BEAUTIFUL.

( kang ilwoo )

[fmdxkiyoung-deactivated20181029]

chase // kiyoung & open

sometimes it was hard to call fans, fans. there were the ones who watched from afar and treated idols like human beings. those were fans. then came the ones that didn’t care about following idols into the bathroom and or chasing them down. that was the case today, he had to few stops to make before got to the company. so it was able to watch the scene unfold. an idol was being chased down by fans and he finally made it into a cafe. thankfully, the the fans didn’t try to come in but they were waiting outside. and it was just the idols luck that he wanted to go into the cafe also.

as soon as he walked in he looked for the idol and saw that they were about to go back out. probably thinking that the fans left out. as they made it to the door, kei stopped them with a small smile on his face. “you might want to wait a bit more. they haven’t left yet and they’re waiting across the street.” 

[fmdtokki-blog]

a fan to ilwoo was someone with unconditional support and love to their idols... and fast legs, too. they were chasing him. regardless of how long his strides were, they were gaining a tremendous amount. if the wind helped him, it surely gave his fans the extra push to catch up. 

he didn’t want to run; it was the thing he wanted to do, but a few fans became a few too many, and he was being shoved around in the circle they closed in on him before he took off down the street. his manager would have a fit. tokki of impulse fleeing from his harmless, beloved fans. the scandal that would bring. 

feet aching, lungs crying as he panted hard, he found solace in a cafe. a hard push of the door and thankful prayers spilled from trembling lips. sweat peppered his temples, trickled down his neck into his shirt that clung to his broad back. the horde was out of sight. perhaps he lost them. 

but as soon as ilwoo gave the thought consideration, hands pressed on the glass door to open, a voice of warning surfaced. “ah, really?” he took the heedful advice and peered across the street, spotting familiar jackets and faces and the masks covering them. relief was short-lived, and ilwoo backed away until he slumped into an empty chair. “thank you for that! i didn’t want to run a marathon again.” 

[lvcashans-blog]

“what’s good everyone, my name’s andrea kuo and this is my youtube channel.” andrea grinned and gave the camera a thumbs up. “today is a very special day as we are doing, what i like to call, the kpop youtube challenge olympics. the kyco for short!” her enthusiasm would amaze anyone watching, who knew her or who didn’t know her. “for those who are new, basically, i’m in a kpop group called silhouette and being in a kpop group, i have kpop idol friends,”

her eyes never left the lense of the camera as she was explaining, she was truly in her element. “and each year around this time, i’ll make them compete in several challenges. the idol with the most medals won’t have to be forced to be in one of my videos for a year, so yay them!” she let out a laugh and grinned at her friend behind the camera.

“this event is very interesting for everyone involved, it is the blindfolded makeup challenge. so, if you know anything about me, i rarely wear makeup or skirts and i’m not the most girly person, so you as the viewer get to vote for who does my makeup the best! but, the catch is, they’re blindfolded.”

“today we have the wonderful,” she beckoned her friend to come on screen and sit down. “you don’t have to speak english if you don’t want to, i can subtitle it.” she spoke in korean, a language her and most of her friends had in common.

OPEN STARTER!

[fmdtokki-blog]

he didn't have to, but ilwoo tried nonetheless because what would be the point of x number years of education, and all the english he whacked to memory if he woudn’t utilize the language? and he wanted to at least try for his international fans while making it easier for andrea. less to subtitle hopefully meant less to edit. youtube was very new to him, but ilwoo liked to think it was something close to any variety show, any interview he’d plaster a smile on. 

doing his best was the only choice. andrea invited him, and he would be on his best behaviour; he would be the tokki everyone knew and anticipated. nothing short from the image he hardwired. 

an inhale for preparation, to start, then a wave, and he was tokki now, impulse’s lead rapper and dancer, the happiest member. he wouldn’t disappoint. “hello, everyone. i’m tokki from impulse!” let the show begin. “i’m happy to be here.” his grin not once faltered despite the intimidation of it all, the uncertainty of being a guest and the challenge itself. “i’ll do my best with your make-up, too.” 

