#id.indigo

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S MAIN DANCE, LEAD VOCAL, RAP MOON JIHUN…

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 26 DEBUT AGE: 21 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 18 COMPANY: MSG ETC: this member is known for their involvement in musicals

IDOL IMAGE

The steadfast, reliable one.

That’s what he is, that’s what he needs to be, or so he’s told.

Not the one who ever truly stands out, only ever when he’s given the time to take center stage as a dancer, but a jack of all trades who blends smoothly into anything that’s thrown at him. Dancing is what he does best, and he clears the stage every time he’s on there, so much so that there’s articles written about how he comes alive, and there’s comment chains about his so-called duality, on stage vs off stage, the artist vs the person, as if they truly knew either at all.

Where his bandmates are electric and mysterious, where they’re magnetic and bring people in, his job is to keep them there, to be the anchor. He’s approachable, perhaps a little too much, and the company pushes his open and earnest relationship to fans, because they need it. The company tells him to be the best friend, the big brother, never the favorite but good enough to make people feel comfortable. The meek shall inherit the earth, as they say.

It’s a polished and just-flawed-enough version of who he’s always wanted to become, once, before the mirror cracked and the smoke vanished. Smile for the camera, be that boy, strong, unwavering, always there for others, sometimes not quite there himself.

He pursues musicals, gets the OK from the company after much insistence, after convincing them that it’ll allow him to show versatility, that that’s the thing they want for the group right now. Selfishly, he wants it for himself first, to show that he can take on that challenge and see it through. The company agrees, if only because they need it, a way to show and confirm, after re:group, that their idols can truly adapt and thrive no matter what’s thrown at them. It’s publicity, at least, but then it’s up to him to make it good.

There’s a sort of vindication in it, although he’s always been told to avoid being too prideful, but sometimes he can’t help it. No hurt in telling yourself you’re doing well, after all, that your best is enough for once.

IDOL HISTORY

corner of the sky.

“Special”.

“Gifted”.

“Prodigal”.

Words that mean too much, until they dont mean anything at all.

-

When Moon Jihun is seven years old, his parents sign him up for the school talent show, at his express request. He had seen this performance on TV, of an artist whose name he can’t remember and that his seven-year-old grasp on language would probably jumble anyway, but it shakes something up in him like nothing has before. It plants a seed in his young mind that’s only begging to grow, so he bats his lashes as his mother, and she writes his name down because of course, anything for her little prince. Before he knows it he gets a taste of it, the costumes and the light and the dramatics, but most importantly he hears his own voice, feels his body moving, and he loves how it makes him feel.

Passion feels like all he needs and he cultivates it, for all the years afterward, and it’s only the beginning of the road. It’s also the foundation of a home, for Jihun, and back then it’s whole and beautiful and precious, not in ruins quite yet. He’s his parents’ and grandparents’ treasure, the pride of Seogwipo, center stage in flashing light. The family’s crown jewel who can do nothing wrong in their eyes.

Jihun, you’re so much more advanced than all the other kids!

You know, our Jihun practices a lot at home.

I think it shows, he’s so talented!

He works hard at performing because he loves it,  but he can’t deny that being told he’s good, being told he’s special, is more fuel to his fire. It must mean he’s doing something right, and it must be true, they have no reason to lie to him after all, they’re only here to encourage and lift him up. Honesty is the best policy, always, that’s what he believes and what he holds on to. So whenever his father grips him by the shoulders and tells him he’s special, he believes it. Whenever his grandmother hangs another picture on the wall, he feels his heart filling with pride. Every time he sees them sitting in a row, all eyes on him, it’s only more motivation to chase this dream.

He’s special, after all.

Fresh out of middle school, he moves to the big city, Seoul, center of the known universe. And, or so he thinks, fulfills his destiny.

The performing arts school building towers over him the first day, so many promises rising up to the sky, all the hope he’d shouldered from all his years practicing finally about to fully realize themselves into something concrete, something for the future.

The future, as it turns out, is a paper plane that burns at the slightest change of direction.

Outside of his bubble, away from his family, Jihun crashes in a way he’s never experienced before. Where’s that special kid, where’s the prodigal son, in the middle of all the other students who are stronger and better in every way? Where’s the gift gone, when he’s struggling to catch up, much less keep up, when he loses his breath and comes tumbling to the floor, lungs on fire, sweat trickling down his back, the unpleasant physical manifestation of failure.

That’s a new word, failure. It stains his tongue like the bitter taste of tobacco, the cigarettes he starts sneaking in between classes, hunched over, curled up on himself against the back wall of the building, shame and disgust and failure, failure, failure.

His parents’ praise echoes in his mind and he tries to crumple it up and throw it away, because it’s not enough. It was never enough and he can’t do anything with it now, not when he feels himself falling behind, slipping away, his dreams so far out of reach he should probably just let them go.

But letting go is not an option, of course. The only thing stronger than his shame is his stubbornness. If he’s just average, the only way is up. If he only has his determination to show for himself, then at least he’s got something. Everyone has to start somewhere, right?  

Know where you stand. Stand your ground. Throw yourself into practice.

He takes everything in stride. Classes, projects, late night training, throw five or six desperate kids in a room and call it a learning experience. Sneak into the school’s studio when no one is looking, stumble upon a classmate, keep each other’s secrets and keep each other afloat. There’s more vindication in knowing he’s trying than in being told he doesn’t have to. Maybe it’s too much sometimes, but there’s this growing, urgent need in Jihun’s gut to just prove that he can, so he keeps going, cultivates his work ethic far away from false promises and little white lies.

waving through a window.

He’s eighteen, waiting at the bus stop when it happens, a man in a cheap suit handing him a business card, the three letters MSG feeling like a punch in the throat. He knows them, of course, anyone with an interest in the industry does. The fine print in is the man’s words, though.

“You’ve got a face that’ll sell.”

It’s a start, maybe. It’s ok if he can capitalize off of that, show what he truly wants to. It’s a chance he can’t afford to pass up. Even if he doesn’t like to think of it that way, everything is a means to an end.

Trainee life is, for all he’s anticipated, just a leveled-up version of school. He gets the call back a week after his audition. The almost soulless voice on the other hand claims they saw something in him, and it’s been a while since he’s heard those words so Jihun takes them with caution, files them in a corner of his mind that’s still marked with a red flag.

He still shows up on the company’s doorstep with his suitcase and his aching heart.

The cycle starts again. Push yourself to the limit, say yes, thank you, I’ll do my best, I’ll work harder, and then do just that. It’s all you’ve got a claim to, after all. In that room he’s just like he was before, keeps himself afloat among the others, and eventually, he finds his footing. He can breathe a little easier, sleep a little sounder, even if he doesn’t get to do either of those things much. Little by little, finally, he makes himself known. Remarkable if only for how diligent he is, people also commend his hunger to prove himself. The downside, that he tries not to let become his downfall, is his tendency to bite off more than he can chew, leaving projects unfinished or unpolished just because he wants to move on to the next one, to do everything at once, to show his worth. Run through a dance cover, move on to some barely formed choreography, or two, sometimes both at the same time because he needs to keep his mind occupied and alert.

His body feels like it’s being taken apart every day, from the hazy dance practices that blend into each other, always longer and more grueling and the next, but he loves it, this feeling, when the world spins and he’s taken along in the movement. It’s all he ever wants to do. It’s all he feels that he knows.

“You just don’t stand out.”

It’s that sentence, that he seems to hear over and over, that makes his blood boil and sets his heart on fire. “If they’re not looking my way, I’ll make them.”

And he does.

If he’s always heard that debuting is the hardest part, he’d wager that following up is harder. It doesn’t feel difficult or painful when he stands on that stage for the first time, finally, a day that he’d begun to think would never come. It feels freeing. It feels like the sky has opened up and all the atmospheric pressure has been lifted, and rain is clearing yesterday’s pain to make way for tomorrow’s joy.

Tomorrow’s joy, he learns the hard way, only comes to the fortunate. They’re not among them. Months pass and comebacks happen and everything remains the same, leaving sweat stains and tear tracks everywhere they go, trying to make sense of a situation that never does. It’s not hard work that makes dreams come true, it’s luck, pure dumb luck, and theirs ran out so quickly that Jihun keeps wondering if there’s something they’re doing wrong.

Still they keep on going, stuck somewhere between determination and desperation, a single red thread that threatens to snap at any moment. It’s burned into Jihun’s skin, this lifeline, the promise of a better tomorrow that never seems to come; low sales, low views, low interest, low morale, but still this hunger, unsatisfied yet, and maybe it never will be.

soul of a man.

Re:group is grueling, worse than he’d imagined, worse than he’s been through.

Against the odds, he hears those words again. One by one as the guys walk in, this one is special, this one is gifted, this one is prodigal, and yet they’re all here, but to him they don’t seem to realize the reason why.

He gets the devil’s part, grits his teeth when he watches the episodes and sees what they’ve made of him, but he makes do with it. After all, this world will only ever let you be who they’ve already decided you are, and in a situation like this one, it’s pointless to fight against it. If you know who you are then it’s enough, and Jihun does, finally. So he works, and he works, because that’s all he knows, and he refuses to let anyone hold that against him at least. If the producers decide he’s the bad guy, too relentless and demanding and straightforward, then so be it. Through it all, he fights like a lion who refuses to die in the cage.

Too often his outspokenness is mistaken for humor, and the things he says that pertain to the hardships of the industry are brushed to the side or not taken seriously. The industry is cruel, this much he knows, but even in the role he’s been given, even as the MCs and the managers try to silence him, he knows he can hold on to what he believes. Sure he has to compromise, and it eats him alive on most days, how often he’s asked or downright forced to set his conscience aside. The fans notice, a little, but it’s only small things they can get attached to. For now it’s probably enough, not that he’d be allowed anything more.

At the conclusion of it all, under stage lights and scrutiny, as he’s been doing all his life, he waits for his name to be called. But the call never comes. It’s okay. It’s enough. he  did his best, and they’ll never take that away from him.

The gate opens to a brave new world instead.

one day more.

Fortune is a funny thing, really.

One day it seems like it’s all but abandoned them, thrown them to the side of the road to fend for themselves and eventually be picked on by vultures, a disgraceful end for a disgraceful life.

The next day, like some trickster god was in a benevolent mood and spun the wheel again, they wake up in a world where people have finally taken notice, where they’re not an afterthought anymore.

The first group schedule after the show, Jihun can barely see through the crowd and the flashing lights. It’s a new feeling and he thinks he could get used to it, even if the little voice in the back of his head warns him that this too shall pass if they’re not careful.

Take the second chance and run with it, because they don’t come easy, because it could be the last. Take the love, the admiration, the trophies, cherish them, because they could slip away at any moment.. Put in your demands now, because they can’t refuse you anything anymore. Now Jihun understands what it’s like to be the breadwinner, the move maker, the one that the light is finally shining on.

In the wake of their newfound success, Jihun gets cast in his first real musical, so far from the cardboard and the watercolor of the school talent show. It’s a never-ending thrill ride, a rush of adrenaline like he’s never known before, one that he hopes he never gets used to. He’s clawed his way up here and he’ll fight to stay, even when the industry is as unforgiving as its ever been.

When the cameras are off, as always, his strong moral compass is both his lifeline and his downfall. Even when it starts working in his favor, he still disapproves of many aspects of the idol industry, silently protests against the personal restrictions, refuses to settle for “this is how it’s always been done.” His intentions to voice that dislike are often shut down by his company to maintain the image they gave him, one that is a little too off to who he truly is for him to stay quiet for long. Maybe one day the industry will change enough that it will never have to be this way again, for him or anyone who shares his way of thinking. For now, if he can keep his balance despite all of it, if he can stay true no matter what, then he’ll have already won.

It takes a lot to break a man’s spirit. Even more when he’s already been patched up, and is held together with renewed hope; and the knowledge that if he holds on to his unwavering belief in what’s right, and keeps on his path as he has, then he’ll find a way out into the light in the end.

#id.bio #id.msg #id.indigo #id.kim taeho

[idolizenews]

The three kings of kpop, they’re indiGO, Olympus, and Atlas. You really can’t argue with this, right? It’s really amazing how successful these three are, right? Here, I’ll break it down for you before anyone gets into any arguments.

indiGO = kings of Korea Olympus = kings of Asia Atlas = kings of international focus

It’s true, right? There’s really no other group that could push one of them out. Really, don’t try to argue with me.ㅎㅎ

POST RESPONSE | [ + 476 ] [ - 62 ]

1. [ ㅇㅇ ] I agree with OP, these really are the top 3 of boy groups right? What’s even more impressive is how freaking popular and strong Olympus is going after almost 10 years... 2. [ ㅇㅇ ] It’s so crazy to think that if this was posted just a little while ago, indiGO wouldn’t even be on this list...I wonder who we would say...ah, thank you indiGO for appearing on RE.group ㅠㅠ 3. [ ㅇㅇ ] Ah, this is really true...there’s so many wannabe groups out there trying to dethrone them, but. They’re really the elite, aren’t they? ^^

#id.pann #id.indigo #id.olympus #id.atlas #id.narrative

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S MAIN VOCAL NO SIWOO...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 19 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 16 COMPANY: MSG ETC: this member was known for the influx of attention they gained after REGroup.

IDOL IMAGE

siwoo originally debuted with a younger brother type image - goofy but sweet, wholesome but a charming nuisance to the older members of the group. he was comfortable with the role and played it well, but it was too conventional and he tended to be overlooked as a member. after his popularity grew from regroup, however, siwoo has shifted into an older brother type of concept - dependable, admirable, ruffling hair and teasing everyone. he was teased both by fellow contestants on the survival show and by his group members about his “angelic” image, developed after he garnered praise for his patience and willingness to help.

of course, he’s hardly angelic behind the scenes. siwoo is proud and refuses to acknowledge his own mistakes. he doesn’t always recognize limits like when a joke has come too far or when he’s pushing someone too hard, which not only creates tension but also damages his now-carefully-curated image. he’s easily affected by the trend - if things are going well, he rides that high, but he’s easily defeated once the tide turns. it’s true that he’s generous and helpful and a true team player - he believes that a group can only be successful if every member trusts and relies on one another. however, he’s very attached to the idea of indigo as a unit. this developed primarily during their slump, when siwoo began to fear disbandment, but his clinginess worsened once the group began rebuilding and reaching new heights. the boys, himself included, now take on more individual schedules, and he’s afraid of one of them achieving enough success in a field that they’ll leave the rest behind, dooming the others to flopping like before. part of him knows that teamwork also means supporting one another in all your endeavours, not just in those related to actual group work, and siwoo does support his members - he just doesn’t want them to succeed individual at the cost of indigo.

