IRREGULAR

there’s always something in the way -- a hike that means they have to focus a little more on walking than talking, an electrical mishap in the aftermath of said hike, a comeback in korea, a comeback in japan, a nonstop series of line readings and rehearsals and filming days and --

while all of his members are moving out, kim dowoon is too busy to even say goodbye. on a day in late may, when he’s finally tripping over himself into an already swiftly passing by summer, he’s finally sat side by side with jihoon in a company office. 

dowoon props his chin up on the heel of his palm and sighs, “you sure you’re in the right headspace for this?” their manager had pointed out the advice segment. it could be nice, they said, though there was the choice and the how to too, for the fans to hear from catalyst’s trustworthy leader, and catalyst’s variety social genius -- who else better would there be to answer their quandaries? truthfully, dowoon could think of a million other people but here he and jihoon were, ill-equipped as they were, as questions and situations already began to file in, before they’d even gone live. the situation was controlled of course -- they wouldn’t be answering anything crazy. the manager raises an eyebrow at them, but dowoon smiles, ever boyish, ever convincing, and then swivels back to jihoon. “we’ll take our time. people will like that anyways.”

the count winds down and then they’re on, left to their own devices with a steady influx of comments.

it’s a little bit awkward -- at least, at first. the song is ... more romantic than he’d like to be singing with anyone other than -- well, with anyone other than jaein. it’s a little too romantic, a little too sad, a little too realistic, because dowoon believes that there will be a day, one day, when maybe one day he’ll be too tired to keep up with all of the timezones ultraviolet are jetting through, when maybe one day he’ll fall, past falling in love, fall into a nothingness, fall into the money he’s made and fall into it alone -- and only then, only then, can he see himself letting her go.

-- but she isn’t here. dowoon is perched on the edge of a stool, buttcheeks holding on for dear life, supported by one foot flat on the ground and the other cocked up on the bar between the legs. he’s smiling over his handheld microphone at equinox’s saebyul, cheeks bashfully tinted pink as he does his best to remember everything he’s learned over the last... how many months? how many years? how long has he been acting again?

the rest of the crew -- production staff milling about on the other side of the cameras, musicians warming up in swells in the background, just outside of his peripheral vision -- settle into place, waiting for their cues with an ease that dowoon still hasn’t managed to capture. he’s the type that benefits from rigorous rehearsal. he’s never done a single thing naturally in his life. they’re all counted in with a rudimentary five, six, seven, eight, and he and saebyul are singing: the result of nights of solo practice, and too little practice for his liking with the woman sitting across from him.

the runthrough is easy, right up until the end, when dowoon stumbles over his words. the realisation of what he’s done hits him, and a wave of grimaces pass over the production crew on the other side of the lens -- one after the other, kicked off by his own scrunched up nose. take five, shouts the director.

there’s another giggle that seems to leave duri’s lips, before he’s bowing, “thank you, that means a lot,” he said, a soft giggle still leaving his lips as he’s coming up from the bow. “ah, i’m sure you’ll get something more soon! i’ve only done one designer brand and… i’m not entirely sure i was made to do that,” he said, chuckling softly. truth be told, duri very much preferred things like coca-cola and the food cfs that he’s done, but he understands that it’s good to get the designer brands. “there’s no need to thank me! i mean it!” he said, his smile growing some more.

a small little hmph had seemingly left duri’s lips. he was sure to check the entirety of the bathroom for the belt that dowoon was looking for. perhaps maybe duri’s being able to find anything power wasn’t really working, considering he couldn’t seem to find much of a trace of it like he thought there would be. but, thus, just the mind trace would most likely work to find it. he was rather optimistic for it, that was for sure. nonetheless, he comes back to the rather general area with defeat. but, this place wasn’t that big, right? they’d probably find it. 

“if it’s back there, don’t worry! sometimes you’re not entirely sure and it ends up being in that place after all.”

no thanks? alright then. instead of any more flattery, dowoon took this as his sign to veer into the certified kim dowoon expression of friendship -- he dug his elbow deep into duri’s bent over oblique and barked out a laugh. “get up!” he cried, voice cracking into another laugh, so much brasher, so much harsher on the air than duri’s were. still, it felt good to laugh with a... friend? a cordial colleague, to get along with people -- one person right now in this tiny moment, many people at once, in the great instant blip that was his time on earth -- for the first time in his life, really. he’d never been good at maintaining friendships as a child. his teens had been worse: he’d been rather detached, right up until the end, when catalyst was starting to come together and he was teetering into his twenties. 

no belt, no nothing, just two guys standing awkwardly in a bathroom. dowoon cleared his throat and drummed his fist against his chest, creating a hollow boom, boom, boom that reverberated against the white tiled walls and floors. 

