#i also left it alone for most of winter so im in the honeymoon stage with it rn

[elftwink]

also i have promised myself that i will finish that stupid widofjord fake married fic before i graduate which i realize for other people who see me post about this once a semester and otherwise never hear hide nor hair of this fucking document are like 'sure jan' but this post is not for you it's for ME to be publicly accountable. my convocation is in june so sometime between then and now you will be seeing my masquerade heist fic mark my fucking words

[genesiskrps-blog]

KIWI MUSIC NEWS: IDOL PROFILE SERIES !

[+ 500, -15] Wow! Jiyeon is my favorite soloist in CEL ! [+ 243,  - 5] CEL is lucky to have her, aren’t they?! [+ 225,  - 9] I can’t wait to see more of them - fighting!!

PROFILE !

FACECLAIM: im jinah CHARACTER NAME: han jiyeon STAGE NAME: n/a CHARACTER AGE: 25 COMPANY: CEL POSITION: solo (taeyeon) TIME WITH COMPANY: 12 years STRENGTHS: Perhaps even moreso than any outright talent, Jiyeon’s greatest strength lies in her experience, preparation, and ability to lead - her own career or others. Though her previous group has disbanded in dramatic fashion, there is very little that either CEL or her own internal coachings have not readied her for after over a decade of training. Calm, collected, eloquent, and dogged, when it comes to anything from choreography to accepting awards, Jiyeon never falters. Though Jiyeon’s voice should not be discounted, and is a genuine gem: originally scouted for the impressive nature of it as a young teenager, she has a talent that has always left every hard-nosed critic and teacher wanting to bottle and sell it. But while her voice may appeal to the critic, it’s her looks that appeal to the public, and that’s what matters to CEL – that the masses want to break off and take home a piece of her. WEAKNESSES: Her commitment to hard work can hinge on compulsive and unrealistic; her expectations for herself are perpetually too high, and she’s made herself sick on more than one occasion pushing her body too hard. Particularly with the stigma surrounding mental illness and medication in the country, Jiyeon’s careful managing of her OCD and anxiety over the years has grown harder. While in her younger years her anxiety was minimal, the more her obsessive-compulsive disorder demands of her, the worse her anxiety becomes. Though she is earnestly still young, even her age is a weakness in the ever-youthful industry that is KPOP. She has entirely no skill in rapping, and will try to refuse even attempting it on variety shows for the sake of embarrassment. Her variety appearances themselves are moderate but nothing exceptional; high ratings will arise simply from her name attached to any particular show, but she struggles with becoming goofy enough for many audiences.

BIOGRAPHY !

This is how you begin, like a start to a fairytale that should never be told, the ones with knights that never arrive and princesses that sheath their own hair with the tooth of the dragon keeping them.

i. she could claim a birth of immaculate conception because for all that her father is not there, it’s imaginable that jiyeon’s birth came from her mother and something she dreamed up. maybe in that story she would be a girl born from a peony mid-winter, shaking white limbs unfurling like petals - in that tale, jina might have come out fully formed, dressed in  long raven hair, singing a sweet tune to welcome herself into the world. but in this one, the one we have now, she is as raw and young as the rest of the babes that take their first breath screaming.

ii. her mother loves her enough for two, and that’s good, because some nights they survived on love alone - she parceled out pieces of her heart when there was not enough food, serving it out  on a silver platter to her only daughter and wiping her mouth when she done. when jiyeon is old enough she offers her soul in return, breaking it in half and half and half to hand back, and in this way she is also holy. this is the body and the spirit, the bread and the wine.

iii. it’s not as bad as it might seem. their house is full of laughter and love and the magic that comes from one night onlys, but in this home every night is one night for someone, so this is what jiyeon is weaned on. her mother’s business is a success because she knows how to make a home, even if it means sharing her own: so here, the young girl meets honeymooners and old lovers and older souls, and like a ritual they turn to her mother every night, drunk on good food and warmth to say: what a beautiful girl. what a serious child.

and when she plays, they say nothing at all.