IDOL HISTORY

the no family filled their home with music.

the notes of chopin twinkled out of the radio while their father cooked, carly simon’s voice underscored family game night, uhm junghwa blasted out of the car as soon as the key turned in the ignition. every birthday dinner ended with a trip to the local noraebang. family gatherings were incomplete without someone sitting down at the piano while others shouted out requests and sang along at the top of their lungs. it was rare for there to be a quiet moment at home.

it shouldn’t have been surprising, then, when their middle son came home from school one day and declared that he was going to put his heart and soul into pursuing a career in music. you’d think that he was being set up for this future, that it was inevitable, all things considered, for him to want to make a life out of this.

the no family loved music. it was a hobby, an escape. it was also an unstable, dangerous, exploitative career path. the industry was corrupt, cruel, extremely difficult to break into, extremely difficult to stay in. it wasn’t the right place for someone soft, sweet, and warmhearted like their son. careers should be pursued in fields that will never be deemed luxurious or unnecessary - like the family plumbing business. the world will always need plumbers. will they need musicians?

siwoo thought they did. plumbing was a respectable profession - he was never ashamed of what his family did for a living - but fixing rusty pipes and renovating washrooms never seemed as exciting to him as the rush of standing onstage, delivering music that gave people strength and allowed him to express himself beyond what words alone could explain.

his older sister, who went the practical route by studying accounting in order to become the family business’s bookkeeper, had been giving him piano lessons since he was a kid. for siwoo it had always been his three hours a week of respite. he confided in her about his wish to pursue music, confessing that it was the only thing he could imagine himself doing, even if their family didn’t understand it. she told him that she understood, and that she had a friend who was a trainee at an entertainment group - maybe they could get together and he could find out more about what the industry is really like. they met at a coffee shop on the trainee’s day off, siwoo filling a three hour conversation with probing questions about trainee life. the industry was hard, the trainee acknowledged, and the vast majority of trainees never reached debut. but if you loved music that much, wouldn’t you regret not even trying?

siwoo signed up for auditions at every company he could find, scheduling them months in advance to give him time to prepare. he could play piano, and he had a naturally clear singing voice that earned him compliments from untrained listeners, but he worried about whether that would be enough for entertainment companies that looked for visuals, charisma, and charm on top of talent. he signed up for dance lessons at his local community centre, nothing fancy or impressive but enough to give him a sense of rhythm and make him more comfortable with moving his body. he spent time every night practicing his singing and his piano, his concerned parents listening as the music bled through the walls. finally he auditioned, and auditioned, and auditioned. he failed many, but passed a couple, and ultimately chose to begin training at msg entertainment.

training was, predictably, hard. he had to work hard into the night, keep a diet, and continue going to school. he was far from home, and his parents were still unhappy with his decision - they sent him a meager allowance, and he called them regularly, but their tone was always cold, always distant, and probably would be until he relented and came home. but siwoo, proud as ever, refused. as exhausting as it was, training was the first thing he’d ever really been good at. he thrived under pressure, loved proving others wrong, relished every opportunity he had to improve his singing. he worked best when he had a goal in his sights, and he had lots as a trainee: the biggest one being debuting, of course, but smaller ones to help him get there too, like getting the top score on the next trainee evaluation or successfully singing a piece in a higher key. he was motivated and he pushed himself until he was placed in the lineup to debut and finally, in spite of it all, proved himself.

or so he had thought. indigo hit the ground running, earning praise and attention from all sides with their debut release. it was too early for his parents to be fully convinced of their son’s success, but his sister told him that they had put up his posters in the office and had bought their debut ep and were trying to convince every customer, neighbour, family member, and friend to do the same. siwoo thought that if indigo had a few more successful releases, his parents would finally admit to him that he made a good decision in pursuing this path, and their relationship could finally mend. but their first comeback got significantly less hype, and the third even less. indigo was shaping up to be more or less a failure for msg, not quite becoming entirely irrelevant but certainly not living up to their initial burst of popularity. siwoo’s pride disintegrated. what his parents had feared had come true: their son couldn’t make it in music.

he was young at debut and didn’t have an image that stood out much - he was a younger brother character, cute and sweet, straddling the line between irritating and endearing. msg didn’t have much for him to do when indigo slumped, so he went on the few shows he was invited to and otherwise didn’t do much of anything. he struggled when there were no discernible goals ahead of him - they had missed the window to win rookie of the year awards, they were not nearly popular enough to hope to get their music show win on any of their few comebacks. siwoo isolated himself, spending as little time in the dorm or the company building as possible, doing little more than the bare minimum when indigo prepared for an event or a performance here and there. the motivation that made him such a great worker as a trainee evaporated in the face of indigo’s decline

regroup changed everything. the way the company told the members that they were going on a show for failed idols made it sound like a last resort, but siwoo saw it as a new chance. it was essentially like training again - competing with a large group for limited spots, undergoing evaluations and exhausting schedules, and, most importantly, meeting goals. he regained the motivation he had lost, and viewers took note of how hardworking he was. he got to sing ballads than indigo’s dance tracks let him and got some attention for the extent of his talent that had previously gone under the public’s radar. he had a positive, easygoing attitude, and made friends easily with the other contestants. his popularity skyrocketed after an episode where he was grouped with a team of dancers on a vocals challenge and stayed up late every night leading up to their performance to help each member with their singing, leading that team to winning the challenge. he became known for having a heart of gold, being sweet, outgoing, patient, and helpful. he climbed the ranks of the show from borderline irrelevant to twelfth place, missing the final lineup by fewer spots than anyone had originally anticipated.

indigo blew up afterwards, and siwoo blew up with it. msg decided to all but scrap the group’s original dance-heavy sound and focused instead on showing off the boys’ vocal talents, and as main vocal, siwoo had some of the most attention-grabbing adlibs and lines in their songs. but even more than for his voice, he had become popular for his personality, and msg capitalized on this by throwing him into variety. siwoo was friendly, bright, and not easily embarrassed - he dove right into whatever humiliating situation the show called for without hesitation. he got good press after an indigo appearance on i can see your voice and got invited back to be on the panel several times since, and he was praised for his charming anecdotes on his frequent appearances in happy together episodes. he’s succeeded, as both a musician and a public figure, and most importantly, he’s proved himself to his family. they still aren’t happy about what he’s doing, but they can hardly argue with him now. everything is going more or less perfectly, but siwoo is starting to worry: if indigo continues on this upward trend and achieves even more heights, siwoo is, frankly, going to run out of goals. he’s thrilled with their success, and there are still some milestones both the group and he himself have not yet reached, but he’s afraid of running dry and plummeting into a debilitating slump again.

#id.bio #id.msg #id.indigo #id.yoon jeonghan

[idolizenews]

indiGO RETURNS WITH ANOTHER CINEMATIC MUSIC VIDEO FOR ‘WAY BACK HOME‘

1. [ +1,597, -132 ] Ah seriously, doesn’t indiGO have the best music videos though? ㅠㅠㅠ They’re really like mini dramas, it’s so refreshing to watch ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ  2. [ +1,215 , -107 ] As expected of indiGO~ Another sweet ballad, it really sounds like it could be a drama OST ㅎㅎ Seriously, it’s so beautiful... I’m adding it to my playlist right away ♡ indiGO fighting, let’s hit daebak this time too!!  3. [ +921 , -74 ] Honestly I miss some of their older songs, isn’t this just... too boring...? The music video’s fun to watch, but when I tried listening to the song on its own.. ah... when will they release another fun song like Beep Beep? ㅡㅡ;

#id.music #id.comeback #id.indigo

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S MAIN VOCAL PARK RUWON...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 26 DEBUT AGE: 21 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 19 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: Musical acting

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): wonnie, vitamin d ( explained away as a revitalizing stand in for sunshine on variety, he cringes too ) INSPIRATION: a desire to soothe the souls of people the same way his favorite singers did growing up ( or so says his profile. it’s somewhat true, though his inspiration for why he became an idol singer in the first place was simply because he was unsure of his chances of making it in his originally desired career choice ). SPECIAL TALENTS:

can sing high enough to crack glass ( or so says his profile. he actually can’t, but he’ll try it out on variety and get into fake arguments with mcs about how they need to get their eyes checked when they inspect it after the fact and say he’s lying ).

killing point dances ( or so says his profile. he’s not the worst dancer in the entire world, but he is terrible at picking up and remembering choreography. he’ll usually recycle the same three dance moves while adamantly insisting he’s doing it perfectly, and that everyone still needs to get their eyes checked ).

can perfectly imitate any animal on cue ( or so says his profile. he does an alright pigeon and dog, and anything that’s technically silent. beyond that and it’s a bit of a stretch. when desperate, he’ll start insisting that motor vehicles also count, and that everyone needs to get their ears checked ).

NOTABLE FACTS:

was scouted at one of his university’s musical performances when he was in his first year. musical theater was his major.

he took a deferment from school but finished his degree between the years 2014-2016 when indigo was struggling and given smaller promotions as a result.

has become known as a musical actor, and before indigo appeared on re.group felt more recognized for that rather than being a member of indigo.

is known still as a ‘happy pill’ member after putting too much emphasis and overacting into variety during indigo’s debut when they were struggling.

has a biting sense of humor, though it’s often covered up and forgiven due to how he plays it off after ( he has a rather infectious laugh and innocent face ).

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

as far as his career goes, ruwon has two goals. to try and keep the ball rolling with indigo’s newfound fame, and to continue to pad his resume as a musical theater performer. he wants to accumulate more lead roles and really prove himself as a singer, so he doesn’t have to keep seeing the word ‘idol’ stuck next to his name whenever he lands himself a role. like meat to critics wanting to rip casting directors for it.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

as far as where ruwon’s loyalties lie, it’s always been with his own aspirations. and his own aspiration has always been to make it on stage. but not on music shows. instead, the sort of stages that are strung up with heavy red curtains and have an orchestra to punctuate whatever outlandish story he’s singing about. what ruwon has always wanted to do was the become a musical theater performer. he took msg’s offer because he was unsure of his chances in his not-so-great university. but indigo is more of a stepping stone than anything. and in all honesty, indigo’s sudden surge of popularity only muddies the waters of ruwon’s future plans rather than revitalizes him

IDOL IMAGE

just like indigo itself, ruwon’s brand has changed and shifted along with the group’s image. it makes sense. version one didn’t work out. so it was erased. as well as ruwon, or who he was in the group ( to a certain extent ). sometimes ruwon wishes he’d gotten a stage name pushed at him, or cared enough to fight for one. then it would seem less personal. at the beginning, they were the same as everyone else under msg’s roster, eclectic, edgy, with one song sounding like 14 glued together and dances that ruwon really couldn’t keep up with. he could help carry the group vocally when they lowered the volume on their backing tracks at music shows, but ruwon hadn’t been signed as a dancer and it showed.

so how do you make fans love a member thrown into a clearly performance based group to balance out that vocal line, that can’t quite keep up? you make him infectiously happy! give that exec another raise, a true visionary. ruwon became a happy pill. and then an over the top one when it became clear that indigo were floundering and it was at least moderately easy for mcs to play off it at the few variety shows they were invited to. he’d laugh ( too loudly, because he needed to get a reaction ), he’d attempt to copy dances ( poorly, to get a laugh. cement an image of himself as the kid with two left feet ). make a big deal over his ‘special talents’ ( and try to turn it into a comedic bit, because who cared what ruwon was really interested in? ). ruwon was happy, bright, and comedic relief throughout indigo’s advent.

they slower down, a few years with one korean promotion each and ruwon left that persona for moments on camera. treated the man that did musicals as a different entity entirely. then the last-ditch variety show happened. they shot to fame, another member pulled in large viewership and popularity ( despite ruwon going out and making a fool of himself all those years, and for what? ) new music, new songs, new fans, another token comeback under an experimental idea for msg ( which, funnily enough, was to try out non-experimental ), and suddenly indigo is an entirely new group. it feels like it anyway.

gone are the days of choppy electronica and spending exhausting hours in a practice room trying to keep up, vocals coming second. it’s a concept that suits ruwon more, but now feels strange. his identity is shifted, subtly, to keep up. that old ruwon can’t just disappear. but he doesn’t need to be a tryhard anymore. sometimes he’s still regarded as annoying as he figures out how much to dial down, what to rewire and change. he’s allowed to shift his brand of humor as a result. a little more impish, a little snarkier. he covers it with a laugh, because now he can fall back on that old happy pill familiarity of just wanting everyone to have a good time. so he’s still pushed as humorous. he’s still pushed as bright. but now they try to push his talent, too. he’s getting more chances to push his interest forward with musicals now that they wanted indigo to be branded as a ‘talent-focused’ sort of group. it feels excessive, and it feels like a fluke. ruwon settles like a stranger into his own remodeled skin.

IDOL HISTORY

PARK RUWON – the fall, flatline, and slow climb of a unknown idol.

PLAYBOOK.

WHO’S WHO IN THE CAST?

a deadbeat father. he was probably a drunk, he probably hated his life, he probably hated his mother, and he probably hated ruwon himself. when presented with the possibility of divorce, he left and dropped the shame of raising a child as a single parent in his mother’s lap. probably off somewhere working on a ship yard. a small role, name unimportant.

a single mother. kim misook, managerial position at a private hospital. she had ruwon a little too young and divorced soon after. additional details of the marriage are withheld from ruwon ( and, subsequently, the audience ). deals with muted stress, often put ruwon first. managed to work her way into a better lifestyle over the years. now somewhat comfortable, but she was dealt a harder hand at the beginning.

their child. park ruwon, grew up without some of the opportunities of his peers. his mother couldn’t afford multiple after school academies or private kindergarten on a one parent salary. had some amount of talent when it came to singing. wouldn’t bench his dreams. is a quasi-mix of illogical, stubborn, and unresponsive to the realities of the world until they hit him hard.

msg. the entertainment company that signed him. whoever first started calling all those executives sharks was probably right.

indigo. the boys he was thrown into a group with. ruwon’s future distilled into a single, depressive color.

SYNOPSIS

ruwon doesn’t remember his father. he left too early, before memories formed and solidified. he’d been interested in him at first, like some kids in similar shoes. that lingering hope that he wasn’t abandoned. that he was a secret agent. or an astronaut, pioneering through space. the whimsical stories from the mind of a five year old not yet ready to hear the truth. eventually it was put to bed when ruwon got old enough to understand why his mother cried sometimes behind the locked door of the bathroom. curiosity turned into resentment. communities aren’t always nice to families in situations like theirs. and public schools aren’t always nice, either. bullying happens to everyone. someone’s too pretty, another is too ugly. he’s too short and she’s not smart enough. ruwon’s parents were divorced. that was what got him picked on when he was younger. and then in trouble later, with reddened knuckles and a scowl in place. his mother’s sad eyes when a teacher explained that ruwon had lashed out and used physical violence when he could’ve used words. that was his childhood. not all bad. not all good.

when he gets older, he discovers singing. music. it’s high school and he’s in a club. he likes the stage, and picking roles. getting to pretend to be someone he isn’t for the duration of the show. he likes the music, everything sung out and emotionally high or low in a way that feels so much more gripping to him than anything in a movie. he falls in love with the stage. that stage. his mother’s sad eyes come back when ruwon wants to treat this seriously. when he tells her he wants to get it together, study harder for the entrance exam. that his music teacher thinks he has real talent, not just the sort they tell kids to make them feel better about themselves. but that maybe he could pull it off, this dream. turn it into a career. that one in a million shot. those one in a million shots are helped along by people with the money needed to push them along though, and his mother knows this. so he lives with heavy lunged sighs and subtle shakes of her head whenever he brings it up, like that will dissuade him. it doesn’t, because he isn’t yet ready to face reality. he wants to keep believing he can squeeze into his pipe dream. he’s seen his mother’s life, and he doesn’t understand why he has to do it too. why he should keep living for the miserable and rote. he wants to make it. he wants to get into a good school. a really great one, where he can network his way onto a bigger stage.

but ruwon doesn’t. because life isn’t a fairy tale, and reality didn’t just walk away because he wanted to be illogical. he was an average student, and he got an average score. an average ( or below average, depending on who got asked ) university admitted him to their okay musical theater program. and even as ruwon studied, and took his classes, made friends and auditioned for school productions, it all felt so pointless. foreshadowed regret. where was he going to go once he got his degree? a worthwhile piece of paper in a sea of kids who could all sing, who were all talented?

reality isn’t a fairy tale, but every once in a while people get a little lucky. after a school production his first year, he was seen and pulled by a talent scout at msg. a coincidence, their niece was in the orchestra performing the same day. they were looking for a vocalist, and ruwon had an alright enough look, so they gave him a card and told him to stop by on the audition date msg was hosting soon. the card got him through the door and granted him a little more attention than some of the others packed into the room with him. and even sitting there, in an uncomfortable plastic chair, ruwon felt like a fraud. he’d gone only because he’d realized he was an idiot. that he should’ve listened to his mother all along. thought that maybe if the gods shined down upon him he could use it as his opportunity to climb out of the hole he’d dug himself into.

the god must have been someone nonsensical, with an enjoyment of black humor. ruwon got into the company. he was stronger vocally than most of the other boys he trained with. maybe not surprising, since msg leaned toward dance and performance. he lagged behind them all massively in those two very areas. he put his school on deferral, his mother sighed some more, stared at him sadly over plates of food at dinner before he was eventually moved into trainee dorms. ruwon treated it like school, because that’s what he’d turned it into in his mind. he still wanted to be in musical theater, this was just a different rig to climb to get there. so he tried. he stayed late in an attempt to learn dances that didn’t come very naturally to him. he sat through lessons on how to look properly into a camera, or answer questions on variety. when he was selected for the final lineup of indigo, it felt surreal. he was added for his vocals, he wasn’t an all rounder and he didn’t personify msg’s style. but he could sing pretty damn well. that was supposed to be his big break. but it wasn’t.

