#ryanid

[idryusan]

old story.

@ryanid, a few weeks ago, filming for ryan’s mv.

san had already gotten the whole rundown from his manager when they’d approached him about the latest blocked out day on his schedule. for once, he hadn’t minded it too much. just an appearance in another midas singer’s music video. one he was friends with, even. it was sort of logical. he had fandom power, and he wasn’t the one she’d got outed with for dating. instead, they played up the hard working and celibate angle (despite it being so very far from the truth). apparent his fake morality outweighed the fact that, generally, san was a pretty terrible actor. 

at least, he supposed, one generally didn’t have to do a whole lot in music videos. he’d managed well enough for press it, anyway. he might have resented that fact if it didn’t mean he got to work with his friend, instead of getting shipped off another variety show he’d inevitably hate. he’d already gotten the production packet, too. detailing his role (sad boy), the general premise (be a sad boy), and now all that was left was for him to get styled and listen to whatever details the director wanted him to incorporate. 

he was shuffled on set, a coffee cup in hand and people swirling busily around him. at one point he was kidnapped for a change of clothes, another for them to do his hair. he was waiting on the finishing touches of makeup when ryan finally found time to drop down into the seat next to him. “congrats.” he meant it, even if his voice didn’t measure up to the sentiment. he knew that music meant more to ryan that the big screen did. he was currently wallowing in his own pity, however, though at least the director could probably make good use of it. 

“did you request me? i bet they wanted to stick you with someone in titanium.” he means it as a joke, to kickstart some sort of conversation up like a distraction around them. maybe it’s pointless. filming will likely go on for hours. san lifts a hand, lets it hover momentarily near his hair before he remembers that the stylist had just shot a good half-bottle of spray into it. he drops it back into his lap instead. picks at the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup. it tastes a bit bracken at this point, but san downs another grimacing mouthful of it anyway.

[idryusan]

spiral.

@ryanid, halloween party, middle of the night, status: pretty drunk ( event )

-- dare, do a body shot off the person to your left.

the whole party seems to have turned into a personal race that san’s started with himself to see just how completely smashed he can get before someone decides to cut him off from the bar. he’s gotten to the point where mixing alcohol with energy drinks sounds like a good idea, which usually means he’s well on his way to drunk. his costumes gone, jowi’s spirited off with it. he’s only a little bitter about it, he’d liked tucking himself under all layers. at least there’s enough people around where his t-shirt doesn’t seem entirely ill-advised. the ribbon still tied around his neck, however, does. 

it’s probably only a testament to how loud the club is that he hasn’t torn the bell-attached-ears jowi had worn to the party off and discarded them at a half-empty table long ago. instead, he fits himself -- once again -- at the bar. this time he finds an empty stool. to be fair, he’d only known about it because ryan had texted him back and told him that she’d saved him a seat. but details had, at that point in san’s night, become negligible. 

“how’s your night been?” he asks, and his voice out slips slightly underneath a slur. tongue starting to get just a little clumsy behind his teeth. he slides himself a little closer, chin pressed to the bony just of her shoulder to glance down at the empty bar glass in front of her. “i was promised drinks,” san tacks on, like ryan somehow wouldn’t remember sending him that promise five minutes ago. like he even needs anymore drinks. but ryan is often a trusty enabler, so he send her one of those off-kilter smiles that are usually reserved just for her and hums to himself when she waves down the bartender for the both of them.

“you should buy me more drinks than that, it’s my birthday.” it comes out in a deadpan, and it’s technically not really his birthday. it’s the weekend past it. but he figures it’s close enough, considering they’re dragging the sentiment of the 31st around with them to this overcrowded club. “should we do one of those fucking dares? or me a lime, let’s do a bodyshot.” it’s one of those drunken decisions, but it’s not like san’s shoved all that far out of his comfort zone. not like they haven’t pressed themselves close before, even after they’d stopped dating. san and the concept of boundaries was a loose term. fluctuating between disappearing entirely and being impossibly too rigid. 

[idryusan]

pretty boy.