[fmdtokki-blog]

{ fmdshen! }

he found himself in ilwoo’s presence, sitting down on the couch while the other male helped himself to the snacks that were laid out on the tables in front of them. he would have helped himself, but he didn’t want to do anything other than sink into the couch and stay there for as long as possible - or more accurately, until his manager or one of the other members of his group came around and told him that he needed to get up. “hmm? no, no, i’m not hungry, hyung.” his growling stomach decided to make an appearance, proving his words to be a lie. “i don’t need to eat, i just need to rest for a little bit.” he yawned slightly, before reaching out to snag one of the sticks of celery off of the offered tray. “they couldn’t have given us some cake or something?” he grumbled to himself, biting into the vegetable.

ilwoo reads lethargy well. or rather he reads shen well enough to sense the custom of surviving on routine. breathing, doing but not living, not quite. he gets it, understands where shen is: present but not really, again not quite. this is where ilwoo excels (he likes to think). lifting dampened spirits with a smile hopefully contagious enough. that’s ilwoo’s m.o. he smiles until his cheeks ache, but that never stop him. especially when his best friend was idle, lingering somewhere in betwixt time and space. 

he chuckles at the betrayal of shen’s stomach and pushes the tray closer. “have a bit of energy, at least. you need it.” they all do, so ilwoo takes a chomp out of a baby carrot, then wolves down the remainder. this isn’t enough to last a concert so long. yesterday is a testament to that. midnight rings to room service are proof paltry sticks of vegetables aren’t enough for working idols.but no one really cares if they go hungry. gaining weight is a bigger atrocity. “maybe we can order some after the concert? i have gummies in my room. want me to stop by yours? we can share!”

for a moment, ilwoo forgets there are cameras, so he’s a little more candid and raw. more earnest and free. he leans onto shen, squeezing his knee with affectionate strength. ilwoo lets his palm rest, lets energy transfer between them. “it’ll almost be like old times.” 

[fmdholly]

starter for @fmdtokki // circa may 2016.

if the city were a body, holly imagines the streets are its veins; the people its blood. she imagines the heart pulsating with the hubbub of night life and groups of everyday soldiers marching to and from school and work. if the city had bones, she imagines she could hear the creak of its knees, the fracture of its shoulders, war-torn and heavy under the weight of meritocracy and its people’s greed. imagines the city crying at night underneath the rumble of car engines and distant blares of sirens, underneath the dragging footsteps of urban stragglers, underneath the plague of city light and white noise—alive and dead all at once. if the city had flesh, the people would’ve bled her dry. day in and day out. (a pitiful rinse-wash-repeat cycle.)

this is how she mourns those phantom deaths:

with a bottle of soju, two orders of odeng, and a skewer of tteokkochi half-eaten. every now and then, holly makes eye contact with the pojangmacha ahjussi, who tuts at her; one hand waving a stick of odeng at her like she’s a child, the other pointing at her bottle of soju as if to ask another? she only smiles—a peculiar mix of indulgence & exasperation—accepts the odeng and shakes her head when he tries to set another bottle of soju on her table. her murmurs of objection dissolves amidst a pair of drunken men squabbling two tables over and the shriek of the ahjumma accusing someone two tables over of not paying when he reaches for his wallet and finds it empty. she glances over at him only once, his apologetic voice making her pause. 

this is how she copes with pity:

a quick two-minute conversation done in whispers and subtle hand gestures (her request adhered to with a wave of the ahjussi’s hand at his wife—let him go. the agassi will pay for him). it’s only when the ahjumma drops his wrist and sidles to the front of the stall does holly address him; her voice a siren, her face obscured by the brim of her cap and late night shadows. perks of being seated in the best seat of the house–anonymity. come. sit.