MUSICAL NUMBERS

ACT 1

FACE. it’s their debut. it hurts ruwon’s ears. he hates it in the same way some of the others seem to love it – with a passion. it sounds like two songs fused together forcibly, and he’s not even sure why they’ve decided to add him to the group if they’re just layering auto-tune over his voice anyway. but he accepts it, he knew what he was getting into. he accepts his newfound image, and his role on variety shows. he does his best to pull attention for the group. he’s never been shy. and he wants this. maybe not in the same way as some of his group mates, but he wants it to work out. it’s a two-tiered plan. indigo succeeds, and then ruwon can ask about doing what he wants to. but the song doesn’t garner a whole lot of acclaim or attention. they scrape together the beginnings of a fanbase, some fallouts from the previous boy group msg housed, and some from their subpar showings. but it’s not always instant success, and msg is a fairly popular company. they just need to keep a positive face.

ACTION. this one, somehow, manages to do even worse. it’s both more all over the place and boring, which manages to shock critics for all the wrong reasons. their fanbase doesn’t grow exponentially. their song doesn’t chart. they get invited to even less variety shows than last time. ruwon acts out and makes a fool of himself whenever a camera is pointed at him out of desperation that someone will find him funny, that the group will get a call-back. whenever his mom calls, she sighs into the receiver. despite the static, he can hear the disappointment and judgement. he has no way of explaining that getting painted up in sparkles just to be ignored by pre-teens is in any way a good idea. he gets quieter, when the cameras are off. when the door closes in his shared room. he gets permission from the company to go back and continue his degree.

BEEP BEEP. does anyone even know they made a comeback? even when msg gets around to buying them a promotional pann, it’s always just spammed with who??? and it seems pointless. he still has debt. probably way more than he would’ve accrued if he just stayed in university. he’s a giant mistake of a boy, and he wonders at night how many more mistakes he’ll continue to make. if he’s just going around punching holes in his own godforsaken life, busy calling it interior decorating before he realizes years later he’s just ripping himself apart. he doesn’t sleep well. he focuses on school work, and people don’t even recognize him in the lecture halls. he goes out and auditions on his own for a role in a musical. his guidance counselor passes along the information, figures he might have a chance even if he isn’t a top star, sub-par name value if they squint. he manages to get an alternate role. it should make him happy. but ruwon’s now drowning in debt and frustrated with himself. his choices. he is a little happy though, when that curtain falls.

OVERCOME. it’s at this point that even the company refers to them as a failure. not to their faces. but ruwon hears about it. msg’s failed group. which just means ruwon the failure, doesn’t it? there’s a whole identity crisis that comes with it, but ruwon takes the opportunity of the company ignoring him to finish up his degree. he auditions for more musicals and starts to get more roles. he decides he doesn’t mind so much that indigo’s not doing great. he doesn’t have to put up with their songs, doesn’t have to spend too many hours learning dances, or coming up with new and stupid ways to start shouting on variety shows. he owes msg too much money, and they take cuts from his paychecks. but he has a place to live. he’s performing, doing the job he’d sought out to do. he’s not comfortable, but he’s complacent.

ACT 2

DEJA VU. re.group happened. it was one of those last ditch efforts before msg was planning to throw them overboard like a dead carp. for some reason, re.group got really popular. insanely popular. people knew their names. msg tried a different approach to music, something to match the show and their newfound fans. something that fit ruwon’s own skill set and range a little better. and then they were off, like a firecracker in the dark. ruwon wasn’t ready for it.

WHERE YOU AT. firecrackers eventually fizzle out. so msg crammed in another comeback soon after the last, to make the most money off of their success before it died down. ruwon wasn’t used to the pacing, and was suddenly presented with the expectation to do all of the things he hadn’t even enjoyed that much. his image had to be tweaked, parts disregarded. a group rebranded in an attempt to keep this spark stoked. ruwon didn’t think any amount of magic could turn it into a fire.

HELP ME. this is where the exhaustion starts setting in. ruwon had never been overworked quite like this. reject groups don’t get pushed onto so many shows, into so many photoshoots, with so many performances and talks of concerts. when he falls into bed, he aches. there’s a melancholy that grows, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it because he doesn’t know why it’s there. despite the group’s turnaround, despite how he doesn’t even mind their music, despite how he’s able to still pursue his passions, it’s still completely different from the life he’d decided was alright. was his own. there’s more attention, and the expectations stack higher. ruwon feels like a fraud, an imposter wearing perfectly printed skin.

BEAUTIFUL PAIN. the new year rolls around and indigo’s popularity snowballs. msg is delighted, and happy enough to push the new angle of their music if it means money, even if it’s a little out of the box for msg’s signature sound. ruwon tries to get more accustomed to the fame. to the fans. to the new dynamic of their group. ruwon tries to better balance his time, and tries not to get so frustrated with himself when it still takes him twice, sometimes three times as long to nail down the same choreography as his group mates. he starts acting like a wise ass on tv. a new brand of loud, like it will somehow offset the reclusive way he shuts down when he’s finally allowed to sit by himself at home.

IT’S OKAY. his mother doesn’t sigh when she calls him anymore. it should count as a victory. there’s still debt, but he knows indigo is pulling in decent money now. ruwon wants to focus more on himself, on his musicals. but the group is still shaky-legged. they have public appeal, and a bigger fandom than before, but it’s not otherworldly. they’re no atlas, no olympus. they could be swallowed by that pit of anonymity once more, if they’re not too careful.

REMEMBER THAT. his father does sigh when ruwon picks up the phone. it’s long suffering and sounds like bronchial pain. i didn’t want to leave you. but you mother. you mother. you were in a bad spot too, ruwon. you understand, right? ruwon does understand. he hates him, but he still gives him that money he asks for. like tithings at a church, paying for forgiveness you’re not even sure exists.

WAY BACK HOME. a new year. again. tired sighs. uncomfortable silence. suppressed thoughts and desires, bending at the whim of others. a reaction to please them. he smiles too much, until his cheeks ache. he laughs, louder. until he can’t hear himself think. this is his job. until the curtain falls.

#id.bio #id.byun baekhyun #id.msg #id.indigo #id.milkclub

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S MAIN DANCE, LEAD VOCAL BAEK SUNWOO...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 20 DEBUT AGE: 16 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 14 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: Choreography

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): simon - his english name, the fans use it but he actually dislikes it INSPIRATION: loved to perform and wanted to pursue dance as a career, thought he’d have a better chance at making it in south korea than in canada SPECIAL TALENTS:

speaks fluent french and english

freestyle dance

abacus calculation/mental math

NOTABLE FACTS:

flexible - can hold his hands behind his back and step over them

has a brother back in canada

can make his eyebrows dance

is ambidextrous

used to play goalie on his school soccer team

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

sunwoo needs a creative outlet, one that indigo’s current musical direction won’t stifle. choreography is a good one, but he’s still on the lookout for one - starting with acting. he’s terrified that if he doesn’t find something he’s going to hit another slump, making this an urgent, short-term goal.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

further down the line, sunwoo wants to establish himself as a performer and a choreographer. indigo is popular now, but as they grow older as a group at some point they’ll have fewer comebacks and will need other activities to fill their time. sunwoo wants to get recognized by msg entertainment as someone who can choreograph other group’s songs. if and when he leaves the company, he’d like to open a dance studio, but he’ll have to have a strong enough reputation as a dancer and network in the industry to ensure its success.

IDOL IMAGE

with his doe eyes, sweet smile, and young age at debut, msg quickly assigned sunwoo an endearing, boy-next-door image. this stands in contrast with his onstage charisma as a main dancer and particularly with indigo’s original, rougher concept. the contrasting “onstage” and “offstage (but still on camera)” personas meant that from early on sunwoo was noted for his versatility. he also retained a slight french canadian accent in his korean, which made him unique and strange enough that he still gets equally teased and fawned over for it.

since the end of re᛫group, msg has focused on emphasizing the things that the public had noticed about him during the show: his work ethic, his optimism, his generosity, his choreography. that’s all fine and well, except that it’s exhausting. since he was so young at debut, he wasn’t expected to use any of his energy on anyone else in the group - as long as he kept up and did his part, that was enough. this new image meant he had to juggle taking care of himself and others, at least in front of the public. it was a natural part of his personality that came out on the show, but not to this extreme. it may be exhausting to have to keep this facade up but it worked to get him through more of re᛫group than he would have otherwise, and it’s successfully kept the new fans on board with him even after he got off the show.

his biggest issue as a performer is that his condition is too easily affected by public reception. when he and indigo are being praised and loved, he’s filled with a unique buzz and energy, achieving a kind of onstage charisma in his performance that can’t be replicated. when he and indigo receive criticism or, worst of all, during their slump, he hits a block. this is the case for pretty much anyone, but sunwoo’s two poles are too extreme. he’s certainly come out of the crash he had during indigo’s rougher years, though, and as indigo maintains a spot near the top he’s been able to stay motivated and keep his quality up. but since the slump he’s been overly sensitive to any fluctuations in indigo’s success, which has made the fluctuations between his good days and his bad ones more dramatic.

IDOL HISTORY

baek sunwoo was born in montreal, canada on an early march morning, rain drizzling outside turning the top layer of the snow still on the ground into slush. he and his brother were raised in a modest two-storey house by their accountant parents who continued to emphasize their korean heritage by speaking korean at home, eating korean food, and attending korean language school on saturday mornings. he took on the canada-friendly name of simon outside the home, but never considered it as a replacement for his korean name - just a way to protect his given name from being regularly butchered.

as a young boy he stood with his feet turned inward, a minor issue which his paediatrician assured his parents could be fixed with leg exercises, suggesting dance as an option. four year old simon was signed up for ballet and took to it like a fish to water, falling in love with the endorphins of exercise and the rush of performing. as he grew older he started taking different dance classes - hip hop, jazz, and modern dance were added to his repertoire. at ten he joined a local dance crew and performed at local festivals and competitions. soon he spent five nights a week at the dance studio. at first his parents objected to him putting so much focus on dance rather than school, but as it became clear that he was taking it seriously as a career path they became dedicated to helping him see his goals through.

he always wanted to be a dancer, always wanted to perform. most importantly, he wanted to be famous. he knew he was a good dancer and had potential. but would it be easy to make it as the son of south korean immigrants in the canadian entertainment industry? he tried, for a time. simon auditioned for les grands ballets canadiens and for the national ballet and was rejected from both; he continued to perform with his dance crew, but they never seemed to win any of their competitions. at the end of one of these competitions, though, simon was approached by a man in a suit with a business card, who told him he was “talented” and had “lots of potential” and “just the right look”, and that he should go to toronto to attend international auditions for a company called msg entertainment. simon had never paid close attention to kpop - he’d heard some songs, but couldn’t name members of any group or anything - but after getting rejected from the canadian dance scene, he figured this was the perfect opportunity. he’d surely have a better shot at fame being korean in korea than being korean in canada. after getting his parents to double- and triple-check that this wasn’t a scam, he booked a train ticket to toronto. after a few rounds, he got a contract, ditched the name “simon” altogether, and packed his bags to move in with his cousins in seoul.

adjusting to trainee life meant coming face-to-face with the shortcomings he hadn’t realized he had. he wasn’t used to hearing korean spoken at a quick pace or with regional dialects, so he often frustrated others with requests for them to repeat themselves. he also spoke korean with a weird french canadian accent, which made it difficult for others to understand him in turn, so sunwoo was put into language classes to fix his messy pronunciation. he attended cheongdam high school and suddenly had to adjust to an entirely different school system and learn subjects in a language he previously mostly used around the house. he didn’t have much experience with singing, either, and there was a steep learning curve to catch up with the other trainees. worst of all, after about a year of training, he started to feel burnt out by the experience. as he focused on his progress and his dancing and vocal skills improved, he found himself stuck in a hole - not listening to other music except kpop, distancing himself from the styles he used to enjoy. he identified less and less with what he was putting out as it earned him more and more praise.

when he was placed in the predebut group that became indigo, sunwoo was revived with new energy. msg wanted a flagship boy group out of them, and that meant flashy choreographies, intricate music videos, catchy music. he liked the direction they were going in enough to bring him out of his slump. he was at his peak when they debuted to huge and sudden popularity. he became quickly known for having a young, sweet personality that contrasted with the onstage charisma their songs required.

after face, though, they hit a slippery slope downwards. their first comeback didn’t generate the interest their debut had, and no matter what efforts the members tried to put in to boost their popularity again, indigo was written off as a failure. sunwoo slumped along with the group, struggling to find a way to prove himself to the public and burn off his creative energy. he turned to choreography, initially just pitching ideas to the msg choreographers and eventually working his way up to getting his name noted in the credits. with promotions few and far between, though, there weren’t as many opportunities to show off. msg gave him something else to do by getting him to return to after school club every once in a while following a successful indigo appearance there. it was a chance to show off his english, keep indigo in the minds of the public, and maybe even gather an international audience for the group, if korea wasn’t going to be welcoming. sunwoo wasn’t a natural at variety, but he felt more comfortable being able to entertain in english, and even if he didn’t boost indigo’s popularity during any of his visits, he certainly didn’t do them any harm.

he’d never admit this, but when msg told indigo that they’d be competing on re᛫group, sunwoo was humiliated. the word “disbandment” wasn’t said, but it felt like a last-ditch effort to save their group. without success on the show, their future seemed highly jeopardized. the pressure made sunwoo hit another slump. knowing that the public held his future in his hands made his feet stumble more often, his voice crack more, his stress more difficult to manage. what he had going for him, though, was his image. he was still only eighteen years old, young and fresh faced and armed with the sweet personality msg had instructed him to take on years ago. he was open on the show about his struggles and talked about them in confessionals while keeping an everlasting hopeful tone, leading to a surge of sympathy from viewers. even as he struggled, he was a strong dancer, and was shown helping others learn the choreography, often staying in the dance studio until late going over details one-on-one with those who needed it. he was praised on his choreography for many of his stages, resulting in public acknowledgment of his skill. though he was certainly not at his peak, sunwoo became known for his generosity, his optimism, and his work ethic. it wasn’t enough to save him - he barely made it into the top 20 - but it was enough to help boost indigo back into the public eye and solidify their reputation for their perseverance.

indigo was more popular after re᛫group than they were even when they had had their explosive debut. msg immediately had plans to put together a comeback, and soon enough indigo was back onstage, earning their first music show win and basking in attention they had been starving for. with the pressure of keeping the group together off his back, sunwoo got out of his slump, with fans noting how much his stage presence and charisma had improved since the show. the song they had promoted was softer than what they used to do, not quite what sunwoo would have chosen, but who cares? they were saved. then msg decided to have them release another song, similarly emotional and slow. then another, then another. as a main dancer who had just bounced back from a decline in his skills and self-confidence, sunwoo wanted to do what he loved: to dance. all of indigo’s newer releases were soft and pretty ballads, with choreographies that required little more than a few mic stands, some swaying, and a twirl here and there. his body ached for the pulsating beat it used to dance to. while the group only rose higher and higher with their new sound and aesthetic, he became restless. he was bored.

on his own time, sunwoo has continued to focus on choreography as a means for him to express himself, even if indigo itself has limited opportunities for it. he’s hopeful that they’ll still have a chance to release a dance track again and have some success with it thanks to their new popularity. he’s also started to look to other avenues, dipping his toe into acting by getting himself a role in the idol-focused drama dream high. he’d always wanted to be famous - now he finally, truly is. but that alone isn’t enough if he can’t dance the way he wants to.

