#NEON

oh yes, the standard question. the go-to. it’s never not funny the importance of having an ideal type. how frequently the question comes up among fans. though sua knew fully well it wouldn’t be the case if she were to actually have an ideal type. to actually—god forbid—date. but, that’s normal isn’t it? the point is to play up the role of someone unattainable, yet admired, yet sought after. an idol. the price for fame is undoubtedly steep. and sua hates every bit of it.

but, once more, with pep. “of course i do!” she’s never been more grateful for the peach pink blush on her skin, playing up the image of a shy, gushing school girl. “i think everyone has an ideal type—for me though, i think...” sua trails off, subconsciously referencing someone off the top of her head as she lists off the “usual” criteria. “someone tall, broad shoulders, cute smile—opinionated, i don’t like guys who are pushovers or anything like that,” eyes, mouth, nose, tanned skin. she pauses at the realization of exactly who she’s envisioning, smile purposely wise while beneath the table she pinches at her palm. stupid.

lgctaesung​:

                                                    < episode four ; & @lgcsua >

for some reason, he’s not exactly sure why, but he has a good idea who this one is—his guest for the day, that is. the name, the face, comes almost too easily to him after that first round—the most unique of fun facts that would have the common person stumped, but not for him, no, certainly not for jang taesung.

(it comes almost too easily, as if he can’t wonder and think, doesn’t she know how obvious she’s being?)

but, of course, his suspicions hold no real ground of proving true, no, when he’d rather not expose their personal history for the sake of winning a stupid game—he knows who she is, probably, but it’s not like he can reveal how he knows that exactly.

so instead, he opts to follow his own rules, confidently waltz into the next round of the show with raised shoulders, mischievous smirks. eyes glance down ever so briefly in the cue cards in his hard before he clears his throat, stifles the slightest of laughs.

“i wonder if anyone else can guess right now because i’m completely clueless—” the lies just drip ever so effortlessly from his lips “—like, i don’t even have any guesses for my final guess, ya’ know?” a coy smile to the camera as he shakes his head, readjusting his attention the curtain beside him to address the person resting beyond. 

“but that’s okay! because now it’s time for my favorite round: the talent round. miss!—or mister—guest, what do you have prepared for us today?”

this is how you know god is fair. that he’ll give you youth and beauty, luck and charm, talents and a perceptive eye—but take your luck in relationships, in people, and as of right now—in gigs. sure, it had been an opportunity—and any reason to get her face out there is a good one isn’t it?—but she hadn’t taken it in consideration the repercussions when she’s first agreed. or the fact that it was with him of all people. and, at the end of the day, her own greed outweighed everything else.

but still. sitting here now with jang taesung made her skin crawl. is 15 minutes of fame really worth sitting on his vlive show? 

well—it’s too late to back out now—there’s nothing else to do beyond making the best of this situation. although sua has an inkling that she’s already lost the game from the moment she stepped foot onto the set and learned of the concept. how well does taesung know her, you say?

she wants to say zero. wants to deny the existence of anything ever between them to the ends of the earth. (but even then, even then, she wants him to know her. to have remembered her. and that, my friends, is god’s cruel twist.) 

“oh, haha...” her warbled and distorted voice sounds foreign, but that’s the point after all, and sua struggles to keep her usual mannerisms down to a minimum. but taesung reads her like a worn book, she’s sure, with fond excerpts of old habits dogeared. still, in order to throw him off her scent, she’s prepared the most un-sualike ‘talent’.

oh, give him a fucking break—he just gets too caught up in the moment, okay? sue him.

his mind’s all over the place—just the thought of being in the same ten-foot perimeter of sua gets his blood boiling, and when added on top of such a competitive game such as this one, his adrenaline’s pumping much too fast, much too often.

there’s not enough time to think when faced with variety show’s version of survival of the fittest, and when he hears the outnumbering doom of footsteps towards their directions, his first instinct is just to run—even if that’s, god forbid, in the same direction as moon sua.

competitive natures leaves him much too preoccupied to bother with sua’s typical complaining—why, he’s even left their own cameramen to fend for themselves against the wolves—for confined space and ex-girlfriend aside, they haven’t fucking lost yet.

