sup! ares (s/h, 21+) here! bringing my nepo baby, jeon jinah to the foray. she's taken the with my skele of the gossipgate subplot so i imagine she's our resident snake. she's all bark and bite, with a penchant for self-pity. here you'll find her profile & bio and below you'll find a tl;dr on my girl. if you'll have her, please give this intro a like and i'll slide into your dms! i also have dscrd so do ask for it if that's your speed.
tw infidelity, sex, alcohol abuse, drugs
gem sun, aries moon, pisces rising
she's the fakest bitch you'll probably ever meet and will do you dirty with a smile on her face. not only is she spoilt, entitled and a little abrasive, she knows how to wrap people around her finger. be warned 😭
her mother is a stay at home mom & her father is the ceo of a multimedia company (think conde nast). after the divorce, jinah's mother got a pretty sum, their marital home, a large af condo in gangnam-do, and full custody of jinah
her parents splitting lead to her self-destructive behaviour, lots of booze, lots of pills and lots of sex. by the time she was fourteen she was making visits to rehab (only those closest to her at the time know about this however, this is not common knowledge!)
her mother, too consumed by the shame and grief of a broken marriage, neglected jinah in those formative adolescent years. she was practically raised by the help and had very little intervention by her father than the odd lecture that was punctuated with the promise of a hefty cheque and a shopping spree. this meant that for her atrocities she was viciously rewarded
an awful flirt, she'll flirt with you and your dad too rip which is why when she sets her sights on her bff's boyfriend, she hardly contains herself. the blunder sees her lose all of her friends as they take her friend's side. did she feel bad about it at the time? perhaps, but not enough to apologise. like a politician she attemps to foist the blame on others. on her father, on her mommy issues, on mercury being retrograde (or perhaps it was venus?)
over the next ten years, jinah's entry into the fashion industry as model only seems to heighten her tenancious proclivities. caught in scandal after scandal, she's either on the blacklist or highly requested to work for certain fashion brands. she has no sudden plans to begin a journey of self-improvement but the infamy is taking a toll on her. perhaps gg sparks her redemption arc?
possible plot points
people who despite her misgivings still give her the time of day. friends, people that she has learned not to cross and she even holds close? potential childhood friend?
leaders of her anti-fan club; people who absolutely hate the girl and would not piss on her should she be on fire
industry friends who keep her close because keep your enemies closer y'all
hook-ups, fwbs, one stand stands!
an ex who has tried to change her, bless your soul, and for some reason believes she can be a better person if only she channeled that spiteful energy into being good
an ex who has humbled her and no matter how much you've told her to hit the road, she keeps coming back with a drunk text asking if she's unblocked now?
walking into the dark, getting lost in it. her head somewhere else while she crosses the sticky floors of cloud nine. jinah close by, always within reach, like an anchor sinking as fast as her. this all feels very ten years ago. this feels exactly like what seryung needs. (not that she would know.) she shakes her head rapidly, makes herself a little dizzy. "no!" she laughs, her tone of voice tilted and hard to understand. like she's answering the question or telling her friend not to be so hard on herself. "this has to be it, right? i mean..." she starts on the stairs, half-heartedly cautious. her carefulness fading fast. "you're a genius, ji. i never would have seen this place." it gets darker, warmer. seryung starts running, like she was born in five-inch stilettos. she nearly trips when she reaches the landing, but the wall catches her. "ow," she laughs. "sorry," she says to the wall, patting it apologetically. she squints into the near distance, blindly reaching her hand sideways to hold jinah's. "i think—" seryung tucks her hair behind her ear, "those look like doors, kind of... right?"
——
seryung’s laughter feels like a remedy, acceptance embedded deep in the tintinnabulation. jinah settles here, curls up and finds a home in it. ‘i could have sworn-’ and then she’s off and jinah can only hoist her skirt up in an attempt to match the other’s pace. there is an childlike quality to this encounter that brings up memories, two girls in school uniform, laughing until their lungs are fit to burst, cigarettes in the bathroom. home before the storm. her mask glisters and glitters, fit for an angel but the true angel is the one before her in silk, and jinah feels the faintest twinge of jealousy fighting through the fog. but this feeling is quickly succeeded by her admiration for the other, so before she even realises it, she’s also throwing a slap at the wall, her own laughter joining the chorus. ‘yeah, i think so?’ jinah moves over to the closest one, jiggles the handle. no joy but the door next to it gives purchase. ‘bingo,’ she turns to the other, a devilish smile tugging at her lips. ‘after you, darling.’