#id.bio #id.msg #id.indigo #id.lee minho

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S MAIN RAP, LEAD DANCE NAKANO TETSUYA...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 15 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: Choreography

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): tetsu : short and cute, just like himw atermelon boy : gained from his special talent INSPIRATION: he and his friends loved dancing as kids, and he often sang along to songs where he could, but he never really considered it as a potential career – the people on the tv seemed alien and far out of reach. but during an inter-school dance competition in junior high school, he met a fellow contestant who had been scouted by a famous Korean entertainment company, and he began to think that maybe he could make a career out of it. and, well, dancing for a living sounded a lot more appealing than picking watermelons for the rest of his life. SPECIAL TALENTS:

eating a whole watermelon in under five minutes

freestyle dancing (primarily to girl group songs)

aegyo

NOTABLE FACTS:

is originally from Yamagata (there is a much longer story to this, one worn into the soles of his feet and the calluses on his hands that will probably never fade, but it’s a story for another time and place, not his public profile)

was part of the runner-up team in an inter-school dance competition in junior high school, which was also where he started becoming interested in being an idol

he has two sisters, both younger than him

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

Tetsuya wants to branch off beyond the music that IndiGO make. He wants a chance to create his own style and image as a soloist, both as a dancer and as a rapper, but he’s limited by the image that MSG insist on pushing. He hopes to find a way to work within those confines to develop a solo career, although he isn’t especially hopeful that he’ll be successful.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

In the long term, Tetsuya wants to achieve greater creative freedom and less strict image management from the company – or at least a chance to develop an image that he can work with. He’d like to delve more into choreography and become  He wants many things outside the scope of his career, too, but most prominently? He wants to go home.

IDOL IMAGE

A fifteen-year-old boy, alone and drowning in the complexity of this new life he’d chosen. That was what MSG Entertainment saw when Tetsuya arrived in Korea – and they took that image and used it to their advantage, making him into the shy kid next door, the one who was quiet but excelled at variety shows. It wasn’t a hard role for him to play. He’d grown up in the Japanese countryside, more than an hour from the nearest city, and while he was rapidly becoming acquainted with the new language in intense tutoring sessions every week, the concrete jungle of Seoul was strange and intimidating. Surrounded by towering buildings and confident native speakers, he shrank in on himself – unless he was on stage performing, where he could pretend he was in a familiar setting, or variety shows where the other members could do most of the talking and he could chip in occasionally – and show off his dancing. And even though he was now twenty and unable to believe that he’d finally debuted (maybe because it didn’t feel like it), the shy kid image was easy to maintain.

After RE᛫Group and during the company’s rebranding of IndiGO, they decided to change Tetsuya’s image to something more versatile that would allow him to make use of his much more fluent Korean skills and his growing confidence, as well as possibly appealing more to international fans – particularly from Japan – and enabling them to use him as a more engaging variety personality. It wasn’t a drastic change, really, just a switch from shy kid to boy next door – more excitable, more engaging, and a better fit for the twenty-two/twenty-three year-old. It was a successful change, and Tetsuya has become one of the most popular members in Japan. (Sometimes, when he’s homesick, he imagines his family telling everyone who will listen that their son is part of a famous Korean boy group)

This image change came with something that, to Tetsuya, is both a blessing and a curse. More chances to talk, more opportunities to participate actively in discussions during variety shows like Weekly Idol and After School Club, and his first few solo appearances on shows. While this is nice, it has also developed an image of him that doesn’t fit very well with who he wants to be or who he’s becoming. Tetsuya has tried approaching the company about the possibility of a solo debut, but the things he writes about, the experiences he would rap about, just don’t fit his public image. So ironically, while it gives him more freedom, it traps him as well.

IDOL HISTORY

一

31 January 1994. 5:29am. In a farmhouse covered in heavy snow, about an hour and a half from the nearest hospital in Yamagata, a child is born to the Nakano family. The first of three children, the only boy, he and his family have no idea what awaits him. He is named Tetsuya, 徹也, meaning devotion, and his parents swear that they will raise him as best they possibly can.

Tetsuya is homeschooled until he turns six. The nearest preschool is over an hour away, and costs far more than the family can afford, particularly after the poor yield from the harvests over the last few years. The boy is too young to understand these finer details, and he is happy enough to spend each day playing in the garden while his parents and grandparents work. Over the course of several summers he develops a tan that sticks around for years until one long winter and lots of time spent indoors let it fade back to a paler tone, and calluses begin to form on his hands as soon as he is old enough to use a shovel. He has no friends except for his sisters – Mari, who is two years younger than him, and Sayuri, who is only a baby – because the family live alone on their farm in the mountains. His parents worry that he will struggle at school because of this, and Tetsuya plays in the background, oblivious and content.

二

When he goes to school, Tetsuya learns that children are cruel. Because he has no friends yet, because he is from the mountains and speaks with a strong accent, the other children laugh at him. They tease him and make fun of his strong accent, which is a mix of his grandparents’ Kyushu dialect and his parents’ Yamagata one, and mock him when he stumbles over reading in class. But he ignores them, because that’s what his parents told him to do, and because as much as they mock his unusual speech, they themselves mostly speak with strong Yamagata accents.

He catches a school bus with five other students, all of whom live on farms like he does. It’s a surprisingly uncommon occurrence at their school. The six of them become close friends, despite being in different grades, and the other five defend him from the bullies. As they get older, they become five, then four, and then three – Tetsuya and the other two his age, Daiki and Nana. They begin to meet up outside of school, visiting each other during the summer and helping out with harvesting – watermelons at the Nakano farm, cherries at Daiki’s, and apples and pears at Nana’s. A week into the summer holidays between fourth and fifth grade, they come up with an idea. Well, Daiki comes up with the idea while hanging upside-down from one of the cherry trees on his family’s farm, but the other two convince him to keep talking about it. And over the course of several days, the idea blossoms into a plan. A plan to become the best dancers in the country, inspired by a TV show Daiki is an avid fan of. Although they’re far too young to enter any competitions, and those competitions are too far away anyway – to the three ten-year-olds, Tokyo is nothing more than a legend, the place that some of their classmates boast about being able to visit. But maybe it will be more possible in the future. In the meantime, though, there’s no harm in learning how to dance. So the trio spend their days watching re-runs of Daiki’s show, then replicating the dances they see. It’s difficult to get them right, but Nana has a good memory and Tetsuya has a talent for moving exactly how he wants to (which has often made him a formidable asset in school games of soccer or basketball) and Daiki is nothing if not passionate. And between them, they slowly begin to master the dances.

The summer between fifth and sixth grade is spent even more ambitiously – going down to Yamagata City whenever they can and finding people to perform for. Most people are uninterested, busy with their own lives, but some are curious to see what these determined eleven-year-olds can do. They leave suitably impressed, and the trio leave satisfied that they’re getting even better. This repeats as often as they can convince someone to drive them down to the city, which is most days, since Nana’s older brother can drive and their parents don’t always need him to help out on the farm. But before they know it, the school holidays are over and they’re starting sixth grade.

三

At the end of sixth grade, the trio part ways. Nana’s family move to Tokyo – farming is no longer profitable for them, and with her brother in university it’s hard to find the money to keep the farm going. Daiki stays, but his junior high school is at the northern end of Yamagata. Tetsuya goes to a different school, in the busier south of the city. They try to keep in contact, but with the post office so far from home the boys struggle – and the increasing pressure of school doesn’t help. Nana stops writing, whether because she can’t find the time or because she has nothing left to say, and her last letter just ends with I miss you guys. Tetsuya joins his school’s dance club, and quickly makes new friends (although they’ll never be quite as close to his heart as Daiki and Nana, who he misses even to this day). He’s changed, no longer the shy boy with the strange accent – for starters, he’s grown much more confident, but his accent has also become less distinct and more similar to the accents of his classmates. There are more people who live on farms in his new school, but from the other side of the city, so he catches the bus alone. It makes him miss the good old days of elementary school even more, the lengthy discussions the trio used to have on the bus – with the occasional comment from the bus driver.

Tetsuya is selected as one of the students to represent their school in an inter-school dancing competition in his second year of junior high school. He’s told to uphold the school name, then given a pair of reserved seat tickets for the Tsubasa Shinkansen and a Suica card to pay for his travel, as well as the name of the hotel where the students will be staying. Fortunately for the thoroughly bewildered and overwhelmed boy, his closest friend is also on the team and offers to meet him at the station on the appropriate day.

It is only when they actually arrive in Tokyo that Tetsuya realises just how out of his depth he is. His family do not own a television, they do not even have a landline phone – let alone a mobile one – and this high tech city full of people is strange and unfamiliar in all the worst ways. If not for Aiko, he would have been overwhelmed the moment he stepped off the train – but she keeps an iron grip on his arm and steers him through the crowds to the next train. And, miraculously, they make it to the hotel in one piece.

The conversation he and Aiko have in their floor’s common room goes something like this: Tetsuya explains that he’s never been on a train before – hell, he’s never left Yamagata before. His family don’t have technology. They live in a cramped farmhouse that’s starting to fall apart and is only being held together by his grandfather’s persistence and his father’s supply of nails. She stares at him for a good few minutes, then replies with “So the rumours were right. You are poor.” And, well, Tetsuya’s never heard it phrased like that. He’s heard his parents tell Mari she can’t have more toys because “money’s tight”, and his grandparents always complain about how they don’t have the money to hire farm help – but as a kid Tetsuya never realised the significance of all those little comments and all the little things that other kids at school could do that he couldn’t. Now he does. He knows now that the reason he hardly ever gets new school uniforms isn’t just because he grows very slowly (and his growth spurt is basically done and dusted), it’s because they can’t afford to buy uniforms unless they absolutely need to.

But Aiko doesn’t try to make him feel bad about being poor. She takes him out on their second night, after the first round of the dancing competition, and they go shopping. Her family are well-off, largely owing to her father’s successful investment in numerous cherry farms, and she claims that she enjoys spending money on other people and she would never buy anything otherwise. So, guilt at making her pay for everything assuaged, Tetsuya lets himself enjoy it and explore Tokyo with an expert guide.

The next day, the second round, is the first time Tetsuya has danced in front of an audience since those summer holidays before sixth grade. It’s terrifying but exhilarating, and he feels in his element. They progress to the next round, and the team are ecstatic – after a devastating loss in the second round of the competition last year, they have been hoping for an impressive success, and this team promises to succeed.

Before they know it, the only team from a Yamagata school are standing on the stage, ready to perform for the final round, which is between them and two Tokyo schools. Tetsuya, looking out into the crowd to calm his nerves, spots a familiar face in one of the other finalist teams, and dances like his life depends on it. And when all of them are finished and the judges are coming to a final decision, he slips away and goes looking for that familiar face.

It is the first time he has seen Nana in years. It is the first time he has heard Nana in years. But she is different, much like him, and so while they congratulate one another they do not say much more than that – although she tells him that she has been scouted by a Korean entertainment agency. It feels particularly odd, without Daiki there to share the moment with them, and it becomes all the more bittersweet when the winners are announced. Tetsuya wonders whether Daiki’s school even has a dance club, whether he’s joined it. He accepts the silver medal with a smile, and watches as Nana takes the gold trophy on behalf of her school, and thinks he sees their friend in the audience even though he cannot be there.

四

Later that night, in his room, Tetsuya stares at the ceiling and thinks back over his conversation with Nana. Earlier, he was still shaky with nerves from performing and distracted by the noise of the room, but now he remembers one thing most prominently. Her tale of being scouted makes him wonder – could he make a career from dance? He’s never thought this before, always seen it as an enjoyable hobby that could be used to win competitions and nothing beyond that, but the more he thinks about it the more sense it makes. After all, how else did the people they used to watch on TV get where they did?

When he gets back to Yamagata, Tetsuya begins researching. He uses computers in libraries, asks people on the street, and looks for advertisements in newspapers. And slowly, he begins to piece together a plan. It is thorough, careful, almost certain not to fail. For the rest of the year, he practices diligently and teaches himself solo routines when he has the time, learns the lines to the songs they perform. At home, he studies for school and helps out on the farm. He saves up what little pocket money he gets and tells his parents what he is planning. And once his final exams are over, Tetsuya catches a train down to Tokyo and auditions for MSG Entertainment. By nightfall, he is back home, pretending that he wasn’t shaking as he stepped into the audition room, pretending that he might have made it.

He does not brood over whether or not they will accept him. He does not incessantly check the mailbox, no matter how much he wants to. Instead, he throws himself into dance and school and tries not to think about anything beyond graduating.

The letter arrives a week before he finishes junior high school, when Tetsuya has almost given up. He has been accepted as a trainee, and they want him to arrive at their office in Seoul within the next month. He isn’t even sure if they can afford the plane ticket, but his parents insist that it’s no problem – they’ve been saving up since he first told them, and it’s just enough to afford a one-way aeroplane ticket to Korea. So once he finishes school, the family drive down to Tokyo to wave him off. There are many tears involved on everyone’s part, but especially his sisters’. Sayuri especially, whose sobs are almost audible even once he’s past security.

Three and a half hours later, he’s standing in front of the MSG building and wondering what will happen to him.

五

Tetsuya struggles as a trainee. He barely understands the language, though that begins to change through intensive Korean lessons, and it becomes evident to him that no matter how good he is, there will always be someone better. At first, he is insulted by other trainees for his tan skin, but the insults fade with the tan as he spends more and more time inside under the pale lights of the training rooms. While his accent remains strong in Japanese, fixed in place with age, his Korean improves daily and he works hard to make it something they cannot pick on.

There are three moments that stand out the most during Tetsuya’s training. The day that his grandfather passes away and the family buys a landline just so they can call Tetsuya and tell him the news is the first time that he is called into a higher-up’s office, and the worst. He can’t go home for the funeral – his family can’t afford the cost of that on top of the funeral, and the company won’t fund it. So instead he is allowed to Skype his second cousin, one of the few people attending the funeral who owns a phone or laptop. It’s painful, but it’s reality. And he is grateful that they let him do that much, even if he couldn’t go home.

The second moment that stands out is when he is sent to a rap coach instead of a vocal coach like he has been doing for the past year. One year into his training, the company decide that his voice is better-suited to rapping than singing. It hurts, to know that all the progress that he’s made in that time isn’t enough for them, but the coach is encouraging (a rare blessing in these difficult years) and with time he acknowledges that his potential in singing is limited. His vocal range has never been enormous, and his tone of voice and his accent lend themselves far more to rapping. Tetsuya has grown less and less bitter about this over the years, acknowledging that the other members are far better singers, and on occasion he still gets to sing.