(they are too busy listening).

iv. it’s starts as much a duty as anything else: changing the sheets, putting new flowers on the table, bringing breakfast in bed to the new lovers with a late checkout – and then performance. her delicate frame on the bench in the morning and at night, fingers fluttering across black and white keys like they never learned how not to fly. her voice comes with it.

like so many other things, jiyeon’s mother had been the first one to teach it to her, cupping her tiny hands beneath hers as she held her child in her lap and played melodies. jiyeon loves it, and so she sacrifices. like every great queen, she bows her head and picks up the weight of a kingdom so that her kin can have more; lessons on tuesdays and thursdays, a shining black thing sitting in the living room by next christmas.

she loves it, it’s true; jiyeon does it for herself. but she also do it for her. because even while she is young, young lady is only a term of convenience.  she was always a lady first, young only by circumstance.

v. everything happens at once. that’s the way it is with genuine surprises, the swing of one act to the next, the gate of destiny’s door vaulting open and knocking over objects in the room with its sudden wind. he’s only another customer when he comes in the door, albeit he is fixed with a soju-eyed stare and half a suit (no more, no less) that could buy and sell the roof and walls around them. a funny man, unsure of where he is before he sleeps and unhappy with the location when he awakes – he grumbles into his coffee and wears his sunglasses inside, rubbing his temples as he makes phone calls at the breakfast table.

she plays for him, like any other day.

he breaks his glasses when she start to sing. they fall right off his nose, and jiyeon stops to pick them up. she says sorry as your fingers smudge the lenses.

he only smiles.

then makes another phone call.

vi. he’s a mouthful, that’s what han jiyeon learns. he’s got a too-important job at a too-big place with too-famous people, and shae can barely get her jaw around it all. but she does, because she has always been a sensible girl, and she’s got strong bones, teeth, stomach. he brings her into the center of the room with a hand on your shoulder, ready to exchange her for her weight in gold in front of a room of god-men hidden behind their desks.

they place her on the scales, pull of the veil and open her mouth -

        and rejoice when she tips the whole thing over.

v. but they deal in the glory, she is still left to the grit and gore. in the first year, she is younger than most of the lot, and they look for a reason to hate her. they whisper about favouritism - they see the man with the half-suit and broken glasses smile at the girl with ivory-etched features and take her high head and upright chin as a sign that she hasn’t been forced to work to the marrow with them.

when that is over, she grows too beautiful for her own good. it is not her fault; none of it is. but if jiyeon were to live this life over again luckier, she would do well not to be so lovely. perhaps then he never would have seen her. men come for the girl in packs, their tails hidden up their jackets and their fangs tucked away as they try to paw at her. no one tells her beware of men, no one hands out a red cape to get through the woods unharmed, and so this is a lesson she learns the hard way, heart-first. he is the king of the country and he reaches down to pluck jiyeon from the crowd like he is a god. she thinks he might be. at the same time, they start to call her royalty, and with this man pressing to her back, she think she might just be a princess. she is ready for it, but too young for him.

everything breaks apart at the same time.

vi. it takes almost half jiyeon’s life to finally have one.

she hides her mind away and swallows her pain in the name of perfection. it makes her ache from the inside out, and she is starting to twitch.

some men mistake her beauty as consumability, and they try to lick the salt off her neck without permission.

there is more of jiyeon in this building than anyone else: she has left more behind, shed more skin and sweat, turned these rooms into walls that spit out her dna. it’s a decade of uncertainty, hard work that feels like a snake eating its own tail.

she is still young when she makes the cut for the group of the generation, the collaboration of luck and talent that brings her to the forefront of a nation, but it doesn’t feel like it.

it’s a chemical madness, what arises, though like all things chemical the brewing takes time. a year of the average, and then the spectacular bursts across the sky: beautiful multicolour fireworks: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

it’s all flash, flash, flash, cameras rolling, people screaming. the charts are topped and then toppled over. the critics are harsh and the crowds are adoring. they’re legends, these girls. they remake the music scene, but by the law of the world it remakes them also. and after years, after a meteoric rise, it comes to pass that jiyeon is the star that’s meant to post itself the highest in the night sky.

her time comes.

vii. it’s the best fucking thing she’ll ever do.