𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐥-𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐢 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 / 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡

[ugcek]

save your tears, for @ugdohyun

Eunkyung stares at her phone, sitting untouched on her desk; it buzzes occasionally, an email notification flashing across the screen before going black again. Eunkyung exhales, reaches across her desk for her abandoned coffee mug and drops her cigarette stub into the now cold drink. 

The coffee here sucked anyway.

See, CTRL was well on its way to becoming the next big thing to come out of Seoul in more recent history; hell, Eunkyung would argue that they already were. If the amount of speculation surrounding their next show was any indicator of that, anyway.  Point was, they were big. Huge, actually. And Eunkyung had no doubt in her tiny, tiny heart that that next show was going to make someone very rich. Hopefully her, if she played all of her cards right. 

But dealing with the band members themselves was, well … aggravating, to say the least. She couldn’t fucking stand Geon; Gitae still had issues looking her in the eyes; and Dohyun … Dohyun. She lets her face fall into her open palms, sighing deeply. Dohyun was really her only hope of making a lot of money in very little time, wasn’t he? Again, oh, how the mighty fall. 

Eunkyung stares at her phone, thumbnail caught between her teeth nervously. Whatever, just get it over with. It’s just Dohyun, no biggie. Who was he to make her sweat? A beat of silence followed by a derisive scoff, and she had her answer. (No one, just so you know, he was no one to make her sweat or whatever). She reaches for her phone, scrolls through her contact list until she finds his name and begins typing her message to him. 

Which she promptly erases. No, no. She couldn’t say it like that. Eunkyung begins typing out another message, which she promptly erases too. It’s fifteen minutes of an internal back and forth struggle, before she finally settles on a simple three word message (Lunch? I’ll pay). She throws her phone back onto her desk with a groan, refusing to give it (him?) any more thought. And then her phone buzzes.

*

The restaurant’s nice, she supposes; Dohyun had mentioned it in passing once, and well, she always was the type to remember the little things wasn’t she? That and both her jobs quite literally depended on her being the little detail-oriented freak she knew herself to be. So, whatever. Do what you love, and love what you do. Eunkyung was simply having some trouble with the second part. 

Eunkyung watches him as he pushes through the front doors, affable smile fixed on his face. She sneaks a glance at her watch as she brings her mug in for a sip; he’s late. But what did that matter? Then, by way of greeting: “You should have gone into modeling.” Unsolicited opinion, nothing too out of the ordinary for her. But, well, it wasn’t like she was wrong. Agencies loved boys like him, strong-nosed, strong-jawed and gangly. Anyway. 

“You’ve been quiet these days,” Eunkyung leans forward, smile just a touch too wide. “What have you been up to?”

[ugcek]

heads up, for @uggitae

The beauty of being absolutely great at your job is that everyone ends up owing you a favor or two eventually. That’s how she ends up backstage at CTRL’s latest show, or, really, that’s how she ends up backstage after their latest show. When she’d caught onto whisperings of the band introducing a new member, tickets had already been sold out for days. And if it had to do with the person she thought it had to do with—she was going to definitely want to see this with her own two eyes. 

She’s across the room when she sees him, Lee Gitae. And she had known it—she knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away from Hongdae for long because that’s just the type of person he was. 

The look on his face as his gaze meets hers from across the room is satisfying. “You’re back.” Is what she says by way of greeting. Yes, Eunkyung. Gitae is back. The sky is blue. Grass is green. 

“I would have appreciated a call.” It comes out far more petulantly than she would have liked, as if she had regressed back to way back when she’d first met Gitae. He always did have a way of making her feel … smaller. Next thing Eunkyung knew, she’d start stamping her foot and pouting. 

She recovers quickly enough though, straightening herself out and squaring her shoulders; if only to make herself feel bigger than she actually did.  “Should I do your bandmates the favor of letting them know they’re dealing with a flight risk?” A pause. “I know I would have appreciated it.” 

See, Eunkyung’s biggest problem with Gitae was not with what he did—rather with what he didn’t do. You spend the better part of two years trying to make a guy’s band the next big thing, and then suddenly he gets the very bright idea to fuck off into the great unknown a whim. No heads-up, no explanation, no apology; just Eunkyung looking very stupid, trying to figure out where it all went wrong. 

“So, how was the sabbatical?” Bitter laughter escapes her, hand raised to cut off any response. “Wait—don’t tell me.” None of what had happened had been her fault. Yet she was the one that had to go and pick up the pieces of that disastrous decision. “You took some time to really find yourself, reassess what it was that you really wanted to do. And now that you got all that shit figured out, you’re back.” The tips of her fingers press against her bottom lip absentmindedly, call it a force of habit; all that’s left is the unfurling of smoke on her tongue and the dry taste of heat. 