@ryanid, san’s apartment, night brings insecurities.

it’s late. time foretold by the sky. shaded dark, a grey that threatens to turn black. a slow rolling cloud. it’s drizzling. san follows the raindrops as they skate down the broad balcony window. maybe he should turn the tv on instead. but he’s not in the mood. he’s just tired. from music shows, from being carted around with the rest of olympus. and recently, management pushing to get san to release content of him and taeho ‘on his own.’ which isn’t on his own, considering he hates him. but they need to mend the damage done. even if it is all taeho’s fault. it’s hard to piece together that san might’ve manipulated things into disarray, after all. it’s hard to take taeho’s word over san’s. 

he leans his shoulder in against ryan’s and takes another sip from his wine glass. he has the aircon turned up high enough that he’s able to wear a hoodie. like he’s trying to pull comfort from fabric, from alcohol, from people. grasping desperately, holding it close in hopes that it might fix him. but he still feels tired. he still feels like he’s on the edge of being sick. paranoid, too. waiting for taeho to drop the hammer. san’s not naive. there are certain expectations that come from their relationship, a knowledge that taeho will get him back for it. san’s heard talk, after all, of them delaying taeho’s solo music yet again. waiting for this to blow over first. 

it’s what san had wanted, to make taeho suffer too. but that doesn’t change the fact that taeho’s angry now. that he’ll want to hurt back. and taeho’s usually better at that than san is. at least when it comes to the two of them. self doubt clouds him. from his group members, sure. but milo recently too. it hadn’t been too long ago that they’d come together. slow, milo had told him. and san had let him. tired and exploratory. too giving. and then later, milo told him that he’d made him feel wrong. 

san feels like a sickness sometimes. a plague. infecting those around him until they either break down or pull away, out of reach of what he’s busy spreading. he curls himself up a little tighter, knees to chest and drinks again. “do you ever want to just…” san trails off, examines words in his head. tries to pick those that will best articulate his meaning. “step out of your skin? or body, or whatever? leave it behind.” san’s not really drunk yet. he’d just drank enough that he feels capable of talking again.

[idxking-blog]

》One Shot, One Chance

For: @ryanid​ Word Count: 789 words Plot: Halloween Event! One-shot your drink with the person closest to you.

Halloween was something that Yeongshik had never really participated in. For many, it was an excuse to dress up, get drunk, and blame bad decisions on the latter. For the young musician, late nights were spent alone with his guitar followed by waking up before the crack of dawn to help his family with their fishing business. Since he had become an idol, he had managed to avoid most major events. He was way too busy, way too introverted and just never wanted to. Tonight, however, would be his first night to celebrate.

One can only imagine his pure shock and surprise when he opened his phone to find that he, along with many other idols, were added into one giant group chat. The game was set, rules laid out, and dares were made. There were a lot of questions rolling through the young musician’s mind as he pulled the furry hood over his head and checked his camera recorder’s battery. What a wild night this was certainly going to be.

The bass was just a little too loud as he entered the room. It rattled the nervously pounding heart in his chest as he looked at the sheer mass number of young adults that were already in varying stages of drunkenness. He arched his head a little to try and survey the crowd for the familiar faces of his bandmates or perhaps an idol or two that he had met before. The darkness of the room and the costumes made it nearly impossible to properly identify anyone. He strained to listen to familiar voices as he shuffled through the crowd. A few bodies brushed against him in an attempt to coax him to dance, but he politely bowed his head and continued to the bar to get a much-needed hit of liquid courage.

The werewolf grabbed a shot glass of soju and knocked it back effortlessly. The liquid left a bitter-sweet burning sensation on the back of his tongue that made him hiss with satisfaction. However, he would need a few more of those before he would begin to feel anything. The night was young, and he had no intention of losing his integrity when there was someone out there with his personal information essentially blackmailing them into dares. The underdog musician had no intention of playing hero, but he assumed if there was any chance in capturing the culprit while participating in the game, it would be well worth the risk. He ordered another drink, this time a beer. The feeling of the cold bottle in his hand was a welcome sensation in contrast with the hot, sweaty room of people.

Again, the young man strained his neck to try and find some sort of familiar face or overhear a familiar voice. He turned a little too hard and felt his chest bump into the back of a young woman he hadn’t seen through his peripherals. Another bump on his elbow from a passer-by nearly knocked the bottle out of his grasp but his grip held strong and he managed to avoid spilling any of his drink.

He grunted a barely audible “sorry” through thin lips that expressed his level of discomfort of being in such a crowded space. It was only after he did a double take that he realized just who it was that he had bumped into. Despite not being a fan of the idol industry, it was nearly impossible to escape the viral songs and idols that were inserted into movies, advertisements or music shows. His lips parted as he stammered in an attempt to put the right name to the face.

“Jinx seombaenim!” He blurted.

It wasn’t her name—he knew that. But it was better than not saying anything at all, right? He was thankful that his blush was limited to his ears that were buried beneath his wooly werewolf hat. She was beautiful with her short hair, bomber jacket and short-shorts. The fishnet stockings seemed to add to the Halloween aesthetic and simultaneously made the young man very aware of the shape of her legs. He tried to take a respectful step backwards and bow, but the space between them coupled with his height didn’t allow for a proper formal greeting.

His phone vibrated in his back pocket.

The dare.

