In honor of Chuseok, six months of Idolize, and all of you, we're releasing a special "mini event" in the form of various Chuseok variety specials! Each airs only for one or two episodes over the Chuseok break, a time when everyone goes to visit their families, which often means sitting around the TV and chatting. It's a great opportunity for idols of all levels, especially for those willing to give up family time in the hope of promoting just a little more. These generally don't get to be super huge, so we'll be limiting viral claims in relation to them, but don’t fret there will be a few newsblog posts about the shows over the course of the next month (so we do ask that you refrain from buying panns for this event!). For the most part, however, this is a great way to grow that resume and further some exposure.
A few blanket rules: there are no buy ins, everything operates roughly first-come first-serve, and muses may only participate in one segment. There will not be points per thread, but everyone who participates can add a blanket +10 sp and +10 exp at the end of the mini event! Participation will be defined as one 4/4 350+ thread by the October 8th at 12am KST. For the moment, we'll ask that you choose only one character to participate if you have two, just to make sure everyone has a chance! We'll open up any remaining spots to second characters after we've given it a little time.
Chuseok Gayo Festival
6 special stages.
A chance for idols to show off their skills, featuring un-promoted songs, b-sides, or covers.
@idohsan & @idmilo / pinocchio stage.
@iddahye & @idjowi / be natural stage.
@idsejun / perfect man cover stage.
@idsuran / iu- twenty three (concert remix) cover stage.
@idhwanhee / neverending story cover stage.
@idlina @idxvivi @idyujin / coming of age ceremony cover stage.
@idellie / my name cover stage
@idaroon & @idjaewon / zutter cover stage
open.
open.
Swan Club
4 spots, requires significant dance background.
A dance and lifestyle show.
The cast will communicate and heal through ballet.
@idbelair
@idshizuku
@idmeihua
@idjunseo
Quiz on Korea
needs English skills/English speakers.
2 spots for hosts of a quiz show featuring participants from multiple countries, asking about Korean culture, history, pop culture, food, and more.
open.
open.
Who’s Your Mama?
4 spots.
cooking skills showdown.
The cast teams up to cook dishes, evaluated by mothers, one winner chosen.
@iddax (winner).
@ryanid
@idrogun
@idhanbyul
Line Up
4 spots.
mukbang and review.
The cast will visit a famous restaurant and critique their food, then try to recreate the dishes on their own with a quick lesson from the chef.
@idminyoung
@idjiho
open.
open.
Travel Maker
4 spots.
domestic travel show.
cast members will pair up and plan the itinerary and shoot a 'domestic travel show' by filming their travels somewhere in the Korean peninsula and presenting it as a travel documentary.
@idsungyeol & @idjiyeon
@idmyungeun & @idhwarin.
Idol Ice Skating Project
6 spots.
cast members team up to learn short track speed skating and figure skating, culminating in a race and pair performances.
sure, she could be at home visiting her family, but why not work instead? that's the tongue in cheek joke she keeps making backstage, a playful nod to the fact her work ethic (read: obsessive perfectionism and tireless hours) are a rumor that precedes her. the staff laugh, commiserate, tell her maybe none of them will have to see each other next chuseok, and wouldn't that be nice.
she doesn't give the details they don't need. many of them have become her friends now, with the tendency of companies to share cameramen or sound men between their shows. it's often the case that some or many would have been on a show with her at some point, for a few episodes or so. and she's been well trained, msg knows what they're up too there. she can charm the staff with the best of them.
but that doesn't mean she can unleash the dark humor she would on, say, san. were san here, she'd undoubtedly blurt, "damn, good thing i have something to do on chuseok so i don't have to explain i got fuckin' disowned and have no family to hang out with on this glorious family holiday. good thing i get to dance with this girl that fuckin' hates me now too, that's gonna be really fun, a proper duet and all. "
she texts it to him instead. she's pretty sure he's actively recording right now, with milo, which is bullshit. of all the people to beat her into a successful relationship, it had to be san. the rest of the world made sense, but san? they were supposed to be disastrous together. he was supposed to be as broken and stupid and fucked up as she was. but he'd gone and landed himself this adorably poetic floppy puppy of a man - what's up with that?
