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a valley of untouched, pristine snow kissed the horizon as far as the naked eye could see. white met obsidian skies, putting the silvery, incandescent stars to shame. in pure amazement, a childlike twinkle of wonder and adoration in his eyes, ilwoo marveled at the serene scope. a breathless ‘wow’ fled from his lips, cracked and deprived of the run-of-the-mill cherry red hue. the cold was biting, icy fangs sinking to his bone but the decline in temperature didn’t ward ilwoo away from the arctic outdoors. cheeks blemished with peachy saturation, the tip of his nose barely ruddy, ilwoo grabbed the mitten-ed hand of his companion and dashed through the snow.

“c’mon!” eagerly, ilwoo pulled them further down the flat basin, white powder sticking to their legs. they plodded until the excitable child came to a (not so) sensible halt. “let’s make snow-angels!” disappearing from sight, ilwoo fell back onto the unscathed winter wonderland, his smile only the more radiant once the ague besieged. the cold never bothered him, anyway.

#fmdopen #all you need is a little pixie dust ; threads.#( feel free to assume connections if we never plotted yet! )#( ilwoo is a friend to everyone even if they dislike him! c: )#queue it up ;

“oh!” zeal escaped through a shocked, incredulous expression. mouth wide. o-shaped. “and did you see the shots in busan?! i’ve been to all of them! well—before they filmed the movie, of course.” infectious pride spread, shaping chapped lips to a beam, eyes encased in crescents bright enough to rival stars (who were long expired yet their light a billion light-years away remained a constant).

crumpled bag of popcorn tossed politely in a recycle bin (“kobe,” mentally spiraled), ilwoo pitched his movie buddy of the evening a glamoured grin. white, pristine teeth impeccable. “so what did you think of black panther?—and i’m also sorry i spoke through most of it...” in inclined shifts favoured to where his friend sat (on the right), ilwoo generously dished out commentary for almost the entirety of the film. two hours of nonstop mumbling could be a menace and good reason to never catch a flick with him again; ilwoo prayed not.

#fmdopen #queue it up ;#( yes i love black panther that much i based an open on it. )#( wakanda forever! )#( feel free to assume connections. )#( also you dont really need to have seen black panther since i'll refrain from spoilers. lol. )

bread, peanut butter and a package of sliced ham lined the counter of impulse’s kitchen. a comeback was on its way and members were making final adjustments to recordings or spending the last few weeks of their downtime enjoying it with other friends and maybe family. on the other hand, ilwoo was cooped up in the dorm. company was over, and he wanted to offer a home-cooked meal. it’d be disastrous but what better way to kill time. and it was a nice, leisurely pause from the hectic lifestyle of idols. seeing how charm just made a comeback, ilwoo decided upon himself to give theo something that elicited the message of congratulations!

“so, how does a peanut butter and ham sandwich sound?” head tossed back, he gave theo an almost pleading look. help me twinkled in his nervous, sheepish smile.

{ @fmdtheo! }

#all you need is a little pixie dust ; threads.#{ w. theo }#queue it up ;#( sorry it’s short but i didn’t wanna bore you with exposition! haha. )#( lmk if i should change anything! )

the night was warmer than most of the previous evenings of february. the moon was golden—amber when thin veils of black clouds passed. a black mask with a drawn on cartoonish mouth of a bunny (a slanted 3, if you will), protected ilwoo’s face from recognition as he blended in with other pedestrians on the path leading to hongdae’s children’s playground. foreigners and koreans tossed phrases back in forth in various dialects. and ilwoo only understood english to a varying degree. hanyoung, his high school, taught him well. (his name consecutively on the honour roll for three years proved it.) some were chatting about head to nb2, a notorious club while others were inclined to dig in to some grub. the mention of korean barbeque evoked a grumble of complaint from his stomach.

shoulders grazing minsik next to him as they neared the park for an impromptu busking sessions, ilwoo whispered in a low baritone. “hey, do you want me to buy some tteokbokki before we play?” hand covered his mouth, eyes stole observing glances in case someone heard, and their cover was prematurely blown.

{ @fmdminsik! }

#all you need is a little pixie dust ; threads.#{ w. minsik }#( this is honestly a slow start but i didn’t want to overly establish anything yet! ehe. )#( lmk if you want me to change anything! )#queue it up ;

schedules after the holidays were light. there were scarce meetings regarding concept and album preparations, which ilwoo had to pinch his left arm to prevent himself from passing out in front of gold star executives and inadvertently damaging impulse’s reputation and embarrassing moonjin (one could comment ilwoo’s priorities weren’t in order, crooked and in need of fine tuning.) in the process. guilt gnawed at his nape on rare occasions he valued moonjin more than anyone, but ilwoo learned to accept his bias early on and brush any remorse aside, shielding discomfort with an easy smile. anything for his best friend.