“shhHhhh!” he hushes in harsh whisper, reminding himself (and her) of the microphone tightly clipped on his collar—one hand instinctually reaches out to cover her mouth, while the pointer finger on his other hovers in front of his own. “are you trying to get us caught or something?”

jang taesung is too fucking close. so close that she can’t seem to even remotely think straight. in reality, he’s not that close. it’s not body on body, but all the same—after days and weeks and months and years of putting distance between him and her—being within arms length now is too much.

she barely hears him over the pounding in her ears, heart accelerating an unnecessary amount at the situation she’s found herself in. sua snarls under his hand, her own moving to press against his chest, pushing more distance between the two of them.

it was a second or longer to process his words, to remember where they are—no longer an angry pair of students bickering without a care in the world in the halls of school. now, it’s impossible to say and do as she wished. not with the mic pinned to her shirt. and so, to better express her frustration in ways her tongue cannot at the time being, sua digs her nails into his chest, bunching up his shirt within her fists.

IT’S HER FIRST DEBUT. her first official recording. the first step to international stardom. dominating the charts. spitting in the eye of anyone (namely, high school friends, family friends, neighborhood aunts, her own parents) who’ve ever doubted her. in theory, sua should feel over the moon. ego boosted to the skies. head as big as jupiter itself. 

and yet. and. yet. she doesn’t. 

and yet, her soul writhes in utter agony. like the damned spit roasted over the hottest flames in the deepest depths of hell. like the ghost of christmas past hanging over her shoulders with every brush of her hair against the base of her neck.

yes. her hair.

                                                              god. HER. HAIR.

from the moment she stepped into the shop, sua told herself she would take what may come gracefully. that whatever they would or wouldn’t do with her hair (god forbid, give her some piss yellow color), she would appreciate because—end of the day?—she’s still debuting. but this—this? THIS? this is unacceptable. this is 5+ years of growth down the drain. this is the end of moon sua as she knows it.

dramatic, you may say? maybe not enough. 

it was not enough that her eyes watered at first cut. that she spent hours in the bathroom back at the dorms obsessing over her reflection. that she’s shed tears further over the whole thing. in short, she hates it. loathes it. doesn’t give a damn about what anyone’s said—about how she’d more or less stand out better with the difference in length compared to the rest. she hates it. hates this.

                                                                                           way to shit on her first ever debut.

but the motto is pick your face up! it’s more pep! it’s all that and more that she’s able to step into the recording studio. eyes slightly red but smile on her face deceptively eager as ever. it’s a good thing, in this case, that even after a couple minutes of dry sobs, she still looks good. better, even. the sad doe-eyed damsel look? it works for her. and from there, despite the occasional tremor of nerves and misused enunciation—sua would say she did nearly picture perfect.  

how can she not? when expectations are high. when she’s sacrificed her hair for this. even if she did stumble in the beginning (once, twice, every ng cuts deeper than one would expect), she still ended recording with praise and a sense of satisfaction unfurling in the crux of her chest.

lgcjueun​:

     normally, jueun is happy to help others out. call it a by-product or habit from her days at working at the cafe but she’s gotten used to easily agreeing to other’s requests and trying to please people when she can, not to an extreme amount that it could be concerning–okay, maybe a little with how she often puts others before her–but enough that she really doesn’t mind assisting someone if they asked (unless, maybe, if she didn’t like them but even then, there aren’t many she can say that applies to and if that wasn’t enough, she can’t even think of one name right now to prove her point).

     sua, though, while not a contender for her non-existent list of people she doesn’t like, makes jueun feel wary. they hadn’t interacted much up until now, their one real encounter being the time on halloween when they were the only ones in the washroom and jueun asked the other to pass her toilet paper since her stall ran out, but that’s exactly why jueun wasn’t sure what to make of the other yet.

     they would be working together for the japan unit though so she supposes what better time than now to try and get to know her more? they don’t have to be best friends but she’d prefer being on good terms with the others to make going about their schedules and promotions easier. it’s why she had agreed to doing the know-how video with sua even though they were hardly friends or anything remotely close and she had already filmed her own with yeseo.