He swallowed hard and looked down at his seombae’s hand to see if she had a drink in hand. Regardless of whether she actually did or not, he felt his mouth moving before his mind could process what his eyes saw.

“Seombae, cannah, getchu uh drink?” His deep voice carried through with his heavy dialect in a way that may have been unintelligible through the loud music and general nervousness.

[idaroon]

charm ^^

charm: what facet of them is the most charming to those in their personal lives - stage image not included

the aroon people see in front of the cameras is not much different from the ones his friends get. the diference is that he is warmer, comprehensive and loyal until the very end. he is the type of person who can adapt well to every enviroment, who knows to read the room and know what the others need.

aroon is good in giving himself in small pieces, just enough to make other people, but not enough to lose himself.

it’s what happens most times with dax. he has to give just enough so it doesn’t suffocate his hyung, so dax doesn’t run away. and when he needs aroon is there, sits by his side and doesn’t say a thing, stays silent, a comforting presence in the middle of the chaos. he is good at it, being a friend.

but mostly, aroon likes it.

it’s easy to destroy people if you are good with words – and aroon is. what is really hard is to lift them up when they are down, to help them. this is something he does well, does with pleasure, with selflessness, but in the true way, not in the show off way of someone who expects the same in return. aroon is a good friend because he wants. no one ever asked him to, but he does because it’s what others need.

maybe this is what made him popular back in school, who makes it so easy for him to talk to others backstage, the simple way he smiles and turns people into friends, how he always makes time to listen to them, who is willing to help them when they need.

[idryusan]

olympian!

olympian – what greek figure most encapsulates them?+ @idgyuri

buried under tragedy, that’s the way of the greek gods. and that extends well to san. and what figure better to match the persona midas spirits across the stage than apollo? wrapped up in youth and beauty, eventually likened to the sun. the god of music, art, poetry that he can translate through his body. but, and this is where it fits him more solidly, there are more sides to apollo than just the beauty and gold that most people stop at. because apollo brings the plague, and apollo brings with him cruelty. he seeks romance, craves, wants, pushes. a violent thing. brutal and held up on this linked idea of prophecy, of fate. and san’s never stopped believing in that. with apollo, love is never really a happy thing. it’s just built up, and then crashes down. 

bright, but pent up and burning. like the sun. pretty to look at, from far away. before you know him. really know him. because then you get all tangled up in that tragedy, too. and then san lets that rot seep in. a diseased thing, plague-like and ever-present. he infects. and he hurts. he’s more cruel than most realize. but that’s the thing about apollo, isn’t it? most everyone disregards that part. the not-so-pretty. it’s like a split, san on stage and off. the san that his fans know, and the san they don’t. the san that he presents to the world, and the one he locks behind closed doors. 

because apollo is also the bringer of death when he’s not appeased.

[idryusan]

limitless.

@ryanid, dance practice in the midas building ( prompt ).

there aren’t a whole lot of people who can get san to sit still in the middle of a practice room. not when he has a promotion on the horizon, a special stage to prepare for. the compulsion would overwhelm him in most circumstances, would peel himself off the floor and dance until his feet went numb. would still be disappointed in his efforts. but ryan’s never really been like that, and they’ve been together long enough that it can sometimes be a push and pull. she’ll heft herself up to practice, and he’ll let himself collapse to talk, even if he can still breathe. 

it doesn’t mean he’s still not all movement. unless he’s exhausted he usually is. a bobbing foot, a water bottle rolled between his palms, a bounce of his shoulders along to the music they still have streaming quietly from the corner of the room. a playlist set up with a few of his new songs he needs to practice for, some of jinx’s latest set so that ryan could practice. so that san could theoretically help, the same way that she’d occasionally tried to help him vocally whenever he got dragged for sucking while he was still a trainee, the beginning years of olympus. 

he almost pries open his jaw, suggests they practice for maybe twenty more minutes when pinocchio starts up again. but when he turns to glance at her, ryan’s got a look trapped up in her eyes, like she’s a mind reader pre-pissed off with the predictable thoughts he’s about to recycle for the umpteenth time. san bites his tongue instead. stretches his legs out and grabs at the toes of his sneakers. “what have they got you up to, then?” san asks, means in turns of promotions -- group or otherwise. there hasn’t been a lot of time to hang out lately. he’s been too busy, but that’s not foreign to them. it’s why they broke up, once upon a time. 

he stretches more, lays his head on his own knees like a pillow as he glances over at her, the awkward angle making him look like some owl-boy hybrid. it’s not attractive, but they’ve long since crossed the threshold where that sort of thing matters. “i’m tired,” he complains, means more than physically. but he pairs it with a smile, more genuine than anything sarcastic or bitter. a throwback to the sort of boy he was, once upon a time. ryan’s one of the few people who can still pull them out of him.