( “You’re doing it wrong.” He’d pinched her cigarette, pulled it out from between her teeth and placed it on the curve of his own mouth. With practiced ease, he took a measured drag before offering it back to her. “See,” Gitae had smiled, smoke pouring out from between his teeth. “Like that.” )

She grimaces at the intrusive memory, doing her best to physically wave it away. And, well, now that she had said and done everything she had been bottling up from the moment her last phone call went straight to voicemail, there really was no reason for her to be hanging around this piece of shit. She desperately needed a cigarette, anyway.

[lovestereo]

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[ugcek]

(don’t) let it happen, for @ugbyj

She was going to murder Yongji.

Correction: she was going to stay back and clean up the mess both Hyeju and Yongji left behind in their sudden wake of flair for dramatics. Then she was going to murder Yongji, followed very closely by Hyeju.

And if anything, she pitied the leftover members. Nothing worse than being left looking stupid on stage, with no way to play it off. Eunkyung takes a long drag of her cigarette. She’d booked them for two more shows, too. That was going to be a hassle to figure out. Oh, well. 

A murmur ripples through the crowd, the sound of people whispering amongst themselves quickly swelling into a roar of confusion. Question of the night: what the fuck was going on? Followed by: what’s going to happen to Pretty and Boys? Eunkyung heaves a long, long sigh. Her dad should have should have invested in cafes, instead. Safe, stable, and a currently booming industry. When had coffee ever done her wrong?

Her cigarette sits in the corner of her mouth, perpetual cloud of grey smoke twirling around her as she tries to find an answer to her most pressing issue now. It’s a rather delicate situation. But wasn’t this the reality of being a fan of the underground scene? Something something about being raw and real. Well, what was more raw and real than your favorite band breaking up on stage right in front of you? She blows smoke into the already cloudy atmosphere, flicking ash off into an abandoned shot glass by her elbow. For anyone that asks: consider your ticket a collectable, now. 

Eunkyung turns to the bartender behind her, shit-eating grin far too satisfied for her liking. With a simple jut of her chin, she motions him towards the stage, leftover members long since having abandoned it. “Go tell everyone show’s over. Make sure to remind them all ticket sales are final.” It looks like he considers the not too bright idea of complaining for a moment, before coming to the same conclusion as Eunkyung—nobody was going to take her seriously, no matter how much she frowned or squared her shoulders. She looked like she’d fit in better at a board meeting, rather than managing some seedy bar. 

The bartender settles on a curt “Sure,” before pushing his way through the crowd and climbing onstage. 

Well that was one disaster managed. Onto the next, she supposed.

In all of her spontaneity, Yongji was a rather simple girl. Eunkyung liked to think so, at least. Hyeju doesn’t pick up, Yongji doesn’t pick up. Therefore, the likelihood of Hyeju and Yongji being together, wherever that may be, was pretty high. Yongji was prone to getting all keyed up, prone to the screaming and shouting, then coming home to sleep it all off once she’d gotten it out of her system. So, she should be home already if she stuck to the pattern she had created for herself. 

Eunkyung knocks once, twice, before Yongji inevitably opens the door to her apartment. Which, to Eunkyung, is invitation enough to barge in. 

“You want to explain what the fuck that little number on stage was?” Then, almost as an afterthought. “And where’s Hyeju?”

[ugcek]

it comes in 3′s, for @ughaera

Part of working as a promoter in Hongdae’s DIY music scene involved listening to shit music. An absurd amount of shit music, actually. She’d long since invested in a pair of ear plugs, but made the fatal mistake of leaving them in her other purse tonight. 

The opening act is a three piece made up entirely of Hongik students. They’d brought in a big enough crowd that Eunkyung felt comfortable upgrading them to opening act rather than simply offering them left over showtimes. But, as she takes a drag of her cigarette, it seemed like they were no good under pressure. Eunkyung had been partial to them, they never complained, always showed up on time, and packed up quickly. There wasn’t much more she could ask for, outside matters of taste. 

The guitarist jumps into the crowd, letting himself be rocked back and forth for a couple of beats before finally making his way back onstage. Eunkyung flicks the ash off her cigarette before returning it to sit in the corner of her mouth again. Pretty and Boy’s crowd doesn’t do crowdsurfing. Better luck next time, maybe.