“you’re so nice,” he said, neglecting to add that he, dowoon, just thought he was a fucking idiot.

the move back to catalyst’s waiting room took even less time -- close to the bathroom as it was, something dowoon had counted them lucky for on arrival... because he really acted like a dad, who was worried about having a changing table for his multiplicity of sons. before they walked in, dowoon held up a hand -- wait. he crept around the door and peaked into their waiting room. brilliant: none of the kids were there to make fun of him. shit: where the fuck were they? brilliant, again: his belt, slung carelessly over the back of a chair.

starter for @fmddowoon

dowoon interviews alice for base online.

alice had been through her fair share of interviews before. some, especially foreign ones, were awkward. (you speak such good english! she’d heard multiple times, as if her family wasn’t english.) this one, however, alice was especially excited for. dowoon was someone she considered a friend, and she liked to think they had a natural chemistry. there was no reason to be nervous, so she was in a cheerful mood. 

“oppa, aren’t you almost ready?” she called from her spot on the chair. the cameras were ready for them, and alice had already gotten her final touch-ups. she had to hand it to the stylist, they’d dressed her quite cutely that day, in a strawberry dress like the one from animal crossing, pink tights, a headband, and her favorite mary janes. 

she patted the empty chair next to her, implying dowoon should sit in it so they could begin. she was only being playful, of course - she quite literally had all day. while she would have liked to make it to the dance studio at some point, it wasn’t pressing.

“hm? oh, yeah.” and like she was embarrassed for some reason, the make-up artist patting concealer under his eye backed off -- as if he hadn’t agreed that yeah, they were almost ready. he didn’t mean that she had to run off immediately. still, she’d retreated, and dowoon was left cringing internally, transforming his reactive grimace (that he was hoping, praying the make-up artist didn’t see, busy as she was scampering away) into a smile that squished up his cheeks and eyes as he laughed, breathy and horsey as it crept out of the top of his throat. dowoon thumb-flipped through the cards in his lap one last time and then, with a decisive nod, said once again, “yeah. yeah, i’m ready.”

clearly they’d been styled collaboratively. dowoon was wearing a strawberry red cardigan over a pale pink shirt and black slacks, with shiny black pointy toe loafers to elongate each of his pointed-out feet in turn. it was cute -- it wasn’t unlike something he’d dress himself in for an event like this, probably for an event more formal than this, if he ever had the chance. maybe he’d learned something along the way from his stylists after all. 

he plopped down into the chair next to alice, and cordially leant on the arm closest to her. it could almost be sweet, it could almost be a nice moment, but there was production staff just a few metres away counting down one, two, three. it wasn’t that bad -- most of the staff were relaxed. dowoon took that as a sign that he could be too.

clapperboard clap!

famedroleplay fan sign meme

this meme does not have a cut-off date. it can be completed any time.

send a number for the question to be answered with an in-character response in the context of a post-it note or a verbal question from a fan at a fan sign. the answer given to the fan does not have to be entirely honest and should be public image appropriate. the intention of the meme is to explore a muse’s public image and interactions with fans! many of these questions were taken from real life idol-fan fan sign interactions.

please tag answers with #famedmeme002. every 6 questions answered with a minimum of four sentences can count for 2 points on your points tracker, for up to a maximum of 10 points. each question may only count toward points once.