     but jueun was an expert at customer service (for lack of better term) and since sua was being nice, she could too so she also smiles brightly and waves at the camera energetically when the other introduces her. waiting for her to finish before speaking, jueun nods her head. “i’ve tried but never succeeded,” she answers with a laugh. “when i was in school, everyone in my class at one point wanted to try during gym but only a few of us could actually do it. i heard you’re an expert though?”

she and nam jueun are not friends. though, suppose the million dollar question is who is she friends with? notably, it’s less than she can count on two hands. real friends anyway. but—when you all strive for the spotlight, how many real friends can you really make? sua has long seen the distinction through—there’s a considerable difference between friendships of the heart and those out of necessity. pure for convenience’s sake.

say, if you were kind to a person once (re: the bathroom incident at the halloween party) and so you now have the right to collect. regardless if it’s an inconvenience to them. 

 and sua? sua’s definitely collecting.

“ah, yes, i remember doing that as well in school—” only her crowd of friends did far more complex moves. “oh,” her smile widens when jueun directs the attention back to her. a girl out to be in her good graces. “yes, i did do a lot of tumbling growing up—i wanted to be a gymnast you know! but somehow i ended up settling for joining the cheerleading team in high school...” sua trails off with a laugh, clapping her hands as if to pull her focus back in. “anyway, a cartwheel’s pretty easy—but since we’re just starting out, let’s get to stretching first! that’s always important.” she gestures jueun to follow before shifting to sit on the mat, legs extended before her.

lgcyura​:

     it wasn’t exactly tough to get sua to agree to helping her with japanese when yura knows the other would rather not do something like this if possible but it was challenging, in the sense that her patience was tested. she likes to think she’s one of the few exceptions who can break through sua’s exterior though so she can endure some teasing from the older if it’ll get her what she wants in the end (and she did manage to get some jabs back in where she could anyways, figuratively and literally).

     not that she took her comments too seriously to begin with though.

     in yura’s eyes, sua was mostly all bark and some bite - she definitely held in a lot of things she’d love to let out otherwise were she not trying to portray a certain image or not get in trouble (and she’s sure sua would probably try murdering someone if she could get away with it) but it’s nothing yura can’t manage when she isn’t very kind herself either. maybe that’s why they can somehow get along; they have a lot in common and somewhere between them knowing when and where to act certain ways, they find a way to be more of themselves when together.

     (yura likes to believe anyways since she actually quite enjoys having sua in her life, even if the older doesn’t seem to readily agree about sharing the same sentiment outloud.)

     “easy,” yura repeats with a scoff and a roll of her eyes. “not everyone is already knowledgeable in japanese, sua.” but she still listens to the girl attentively and seriously despite her complaints, although she frowns when sua speaks too fast for her to catch up. “are you doing this on purpose?” she groans, reaching over to poke the older’s side with a little more force than normal. “say it again but slower this time!”

she’s not known to be easy. to be remotely helpful. otherwise she wouldn’t be sitting here right now, giving yura shit for something for no reason beyond the fact that it’s funny. though she supposes that in itself is the crux of their relationship. friends but with some healthy competition going on. only, she’s never been nice and healthy in terms of competition. and if she can milk this right now, with yura at her mercy, of course she would.

“well maybe everybody should’ve paid more attention during school then.” she knows well enough to recognize that she speaks from a place of privilege. that not everyone possesses the means to have extra tutors on top of everything else growing up. but that’s everyone else’s problem, not hers. and the extent of moon sua’s goody goodness is that she can even acknowledge that to begin with. to act on it? to be considerate of others because of it? nah.