“here.” she notes the face mask, the all black and her eyes dart up to meet his for a second before lifting her hand, offering him her odeng. an invitation. (kindness should never be this pretentious, this calculating.) “you look like you need this more than i do.” holly smiles, voice soft and lilting. “ long night?”

[fmdtokki-blog]

fact: kang ilwoo was too scatterbrained. forgetting any source of payment, how criminal. he saw it in the eyes of ahjumma. scum. the tips of his ears flared in shame, bright red and noticeable among hair a faded pink. dusty rose now, a compliment to the blush swirled over cheekbones. he couldn’t lift his head, over any sort of worthy explanation. the night could swallow him up now, end the blanket of misery.

so he sunk into the empty chair, pretending he could disappear. but ilwoo’s shoulders were always too broad, and his lanky legs were uncomfortably too wide even bent. this was judgement, yet not really — not when the stick of odeng hung in midair. an offering, maybe. a sign of kindness in an hour so devoid of it. shaking fingers, ilwoo pinched the skewer and politely bowed his head. he wouldn’t forget his manners.

familiarity fluttered on the wings silence. a matching face-mask, a late night snack obscured in vignette shadows. he knew an idol when he met one. relief followed next, filling his lungs until he could breathe again. life came to his shoulders first; they straightened, his back rising until he met her eyes for second time. (the first was on a whim, cluttered with embarrassment.)

“thank you.” it must have taken an eternity for him to speak. his lips stuck to one another, the roof of his mouth and inner cheeks dry. the fabric shaped to his lower face helped so little, he tugged it down below his chin. appearances be damned.

in a day and age all he did was shroud his identity, this was the bittersweet taste of freedom. “long day...” to sound like a complaint wasn’t his intention, but ilwoo could only refrain for so long. regardless, he mustered a small smile to in combat. “i mean, tiring. the constant schedules, y’know! i must have wandered out half-asleep and forgot i used all my allowance.”

small-talk was spilling too much, too fast; it was saying without thinking, a habit he often committed. solitude was murmuring to himself to save others the hassle (or to save himself from others, who drained and drained but gave nothing in return; the city was so unforgiving and its citizens even more so. ilwoo granted a peer over, nibbling on the thin slice of odeng, letting a teaser of the savoury taste bloom when he locked eyes again with the ahjumma and hastily turned around.

was he recognized? crap. but most importantly— “i forgot to introduce myself,” he yelped but in a whisper then smiled so tenderly, eyes mimicking the tranquil moon. “i’m kang ilwoo. nice to meet you.”

[fmdtokki-blog]

setting: jeju, backstage at the concert venue ; may 25th, 2018 --- 3:23pm. with: @fmdshen! 

the second concert in jeju for idolized, and ilwoo’s adrenaline was potently pumping through his veins in vivid crimson. cheeks a dull pink and ample of chewed celery sticks dipped in ranch, he generously helped himself to the free healthy snacks offered. it was all he could muster to seem lively because ilwoo without smiling nor talking to himself? well, that wasn’t the tokki viewers knew, and he was created to appease. 

“shen, do you want some food?” plopping on the couch of their joint waiting room, a quadrant large enough for their numerous members, ilwoo offered a tray of vegetables to his long time friend. arguably his best friend in origin and in general. the age difference, the separate groups may have divided them, but shen and ilwoo remained close. it was known throughout origin story, their tightly woven bond. years passed since they last were on camera together, it was almost reliving the past, but ilwoo hoped it would shed a better light on shen. “you should eat up! we’ll be using all our energy later to put on the best show ever.” again.

[yooneroos]

my spirit animal

[fmdtokki-blog]

{ fmdtheo! }

( ... )

Ilwoo wasn’t as hopeless as he had suspected, Theo thought before turning his head, his eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, have you never actually cooked ramen before?” Nevermind, the situation was dire. Letting out a sigh, Theo opened the fridge to search for something that wouldn’t end up giving him food poisoning. “You’re gonna either have to choose to make a peanut butter sandwich or a ham sandwich, I think mixing the two would be classified as a crime against humanity and will probably result in my untimely death.” 

he's the youngest of five --- the baby of the kang family, and the only boy. his four sisters raised him; they cooked for him. every breakfast, lunch and dinner was created by their hands and not his. 