unusually true to her word, seryung returns about ten minutes later. expertly balancing six shot glasses in between perfectly manicured fingers, shoulders bare. she sets the glasses down on the table, smiling from ear to ear. like she hasn't noticed she's now lighter by about sixteen-million-won's worth of fine leather. where the coat she left with went is anybody’s guess. she sits beside jinah, raises a glass in cheers. "salud!" she grins. clinks, drinks. "mmh," seryung puckers her lips, holding her hand in front of her mouth for a second. “oh—!“ she taps jinah’s knee. "a guy at the bar said something about private rooms," seryung tells her, just a little past pleasantly buzzed. maybe already drunk. she leaves out the part where he paid for their drinks. ("come down to the private rooms with me," the man smarmed. seryung let him put a hand on her thigh, and winked, "i'm not drunk enough yet. but i'm willing to be.") a giggle bubbles out of her. "i don't know if he meant like a bathroom stall or if there actually are—" there's a blinding twinkle in her eye, "have you heard anything? should we go look?"
one thing the girl is good for is a good time and jinah wears this moniker neatly. live fast, die young and beautiful. the city draped in the trappings of night feels like home because only monsters, not men, come out at then. this is a cruel elegy. but liken it to why it’s so difficult to prise one’s eyes from a car crash; there’s something devastatingly beautiful about the wreck. it is so when seryung places the shots before her, she only succumbs to the lull of sweet destruction. ‘salud!’ she takes one down for the vibe, another for the bliss, one more because tomorrow is never promised. fuck, i really should stop here, that inner voice, feeble in its volume is redundant. tonight, well, tonight jinah’s embracing hell.
the amalgamation of molly & tequila sends her world on an orbit but seryung’s proposition brings her back to earth. ‘babe, is that even a question?’ jinah rises out of her seat, holding her hand out to the other. ‘c’mon.’ and like that they’re weaving through the tangle of bodies where dance floor meets luxury carpet and luxury carpet meets stairs. upon a marble landing, jinah’s heels sound like gunfire. she’s certain she’s gotten them lost so she looks to seryung for an answer. ‘okay, admittedly, i was winging it. i don’t know where the fuck we are, do you?’
didn’t they say the best things come in pairs? jinah does not know the quip all too well so pardon her mistake but what she does know is this; the night was always made to carry her to glory, all carbon and speckled with moon dust, and what better way to get there than to share it with another. in this way she intertwines her fingers with that of yeju’s, her other hand holding up the hem of her long skirt lest she fall as they traverse the threshold into bedlam. she’s floating on mirth and molly, arpeggios of laughter tumbling from the cherry of her lips. everything feels so fucking good, the chill of her borrowed diamond mask that shivers with every move, the heady warmth of yeju’s hand against hers. ye, this night was made to carry her to glory, indeed.
‘babe, you okay?’ dutiful friend as ever, jinah will only reach a height that still ensures that she’ll still be able to take care of her friend. it occurs in the faintest of thoughts, that perhaps she shouldn't enable her. a good friend wouldn't take the driver's seat and carry them down the highway to destruction, after all. but that's the thing about the two of them, if jinah is driving the car then surely yeju is holding the map.
‘i think we might need some more tequila.’ another laugh to shade the night in cool tones but this time she turns to yeju, gives her a once over, and lo, is that a finger reaching out to thumb a smudge of lipstick from the edge of the other’s lips? ‘you’re so fucking beautiful, i think i’m gonna die. let’s hit the bar.’
대행사: if it wasn’t for your dad you would be out of a job so quickly
대행사: god jinah, why don’t you just think about your actions? this impacts us as agency
she’s clutching onto an ungodly high, has been since dusk trickled into an uncertain dawn. fingertips skimming the cornflower hue of the sky, jinah decides she needs a downer to counteract the effects of the upper so she presses the bitter pill on her tongue and swallows. ever since she was young she’s been running from feeling something other than the crush of euphoria. but she’s older now. the road is running out.
‘jinah, are you coming?’ she hears her manager sigh, finally notices the cool morning air flooding into the company car. their patience is waning thin, she can hear it in the way his voice adopts a minor key. but this is jinah on her same shit; he should be fucking used to it, isn’t that what father pays him for? following him into the shoot, she folds herself into a messy bow in apology to the staff, her heavily tinted shades almost slipping down her nose. more sighs punctuate the atmosphere.
in the dressing room she finds her chair, almost stumbling into it but the model is too numb to let the tendrils of embarrassment coil around her resolve. she takes off her glasses and takes herself in through the relentless gaze of the mirror, ignoring the hands now attempting to style her hair and ply her with makeup. in the corner she glimpses apathy upon a perfunctory backdrop. saerom is everything jinah (even in her intoxicated state) remembers her as. as pretty as a flower but giving nothing away. she does not know her to be a thorn but jinah is a bullet in the barrel, any minute she could fire. it is so she spies for any sort of indication of disdain or better yet, disapproval. ‘saerom, is that you?’ saccharine and silk, jinah plays nice first and foremostly, allows her lips to curl into something akin to a smile. ‘it’s been a while!’
'the first form is darkness; the second is desire; the third is ignorance; the fourth is zeal for death; the fifth is the realm of the flesh; the sixth is the foolish wisdom of the flesh; and the seventh is the wisdom of the wrathful person'