On that note, Pretty and Boys. They were decent enough, as far as she was concerned. You listen to the same self-made bands everyday of every week, and they’d start to all sound the same to you too. If anything, she appreciated just how unadventurous they remained. Regurgitated song, after regurgitated song, and their fanbase were so quick to eat it all up. Despite their … lineup issues of just a year prior, their popularity seemed to have remained relatively stable. Eunkyung enjoyed booking them. If you’re a big enough asshole, they show up on time if only to save themselves the bitching. They bring in big(ger) crowds, and they’re relatively tame as far as onstage antics go. 

She’s indifferent to the group as a whole, frankly. Eunkyung’s sure the only reason they keep working together is due to logistics, at this point. That, and if it isn’t broke don’t go fixing it. She’s sure they know all about that. Anyway.

Though she recognizes this song, it seems like the band has taken it upon themselves to do some on the spot improvisation and adlibbing. Which isn’t really appreciated considering this was their best song by far. Her frustration is obvious, head falling into her waiting hand as a quiet groan escapes her. This was going to be an exceptionally long night.

She straightens up, eyes catching the sight of a barely recognizable Haera in the dark. Not her favorite, but not her least favorite either. She knew how to work a stage, Eunkyung would give her that. “Were you ever this bad?” Eunkyung scoffs, exhaling a pale cloud of smoke. “I don’t think they’re even worth the 5% I offered them, really.”

[ugcek]

gold, for @ugwoong

“You into this type of shit?” Man With Beer motions towards the crowd and stage, as some rapper moves from one end to another. 

It’s obvious that the boy on stage, Woong, while evidently unpolished compared to the more established acts that have graced the same stage, isn’t bad; he’s just that, inexperienced. Which, in Hongdae, is the best thing to be. 

Man With Beer can’t seem to get the hint that there’s nothing some pretentious Hongdae hipster can tell her that she doesn’t already know. But, well, she’s sure it’d be more of a hassle to try and convince him to leave her alone. Man With Beer talks and apparently likes nothing more than the sound of his own voice, so if she tunes him out enough she can watch the rest of the set in relative peace. 

Unless he gets the bright idea to ask her something.

“Right?”

“Sure.” 

Anyway.

To build on her prior point of Woong not necessarily being bad, the music’s fine. Actually, the music doesn’t even matter if you’re pretty enough. Even Hongdae wasn’t immune to the halo effect, no matter how much they collectively claimed that to be the case. Best example being Pretty and Boy’s newest additions. Woong’s music is good enough that it covers up for his awkwardness on stage, or maybe his face does. The girls going crazy in the front row don’t seem to care, either way. But, well, everyone knows women make for more loyal fans—they tend to spend more, too. So, who cared. Let them scream their little hearts out.

The set ends abruptly, and Eunkung begins making her way towards the backstage, along with a throng of other like-minded fans, as Man With Beer makes a last ditch effort to get her attention. Whatever. There’s an absurd amount of pushing and shoving, girls trying to elbow their way towards the front of the crowd and maybe be blessed with a glimpse of the rapper. 

Lucky enough for her the promoter of the club is able to spot her amongst the crowd of adoring fans, grip tight on her elbow as he pulls her out. And he doesn’t look too happy about it, either. “What are you doing here, Eunkyung?” It’s all competition behind the scenes, rushing to find the next big thing or the least sucky band. Pretty hard when you’re trying to cater to the niche tastes of pretentious college students. She’s not a welcomed sight outside of her own clubs, really, and for good reason.

So, she tries to dial up the charm. Maybe leans into him a little too much. “I’m here to see Woong, he’s a friend.” The promoter flusters, blush evident even in the low light. 

“Yeah—whatever. Don’t get any funny ideas.” Eunkyung and a funny idea? She would never. Except for that one time, that other time, and the time before that. She holds her hands up innocently, instead, and mouths self-satisfied sure at him as she begins making her way backstage. 

That’s how she finds him, absentmindedly scrolling though something on his phone. Yeah, he was definitely prettier up close. “Hey,” she takes a seat across from him, one leg crossed over the other. “I’m Cho Eunkyung, I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before.”

[ugcek]

GEON:

[ ... ]

He squeezes through the weeping drunkard crying over his cheating spouse and his pathetic best friend to reach her. It doesn’t take long for her to notice his arrival. Geon has very loud footsteps. He gives her no time to react as he raises his arm and brings his hand to his forehead, gives it a very satisfying hard flick using the force of his fingers. She deserves that.

“Nice try, brat.” 

Crappy dive bar? Eunkyung was certainly feeling far more self-pitying than she cared to admit. 