“hey—” she squeaks at the jab, legs shifting to tread on yura’s shoe lightly. “it’s not my fault you can’t pick up on it—jeez.” but she’ll relent nonetheless, tugging the sheet over to have a better look as her lips part to repeat the line. slower, this time, with each word carefully enunciated with a roll of her eyes.

this is why she can’t be a teacher.

she hates this. not this exactly, per say. to paint a picture, this would be referring to the two standing before a camera, clad in matching tracksuits (sponsored, thank you) with gym mats laid out before them. this is fine. spinning the talent wheel to decide on what to show off for a know-how and somehow settling on tumbling between makeup tips and fruit carving (fruit carving? yeah, so she had a brief pipe dream to be some sort of iron chef, bite her) is fine. what isn’t fine, for once, is the girl staring right back at her on the screen.

still pretty, still doll eyed and flushed cheeks, but something sorely missing with the entire picture. that is, inches taken off her hair—sadly, painstakingly, we’d like to report that moon sua’s famous long locks are now reduced to a tasteful lob.

it’s still cute. right. sort of. for her sake let’s just say it is. but it doesn’t feel the same at all. and to say she didn’t cry when they took out the scissors—well, that would’ve been a flat out lie.

“right, so!” still, a camera is a camera. and it’s necessary to have some pep for the sake of the viewers. “i’m sua! and today i have jueun here with me and—today we’re going to be doing something a bit different!” her for-the-viewers smile shines bright as usual, gesturing to the mat laid out before them. “or, well, it is for me—i couldn’t really decide myself on what i wanted to show you guys—but i’m the most proud of my tumbling skills, so i thought i would teach everyone how to do the perfect cartwheel!”

“but first off,” her eyes turn to the girl beside her, eyes curving with the way her cheeks lift. “jueun-ssi, have you ever done a cartwheel before?” 

lgcyura​:

↝ lgc girls japan: additional japanese lessons ↝ sometime during the week of november 16th

     yura may not have been the most studious student in school but she always did well enough to pass without much trouble - if you don’t count a lot of last minute cramming as trouble anyways. the point is, she comes through when it’s needed and once she puts her mind to something, there’s no stopping her. learning japanese shouldn’t be any different, she thinks, but despite attending all the workshops that were offered before, she was still fumbling around the language.

     the fact that she understood more than she could speak was somewhat of a blessing but the latter was more important to her currently since she didn’t want to butcher the lyrics or sound inarticulate when they started recording the songs for the japanese unit. luckily for her though, she had SUA​ to bother for extra help and when the older didn’t know something, at least they had one of the instructors from the workshop to ask instead. unluckily, there were two new songs to learn in addition to the one she and some of the others were already told about when the new unit was first announced to existing lgc girls members, and truthfully, all the lyrics were having trouble sticking in her brain.

     “sua, how do you pronounce this line?” she asks the other, pointing to one of the lyrics on the sheet they were given with the back of the pen she was using to make notes, eyes glancing up at her. “every time i say it, it doesn’t sound right…”

it’s only because it’s yura that she’s here. playing nice is never on the agenda for the likes of her, anyway. but when a friend (and yes, she does use this term loosely) comes out and asks (that’s on top of admitting sua was better at this)—who is she to say no? after a couple minutes of teasing, though.

                                                                              — “oh, so you admit i’m better than you?”                                                                                                                 — ”at JAPANESE—”                                                                              —"not the point—so i’m better huh? huh?”                                                                                              — "is that a yes or no sua, damn”

but just because she’s here, doesn’t mean she likes it. or even remotely appreciates it. if anything, she could’ve been going over the lyrics in the comfort of her own dorm. instead of being here now—essentially not paying a lick of attention. which sua figures the instructors have no issue with as she manages to nail every enunciation perfectly. for now, it’s just a matter of memorizing her lines.

that, and making sure her partner gets it too.

“which?” she straightens up to lean over and peek at the indicated line, lips mouthing the words quickly. “oh, that’s easy—” for you maybe. “it should be...” sua repeats the line louder, though perhaps a breath to quickly for a novice to catch up on. but, cmon, what did you expect? if she had the patience and talent and heart for it, she’d be a teacher not out here fighting tooth and nail for a chance at the spotlight.

it’s funny, to watch her squirm—to squint and scowl at his mere existence; every one of her offensive thoughts, surely, are perfectly etched onto her features with every frown, every line of her face that draws in downward swoop of equal parts disgust and disdain.

it’s so easy to read your mind, moon sua.

for jang taesung can easily take her jabs—verbally and physically, seemingly, as quirked eyebrow glances down in intrigue at the fingernail pressing against layers of black cotton—when she’s never been one for packing a punch. at least, not with him. never with him; too much history, too much baggage.

so—much to her annoyance, he’s sure—he meets her insults with a lighthearted laugh, hands lazily shrugging themselves into pockets at head tilts in nonchalantness as he stares down at her, eyes naturally search for contact through black mask against black mask. 