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what is your goal for this year/next year?

what song would you want to sing to or play for someone you like?

what’s your favorite scent?

if you spent one day with a fan, where would you go and what would you do?

what new concept do you want to try showing fans?

which girl group do you like the most recently?

which boy group do you like the most recently?

what non-korean artist do you like the most recently?

what song have you been listening to a lot that you would recommend to fans?

what is your most used app?

what should someone do to win your heart?

what do you want for your next birthday?

what do you consider to be your most charming feature/trait?

what is your favorite flavor of ice cream?

how should i ask out the person i like?

what’s the secret behind your good looks?

what do you think of fans of the same gender as you?

what is the most recent thing that made you happy?

what is your happiness level these days on a scale from 0 to 100?

can you give some inspiring words for someone going through a hard time?

what words of advice would you give to someone studying for their college exam?

give yourself a percent ranking from 0 to 100 in the following categories: cute, cool, and sexy.

what place do you want to travel to the most?

what language would you like to learn?

what is the first thing you think of when someone mentions your fans?

what is your favorite movie/book you’ve seen/read recently?

what are your recent wishes?

what are the requirements for your ideal type?

what job would you want if you weren’t an idol?

at the clicks of fingers right next to her ears, kat startled, a twitch running down her spine as her head snapped towards dowoon, the force sending the flick of her hair acoss his face. “wha- i was totally paying attention!”

of course, she hadn’t been.

in a lot of ways, dowoon was like ben, her older brother, lanky and kinda obnoxious but in the most loving of ways. that and the fact that they were roughly the same age and both excellent dancers, it wasn’t hard to imagine why kat had latched onto the catalyst member while so far away from her actual relatives. with being a stand-in older brother, however, came putting up with kat at her brattiest and most annoying, when she was being a nuisance as a sign of affection. who knew that being a pain in the ass was a love language. “wahhh… look at you, so pompous about your own work. modesty is a virtue you know.” kat tssked, reaching over to pinch his cheek sharply between her thumb and index finger. “can’t junhee do it or something? he’s always so nice to me, you’ll just nag me about my footwork!”

“ka -- tpptthh!” the t that should have bit off the end of her name was interrupted, mangled between strands of kat’s own hair getting stuck in dowoon’s face -- in his fucking mouth. he spat it out (mostly drily, because really, it had only gotten stuck to his lips for a moment, he was just being a drama queen for the hell of it) and set his gaze on her: furrowed brows, stretched thin mouth, squirrel cheeks pushed up close to his eyes. “kat. you suck.”

“yeah? so? clearly it’s not a virtue i have. i’m the dictionary definition of whatever the opposite of modesty is. i’m a regular old... braggart.” whose decided lack of interest in school back in the day was showing, as it took him a solid beat to come up with the word braggart. “you should brag some more about your work too -- what parts of asap did you write again?”

duri can’t even say how he’s managed to have a knack or thing for being able to find things. it was kind of just something that happened. whenever someone couldn’t find something, duri would always seem to come back with it a few minutes later - it was how it had always managed to work, oddly enough. so, duri was sure that he would be able to find a belt that he’s never actually seen before - as he had with other items. he was rather good at that scavenger hunt that was on the retreat, which he had found after two photos, just to go on and find the other photos. even if it was in a rather odd place, duri would probably manage to find it - it was all about checking everyone, especially the last place that it had ultimately been remembered. 

there’s a giggle that leaves his lips, “i do?” he asked, head shaking just a bit. “i don’t think your manager will! we’ll find it!” he said, nodding his head. “balenciaga! you got it!” he said. duri shook his head again, “hey! you aren’t cheap! you’re priceless! that means you’re really, really, really expensive!” he says, giving a firm nod to secure it. 

duri had made his way towards the toilet itself, being sure to move with a quickness. he was on a mission after all, wasn’t he? “to the toilet!” he says. 

“yeah,” dowoon affirmed, nodding concurrently with his puffed out chipmunk cheeks. he crossed his arms across his chest as he walked, tapping his fingers on the outside of his arms, following the rhythm of the distant, muffled sound of some other group performing in the distance. “you’re a real gem, park duri.” he said it offhand, dowoon had barely voiced the thought at all before he, tongue between his front teeth, said, without a hint of malice and with a lilting laugh, “there’s a reason i’ve only advertised subway and stupid sunglasses.” dowoon was a weed, sprung out of the crack between two slabs of pavement, who’d managed to grow, who’d been cultivated into a bright red, possibly slightly toxic flower -- but he was still, at his heart, at his core, a weed, and he was happy with that. “but thanks! that means a lot!”