a laundry basket under one arm, ilwoo went from room to room and put aside everyone’s piles of clothing or simply dropped them onto mattresses when dressers and closets were too cluttered, harrowing even (‘what if i never get out alive?’). the rest, ilwoo organized in a spare room utilized for wardrobe. racks as tall as the ceiling, littered with sponsored clothing more than anything—the communal closet members accidentally (or purposefully) swapped flannels or shoes in.

on any other day, ilwoo wouldn’t be half as diligent, but he was with moonjin, and there was a domestic agreement between them; they were practically spouses. a few more years before common-law with their four sons (and seok. ilwoo had to segregate his other best friend, thinking the sleeping beauty would find the title of son offensive.). doing chores with moonjin by his side was tolerable, a peaceful arrangement and extra time together. just them. moments when they were alone, even if they were doing simple tasks as cleaning, were sacred. ilwoo valued the fragments, locking them in a special quadrant in his expansive heart.

“hyung!” ilwoo galloped into the kitchen in long strides, an effortless grin stretched across his face in usual tokki fashion. “hyung!” he tried when no response came, but moonjin was regularly quiet. especially in comparison to him (they even each other out.). “i finished the laundry! is there anything else you want me to do?”

{ @fmdmoonjin! }

#all you need is a little pixie dust ; threads.#{ w. moonjin }#queue it up ;#( sorry this took forever... ;; )

nervous was a tragic understatement. ilwoo was acutely overwrought with distress. hosting wasn’t exactly new to him, but he was a bucket of sweat standing on stage behind a podium and angel by his side. there was something about just talking and not performing that presented him an overdose of stage-fright, and he was the kind who was intimidated easily. was it the sheer significance of the event that burrowed under his skin, feeding like a parasite and rattled him more than usual? or was it the immense presence of a senior at his side, his partner for the segment that caused ilwoo a great deal of calamity.

what should be a cinch, observing the current performers on stage put on a brilliant, jaw-dropping show and reading off a cue card once done was now littered with an unnatural amount of adversity.

ilwoo forced a smile (a taciturn talent of his, really—a bad habit.) when the camera fanned to him and angel, light red (for recording—for live in three, two, one.). reading off the script, ilwoo also faked enthusiasm as he was too plagued with imbalance to fully enjoy and gauge the live (but he knew it was breathtaking.). “wow, that was an amazing remix of their song, don’t you think, uh-“ facing angel, no words came next. nothing followed. he stammered, eyes flickering. “uh...” he pulled the mic away, obviously glancing at the cue card in his hand, panic storming in his veins. “uh, don’t you think that was an amazing performance, sun-sunbaenim-ssi?”

sunbaenim-ssi because he forgot angel’s name. he forgot her name—ilwoo was horrified, and it was blatantly evident as he wore his heart on his sleeves and failed to mask his expression.

oh my God.

{ @fmdangel! }

#all you need is a little pixie dust ; threads.#{ w. angel }#( honestly the gif is ilwoo's internal reaction for his blunder. )#queue it up ;

tokki ; moodboards.

lalala lalala lalalala (happiness!) lalala lalala lalalala (I want it!) lalala lalala lalalala (Let’s dream!) lalala lalala lalalala (uh, are you happy?)

#take her to the moon for me ; moodboards.#queue it up ;

adrenaline-conjured shrieks, the rushing momentum roaring down wooden tracks, a choir of chatter amongst groups of friends and family in winding queues, the appetite-inducing fragrances of freshly popped popcorn, sizzling corndogs and the sickeningly sweet aroma of candy floss wafted around ilwoo, jaw dropped behind an obnoxious yellow mask (circular and plastic, moist as his hot breath and the frosty air mingled together)—the mask an emoji inspired character crying out of powerful laughter; the most personally abused one in his phone, thus befitting of him.

amusement parks brought out his inner child, though, little kang ilwoo wasn’t buried too deeply behind layers. older kang ilwoo was a child, vastly more immature than the maknae of his own group (and potentially many others if immaturity could be measured). lotte world was a cliche for idols to visit when the sun set, sky a steely onyx and powdered with shimmery, white stars. the ambiguity of night remained the safest time for idols to have a little fun betwixt nonstop schedules, bottoms aching from constant and long car rides and feet sore from performance after performance (agenda after agenda—a loop, an eternity of repetitive trials). freedom was freedom, even if there were unsaid limits.

“psst.” cautious for once (an unknown trait ilwoo possessed), he nudged daeyeol next to him. “what ride do you want to go on first? or-“ the corndog vendor’s shouts could be heard a mile away, captivating hungry stomachs and drooling mouths. “do you wanna eat first?”

{ @fmdxdaeyeol! }

#all you need is a little pixie dust ; threads.#{ w. daeyeol }#queue it up ;