The third moment is by far the most significant. The day that he is told for certain that he will be part of IndiGO’s final lineup was a perfectly average day in all respects until he is told that. He goes through his usual routine in the morning, attending dance lessons and taking a quiz in his Korean class, until he is called up to an office around midday. The man sitting behind the desk tells him that he has been chosen to debut in their next boy group, IndiGO, as the main rapper and lead dancer. Tetsuya, who has always felt that his true skill is dancing more than rapping, wonders why they made this decision. Of course he’s not the best at dancing – he never had a proper teacher until he signed with MSG – but it holds a special place in his heart. He dances as if it means the world to him, because it does. But he meets the other members, and he understands why he wasn’t chosen as the main dancer.

六

Training for debut is even harder than his earlier training. It is endless, relentless, and much harsher than anything else he has experienced. Tetsuya grows quiet, dealing with his troubles silently and alone as he works on the choreography for their debut song. He spends hours every night revising vocabulary and practicing translating the lyrics of their songs into Japanese. He does not collapse, not even on the hardest days, because he cannot be weak now. Not when he has made it so far. So he tells himself that it isn’t nearly as bad as spending all day out in the burning sun putting hats on watermelons and weeding vegetable patches, that at least his hands aren’t cracked and torn and callused like his grandmother’s. He’s in no danger of sunburn here, buried six feet underground in a practice room until ungodly hours of the night. These different hardships take a lower physical toll, he reasons – overlooking the mental toll in favour of success. It is easy enough to push aside the dull headaches from sleep deprivation.

七

IndiGO’s debut is met with lukewarm reception, a reaction that quickly fades into disinterest. They have few dedicated fans by their second comeback, and Tetsuya has the least of all. While the image the company crafted for him works well initially, people have grown bored of seeing him silent at the back of the group on television programs. And he grows bored too, with no active role in the group unless they are performing. So he takes up dancing more and more, spending more time in the practice rooms teaching himself other groups’ dances and learning how to freestyle dance. And he gets good at it, good enough that the company takes notice and starts letting him do that on variety shows. It helps, during their worst moments, when he doubts his ability to succeed the most, because he can bury himself in dance and imagine that he is still a naïve ten-year-old dancing with his best friends on a farm in northern Honshu.

When they get sent onto RE᛫Group, Tetsuya is genuinely scared for their future as a group. IndiGO hasn’t been successful, but he had never considered that they might be obsolete now. He does decently on the show, earning votes by shocking the viewers with the contrast between his appearance and his rap. But he is eliminated almost as soon as the competition begins to get genuinely difficult, though whether it is because of his skill level or evil editing he’s not sure. With no promotions to do and no guarantee of anything else in his future, Tetsuya begins to write. He’s not particularly good at lyric writing, but with a decent editor the things he scribbles down during that dark era could become songs – if they fit the image the company wants to push, of course.

八

After RE᛫Group, when they’re still figuring out what to do next, Tetsuya asks MSG to change his image. He’s not the naïve little kid anymore, and he wants a new image to reflect who he is now. The company, who have never seen the scraps of paper buried in Tetsuya’s clothes drawer, decide that an image change might benefit them as well, and they make him the boy next door, more energetic and engaging than the shy foreign kid. It helps a lot, but the image of Tetsuya as a bubbly person is one that limits him incredibly. He can’t be depressed or worried or express his fears and insecurities, because everyone knows that the boy next door is perfect and sweet and cute, not scared and lonely and homesick.

Tetsuya gets to appear on music shows and variety shows now. IndiGO are becoming more successful. His family are spreading the news all across town that the short, Japanese member of IndiGO is their son. His life seems idyllic – or at the very least, better than it’s been in years. But he misses his friends and his family, especially after Aiko came to one of IndiGO’s performances, and his bank account speaks volumes as to how well he’s really doing. What Tetsuya wants more than anything is to go home, but it will be years before he can afford a flight back to Japan. And even though he’s improved significantly in speaking Korean and Seoul is no longer difficult to comprehend, it isn’t home. Home is the tiny watermelon farm in the mountains near Yamagata City, far away from the harsh criticism and ruthless competitiveness of the South Korean idol industry, and it always will be.

#id.bio #id.indigo #id.msg #id.takada kenta

[idolizerp]

could i get some fc recommendations for indigo's open spot?

Sure! SHINee Onew, Minho, Highlight Gikwang, both GOT7 or former B1A4 Jinyoung, EXO Chen, Xiumin, Suho, GOT7 JB, BTOB sungjae, VIXX N, or the actor Seo Kangjoon ^^ Members, if you have any recommendations as well, please reply to let anon know~

#id.fcs #id.indigo fcs #Anonymous

[idolizerp]

Other than suggested fcs, who would you like to see most in indigo?

Anyone from their inspiration groups, of course, Astro Cha Eunwoo, Wanna One Daniel, SHINee Minho, Infinite Sunggyu, EXO Chen. Members, please leave suggestions as well!  

#id.fcs #id.indigo fcs

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S LEAD VOCAL, LEAD DANCE KIM RAEYOON…

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Remy CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: MSG ETC: They have recently gotten involved more heavily in production and lyric writing

IDOL IMAGE

remy bursts onto the scene of winter 2014 with bad boy debonair, mischievous nonchalance, and a penchant for flirtation. play off the strengths and weaknesses of your members, had been their furtive recommendation. here’s the earnest one, the sensitive one, the diligent one, the ethereal one, and now you. you’re sharp edges, a cut and cruel face, thin mouth that only knows how to grin crooked, and tapered eyes whose surest weapon is their wink. hone your artillery, make it yours, and if you can, make them scream.

remy’s never been one for violent metaphors but he runs with this one because his passion outweighs everything else. for the first few years it gets the better of him and he feels some dissonance, has a hard time believing any of what he’s bringing to the stage is coming from anywhere real because of course it isn’t. but in time he learns that this too is part of the art of performance, and that there’s nothing disingenuous about what he’s doing so long as he can differentiate his two egos of what could never be and what actually is. when the music stops so does the charade and this is how he will retain his authenticity.

the public learn the ins and outs of remy, too; the few who care at all take whatever crumbs and scraps they can find, one scattered comeback at a time, to build a more nuanced portrait and uncover the person behind the persona. for the most part their findings are accurate and positive. remy is methodical, prefers to take things a little bit at a time. but is there a reason he takes forever to make a decision? it’s only dessert. it’s called being considerate. his head is in the cloud sometimes, but he’s always thoughtful. must read a lot too, he’s always quoting stuff i’ve never heard of. pretty sure that’s his way of showing off the fact he used to study in europe, never liked elites like him. the only bravado he shows is onstage, not sure what you’re talking about. he’s surprisingly demure behind the scenes. i’ve never seen him cry, not even once. you sure he’s not some kind of robot? i’d pay good money to see a robot with a laugh that cute. weird. i think you mean his laugh is weird.

his reputation—whichever unassembled pieces exist in phone cameras, group chats, morning catchup by the office water cooler—follows remy straight into re:group, where he thereupon establishes himself as the show’s sage, a calm meditative tide. the contrasting snarl and bite of his performance style still persists, but the sex appeal stops there. he’s not controversial, not cutthroat enough to propel himself to viral fame. but his character and up-until-this-point unseen predilection for music win him the respect of fellow competitors and the sincere affections of weekly viewers. it’s more than he could possibly ask for.

with indigo’s triumphant return to the industry, remy repays fans old and new by trying his hand at songwriting. building off of the momentum from re:group and recognizing the group’s need for growth, msg embraces a brand shift, letting him produce the track for their next comeback. the move effectively solidifies and tacks on a new identity for him as a producer for the group; he acquiesces to the role with ease, and to rave reception. indigo’s reaffirmation in society comes with the affirmative understanding for all of the members that donning their faces, old and new, they’re in it for the long haul.

IDOL HISTORY

a: at five, he is petulant. more than the average five-year-old should be, but who can blame the kid when he feels how jarringly out of place he is in this country and continent, but doesn’t have the vocabulary to express any of it. and so raeyoon prefers to spend his time indoors, in front of the television and away from prying eyes, watching documentaries and music broadcasts he never quite comprehends but thinks he likes the sound of. mother, ever observant from the kitchen, keeps a watchful eye.

b: prideful, not passionate. pride is what keeps him enrolled in piano lessons but keeps him from realizing his potential. his mother sits with him through every practice session, guiding him with an iron will and berating him with an immovable ear. she calls him a technician and so do the judges, but he plays a showstopper in basel and a sonata in bern anyways because people have programs to fill and don’t expect full emotional maturation from a ten year-old. that summer when he takes the train to summer camp abroad—but then, what isn’t abroad at this point—raeyoon distantly wonders where he’s headed.

c: hundreds of miles from home, raeyoon is suddenly compelled to take to the stack of cds that father snuck into his suitcase months ago without ever citing a reason. the cds themselves are bare. the cases in which they are contained are bare save for a rough tracklist penned in permanent marker. the music that he hears isn’t anything familiar. but the voice he hears most certainly is.

d: he passes his audition.

he had gone on a whim. while out shopping for beef bones with grandmother one morning someone had approached him with a business card and while stewing the beef bones back in her apartment he’d asked grandmother to accompany him. he doesn’t remember anything about it beyond a panel of faceless men and his mother’s voice reverberating like a dream in the caverns of his head.

it was never supposed to be this consequential and yet it is, yet here he is feeling the most something he’s felt in his five-thousand-eight-hundred-eight-eight-day life. the news hits him like a brick and his head drops onto the table. grandmother pries the phone away from his hands and dials in another number. with his head still down and eyes closed raeyoon hears her shuffle into the kitchen, open the pot, and plate up the last serving of oxtail soup. he hears the line click on the other end. and then he hears her voice again, so familiar and sweet and real.

e: he blends in here. he laughs thinking back to a decade ago when he’d stood out so sorely, and how that’s exactly what he needs now if he wants a good shot at this. for the next three years, he sharpens himself to the finest point possible.

f: it’s called face. face in the crowd, facing the music, saving face. it’s a word loaded with meanings and potentialities and it feels so wholly appropriate raeyoon almost cries but doesn’t, not yet. he runs through the showcase introduction, performance, final ments. thanks everyone for coming out to support their debut. when the spotlight dims down and the mass of bodies begins to file out of the venue, he spots his mother lingering in the audience, a face in the crowd. raeyoon swallows the lump in his throat. not yet.

g: during rehearsal at a hundred-person venue in gwangju city, a standing light crashes and raeyoon sustains a small injury to his right pinky. no big deal, he tells everyone, it’s not like he’s using it for much anymore anyways, and the appendage is wrapped in gauze and rehearsal continues like clockwork.

he doesn’t notice until a year later, when it’s much too late for buddy tape and a brace, that his pinky never quite recovered right. he opens up a dusty book of liszt arpeggios wondering if maybe now is the time to leverage that skillset, if maybe now he can demonstrate something beyond the technical prowess of his childhood, and fumbles like a clown on the keys. looking down, his pinky tells him the whole story. the first knuckle juts outward and askew with the rest of the finger, like a soul separating from its host.

he thinks back to the past year, and even the year before that, and draws a funny picture not unlike the analogy. it’s not just the finger. negligence is rampant. looking the other way and pretending not to notice everything that’s gone wrong, and everything that could possibly go wrong. what were the meds for, again? chronic pain, allergies, or just insomnia? he forgets. forgets most things, like his pinky finger, like the fact he hasn’t called home in weeks out of shame, and forgets that crying was even an option even though these days he’s got all the time in the world.

h: his saving grace descends in the form of a reality show that sweeps the country and his group by storm. it’s in between mandatory diary entries, the relentless gaze of the camera, stress and sleep deprivation, public defamation, and the thrill of a new stage—another day—that sets raeyoon alight again.

on the last night: a sea of faceless, wailing bodies under the stage, let’s debut, and his mother’s song ringing in his ears. he feels the bodies beside him leave one at a time to claim their spot on the podium, rank five, four, three. he’s tired, hungry, and smiling brighter. two. a rock tied by string. and one. his vision blurs, wet, and opaque. the lump in his throat swells, and he throws his head back to blink away the tears. not yet, not yet.

i: his first hand at production, a first win for the group, and a first concert after five years. it’s nothing short of a miracle, and their story is one that resonates somewhere deep. though revitalized, raeyoon doesn’t hunger for much anymore. but even five years in and with the tides swaying in their favor, he knows better to submit to complacency—scoffs at even the suggestion of it. with the attention on them—actually, legitimately on them now—the stakes are higher than ever, and he’s simply too grateful to do anything but deliver.

#id.bio #id.msg #id.indigo #id.park junhee

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S LEAD VOCAL KIM RAEYOON...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Remy CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: Music production

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): 

rae-ja (來子): based on his tendency to drop unexpected wisdom bombs, give out unsolicited advice, and implement idioms/sajaseong-eo into his everyday vernacular. the nickname plays off ancient chinese philsophers such as confucius (孔子), mencius (孟子), and latozu (老子). (origin: indigo members)

kim huhuhat (김후후핫): based on his distinctive laugh, which almost always begins with inaudible giggling before eventually bursting into sharp, head-thrown laughter. (origin: fans)

shark (상어): based on physical attributes (origin: fans)

INSPIRATION: his mother park jinsook, a once-aspiring folk singer SPECIAL TALENTS:

impressions of female celebrities (the older the celebrity, the better)

reading with exaggerated emotion

tongue twisters

NOTABLE FACTS:

spent a large chunk of his childhood in lausanne, switzerland

hiccups when eating spicy foods (update: it seems he has cured this issue)

cannot hold his liquor and has the worst tolerance of all the indigo members

it’s rumored that he comes from a wealthy family (the truth: they’re comfortable)

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

improve songwriting skills. win msg’s trust so they hand over more jurisdiction—at least as far as his group’s music and concept trajectory is concerned. bring back the electronic bullshit (but maybe not the dubstep). if growing up in eurotrash switzerland has taught him anything it’s the beauty of electronic done right. make the fusion of electronic, r&b, and ballad a sound to be reckoned with. encourage the other members to participate in defining the group’s creative direction.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

produce more songs for other groups in the company. transition into more behind the scenes work. occupy a senior enough role in music production to participate in executive level decision-making at msg. help steer future generations of idols in the right direction—he knows what it’s like to be mismanaged and would hate for others to experience the same disenchantment that plagued him and the rest of his bandmates for so long. continue to build upon indigo’s foundations to ensure longevity. knows that maybe his goals are idealistic (outward) and restricting (inward), but there simply aren’t any other career options he’d be willing to explore.