their little speedwalk to the bathroom culminated in disappointment. no belt, balenciaga or chain attached or otherwise, to be found. dowoon dug the heel of his palm into his forehead and sighed, trilling his lips in the process. he muttered to himself think, think, think. where else had he gone? where had he been before he met up with duri? a flash of a memory came to mind; of dowoon stuffing his face with a sugary donut over a napkin held up below his chin as he told off one of his members for doing the exact same.

there’s a lot going on in catalyst’s world. in a way, it’s a relief, because then dowoon hasn’t actually ended up having the time to miss his (contractually obliged to be) jet-setting girlfriend, or to get too stressed out about moving out of catalyst’s dorms. the others will all probably be out before him -- it’s typical that he’d be the last one to leave. he usually is when it comes to ... everything. he’s the last one out of most rooms, holding doors open as he counts one, two, three, four, and then, turning his pointer finger on himself, five, giving premises a final once over before scuttling around his promenading members to the front of the procession. it’ll be the same with this. 

he doesn’t have the time to be thinking about all of this. he doesn’t have the luxury to be spacing out, in a way that’s very unlike him, making eye contact with his own reflection across the room and letting those same eyes gloss over. the sound of a particularly heavy set of footfalls smacking against the practice room floor breaks him out of his trance. with something to prove, with a little bit of face to save, dowoon puffs out his chest and pauses the music, doing his best to act like he hadn’t just been mostly touring apartments in his head while in character for nightmare teacher. 

“kaaaat,” dowoon groans, the elongated syllable of her name culminating with two dramatic, obnoxious clicks of his fingers right next to her ear. promotional circuits are always crazy busy — he doesn’t blame her for getting distracted. on the contrary, he’s holding back a smile. he grew up a pretty lonely child: no siblings, hardly any cousins who are all way, way older than him anyways, who had no interest in entertaining a gap-toothed baby dowoon, with scuffs on his knees and a football under his arm. and he had no one younger than him; the babies being born now to his older cousins are the new babies of his extended family, ousting him from the spot. finding someone he can bicker with, finding someone who bounces off him like that is rare. it’s something he tries not to indulge too much in with his members. he tries to keep up a certain wise brotherly vibe — not this: a kim dowoon who is inches away from tugging on kat’s hair with a frenzied grin.

he liked to think that he did pretty well at taking photos. at least, he always liked the photos that he had taken. so, he was perfectly okay with taking photos for dowoon while the two were backstage. though, duri probably got slightly extra with the whole thing. every time the phone had clicked, duri got into different positions to get different angles, make sure there was a lot to chose from. he had seemingly moved with a quickness to get the next thing. he can’t say he has much experience with cameras, besides for your usual camera, and the phone camera. but, it was at least something, right? 

truth be told, duri didn’t mind really advertising a megacorp or even a corporation in general. capitalism was an evil thing, yes. but, duri at least had fun with it, right? it was something that had seemingly come along with the job.

duri stood up from his crotched position on the ground when dowoon had said his name and came down the stairs. “ah, really?” he said. “okay, not to worry! we’ll find it! i tend to be pretty good at finding things!” he says, nodding his head. “first, we’ll check the bathroom, yeah? if it’s not there, we’ll continue to retrace steps.”

there was no one like park duri -- for taking photos, for a smile in the middle of all of the stress, for when he needed a break from the chaos that catalyst was seemingly named so accurately for, and now, seemingly, for finding lost things like a belt that he never would have imagined was even possible to lose. it was a typical catalyst piece of clothing: bulky, chunky, could barely squeeze through the belt loops of his pants. it came with a god damn chain. he tried to remember taking it off, because surely that would’ve been an ordeal he remembered, but found that he couldn’t. dowoon, naturally, came to the conclusion that he’d reacted to the belt’s challenge the same way that he would any other -- with competitive fire, with an overwhelming fire to defeat it, and when dowoon got like that, he sort of blacked out with the rage. he probably yanked the belt out of the last loop and flung it to one side, and then it’d left his head then and there forever. he smacked his forehead with the splayed palm of his hand and sighed.

“really? of course you do. you’ve got a knack for everything.” still, it was actually a relief to hear an optimistic take. “my manager and stylist are gonna fucking kill me, that belt’s probably like... bullycenaga -- balanciaga? balenciaga? fucking costing, like, an arm and a leg for a strap of leather. i shouldn’t be trusted to wear that sort of shit on my cheap little body.”