“some people have already come up to me asking if we’re a couple,” he quips. a lie. a brazen and bold-faced lie. no one ever dares to leave taesung and sua alone in the same room, let alone group them together in a singular sentence. 

“what’dya say to getting back together, sua? clearly, the people want it, and doesn’t it seem fitting for, out of anyone else, the both of us to date? well—fake date. after all, anything for some good publicity and attention, right?”

what’d he just say? she double takes and leaves her jaw slack for a millisecond too long before snapping back to her senses, gears in her head spinning to think of something either unnecessarily crude or overtly harsh to say. dealer’s choice. 

though, when it comes to jang taesung—sua favors cutting deep.

                                                             getting even for grievances of the past, we’ll say.

“me, date you?” she scoffs, acrylics digging into the soft of her palm. predictably, she knows exactly what to say. knows exactly what dative to enunciate, what carefully placed sneer to show, what look of contempt to give. moreover, she knows him. knows how to best incite a reaction out of jang taesung. how to get under his skin. how to dig her nails into the soft of his underbelly and leave her mark. and she has, throughout the days and weeks and months together in legacy, she has altogether left such a scathing impression on him that he’ll never forget her. 

good. fucking good.

“what “good publicity” is supposed to come out of dating you?” her finger jabs deeper in, finding mild (extreme) displeasure at the firmness of his chest. “i’m not you—i don’t want to be known for making some girl cry and being on probation—which, by the way, congrats!” her lips part, pistol mouth gunning to wipe the nonchalance off his face.

“it’s nice to know you’re still as thick-skinned and insufferable as ever—you gotta be right? to be still standing here after being benched almost all year. watching the rest of us move on without you.” she jeers, muted tones of smugness seeping through.

actually there’s not much to update beyond that lmao—but i would also like to take this chance for a quick plot call/welcome to the new members all around (i’m open for them!! i’m slow but i’m HERE yk????) and ykw, post what i need for reqs below if anyone’s interested!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (and also my personal tracker under the cut but don’t read that plz)

lgcgirlsjpn solo (i’m crying), know-how (0/1)

lgcisac2020 solo (weeping), fan gift (f) (0/1)

                                                 MOON SUA DOESN’T COOK.

meng was still a little in shock, staring blankly at their ingredients sitting on the counter and trying to wrack her brain for absolutely anything. but unfortunately, meng wasn’t that great at thinking on her feet about something she wasn’t an absolute expert in. don’t get her wrong, meng was a good cook – but she was no professional chef. if this was a solo or an improv dance, meng would know what to do. she trusted her body to carry her to the finish line every time, always on beat, succinct, precise. but cooking was simply not dance – and meng was no good at trying to think of what they were supposed to do now.

not only that, but she couldn’t tell what sua was thinking. not that meng often could tell what other people were thinking about, she wasn’t the best person for that sort of thing – always at least a little bit oblivious about what was going on in other people’s heads, never quite sure … but now ? she certainly wasn’t able to gauge how sua was feeling about it.

she blinks at sua’s statement, then furrows her brow. “ wait, are we supposed to mix them, or are we supposed to just do one ? ” she asks, realizing her brain had shorted out to the point she wasn’t quite sure what they were supposed to be doing. she didn’t mean to appear stupid, but well … her brain wasn’t quite working at this point. “ i can do the vegetables, ” meng comments, especially considering sua already had the steak in hand. even in her slight confusion, she figures she should start getting to work.

