? Max, help.” He whines the last bit, sitting up and leaning a little closer to Max. He’d only ever played Pokemon and Mario Kart before, so anything requiring more skill than those he’s unsurprisingly terrible at. 

[pxskylar-blog]

☁ down time

Skylar doesn’t remember exactly how ended up in this specific part of town but it’s been a long day and an equally busy one at that and right now she has no plans of returning to the office; no, she’ll save that for tomorrow. Right now, she needs a break and a venti cup of iced Americano and so before her mind can wander any further into the rabbit hole of stress, she walks in hopes of finding the nearest Starbucks (which shouldn’t really that hard to find since coffee shops were everywhere in Seoul). 

It’s when she’s on her way inside of the popular coffee shop that she takes notice of a familiar face inside the music shop next door. A face like that is hard to miss and she makes a mental note to stop by on her way out, preferably with much needed coffee in her hand. Ten minutes later, thank goodness for speedy service, she steps out with not one but two iced Americanos in hand and walks into the neighboring shop. 

The shop itself is fairly empty save for a few patrons here and there scouring the aisles in search of some rare finds of their favorite artists. Skylar sees aisle upon aisle of music merchandise that she’s honestly surprised that such place existed in the first place-- perhaps she really is missing out on so much because of her work. Finally, when she sees the familiar face walk back up to the counter after dealing with a customer, she walks up to him and places the other iced Americano in front of him. “It’s been forever and a day, stranger. How’re you doing?”

[ @pxwonshik ] 

[fanxjongin-blog]

downtime. ft adn.

the sun is barely setting by the time jongin leaves work, his nails stained black around the beds and a smudge of oil against his cheek, smelling of gasoline and rust and iron. his arms are sore and there’s a bruise on his shin from where he stumbled into the machinery whilst fooling around with one of the other mechanics, but it doesn’t still the easy lope that carries him out across the dunes and onto the beach. its only moments from then that he discards his shoes, worn sneakers and no socks underneath, to traverse the burning sands barefoot. the heat from the earth beneath him seeps into the soles of his feet like comfort, like home, and while jongin might not have been born on this particular island it still feels like the home he’s left behind and he finds comfort in that, in the salt spray that stings his cheeks and fills his nose. 

his skin is burnished bronze, kissed in this life by the sun that killed him in his last, and his hair is whipped tousled and wild by the wind, wide eyes bright as they train on the horizon, toes sinking slow into the damp sands on the shoreline, the call of seagulls a distant accompaniment to the crashing of waves. a shadow falls beside him and he glances up, a familiar figure with windswept hair beside him. it lights his face up to see him, white teeth flashing in a grin that widens until the edges of his eyes crinkle. “hey, long time no see.” he teases out, his voice an indolent rumble from his chest as he shifts, bumps their shoulders together lightly. “what you doing out here, huh?”