"does boiling water for ramen count?" if so, then yes, ilwoo has made ramen before. "moon is usually in charge of cooking." the unsung hero of impulse. 

the ingredients stare back at ilwoo, gauging for the next move, for the next notch on the to-do list... or the directions. what theo says makes sense. absolutely. but yet, ilwoo doesn't understand. 

cooking is chemistry, and chemistry was his worst subject. (only managed a low ninety.)

"d-do you want a peanut butter sandwich or ham sandwich, then?" as minutes pass, the less confidence ilwoo has. (as if he had any to begin with.) "unless you see something edible in the fridge." hopeful anticipation curdled at the back of his throat. 

opting to feed someone else at the expense of their health is turning out to be a wrong idea. he values theo's presence, his friendship. to risk it because of a crappy sandwich, not worth it. 

"or you wanna make something for the both of us? you can teach me?" a last minute salvation for lunch paired with a shaky smile.

[fmdtokki-blog]

{ fmdxchaeyeon! }

( ... )

she wasn’t too familiar with the work of vocal coaches, after all – she was only an idol, but she simply didn’t want to turn him down. well, not after hearing such a nice plea.’‘so, you want me to turn you into the next freddie mercury?’‘ soft laughter slipped past her lips and she added,’‘ i’ll try my best to help.’‘

it doesn't take much to make ilwoo smile, and he does with ease around chaeyeon. her concern greatly touches him, and he's not simply being sentimental. he doesn't have many friends his age, so he considers chaeyeon someone he trusts and can find comfort in. 

which is why he implored her counsel over others. he's not so stiff around her; he can breathe and potentially even carry a note unlike the hiccups and cracks he commits in front of vocal teachers. 

singing frightens ilwoo. 

"ah, you're too nice!" and he's not just saying that; he means it. "but i'm fine." running on caffeine and energy drinks. is that truly fine? ilwoo doesn't dwell on it. 

instead, he stuffs veiny hands in pockets and walks with her to a nearby table. "y-yeaaah." a stammer then an extension, and ilwoo feels timidly foolish for a tick of a second; his head shakes, cheeks burning. 

compliments made him bashful. more so than normal. 

laughter starts, and ilwoo lightheartedly bumps into chaeyeon. "i get that a lot. the puppy part not the---" lips dry, he sweeps his tongue over face value cracks then he clears his throat while he pulls out a chair for her. "---beautiful voice part. a-aha." the nervous chuckle slices through regardless of the attempt to tamp it away and sink into the seat next to her. 

coming from chaeyeon, ilwoo's almost inclined to believe her --- to believe in himself. 

"well, if you can, but won't freddie mercury be too out of my league?" his throat almost stings thinking of high notes so he rubs it with firm strokes and a gulp to wash away the acid. "but i do not doubt your capabilities. i cannot say the same about my own, though.

[fmdtokki-blog]

{ fmdkyungmi! }

( ... )

the female peeked at the backpack, surprised at how much stuff there was in there, excitement evident in her smile; this was probably one of the most normal thing she’s done in so long. “daebak!” she gasped, mouth watering at the sight of the snacks. screw diets, she thought to herself. “you really came prepared, didn’t you? if that’s the case then we better get started then if we want to finish all the movies. which one should we watch first?” 

directions are not kang ilwoo's strengths. 

seoul stays a foreign plot of land, a concrete jungle of alpine buildings and too, too many cars with questionable drivers behind the wheel. that is no excuse, however. ilwoo gets lost in busan almost as frequently as any other city he wasn't born and raised in. 

where he excels in smiles and laughter, he lacks in exploration --- no. he has journeys, plenty of them. just accidental ones when he's trying to get to point b from point a but ends up at point c. 

point c being a pug. 

ilwoo sheepishly rubs his nape, ducking into kyungmi's apartment. "every street looks the same." in his eyes. stepping out of his sneakers and into the slippers kyungmi generously offered. he's sloppy, left in right and right in left as he pours his attention on point b: pororo the corgi.