Her conversation with Dohyun had not been particularly enlightening nor left her ego wholly intact. Therefore, it seemed like a crappy dive bar was really the only remedy for her predicament. Eunkyung’s sure she was blending right in, anyway, what with the moping salary men and tipsy college students. What was another patron feeling too sorry for themselves to go somewhere better?

She heaves a long sigh, momentarily contemplates letting her forehead rest against the wooden bar before thinking better of it (germs? Potential breakouts? No thanks). Maybe she needed another job. She takes a measured sip of her drink. No, she apparently just needed better alcohol. 

Eunkyung hears him before she sees him, the huge motherfucker. Geon and his boots, not anything unlike a cat and its bell. At least she’d always have a moment to get herself together before having to put up with him. Eunkyung doesn’t even bother turning to give him her complete attention, which is a decision she comes to regret, just barely speaking up enough to be heard over the bar’s ambiance noise. “What do you wa—”

Thwack.

“Oh, fuck.” You are not allowed to punch the talent, Eunkyung, especially not 1/4th of the band you were currently bending over backwards to try and book. Her eyes squeeze shut, palm pressed tightly against the spot on her forehead, trying her best to alleviate some of the sting. “Geon, your shoes are ugly and your haircut’s stupid. I hate you.” With a final frustrated groan, she straightens herself out and takes a quick swig of whatever was left in her shot glass. God, that was shit alcohol.

“I get it, okay? Whatever you all have planned, or don’t, is being kept a very well guarded secret.” Well, she still had Gitae left to pester. But no way she was letting Geon know of that, not if it was going to get her flicked in the forehead again. Oh, how the mighty fall. “And don’t call me brat, asshole.”

Anyway. 

With a withering glare sent towards the man inviting himself into the seat neighboring hers, Eunkyung shifts her attention towards to the bartender and motions for another drink. “Might as well order something, since you’re covering this round.” She states matter-of-factly, already nursing her second drink. 

“Anyway, what’s so important you had to come tell me in person? Because if it was just this,” she motions to the mark on her forehead. “I’m sure it could have waited until tomorrow, at the least.”

[stars-bean]

[ugcek]

howdy <3

MUN INFO

name/alias: ella

age: 18+ 

pronouns: she/her

timezone: -5 gmt ??

discord: 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 ♡ °#4547 

CHARACTER INFO

character name: cho eunkyung

stage name: n/a

age: 26

zodiac sign: capricorn :-)

group/band/position: promoter

info links or quick points about your character: 

here’s her stat page

and here’s the vibe: purposefully messy french twists, micro sunglasses, the glow of your laptop screen in the dark, being on a first name basis with your pilates instructor, no food in the pantry so that you can wear your money, new york black as a uniform, smelling like ysl black opium and cheap cigarette smoke

but anyway

rich kid pretending that shes making it on her own (dad still pays her rent)

best described as a jackie hurhart/emily charlton mix, not nearly as vapid/air-headed or cruel though

major workaholic (glued to her laptop and phone) + blunt + having to put up with men who think the sun shines out of their ass, and their ass only, talking down to her for the past 4 years: yeah i can see why people think she’s a bit of an asshole :/

more pretentious than all the hipsters in hongdae combined, truthfully. 

through the power of rp suspended disbelief, we’re going to pretend it’s possible to be a full time senior editorial assistant at a major fashion magazine and the only promoter of your dad’s six (6) clubs. it’s better if you just don’t think about it too much lol

generally not hard to get along with outside of the whole promoting business, but she hates pointless conversation, so come to her with something to say

the plan always was that she was going to inherit the properties as soon as her dad retired, but he started seriously reconsidering it once he found out she maxed out 3 credit cards in the span of 4 months. now she has to actually prove that’s she competent enough or whatever. she’s going to sell them the moment they get transferred to her, anyway.

but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t do her job well! prides herself in being, what she considers, one of the major payers on the scene. it pays pretty well considering she doesn’t have to split with anyone, too. (the assistant position pays shit, if you’re wondering).

i could literally go on and on about eunkyung, she’s kinda cool.

plots or any development you’d like to see for your character:

(2015/2016) friends made when you all were all new to this. you see someone often enough, you start to miss them when they’re gone.

she called your music hot garbage once and you have yet to let it go

both of you talking shit about the other bands/soloists

she made a passable first impression and so you’re wondering why people think she’s an asshole, then you only managed to sell 52 tickets for a friday night show lol

she’s spent around 6 years on the scene, i’m sure she has an ex she still has to work with that she still kind of hates

meeting someone you work with outside of a work setting is always weird, right?

fellow twin-flame hardass

trying to seduce your way into a better show time/payrate (it will not work)

[luke-thompsons]

[lovestereo]

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