IDOL IMAGE

remy bursts onto the scene of winter 2014 with bad boy debonair, mischievous nonchalance, and a penchant for flirtation. play off the strengths and weaknesses of your members, had been their furtive recommendation. here’s the earnest one, the sensitive one, the diligent one, the ethereal one, and now you. you’re sharp edges, a cut and cruel face, thin mouth that only knows how to grin crooked, and tapered eyes whose surest weapon is their wink. hone your artillery, make it yours, and if you can, make them scream.

remy’s never been one for violent metaphors but he runs with this one because his passion outweighs everything else. for the first few years it gets the better of him and he feels some dissonance, has a hard time believing any of what he’s bringing to the stage is coming from anywhere real because of course it isn’t. but in time he learns that this too is part of the art of performance, and that there’s nothing disingenuous about what he’s doing so long as he can differentiate his two egos of what could never be and what actually is. when the music stops so does the charade and this is how he will retain his authenticity.

the public learn the ins and outs of remy, too; the few who care at all take whatever crumbs and scraps they can find, one scattered comeback at a time, to build a more nuanced portrait and uncover the person behind the persona. for the most part their findings are accurate and positive. remy is methodical, prefers to take things a little bit at a time. but is there a reason he takes forever to make a decision? it’s only dessert. it’s called being considerate. his head is in the cloud sometimes, but he’s always thoughtful. must read a lot too, he’s always quoting stuff i’ve never heard of. pretty sure that’s his way of showing off the fact he used to study in europe, never liked elites like him. the only bravado he shows is onstage, not sure what you’re talking about. he’s surprisingly demure behind the scenes. i’ve never seen him cry, not even once. you sure he’s not some kind of robot? i’d pay good money to see a robot with a laugh that cute. weird. i think you mean his laugh is weird.

his reputation—whichever unassembled pieces exist in phone cameras, group chats, morning catchup by the office water cooler—follows remy straight into re᛫group, where he thereupon establishes himself as the show’s sage, a calm meditative tide. the contrasting snarl and bite of his performance style still persists, but the sex appeal stops there. he’s not controversial, not cutthroat enough to propel himself to viral fame. but his character and up-until-this-point unseen predilection for music win him the respect of fellow competitors and the sincere affections of weekly viewers. it’s more than he could possibly ask for.

with indigo’s triumphant return to the industry, remy repays fans old and new by trying his hand at songwriting. building off of the momentum from re᛫group and recognizing the group’s need for growth, msg embraces a brand shift, letting him produce the track for their next comeback. the move effectively solidifies and tacks on a new identity for him as a producer for the group; he acquiesces to the role with ease, and to rave reception. indigo’s reaffirmation in society comes with the affirmative understanding for all of the members that donning their faces, old and new, they’re in it for the long haul.

IDOL HISTORY

a: at five, he is petulant. more than the average five-year-old should be, but who can blame the kid when he feels how jarringly out of place he is in this country and continent, but doesn’t have the vocabulary to express any of it. and so raeyoon prefers to spend his time indoors, in front of the television and away from prying eyes, watching documentaries and music broadcasts he never quite comprehends but thinks he likes the sound of. mother, ever observant from the kitchen, keeps a watchful eye.

b: prideful, not passionate. pride is what keeps him enrolled in piano lessons but keeps him from realizing his potential. his mother sits with him through every practice session, guiding him with an iron will and berating him with an immovable ear. she calls him a technician and so do the judges, but he plays a showstopper in basel and a sonata in bern anyways because people have programs to fill and don’t expect full emotional maturation from a ten year-old. that summer when he takes the train to summer camp abroad—but then, what isn’t abroad at this point—raeyoon distantly wonders where he’s headed.

c: hundreds of miles from home, raeyoon is suddenly compelled to take to the stack of cds that father snuck into his suitcase months ago without ever citing a reason. the cds themselves are bare. the cases in which they are contained are bare save for a rough tracklist penned in permanent marker. the music that he hears isn’t anything familiar. but the voice he hears most certainly is.

d: he passes his audition.

he had gone on a whim. while out shopping for beef bones with grandmother one morning someone had approached him with a business card and while stewing the beef bones back in her apartment he’d asked grandmother to accompany him. he doesn’t remember anything about it beyond a panel of faceless men and his mother’s voice reverberating like a dream in the caverns of his head.

it was never supposed to be this consequential and yet it is, yet here he is feeling the mostsomething he’s felt in his five-thousand-eight-hundred-eight-eight-day life. the news hits him like a brick and his head drops onto the table. grandmother pries the phone away from his hands and dials in another number. with his head still down and eyes closed raeyoon hears her shuffle into the kitchen, open the pot, and plate up the last serving of oxtail soup. he hears the line click on the other end. and then he hears her voice again, so familiar and sweet and real.

e: he blends in here. he laughs thinking back to a decade ago when he’d stood out so sorely, and how that’s exactly what he needs now if he wants a good shot at this. for the next three years, he sharpens himself to the finest point possible.

f: it’s called face. face in the crowd, facing the music, saving face. it’s a word loaded with meanings and potentialities and it feels so wholly appropriate raeyoon almost cries but doesn’t, not yet. he runs through the showcase introduction, performance, final ments. thanks everyone for coming out to support their debut. when the spotlight dims down and the mass of bodies begins to file out of the venue, he spots his mother lingering in the audience, a face in the crowd. raeyoon swallows the lump in his throat. not yet.

g: during rehearsal at a hundred-person venue in gwangju city, a standing light crashes and raeyoon sustains a small injury to his right pinky. no big deal, he tells everyone, it’s not like he’s using it for much anymore anyways, and the appendage is wrapped in gauze and rehearsal continues like clockwork.

he doesn’t notice until a year later, when it’s much too late for buddy tape and a brace, that his pinky never quite recovered right. he opens up a dusty book of liszt arpeggios wondering if maybe now is the time to leverage that skillset, if maybe now he can demonstrate something beyond the technical prowess of his childhood, and fumbles like a clown on the keys. looking down, his pinky tells him the whole story. the first knuckle juts outward and askew with the rest of the finger, like a soul separating from its host.

he thinks back to the past year, and even the year before that, and draws a funny picture not unlike the analogy. it’s not just the finger. negligence is rampant. looking the other way and pretending not to notice everything that’s gone wrong, and everything that could possibly go wrong. what were the meds for, again? chronic pain, allergies, or just insomnia? he forgets. forgets most things, like his pinky finger, like the fact he hasn’t called home in weeks out of shame, and forgets that crying was even an option even though these days he’s got all the time in the world.

h: his saving grace descends in the form of a reality show that sweeps the country and his group by storm. it’s in between mandatory diary entries, the relentless gaze of the camera, stress and sleep deprivation, public defamation, and the thrill of a new stage—another day—that sets raeyoon alight again.

on the last night: a sea of faceless, wailing bodies under the stage, let’s debut, and his mother’s song ringing in his ears. he feels the bodies beside him leave one at a time to claim their spot on the podium, rank five, four, three. he’s tired, hungry, and smiling brighter. two. a rock tied by string. and one. his vision blurs, wet, and opaque. the lump in his throat swells, and he throws his head back to blink away the tears. not yet, not yet.

i: his first hand at production, a first win for the group, and a first concert after five years. it’s nothing short of a miracle, and their story is one that resonates somewhere deep. though revitalized, raeyoon doesn’t hunger for much anymore. but even five years in and with the tides swaying in their favor, he knows better to submit to complacency—scoffs at even the suggestion. with the attention on them—actually, legitimately on them now—the stakes are higher than ever, and he’s simply too grateful to do anything but deliver.

#id.bio #id.msg #id.indigo #id.park junhee

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S LEAD RAP BAN  JISUNG...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: Modeling

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): jiji, cat dad, face genius INSPIRATION: the hip hop legend himself, tiger jk. SPECIAL TALENTS:

beatboxing.

solve a rubiks cube in under 30 seconds.

remain unflinching during “don’t laugh” challenges.

NOTABLE FACTS:

mom and dad are reputable journalists living abroad.

is an only child.

can play the piano and drums.

owner of a one year old maine coon kitten named piper.

turned down an admission to nyu in order to become an idol. 

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

keep working, pushing forward, pulling his weight. idol contracts are temporary, but the grind is forever. they’ve made it despite the odds, and he’s wholly focused on having that ball stay rolling. a nifty name brand deal (or three) would be nice to end the year, but he’s not picky.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

do everything, leave nothing–establish himself as the go-to brand face, dabble in acting, put out a solo (though given msg’s track record, he’ll give himself another couple of years before giving it a chance), establish some sort of music collective a decade down the line, roll around in CF money for the rest of his days to come.

IDOL IMAGE

outer

actor face, model proportions, nobody rapper. the weight of the last moniker is the card that knocks it all off balance, locks him (them) into this seemingly never-ending cycle of shoddy luck, until that survival show miraculously turned the tides for the better. before that, he’s the dissonance that msg likes to play off of–softer visuals of his sort don’t scream “rapper,” but that’s precisely the point.

with this wave of newfound fame now, he’s this: actor face, model proportions, indigo’s lead rapper; now with a more extensive list of footnotes tacked to each label following his name. there’s still a lot of focus on how he looks, surface-level perfection that plays off a criss-cross of intimidating and downright ethereal, a physical symmetry that at times (even on the account of the most grainy, pixelated fantaken shots) is difficult to fathom whole. it’s enough to gain him some traction in advertising, something the company has pushed and he’s complied with wholeheartedly.

the rule of thumb? stay aware of your image, but never fail to be humble–being projected to the same spew of lovely compliments on loop of course makes this awfully easy. they want him to be relatable, down to earth. another trick with contrast that’s enough to entertain the masses and gain empathy. jisung’s own personal touch being to never cross the threshold into straight up delusional territory (exhibit a: attitude controversies? what the fuck are you smoking? exhibit b: saying they don’t need girlfriends when they’ve got their fans? no thank you.).

the same philosophy is applied when it comes to his place among the boys–give credit where its due and be thankful for what’s given and got. anything that goes above and beyond and enters peak uncharacteristic excessive tomfoolery? then on god, he’s gotta be the one that’s smoking mad.

inner

his single crime is having a backbone. a human spine can only take so much pressure before it snaps under the weight of the unimaginable. humiliation stings (they’re nothing, were nothing), sure, but there’s a reason why language exists. the pen’s mightier than the sword for a reason, and a mouth that knows how to strike someone numb than the slap of a palm works the same way. it’s not loyalty here, but merely an honest defense of everything that has his name associated with it. in the past, he’d been notorious for it–particularly in the wake of senior groups who don’t know when to can it, like they’re not only on top because fortune favors the fucked up and vice versa. the truth hurts, and the only thing that’s changed in the name of it is that he now has ground that is more solid than it’s ever been before if he’s to take the fall. evolutionary tactics for the sake of survival. it’s that simple.

IDOL HISTORY

baggage? pass. any brand of mommy-daddy issues or familial dysfunction both nuclear or extended? forget about it. there’s absence, but in a world this big, who doesn’t want some negative space in their lives? brooklyn is being pushed and pushed til it spills over, and he’s caught in the flood. childlike wonder keeps him distracted most days–that, and a schedule of extracurriculars that has him up and running. life moves by the rhythmic click-clack of the L, the school bell ringing for every hour, and earbuds glued in on his way to baseball practice. the blueprint, epmd’s strictly business, odds and ends of music mixes and archives he clicks through, building up a little world of rat-tat and snares.

there’s a meaningfulness to it, a to-the-point truth, the same sort that his parents jot down or announce through television screens. he takes to it like breathing, and from then on it’s kind of all-consuming. experimenting with different sounds, moods, flows–ranging from embarrassingly bad efforts to perfectly decent with some polish.

opportunity knocks after junior year. the rare trip to seoul to visit his grandparents turns to an msg talent scout handing him a card for consideration. if there’s anything to be thankful for, it’s that he’d sprouted like a beanstalk the summer before–paired with him growing quite nicely into his features, there’s a chance here. and with passing auditions, it expands. jisung weighs the percentages in his head, a high school diploma versus the paper-thin degrees of (possible) fame and affluence. his parents look at him as if to say with their eyes, god, seventeen years, and only to raise atall dumbass?

the prideful creature that he is, jisung doesn’t know how that could be possible. it’s only when the trainee days hit that he realizes with silent horror that oh. they might’ve had a point.

being familiar with singing and rapping gives him a leg-up in evaluations, all for that to be for naught the second they have to learn how to dance. it’s probably the first time having legs this long and inflexible nearly screws him over, but that’s where fake it ‘til you make it is exceptionally handy.

it all ends sooner than anticipated, anyway (like all fever dreams do, you could suppose). a year and then some, and he’s slotted for msg’s upcoming boy group. they’re multifaceted and (for the most part) interesting. neither of these qualities, jisung also comes to understand, mean shit. but he clings anyway, because there’s that so-called “meaningfulness” to it that might as well be the proverbial titanic in the face of the iceberg called public opinion. and if there’s nothing else going for him, face and body aside, he’s got a nose for smelling out bullshit, and jisung knows, this is anything but. jumping ship isn’t happening anytime soon.

they keep releasing songs, performing, and releasing more songs, rinse, repeat ad nauseam. hope is a thing with feathers, except those feathers are molting real fast for some of them. the years drag on, the calls from his parents offering to terminate that damned contract once and for all more tempting by the minute. but he’s a twenty-something by now, and with it the buddings of adult responsibility. emphasis on buddings, because as far as the msg execs are concerned, he’s not doing anything along the lines of responsible.

case in point: what he says, or rather, does. his transparency is a double-edged sword, simultaneously refreshing and well, sharp. not in the way that they like, and especially when he uses it against (senior) industry mates taking the liberties to drag their lack of reputation through filth. pity is the last thing desired, but there’s something about soon to be has-beens themselves picking on small fry that doesn’t sit well with him. so (allegedly) ignoring such folks on broadcast to forgoing the honorifics with a drop of the hat, no doubt it’ll get the rumor mill running. it’s not until the public eye starts zeroing in on an apparent pattern of him not bowing to other acts on stage does msg bring the hammer down–reflecting the obvious resort, but the reminder-slash-warning of the heavier consequences if he’s not careful.

but by then, he’s a different kind of desperate as is. re:group is taken to like a second chance, fever dream-like training sessions that feel like deja vu and all. three years in, and dignity be damned. he’s grateful for the chance. exposure feels both like a second skin and a novelty, fits him glove-sleek in spite of not lasting there all that long, let alone making it to the final cut. it’s enough of a catalyst, enough of tiny, tiny nudge to skyrocket them into an overnight success.

compromise, along with this “nothing to something” narrative, makes for a winning combination. it no longer becomes a matter of being talented but being marketable. the love calls begin soon after, and so starts the growing repertoire in endorsement deals and magazine spreads, and he’s looking to expand his horizons a little further. he’d been here solely for the music from the start, and always will be, but in the face of a changing sound (which he privately wishes wasn’t so piano-driven now, but hey, money talks), there’s something oddly relieving in filling a different path to success that is hard to deny.

#id.bio #id.msg #id.indigo #id.cha eunwoo

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S MAIN DANCE, LEAD VOCAL NAM JAEHWAN...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: Acting

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): prince, honey eyes INSPIRATION: After singing in church, Jaehwan found out his passion for making people smile with his voice. He became an idol so his voice could reach more people and move their hearts. SPECIAL TALENTS:

Can cry on spot if requested (no sad song needed).

Impersonates the legendary main vocal of gemini.

Knows how to play the piano.

NOTABLE FACTS:

Got a lot of attention in his appearance in the re:group show.

Used to sing in his church’s choir.

Has a dog named Truffles.

Is a really good cook. 

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

as of now, jaehwan is in a bit of an odd situation. his acting career is flourishing, and he’s being taken seriously more and more. he’s not unknown anymore and the push re:group gave him really worked in his favor. he can choose between roles, has offers here and there when before he had nothing. the thing is, he wanted to focus in the group. he wanted to help build them an image while he’s being pushed somewhere else completely by msg while being told this is the best for indigo. jaehwan tries to believe that, and his main goal for now is to keep getting traction for indigo, to help getting the group to even higher levels. even if on his own.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

as his acting career goes, jaehwan wants to push it to the next level. he wants to start acting on cinema, to get even more serious roles. msg seems to be willing to help him on his rise, so he wants to push even further. but he wants to keep a tight link to indigo, his career if so be it. he wants to rise not alone but with them, for indigo to go even higher too; he wants to be known not only for acting nam jaehwan, for that re:group guy nam jaehwan but for indigo’s nam jaehwan.