"hey, pororo! aren't you the cutest little thing?" his hand hovers then returns behind his back. "i should wash my hands first. pororo might smell his nemesis." a chuckle leaves, and ilwoo points in all sorts of directions. "where is your washroom, by the way?" if he gets lost...

shuffling into kyungmi's home, ilwoo makes himself as small as possible. his wide structure feels invasive. "why don't you choose and surprise me?"

[nielwoon]

[fmdtokki-blog]

{ fmdmina! }

( ... )

cars whoosh by one after another, every thirty seconds. no taxi in sight. until the heavens have mercy and one slows to a crawl in front of her. she slips in and whispers an address in the ahjussi’s ear, smiling softly when he nods kindly at her request to take the shortest route. “tell me about your day: what’d you eat? did you eat? how many hours did you sleep last night–and don’t lie, oppa, i’ll ask your members for a fact check! tell me something i don’t already know about you.” distraction distraction distraction. “tell me everything. anything.” i’m here. i’m always here. 

two words.

all ilwoo needs are her two words, and the rest that follow, then he’s calm. at least he’s trying to be without the help of the two capsules set on the perimeter of the table. aquamarine in colour, it’s almost ironic. such vivid medicine. (is it even medicine. does it heal or briefly have one forget until sleep can ebb.) on the dark espresso wood, they stand out too much, and ilwoo considers returning them to the bottle. out of sight, out of mind, out of temptation from quivering, grey fingertips.

all he needs are mina’s words.

the static of her cadence voice.

it’s enough to lull him like ocean waves against a ship. comforting, relaxing. worry, anxiety splinters off. out of sight, out of mind, out of the hollow of his rib cage, and he can breathe without sharp pain. mina’s his anchor when a storm break; she holds him down. hopefully not at her own expense.

“the song,” he starts off quiet, purposefully so. listening to the hitches in mina’s breath, the crumple of background noise — the change from complete silence to the rush of momentum on wet pavement. “it’s coming along. i have to tweak things here and there, but i’m almost done.” and ilwoo says this, swallowing down the guilt curdled at the back of his throat. using his own voice as distraction from the downpour on mina’s end. from the shatter of devastated skies. and the thought his best friend is subjecting herself to such weather because of him.

the blame game, ilwoo often finds himself playing it. often lost in foggy negativity. 

mina is a ray of light, breaking through grey, shattering the dim, ravenous clouds stealing what happiness ilwoo does feel — if he still feels it himself.

“ah, mina...” he laughs because it’s easier this way. to make light of a heavy situation. to dismiss the goose flesh pimpled up and down his arms with every clatter of atmosphere. “you sound like eomeoni.” but different. ilwoo doesn’t have to pretend to be fine around mina. she can read him like a book. see through his hardcover. “i ate, i ate.” was a bag of toasted seaweed enough? he had a yakult, too. “i slept.” two days ago, maybe — which explains the sleeping pills. the last resort of aid to get shut eye. he hasn’t taken any yet. too scared of addiction.

he moves away, hungry fingers scratching at his jeans and eyes the mess of cushions he burrowed from other rooms. building a fort is a distraction. “i have good news! i’m moving out of the dorms soon. moon found a place, and i’m going with him.”

[fmdtokki-blog]

{ fmdjihyuk! }

( ... )

( 📩 ⤜ tokki / impulse ) im inside ! im standing can u see me ? ( 📩 ⤜ tokki / impulse ) i got two hot chocolates. i hope thats cool. ( 📩 ⤜ tokki / impulse ) dude, i see u ! get in.

   a wave of his arms that draws the attention of a few snotty customers. if they don’t get kicked out of this place for public d i s r u p t i o n, he would genuinely be surprised.