“ i haven’t cooked a lot of korean food … ” meng murmurs, pouting slightly. “ but i feel like we’re missing things that we may need … ” she comments. “ maybe we should … i mean, we don’t have kimchi, which i feel like would be a staple – is there something we could use instead to replace it ? ” she asks. “ or … or, is that too obvious or stereotypical … i feel like i’ve forgotten how to think. ”

it’s do or die. only less dramatic. only not really. because for someone like sua—doing poorly isn’t an option. losing isn’t an option. looking bad while doing so? unthought of. so as much as she’s hated the notion of being on this show (and i mean hated, stormed around the dorms in a fit hated, biting her nail raw hated), it’s still—end of the day—a necessary evil. evil that needs to be conquered and then some, for the sake of the spotlight.

so really, the question is, what do you hate more? the reminders of family inheritances (not one, but two and possibly three soondaeguk restaurants waiting for you should this “idol thing” fail) or not being in front of a camera? well, easy choice right? otherwise you wouldn’t be here. 

“huh?” is she really asking that? was she not listening? sua tries her best not to judge. foreigners, after all. “we just do the one, but a korean take on tacos is still considered korean, ithink—it isn’t like we can make anything else out of this,” she gestures to their basket, lips pursed. “hopefully it’ll be okay.”

she reaches for the cutting board with a quiet sniff, gears in her brain working out the exact recipe. bulgogi tacos would be a bit of a cop out wouldn’t it? but what other possibilities were there? at the very least, it’s a flavor profile she knows well. 

“well, we could, if you want...” she prays her tone is showing more neutrality and open to ideas than she really is; well aware of the camera she can spot in her peripheral vision. but as always, sua had never been one to play well with others. “mm, i think—” she sets the piece of meat down on the cutting board, clean hand reaching over to rummage through the basket. thankfully, they’ve thrown a few things here and there impulsively, just to keep their options open. “we can pickle these,” sua plucks out the cucumbers, “make oi muchim maybe, if we can go back for gochugaru.” her lips form a pout, eyes turning to the host. 

lgcmeng​:

a closed masterchef legacy starter for @lgcsua​

meng hardly expects to get a place in both variety shows ( she’s not sure why, but she just hadn’t ), so the fact that she has to ready herself for both is a little stressful. what’s even more stressful is that she doesn’t know her partner that well, and although sua seems to have experience, meng doesn’t exactly know how much and she doesn’t seem that enthusiastic about it. however, that’s not about to stop her.

they get mexican, and not much else comes to mind except tacos – which seems like a good enough idea. they have everything planned out and meng and sua are splitting up what they’re going to do while they lay the ingredients out and … well, she guesses she should’ve expected there’d be a twist, because every cooking show like this had some sort of a twist. meng’s face is blank when they announce they’re switching countries with the ingredients they have at their tables, then her eyes drift down to stare at the ingredients they were given – about to start preparations – then looks over at sua.

they were given korean – which she thinks shouldn’t be too hard, but to be entirely fair her brain doesn’t work fast enough in this instance to see what they could be doing instead. instead panic just sets in and she just hopes that sua has something in mind instead of their original plan.

“ so, uh … ” she murmurs, then sighs. “ new game plan ? ” she asks, brows raised.

what a plot twist. an unforeseen hitch (not). sua could smell the curveball from a mile away; perhaps from a longtime viewer standpoint than anything. though what is more of a twist to her was why she was even here to begin with. standing in front of a camera with an apron tied to her and a kitchen’s knife in hand. moon sua who had sworn to never step back in the kitchen ever again. familiar territory, but not one she had expected to visit. one that she can fully shake off, quiet trepidation climbing with every bright smile she throws at a passing camera. 

but, that’s what happens when you crave the spotlight. it wasn’t like she was going to say no to an opportunity like this.

still, she hadn’t told her parents she was going to be on master chef. hadn’t even mentioned the show last she’s talked to them. but it’s highly unlikely that they’ll let her off if she doesn’t somehow namedrop the family restaurant. which, as one may presume, is a pressing thought for our little “soondaeguk princess”. it’s not like she wants that out on national television either.

but back to the pressing task at hand, back to the twist in tonight’s episode. mexican turned korean? honestly, at least it wasn’t greek. and at least, at least, her partner was someone competent. 

sua would assume—not that they knew much of each other, but she always kept an eye out on the competition after all.

“yeah...” her eyes flick around to the rest of the cast quickly, turning back to the laid out ingredients before them, quickly doing a reassessment of their former game plan.