she's really mostly doing anything she can to not think about dahye right now. to not think about suran in the other room, about ellie, the two of them with the solo stages she dreams of. she wants a chance. anything, any opportunity to force msg to pay attention to her talents. her real abilities. to stop pushing her onto variety show after show after show, threatening overexposure and pushing her limits. it's only a matter of time before she sticks her foot in her mouth, fucks up, before the public is sick of her. she bites at the edge of her thumbnail and breathes in slow, counts to seven in measured beats. holds the breath for seven beats, until her lungs begin to burn and she can exhale slow and controlled to match the measure of the first two rounds. it's an exercise that she's been instructed into by a well meaning staff psychologist, hired on by msg to try and mitigate the risk of over-stressed idols passing out on stage or acting out, probably. it's a new thing. she's not sure she likes it. it's awkward and uncomfortable - but then, so is most of her life.
she breathes out.
the stage will go well, because it has too. because she and dahye have done this a million times over now. because they've performed it before, countless times, once for a teaser, many times in showcases and stages of various natures. and it's just a gayo, just chuseok. it's not even that stressful. no one much will watch. she knows this all logically, but it doesn't stop that same overactive anxiety in her chest.
so much for breathing exercises.
there's no time for a quick cigarette and their call time is soon, so she throws herself back into the dressing room, is lost beneath the hands of stylists and crushing weight of the other's icy stare.
the stage represents a lot for suran on a good day. it's the investment of years of effort. its the anxiety of going against the wishes of her father. it represents the dream she's had since infancy.
she remembers those days, sometimes, in the way one fabricates a memory based on retelling. she'd been too young to properly remember much of the show truthfully. but she's seen the reruns and she's heard the stories, and over time they fit together into memories that she's manufactured. she remembers honestly and earnestly the years after it too, dozing late int he night in the back of her father's home studio, having snuck in after her mother went to sleep, when her father is too wrapped up in recording to notice her there. she'd felt at peace, in those soundproof booths, watching magic happen. watching creation take place.
there's something fascinating about that, something breathtaking in the manner that her father and his friends and colleagues had worked together. something that had brought up in her, nurtured in her, the desire to create on her own, of her own volition, something that speaks her own truth and sincerity.
sometimes, she'd felt uncomfortable listening to her father's music. to listen to his lyrics, his raps, was to realize very quickly that her father was flawed, haunted, scared. she'd quickly been stripped of the childhood notion of the superhero father. she'd grown up riddled with concern, as a result, but as she grew into herself adn into her own uncertainties, she'd found that honesty invaluable. he'd been flawed, remained flawed, but he'd been trying. and written into so much of it had been the love of her, and of her mother. so losing his support? it had been a lot to deal with. it still was.
she missed the honesty between them. she missed the connection - the idea that they'd been kindred souls, that she was following his footsteps.
she wants this stage, in particular, to matter. she chooses a song, remixes it, adds a modest dance break. i'm truly fine, she wants to tell them. the world. i can do this. i think i know what i want.
but does she?
no, not really.
she wants a solo. she wants her family back. she wants to produce. to compose. to create. she wants. she wants. she wants. wants to be in love, wants to make money. she's a fox, a bear, a fox pretending to be a bear pretending to be a fox. she's nothing, these days, besides confused. confused and mistaken. the song speaks to her; to her age and to her struggle and to her uncertainties. and on a technical level, it shows a side of her she hasn't been able to yet- a vocal depth and the capability to command a stage solo. it could mean the beginning of big things for her, if she plays her cards right. it's a stage that shouldn't mean much, doesn't really, to the casual observer. but for suran is the latest step on her campaign to prove herself.
she takes a deep breath. fingers thread back through carefully done hair.
one heeled foot steps out onto the stage, breath baited, lungs frozen, heart pounding.
why did you decide to sing boohwal’s never ending story?
such a question is to be expected — even without midas carefully cherry-picking them. hwanhee knew that particular thing would be asked even before his manager gave him the list of pre-selected questions and scripted answers. it’s a cliche to ask about such a thing. but everyone loves cliches despite what they say or feel about it. that’s the reason they’re so popular, isn’t it?
he answers each question fluently, like the words are truly coming from his heart. and only those behind the scenes know they’re embellished words, carefully written and selected to avoid causing trouble. but his answer to this particular question retains the truth — not the complete truth, but parts of it. he gives a short glance at his manager, and he can see the manager mouthing ‘empathy.’