{ to jihyuk (charm } i see you!

over the ducked heads of customers tap, tap, tapping on laptops. ilwoo can almost hear the incessant clicking, the sharp symphony of letters being stitched in hangul. maybe english. he crosses in long strides, more leg than the average 185cm man. fans say he's about 60% percent legs and shoulders. wrong math, but somehow it makes sense for ilwoo to total 120%. he's a bit more extremities than others. 

and a bit more anxious when jihyuk is five, four, three, two steps away. he hops the final one, hands buried deeply into pockets. "hey, man!" excitement curves his mouth to a broad grin, and his eyes soon follow. 

asking why sits on the very tip of his tongue, begging to be released, but ilwoo refrains. the chair skids on the floor, and his knees bounce almost against the table. "how are you?" the steam of hot chocolate dances below his nose but is barely noticed as ilwoo keeps his sight on jihyuk, searching for the reason in his face. 

jihyuk's symterical smile, finely carved jaw, straight nose, high cheekbones, his eyes --- the eyes where all answers are held. 

hopefully.

[dangkaniels]

[fmdtokki-blog]

dangkaniels

daniel ilwoo, softly: what’s up, spidey?

[fmdtokki-blog]

( to eunchae noona ) noona, hello! this is tokki from impulse.

was how it started—the text massage. concise but friendly. perhaps too simple, though, considering ilwoo barely knew eunchae.

the idea began much earlier but just as unplanned and not thoroughly thought out.

( to eunchae noona ) i got your number from seolhee. ( to eunchae noona ) i mean holly!

too familiar; he was acting too familiar, and ilwoo palmed himself, dragging his hand down to his mouth until the skin under his eyes were drooped. he was bad at this: impromptu invitations.

( to eunchae noona ) but i want to know if you’re available next week? ( to eunchae noona ) i found a neat cafe that sells vinyls and thought that can cheer you up. only if you’re up for it, of course!

{ for @fmdeunchae! }

[fmdtokki-blog]

in the middle of seoul, and ilwoo was tragically lost. head swerving to each possible direction but to no avail. where was gold star and how did he stray away so badly that he couldn’t retrace his footsteps and head back? panic set in, and ilwoo felt his throat go dry then his pulse race.

this was a paltry break in midst of concert preparations. he had no phone to call moon or maybe even baekhyun to find him, retrieve him then lastly return him where he belonged: with them—with impulse. why was he embarrassingly bad at remembering streets and buildings and addresses? after years of residing in seoul, ilwoo should know better. (be better.) what he had in shoulders and legs he lacked in sense of directions.

and he buried his face in his hands, exhaling his grief. arabella was godsent when he lifted his gaze, spotting hers across a sea of other people. being related to other idols had its perks; he was familiar with their members.

“arabella!” ilwoo raised a hand. vying for attention may not have been his smartest of ideas in busy seoul.

{ for @fmdxarabella! }

[fmdtokki-blog]

“i think this will look nice on you.” in his hand was a headband with a pink bow five times too large. and on his face was a smile even bigger. ilwoo passed the ostentatious souvenir to sunny, grin not once faltering as he anticipated a reaction.

tonight was a rarity. them at lotte world, identities concealed by matching black face-masks. typical idol attire. some stares here and there. whispers wondered who they were, while a few answered. (“those shoulders must be tokki. and that fringe has to be sunny.” “they’re related, no?” “apparently.”) they very much were.

cousins without the luxury of time to hang out as frequently as before—as they liked.

“see anything for me? or should we match?” like the childhood they blinked and missed, when it was cute to share hair-clips and ribbons and frilly socks.

{ for @fmdsunny! }

[wannaonenet]

this beret look™️