IDOL IMAGE

at first, he felt like he didn’t have an image.

he felt lost among all of them. jaehwan had learned to sing, he had learned to dance but he never learned how to create an image for himself. so the first year was full of awkward moments, of not knowing exactly where to go. he knew he had things he had to hide. he knew that when the cameras were around he needed to be pristine perfect but that sort of pressure only made him quiet. so he faded to the background, almost unseen. he had fans, sure, but he lacked impact. he lacked something that was his. he sang all right, he did things all right but for a while he wasn’t anyone worth mentioning. he was knwon among fans for being more quiet, more serious. for being careful with members. for being protective with fans. that was it.

until re:group happened.  

whatever happened in that show it was a miracle for jaehwan. first, because he was seen. the producers liked something about him (or maybe msg had payed them, who would know?). he was shown even during times he didn’t even think people would notice what he was doing. helping fellow flop idols, stepping back and allowing someone in a lower ranking to have more lines than him. that wasn’t from the goodness of his heart, truth be told jaehwan just didn’t want to bother. but when it gave him traction he kept it up because it was a good image to play with.

and it stuck. re:group is over (thank god) and he has gone from the nobody lead vocal from indigo to somebody with a name and a fame that catapulted them to something greater. acting came shortly after, an offering that msg didn’t want to let pass. he wasn’t consulted, which pissed him off but they said it was for his and indigo’s good so he did it. it’s been years and he’s still doing it. and even after years the image he has to sustain is still the same: reliable. a leader-like boy who is selfless, much more worried with others than with himself. is an image jaehwan knows how to play quite well because it’s easy, comfortable. he smiles warmly at fans in fanmeetings. he writes encouraging words. he speaks well in events. he shows off this bright, warm image, of someone approachable, someone who looks at things and see the best out of them.

well.

good thing he’s a good actor.

IDOL HISTORY

i. forgive me father, for i have sinned.

jaehwan pauses, listens to the priest speaking with diligent attention. or at least something that looks like it. truth be told deep in his mind jaehwan is thinking of things far more interesting than whatever he’s talking about. something about piety or whatever. he’s thinking about the book he was reading, about the test he has next week. he’s thinking about the girl he took to the back of the school yesterday, about how things get boring quickly. he’s thinking about his phone on his pocket, how it rings and he wants to pick it up and see who’s talking to him. he’s thinking of her, always her.

he bows, prays. he remembers his grandmother used to tell him that if he didn’t pray he’d grow a tail. as a young kid, jaehwan used to kneel and pray for hours and hours, terrified, completely terrified. he has to muffle laughter. his older brother elbows him, a smile on his face, the two of them being shut down by his mother’s gaze.

jaehwan looks back to the priest.

“amen.”

ii. beauty & terror

the younger of two, jaehwan grows up in a wholesome family. his father is the owner of a constructing company, his mother stays home throughout his whole childhood. jaehwan spends christmas with his grandmother, and by the age of eighteen has traveled through more countries than his whole classroom combined. he does well in school (not well enough to be better than some), well in sports (well enough to be better than most) and he does well with people. they like him, for whatever reason. maybe it’s because of the way he smiles. maybe it’s because of the way he looks. the one thing he’s sure is that it’s because they don’t know what he’s thinking.

it’s not about being two-faced, it’s about knowing what he has to conceal. jaehwan wasn’t that young, but also not that old when his temper started to show. an easiness in getting out of hand, a feeling of hot rage that boiled up inside of him at the slight inconvenience.it felt - and it still does - like a paradox. who’d think that such a bright, beautiful boy could go berserk like that, who’d think of such a terrible thing? it made sense, though. it still does. one who keeps so much inside has to let it out somehow. for jaehwan, it always comes out in red, terrible rage.

there’s only two people that jaehwan believes that know him properly. his best friend, sure. but most of all his older brother, junsu. if jaehwan seems like he was made for great things, for glory and gold, junsu is made of it. he’s bright, the smartest in class. the brightness of his days. his brother teaches him how to control himself. he takes him to therapy. he’s the one who takes him to singling classes, the one who tells him he should go to auditions. he’s the one who takes him to msg. he’s the one who helps him to tell his parents that’s what he should do.

junsu is the first person he tells about getting into the company. and the way he smiles. jaehwan will remember that forever. he’s his impulse control, mostly. whenever jaehwan feels too much, whenever he loses control, it’s him he calls. always, always him.

until junsu is gone.

iii. terror

and he goes in the stupidest way possible. a cold that goes south. a stupid doctor that gives him a medicine that he’s allergic to. he can’t believe it. he can’t believe it in the wake, can’t believe it. he spends weeks in a daze, eyes lost, not eating anything. he misses classes, his high school principal calling his mother time after time and jaehwan only listens as she apologizes. at some point he goes back to school. at some point he goes back to training

but there’s something inside that burns and boils and jaehwan meddles with things he shouldn’t. his grades drop, his mood swings get worse. he drops therapy even though his father asks him to continue. whatever monster he had inside that junsu kept leashed was out now, and there’s nothing that worked better for jaehwan than self-destruction.

and guilt.

guilt because there’s this burden that lifts. guilt because part of him, this hideous, awful part of him feels like now he can’t be seen. he has lived up until now under this shadow, this greater than life shadow, and now that the sun has set such a dim star like himself could shine. does jaehwan know that? of course not. that’s not a thought that comes to his head, proper and full. it’s a feeling. it’s a shadow on the wall, when he turns to look at it it’s gone. but it fuels him. it ruins him. it destroys him.

junsu used to keep him sane. he picks up his phone, calls him. once. twice. he calls him and listens to the voicemail. he never picks up.

he had no one to keep him sane.

iv. grief

jaehwan dives into training after a while. he pretends like life goes on, and life actually does. he graduates from high school, the help from friends and so making him get his grades back to passable. so he focuses on training. he sings until his voice gets hoarse, dances and dances until his limbs collapse. he only goes back home late at night, which is good, truly. it’s better to go back that late because then his mother is already asleep, the sleeping pills by her side. his father would be asleep too, though never on his bed. months ago jaehwan would go after him, tell him to go to bed he didn’t need to work so much. now he knows that working sometimes is just a way to ignore life. or death.

so jaehwan keeps training, he keeps practicing. even when he feels like he doesn’t even want that so much he marches on. this was their thing, his and junsu’s. he’s not about to let it die. not with him. no. he’ll keep it alive. keep him alive. he can do it.

when he debuts no one is surprised. it just seems like the sort of thing nam jaehwan does.

v. expectations & reality

he’s not used to this.

because this is not the sort of thing nam jaehwan does. failing. it’s not his thing. so when song after song is met with cold from the public, with disregard, jaehwan doesn’t know what to do. he gathers modest attention, basically nothing. he’s good at singing, okay at it, maybe. he’s good at looking good, at smiling at the camera, of getting some attention for that at least. but it’s never enough. they go on, elaborate choreographies, songs that as soon as he listens to he knows they won’t go anywhere.

there’s a feeling here: that maybe junsu was wrong. he wasn’t made for this. he wasn’t good at this. maybe he should just abandon this sinking ship, go to law school. he’s a bit old, sure, but well. but here’s the thing, that’s also not the sort of thing nam jaehwan does: giving up. that’s not his thing.

but he’s getting desperate.

and desperation was never his best friend. desperation makes him reckless. desperation makes him angry. desperation makes him lash out on his members. desperation makes him lose control when he can’t, not here, not in this place where image is everything. and jaehwan image is crafted, perfect. he’s not the mood maker of the group, he’s not the comic relief. he’s built to look reliable, to look responsible. serious, even. his bluntness and his sense of humor making him look dense in front of cameras - a grandpa, they call him. jaehwan smiles, laughs.

when they tell him about the re:group show he is firm against it. when they tell him that he is one of the guys going he almost flips out. and he does, sort of. but goes anyway. what’s one more humiliation in the huge ass book he already has filled with all the minor varieties, with all the ridiculous shit and concepts. he’ll go to the damn show. make a fool out of himself, what about it. at least it’s not giving up. at least.

vi. beauty

it’s a shock that it works, but jaehwan rides the wave as if he knew it all along.

the attention they get is insane, even more so out of the sudden. but the attention he gets is what surprises him the most. it’s like being seen for the first time. the show cast some light over him, gave him much more screentime than he ever hoped for. something about his looks. something about this one episode where he helped someone out, a favorable edit that showed him as this selfless boy, someone responsible, someone who could be trusted. that he didn’t make it to the final lineup only made him look even better, god knows why.

there’s something good about seeing his group start to rise. finally. fucking finally. but it’s even better knowing he had a role in it.

jaehwan is ready, then. to ride this wave, to work even harder. he practices his vocals more, he tries his hardest to not only be the guy from re:group who was nice and looked nice. he wants to be seen for his talent too.

and that’s when msg casts him in his first drama.

he doesn’t care much for it, but they tell him it’s for the groups’ sake. he does it then. we have to milk that popularity, put your face out there. jaehwan nods. at least it’s better than those stupid variety shows. it’s respectable, in a way, less humiliating. he didn’t expect it to become a side job but it does. shocking enough he’s actually good at it, it’s something he knows how to do. it’s not what he wants to do, sure, but jaehwan guesses this is his curse. he’s doomed to only have the things he doesn’t want, an eternal longing that has its claws in every aspect of his life.

still, he marches on. junsu had told him the meaning of duty. you gotta do what you gotta do. and if you can’t fix it, then you gotta stand it.

jaehwan stands it. he goes on and on and on and the more he keeps in, the more he feels like exploding, a vulcano that’s been asleep for far too long.

you gotta stand it, he remembers, closes his eyes, nails craved in the palm of his hand. he breathes in. he wishes junsu was here, he really does. because he just doesn’t know what to do anymore. because how can he stand it, when the one who he can’t fix is himself?

#id.bio #id.msg #id.indigo #id.seo kangjoon #id.guild

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S LEAD VOCAL LEE HANBIN...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 23 DEBUT AGE: 18 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 16 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: Acting

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): snow prince (mainly for his complexion, though it became more common after a fantaken picture during a snow day became popular among indigo fans), peach boy or simply peach (for his complexion and naturally rosy lips, as well as his exaggerating his love for peaches in attempts to land himself a pretty nickname during debut promotions), german shepherd (for his acute ability to recognize people and some objects by their scent). INSPIRATION: the only motivation he had to consider a career under the spotlights was his mother, and the ungodly thirst for adoration he had inherited from her. the only encouragement he needed to audition for an entertainment company and take whatever he was given was his mother, and the endless support she provided even when bedridden, faced with the limits of her own mortality. the only passion he found in the aftermath of a tragedy was his mother, and the memory of her love of old hollywood and gut-wrenching endings. SPECIAL TALENTS:

lethal ttakbam: hanbin’s ttakbam skills are known to be powerful enough to crack walnuts

dog nose: hanbin can identify people, especially bandmates, by their scent.

NOTABLE FACTS:

he participated in swimming and judo competitions between the ages of 10 and 15, has won 2 bronze medals for swimming, 2 silver medals and 1 gold medal for judo.

he is a theatre major at sungkyunkwan university, though his studies have been on hold since re:group.

although he doesn’t showcase this ability in variety shows, hanbin’s pretty good at doing korean and foreign accents.

there’s a 7 year age gap between him and his older brother. 

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

five years into their debut, indigo remains hanbin’s best bet. he knows his effort now should focus primarily on the group, they’re not in a position to snub the gust of luck blown their way since re:group. second chances don’t come easy. it sits just fine with him, as the new direction the group has taken relies on his strengths and potential. the momentum has pushed him on the path to an actual acting career, so he milks the opportunities for all they’re worth. for now, he double teams.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

hanbin needs independence. he doesn’t want to rely on any name that isn’t his own, he doesn’t want to make a living borrowing chances that can slip from his fingers at any given time. he wants his name to be the first one on posters, typed in bold on the big screen. the future hanbin has in mind is one of major pictures, layered characters and his face setting it all in motion. one day, he’ll play solo.

IDOL IMAGE

hanbin’s image changed not with time, but with the status he pursued.

when he debuted, he was rosy cheeks and honey gazes. soft spoken and clumsy, not too far from his daily life persona. he edits himself, highlights everything his company deemed charming and cut out the bad parts. no one can love a boy brimming with self doubt and obsession. they love the prince made of snow that smiles charmingly at the camera. they love the gap of his appearance and his clumsy hands and gawky stance that made his dance line awkward in a way that wasn’t entirely unattractive.

his market appeal is innocence, one less infantile than it is idealized, too beautiful to be true. they prefer it when he tones down his busan accent and speaks softer, which he can do well. they prefer it when he’s soft and easy, which he can’t do as well, but there aren’t other options. what the company wants is what the company projects onto him in post, and he just needs to learn to settle for it if he doesn’t want to be edited clean out from the final cut.

he is meant to be simple and sweet, and he believed there were worse roles to play.

but when indigo is reworked, he is given the opportunity to mix a little depth into the single dimension of niceties he used to be meant to embody.

to the innocent smoothness, he adds a distinguished coolness. his smiles are no longer desperate to be praised, he expects them to stand out. he remains sweet and charming, but now the interest no longer comes out of his clumsiness or lovable choreography mistakes, as there barely is any choreography to be spoken of anymore. the enticement comes from the subtle maturity of his stance. he could never pull off idol-sexy, but he can set his shoulders back and tip his head well enough to exude a sex appeal that promises there’s more to him than a handsome face.

IDOL HISTORY

             — DRAFT 1. REFERENCES.

it starts with mother. the simplistic reality of that never goes understated, a perfectly adequate foreword to what becomes of hanbin. but it’s true that it begins with her moonlit eyes and warm hands, the laughter of his brother ringing distant in the room, and tv static.

her family thought of her as dreamer, but hanbin remembers his mother as ambitious. highly pragmatic, dangerously indulgent, focused. she enjoyed nice things and she wanted more of them, but there wasn’t anything remotely idealistic about the hunger she carried behind her easy smile that was so often derisively complimented as handsome. anyone of less kind disposition would say she smoked like a man, drank like a man, thought like a man. a great beyond was a nice talk to talk, but she could never resist the allure of comfort.

if that isn’t what makes big-headed girls like her settle, pretend they are head-deep into a love that takes no checks, cash only.

so she strapped alongside the bank manager ten years older than her that would father her two sons. if she was charisma and liberty, he was nothing more than a conservative bore, his two heels so grounded to firm earth he never moved out of the spot. it was home to work and work to home, and a visit to the parents on the weekends. fun was only ever mandatory, a bare minimum abiding by his final say.

he decided, she endured. the rules of the perfect marriage.

             — DRAFT 2: BONES.

caught between the parents in a house that always felt decades older than its walls aged, the lee boys had to find space for themselves. hanbin always thought junhong had it easier as the first-born. he knew how to deal with his parents, he knew how to talk to people. everything seemed perfectly uncomplicated to him. he could fill his time with friends and the outside world that hanbin was so curious about.

from the very beginning, hanbin was the undeniable black sheep. his health was poor in the formative years of his life, which put his mother on his heels for most of his childhood lest any of his allergies would have him killed before he could reach double digits in age. he barely had an immune system, any common cold would leave him bedridden for days. but that wasn’t all.

his delicate condition made it hard for him to connect to his peers right when children are supposed to develop these skills, which put him under his mother’s wing for most of the affection and sociability he would be getting for most of his years. but that wasn’t all.

his father resented him for his weakness and his medical bills. he didn’t exactly bother to mask his impatience, never censoring himself before ranting about how much keeping his son alive cost him, like hanbin was responsible for it. worse, like his mother was responsible for it. what they say about spoiled offspring – if there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’s something wrong with the pup.

the fights escalated from occasional to daily. hanbin would often catch a waft of a strong, foul scent from his mother’s coffee cup when she fed him his medication before school. he didn’t remember seeing his father without the tension on his jaw or the frown between his eyes.

and he sat wedged between them, bound by his feet. a martyr of his own body.