“i sang this song when i auditioned,” he inserts a shy, sheepish smile and ducks his head. he lets a quiet laugh escape. it’s forced but the breathy wheeze conceals it. “but it wasn’t a good audition.”
he notices the surprise marking the interviewer’s face; it throws him off slightly, but he continues with tears gathering his eyes. (all done with his manager’s approval, of course.) he looks down in his lap, showing the camera that he is currently “reminiscing” about that point in his life. his actions are subtle, but he plays it off as emotionally as he can.
in reality, there was absolutely nothing dramatically emotional about that day — the producers had told him to leave, so he left; they told him to return when he got better, so he returned a year later. if anything, the dismissal from them only encouraged him to keep moving forward. it’s certainly not a story that would bring actual tears to his eyes. but that’s what the script told him to do: tug at the audiences’ heart strings; play with their emotions. it’s an idea that makes him nauseated, but he’s not the type to easily say no.
well, not to them, anyway.
however, the thought runs in his mind longer than it should: toying with people’s emotions. isn’t that what he’s done his entire career? why does he suddenly feel bad about it now? is it because the words have always been beautifully decorated by telling him they’re selling fantasy instead? or has he always been against such an idea, but he’s never fully grasped it until just recently?
he’ll think about all of that at a later time, because he has a job to finish now.
“it’s a song that reminds me that i’ve come a long way as a singer,” he says, now strictly sticking to the script. “and the members and olympians and the company and…” he becomes quiet again. it’s not because he forgot the script — he’s studied it for days after each rehearsal and sound check, but he doesn’t think he can say the next part without bearing his teeth. so he trails off, looks down at his lap, holds onto his fidgeting fingers, until he’s able to smoothly finish up his answer while simultaneously sticking to the script, “and i don’t think i could have improved this much without their love and support.”
@iddahye chuseok gayo recording, awkward to say the least.
the last time that they spoke, the two girls had been hurling insults at one another on the set of radio star, of all places. god, that was a stupid move. of course it had been while cameras were off, pitched low, in hissed whispers like furious snakes, like cats.
admittedly, jowi had at once felt immensely guilty. but jowi is jowi, which means that guilt when unexpressed, her vitriol left unapologized for. jowi believes, however, that dahye was just as cruel to her in turn. they’d both dug in their heels, two stubborn women not about to lose an argument not about to falter to the whims of the other. years of unspoken tension, the silent waltz they’d been performing to avoid the truth, had bubbled over at the worst possible moment.
what had that left jowi with? her world was crumbling around her these days. san was busy with suran, with milo, with his solos. she wasn’t speaking to dahye. sooyeon and ellie, they had enough on their plates already. she didn’t go to them to spill her guts - went to them for drunken debauchery, to be a caricature of herself, a better version. they didn’t deserve to be subjected to an unbridled, unfiltered jowi. truthfully, her modestly sized social circle is mostly predicated on people she can fuck herself up with. few of them are the type she would or can allow herself to truly open up around.
so bit by bit her safety net is slipping away. yohan returned to her life just to turn around and fuck suran. she wants to depend on hyuk because she knows he wants her too, but won’t it just cycle into the same thing that dahye has? can she deal with that dissolution more than once? dahye has always known she was a monster. had loved her even then. hyuk still has no idea the lengths she’ll go, paints over it with rose colored tint. she can’t handle losing that too.
she’s scared, is the long and short of it. she’s terrified. she can’t function on her own, just spins herself up in circles until she’s depressed, anxious, erratic and moody - even more so than usual. left to her own devices, with no one else to lash out at, jowi begins to destroy herself.
this becomes evident when they see each other again next, for a rehearsal in preparation of their chuseok stage. she’s been there for hours already, fresh bruises on her legs and makeup wiped off her face, to expose exhaustion and strain. the tips of her fingers trembling - strung out and functioning on caffeine and stubborn will alone. “bout time you got here,” she mumbles, and it rasps from disuse. she’ll pretend she’s saving her voice, not that she’s spiraling. drowning herself in silence and isolation. “lets go from the top.” she turns her back on her immediately to click the song to play.
Just a little note to clarify that we will also accept solos of 500+ words for points for the Chuseok mini event! We would still encourage you to thread as much as possible of course, but if you’re feeling strained by the time limit, feel free to do that as well.
Sungyeol’s car, on the way to North Jeolla.
September 2018.
ft. @idjiyeon
If anyone asked Sungyeol, he wasn’t sure if it was getting more or less uncomfortable with every minute passed in the enclosed space in the car. The fact that there were at least two cameras in different angles right in front of their noses recording their each move didn’t make it any easier. On the contrary, the blinking red lights made the man more aware where he was and with whom he was with. When on a day-to-day basis he was casual around Jiyeon (having passed many stages after the end of their peculiar ordeal), something about being watched made him feel like the broadcasting station knew all of their secrets.