             — DRAFT 3: SON.

when he turned seven, his health took a turn for the better. one by one, his allergies started receding, he grew some muscle between the lot of skin and bones.

while he lived in hermitage, his parents tried to have him take part in monitored activities that could fill his time outside school. sometimes he felt like they just needed to have a few hours away from him. ironically, those only come to fruition after the illness fades. he improves in piano once the lessons don’t have to be taken in his house, at his father’s old keyboard, where his mother could hover around, peering over the teacher’s shoulder. piano used to only be another frustration that he had to get out of the way to make it through the day, but going to the conservatory for lessons gives him a confidence he hadn’t known before, a need to prove himself to the eyes from every corner.

that’s what eggs him on to ditch the therapeutic swimming sessions to do competitive training. that and all of the energy that suddenly is coursing in his blood, making him thrum with a vitality that felt new and foreign and odd under his skin. he’s doctor explains it’s the iron that he had his body used to lack, but it feels like fireworks and three glasses of chocolate milk at one in the morning.

it’s enough to get his father off his case, maybe occasionally going as far as to seem pleased. he himself had been successful enough in baseball to land a college scholarship back in his day. junhong was in a junior soccer league, so he could get used to having athletes for both sons, pass the baton. it was about putting up the trophy shelf and taking pictures at the podiums.

his mother dances to the blues he strings out of the keyboard on late afternoons, her lean, bowed arms drenched in the pinks and oranges of the sunset peeking through the kitchen window.

he knows whose pride and joy he wants to be.

             — DRAFT 4: BLUR.

if he wasn’t ready for the energy flooding through him at nine, he doesn’t know what to do with all the anger biting at his gut at thirteen. the world fades to a sanguine blur, and he just knows he wants out. out of music, out of swimming, out of school. out of his house, that became somehow more crowded after junhong enlisted for mandatory service. all his parents seem to do is yell. at each other, at neighbors, at him – it doesn’t much matter. they don’t need much of a reason to pull when their finger never leaves the trigger.

his father has a way of ruining things, everything has to become torture for him to be satisfied. that’s what life is. hanbin can’t do anything but watch as his father turns what is meant to be a hobby into the sad corner of the trophy shelf, all bronze next to the golden cups his brother had gathered. quitting is a fight that breaks furniture and drags out into the dead of the night, and no allowance until hanbin is convinced to go back to competing. his last stand of defiance is switching sports, but he knows that’s a war his father has won.

he doesn’t remember anything outside the training rooms and the competitions. the only thing he hates more than competing is being forced to compete, but at least judo becomes an outlet. junhong makes it less miserable on the weekends he returns home, though those are fleeting graces. he spends his teens like a worker in the mine, sacrificing too much of his life for a sliver of gold.

when he gets it, he quits.

when he gets it, the life goes out of his mother’s eyes, terror flashing in their pale glint as her knees give.

             — DRAFT 5: TRIAL.

at the moment of hanbin’s audition for msg entertainment, his mother is back in busan, on her fourth chemotherapy session. he smiles for the testing camera as he introduces himself, uncharacteristically calm, but it looks good on the frame. it’s becoming, suitable. one of the judges says he speaks as pretty as he looks.

he had been there for the first three sessions, tagging alongside the nurses as they checked her stats and replaced the needles. he asks stupid questions, but they’re patient enough to answer them, if a little begrudgingly. they do tell his mother she’s very lucky to have a son like him before they leave the room, and she puts on a proud smile on chapped lips, radiating.

he has her picture as the screensaver on phone, she had sent it right before leaving for the hospital, the morning of his audition.

this is his second audition to an idol company, so he feels a little bit more at ease than he did at midas. he prepares two songs: that i once was by your side, so he could rely on his piano skills rather than his immature singing, a trick that had almost gotten him through the cut at his first audition; and solo day by solstice, a nod to the company’s legacy which thankfully showcases his potential as an idol much better than his butchering of gemini that cost him his spot the last time.

the judges aren’t overly impressed, but the air in the room is light, he can feel a certain warmth as they thank him for his time and instruct him where to wait until the result is announced.

his performance is better than it was the last time around, but the real difference, he thinks, is his poise. a part of him is proud to convey more charm than the did the last time around, and hoped it would pay off.

his mother had told him to get the fuck out of the house as soon as he could, like she had done. his life is far too precious, she tells him, to be wasted away pleasing someone as daft as his father. she knows he wants more out of his time than be a shadow of a man past his prime.

they ask him what makes him want to become an idol, and he understands they want something flowery, palatable.

“get something done”, is her advice. “don’t make money. well”, she adds quickly, a moment of confusion between the loving mother and the worldly woman. “do make money. but don’t live to make money, live for something.”

he doesn’t want to just do a job, he wants to become something – isn’t that what being an idol is all about?

              — DRAFT 6: REDACTED.

seventeen months are put into building hope.

he learns, to his dismay, that being a trainee is a lot less glamorous than he imagined. there aren’t even many bragging rights involved once he transfers to a school full of other trainees. it’s mostly just more homework, but he takes to dancing and singing better than he does to studying.

he learns he’s more adaptable than he had given himself credit for, which comes as a surprise. in training rooms, he can come out of his shell and dare say out loud what he wants. he gives advice and receives criticism, meets many limits that he has a hard time pushing. but he adapts.

he learns he can have expectations.

he learns that, once broken, faith takes the soul out of you. the two days he takes off from training, to prepare and carry out with the funeral, are spent confabulating a grand escape. it’s a weekend, it’s the perfect time to disappear. run away from his aunt’s house, never give his father an explanation, leave town, leave the country. leave everything behind until it stops hurting, leave his body behind too, if that’s what it takes.

he learns he can’t forget a promise. the last ten months it takes him to debut aren’t made of the same hope he had carried in the peak of his adolescence, but it’s the only he has left to stay in place and be the person he swore he would become.

             — FINAL DRAFT: DOUBLE.

the much awaited glamour does come after debut, but it isn’t as they paint it on magazines and music shows. an idol has to be good at putting on the glitz, fit the happy smile and the alluring wink and the unexpected joke into the right places. the glitz is all about the rosy filter that washes out the feeling out of everything: smile at success, smile at mediocrity, smile at failure, smile at sales figures and chart positions and concert tickets, smile at fear, smile at the unshakeable sensation you have wasted your life away in a lie that was marketed to you, smile at the abyss. isn’t this what you wanted?

life with indigo isn’t made of a whole bunch of success, but there is the glamour. the sad beauty in being a failure at nineteen, the fatalistic allure of having no way out. he suffers, but he does it beautifully, with a touch up on his nose and fuller lips. he fails so well that a drama role is passed by enough actors ends up landing on his lap.  

the experience teaches him that failing in a drama is a considerably better than failing as an idol. the drama pales in comparison to the competition and the career actors involved would hardly mention it among their accomplishments once they’re no longer contractually required to promote it, but it’s huge for hanbin. he feels, for the first time, like he’s on the radar.

that puts him at an odd place with his company. it’s not common for a rookie idol to get actor’s disease from a small role in a failed drama, his manager jokes, loud enough so anyone can hear in the hallway. they both know that it’s not what that is about, this is about hanbin struggling to survive and his company pulling him to the rock bottom in a sea of legalities, fine letters.

the news of his company rejecting a role for him reaches him before he can hear what the role is even for. they clip his wings and keep him in the basement, waiting further instructions, as he should. the few fans wonder why he hasn’t been discussing an acting comeback if indigo won’t make a return as a group - some don’t even know he’s in indigo.

all doubt seems to clear when the group is announced for re:group, a second chance at making an idol group functional again.

he plays it like a role, makes a character for himself - passionate, heated but collected, charming. he isn’t the center of attention, eyes set on a prize beyond momentary popularity, but he’s up there. he doesn’t do a whole lot of wacky fanservice or wink prettily for the cameras, but he does enough to be back on the radar.

success fits him tight, wears him like a glove. a part of him revels in complaining about having too much work to do, savors the sleepless shifts to make up for all the nights he had spent awake wondering what would become of him. a part of him delves into the thick of it and reaches for more, hellbent on climbing further up until it’s only him on the podium, gold on his neck again.

but his body is made of memory, and he can’t drink himself enough on the high of triumph to let himself forget. he wishes he could, sometimes. he wishes he could forget his mother’s hands, bony and tiny around his, lips held tight despite her exhaustion as the nurses pulled and shoved needles into her. he wishes he could forget he doesn’t want to become his work. he wishes he could embody ambition with grace and bloody teeth, but god, he doesn’t want to eat himself alive again.

#id.bio #id.msg #id.indigo #id.jung yoonoh #id.guild

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S MAIN RAP, VOCAL BAN JISUNG…

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: MSG ETC: This member has become involved in acting since the group’s shift in popularity

IDOL IMAGE

outer

actor face, model proportions, nobody rapper. the weight of the last moniker is the card that knocks it all off balance, locks him (them) into this seemingly never-ending cycle of shoddy luck, until that survival show miraculously turned the tides for the better. before that, he’s the dissonance that msg likes to play off of–softer visuals of his sort don’t scream “rapper,” but that’s precisely the point.

with this wave of newfound fame now, he’s this: actor face, model proportions, indigo’s lead rapper; now with a more extensive list of footnotes tacked to each label following his name. there’s still a lot of focus on how he looks, surface-level perfection that plays off a criss-cross of intimidating and downright ethereal, a physical symmetry that at times (even on the account of the most grainy, pixelated fantaken shots) is difficult to fathom whole.

it’s enough to gain him some traction in advertising, something the company has pushed along with acting, both which he’s complied with wholeheartedly.

the rule of thumb? stay aware of your image, but never fail to be humble–being projected to the same spew of lovely compliments on loop of course makes this awfully easy. they want him to be relatable, down to earth. another trick with contrast that’s enough to entertain the masses and gain empathy. jisung’s own personal touch being to never cross the threshold into straight up delusional territory (exhibit a: attitude controversies? what the fuck are you smoking? exhibit b: saying they don’t need girlfriends when they’ve got their fans? no thank you).

the same philosophy is applied when it comes to his place among the boys–give credit where its due and be thankful for what’s given and got. anything that goes above and beyond and enters peak uncharacteristic excessive tomfoolery? then on god, he’s gotta be the one that’s smoking mad.

inner

his single crime is having a backbone. a human spine can only take so much pressure before it snaps under the weight of the unimaginable. humiliation stings (they’re next to nothing, close to it), sure, but there’s a reason why language exists. the pen’s mightier than the sword, and a mouth that knows how to strike someone numb than the slap of a palm works the same way. it’s not loyalty here, but merely an honest defense of everything that has his name associated with it. in the past, he’d been notorious for it–particularly in the wake of senior groups who don’t know when to can it, like they’re not only on top because fortune favors the fucked up and vice versa. the truth hurts, and the only thing that’s changed in the name of it is that he now has ground that is more solid than it’s ever been before if he’s to take the fall. evolutionary tactics for the sake of survival. it’s that simple.

IDOL HISTORY

baggage? pass. any brand of mommy-daddy issues or familial dysfunction both nuclear or extended? forget about it. there’s absence, but in a world this big, who doesn’t want some negative space in their lives? brooklyn is being pushed and pushed til it spills over, and he’s caught in the flood. childlike wonder keeps him distracted most days–that, and a schedule of extracurriculars that has him up and running. life moves by the rhythmic click-clack of the L, the school bell ringing for every hour, and earbuds glued in on his way to baseball practice. the blueprint, epmd’s strictly business, odds and ends of music mixes and archives he clicks through, building up a little world of rat-tat and snares.

there’s a meaningfulness to it, a to-the-point truth, the same sort that his parents jot down or announce through television screens. he takes to it like breathing, and from then on it’s kind of all-consuming. experimenting with different sounds, moods, flows–ranging from embarrassingly bad efforts to perfectly decent with some polish.

opportunity knocks after high school graduation. the rare trip to seoul to visit his grandparents turns to an msg talent scout handing him a card for consideration. if there’s anything to be thankful for, it’s that he’d sprouted like a beanstalk the summer before–paired with him growing quite nicely into his features, there’s a chance here. and with passing auditions, it expands. jisung weighs the percentages in his head, a diploma in journalism versus the paper-thin degrees of (possible) fame and affluence. his parents look at him as if to say with their eyes, god, eighteen years, and only to raise atall dumbass?

the prideful creature that he is, jisung doesn’t know how that could be possible. it’s only when the trainee days hit that he realizes with silent horror that oh. they might’ve had a point.

being familiar with singing and rapping gives him a leg-up in evaluations, all for that to be for naught the second they have to learn how to dance. it’s probably the first time having legs this long and inflexible nearly screws him over, but that’s where fake it ‘til you make it is exceptionally handy.

it all ends sooner than anticipated, anyway (like all fever dreams do, you could suppose). a year and then some, and he’s slotted for msg’s upcoming boy group. they’re multifaceted and (for the most part) interesting. neither of these qualities, jisung also comes to understand, mean shit. but he clings anyway, because there’s that so-called “meaningfulness” to it that might as well be the proverbial titanic in the face of the iceberg called public opinion. and if there’s nothing else going for him, face and body aside, he’s got a nose for smelling out bullshit, and jisung knows, this is anything but. jumping ship isn’t happening anytime soon.

they keep releasing songs, performing, and releasing more songs, rinse, repeat ad nauseam. hope is a thing with feathers, except those feathers are molting real fast for some of them. the years drag on, the calls from his parents offering to terminate that damned contract once and for all more tempting by the minute. but he’s a twenty-something by now, and with it the buddings of adult responsibility. emphasis on buddings, because as far as the msg execs are concerned, he’s not doing anything along the lines of responsible.

case in point: what he says, or rather, does. his transparency is a double-edged sword, simultaneously refreshing and well, sharp. not in the way that they like, and especially when he uses it against (senior) industry mates taking the liberties to drag their lack of reputation through filth. pity is the last thing desired, but there’s something about soon to be has-beens themselves picking on small fry that doesn’t sit well with him. so (allegedly) ignoring such folks on broadcast to forgoing the honorifics with a drop of the hat, no doubt it’ll get the rumor mill running. it’s not until the public eye starts zeroing in on an apparent pattern of him not bowing to other acts on stage does msg bring the hammer down–reflecting the obvious resort, but the reminder-slash-warning of the bigger consequences if he isn’t careful.

but by then, he’s a different kind of desperate as is. re:group is taken to like a second chance, fever dream-like training sessions that feel like deja vu and all. three years in, and dignity be damned. he’s grateful for the chance. exposure feels both like a second skin and a novelty, fits him glove-sleek in spite of not lasting there all that long, let alone making it to the final cut. it’s enough of a catalyst, enough of tiny, tiny nudge to skyrocket them into an overnight success.

compromise, along with this “nothing to something” narrative, makes for a winning combination. it no longer becomes a matter of being talented but being marketable. the love calls begin soon after, and so starts the growing repertoire in endorsement deals and acting projects, and he’s looking to expand his horizons a little further. he’d been here solely for the music from the start, and always will be, but in the face of a changing sound, there’s something oddly relieving in filling a different path to success that is hard to deny.

#id.bio #id.msg #id.indigo fcs #id.cha eunwoo