Sungyeol can almost see the captions the video editors will put on the majority of the clips of the ride. Generation gap. Or some other type of age bullshit that would make the awkwardness seem cute. Maybe even add a pink blush on their cheeks or some cute doodles around them to exaggerate the matter.
He only hoped once they stopped and started looking around the planned destinations, it would get easier. For now, Sungyeol would have to deal with the atmosphere. Keep up his brotherly image and the illusion of a family within the company. Thus, at a red light, the man started stirring in his seat, sharply snapping his gaze from one camera to the other. “This is so weird... I have never had cameras in my car. Feels like I’m exposing my own secrets or something in similar terms,” it’s a comment that doesn’t really require a response. Though, one was probably preferable considering the nature of the show. It had to be somewhat entertaining, right?
Sungyeol’s gaze got stuck on the viewfinder of one of the cameras nested on his side, filming them both, and he leaned towards it. It was a mandatory procedure in the idol world, to fix their looks no matter how little they might have cared for them. So he followed through, picking up his cap to comb trough damp hair before placing the cap backwards. A moment later he snaps a palm over his mouth, covering the shadows around the area. His stylists’ idea for him for the show might have been a bit too natural for the background of an idol.“If some weird ahjussi comes up to you at some point during this trip, please consider if it’s not me with facial hair before doing anything radical,” he laughed into his palm, taking a moment to look out of the car door window before he could accelerate forward. Yeol’s one hand on the steering wheel while he profusely hid in the palm of his hand until it got too uncomfortable.
“You’re from Seoul, right? So have you ever been to Jeolla? Or around a more rural area?”
I don’t even wanna see you, I don’t even wanna tell you, that I loved you.
@idrogun
happy chuseok, ryan, show off your fucking cooking skills. “i can make a grilled cheese,” she’d deadpanned, “and that’s about it.” but hey, when you’ve got a relatable image, you have to keep it up. and if a cooking chuseok special means she can snag a role in that movie she’s eyeing, or at least be allowed to audition, she’ll roll on up to the studio and make some damn grilled cheese. maybe they’ll even have tomatoes. god, she hopes they don’t expect her to eat it. or any of the other trash they make.
as caustic as her thought process is internally, her external image is anything but. she’s radiant today, as she is on all days, because her profession dictates it, demands it of her. rounded cheeks, impeccably winged eyeliner, dark hair in perfectly smoothed and shining tresses. unlike many of her peers, she’s never bothered to dye it, never been asked to do so. it’s been gently suggested once or twice, but her brand is such that it isn’t required, her talent allows her other avenues to stand out. it’s become something of a talking point now, all these years into her career. ridiculous, like most things. but it means her hair is thick, lustrous, lacks the damage many of her peers have suffered, and she enjoys showing that off every so often, a flick of fingers through the strands to let them ruffle.
it’s all about the little things she can cling too, she figures. every cloud has a silver lining and today’s? she’s the prettiest girl on set. at least in the moment. she’s always aware of this, acutely, sizing up the competition. jinx is finally on the up swing again after a rough patch, and she’s aware she’s aging up in the industry, that she has to establish herself firmly, now, before it’s too late and she’s another has been surviving on pictorials and past fame. the thought makes her shudder.
filming isn’t for another hour yet so she lounges indolent against one of the couches in the waiting room, fiddling around on her phone, thumbing through instagram and kakao until very suddenly the balance of the room shifts. as if the poles have reversed, she finds the hair on the back of her neck standing up, a subconscious reaction to something familiar. she flicks her gaze upwards out of instinct, the silence of the room disrupted by the clicking close of the door. breath evacuates her lungs. his eyes are wide, dark, she falls into them.
she knew he was back. everyone knew he was back. everyone loved him, talked about him endlessly, he was one of those types, in the industry, with the looks and the charm and the air of just a little bit fucked in the head to make it all appealing. just a half step away from perfection. her mouth is dry.
it’s been a long time.
“maybe i have a chance to win the stupid contest, if i’m up against you.” this is how ryan greets him, this man she loved- maybe. liked a lot, at least. this man who had, in fact, played her like a stupid, foolish little fiddle. or at least, he’d tried, and she’d fallen for it, even if it had all grown so far past that. she turns her gaze back to her phone, one leg crossing over the other. her shorts riding up her leg. it’s a purposeful move. she looks good today. she hopes he misses her. hopes he begs. “go to the other waiting room with the rookies. make some new friends.” she adds, doesn’t look up at him. she hopes he stays.