“we can still stick to tacos, i think, just korean style more than anything.” she reaches for the skirt steak, having originally picked out everything for carne asada. it shouldn’t be too hard here to do bulgogi tacos or something right?

bitten.

  for @lgcsua. ✨

“d’you have anything for me to do?” junhwan asks sua in lieu of a hello. he sits backwards in a chair he’s swung around, chin resting on the back of his hands. “seriously, you’re gonna have to take advantage of me while you can before the show picks up.” 

the show, future dreams’ third season. that’s a big part of the problem. he’s almost tempted to ask sua to give the staff a reason to kick him out. they’ve basically said that they’re looking for one anyways. one slip up, and he’s out on his ass on the street, or sleeping on his parents’ couch. 

“plus, if i get kicked off, you probably won’t be able to boss me around anymore either.” his voice has none of its usual lightness in it. junhwan doesn’t think that sua cares either way, but he’s sure that even she can see something’s not right. but, hopefully she’ll ignore it, and this can be the one thing in his life right now that functions like normal. maybe he was being dramatic, but he’d taken the staff’s questions as somewhat of an ultimatum. do well or die. or, maybe, they just don’t care about him. would that be worse? probably. he can’t survive in trainee limbo forever. “so run me around while you can.” 

relationship status: it’s complicated. she’s not sure how else to describe it. though, okay, it’s not really a relationship relationship is it? it’s more of, well, maybe it’s unseemly of a to-be idol to be going around blackmailing her fellow trainees but—what’s a girl to do when a golden egg falls into her hands? give it away? be real, when have you ever known moon sua to be that generous?

but it’s a relationship nonetheless. and now, now it’s only complicated because junhwan chooses it to be. because he’s out here making things more difficult than needed. because he’s here now with a sullen expression begging to be asked what’s wrong? only, sua won’t give him the pleasure of it. they’re not nearly close enough and know what? she doesn’t really care.

                                                                                                                       on paper anyway.

“right now?” she raises a perfectly plucked brow, stabbing a cherry tomato absently. “hm, what do i want right now...” other than gimbap and ramen? to pass out for 12 hours? “something to go with this salad, maybe...” sua trails off, head tilting at the sad little spiel that follows. oh. it’s one of those moods. after two years around, she’s seen her fair share of trainees doubting themselves (sua, too, in all her bigheaded glory, is guilty of doing so). and after two years of witnessing it, she’s about done with the self pity and moping.

well, maybe that’s just her. maybe that’s just what happens when you feel on top of the world after making it into lgc girls japan.

“so—” she starts, speaking the obvious. “don’t get kicked off.” duh. “it hasn’t even started yet, why are you so pressed?” perhaps she’s never meant to be the comforting type. makes sense, seeing as people seldom come and ask the likes of her for advice. “either way, i don’t have anything—unless you wanna do my laundry for me,” her lips form somewhat of a sneer, about as uncaring in junhwan’s trials and tribulations as she is taken with her own accomplishments. 

“i’m filming the mv for lgc girls this week and nailing choreo for crimson dress.” sua gives him a look—an and-what-are you-doing-for-yourself look—and reaches for her water bottle. “so if you wanna do my chores, i won’t say no—but if i were you, i’d maybe work on picking that face up—” she gestures vaguely, modicum of sympathy (hah) seeping through. “and take it to the practice room.”

lgcyura​:

↝ side event #009: lgc halloween party ↝ october 31, 2020

     yura has to admit, she never knows what legacy will do for the annual halloween party but every year seems to be better than the last - and this time doesn’t seem to be an exception. a scheduled night to let loose and even potentially mingle with their seniors was always welcomed by her, contrary to how people probably assumed she felt about the party with how practice-obsessed she seemed to be (although that impression does have some truth to it).

     also contrary to belief, yura actually enjoyed dressing up for the occasion; it just took her some time to figure out what to goes as. once she did though, she made sure to do it right and so she shows up to the party dressed as mera from aquaman, complete with a fire engine red-haired wig because she wasn’t sure if she wanted to commit to that (yet). her suit is almost skin tight but not quite because she still needed to breathe but she didn’t mind either way. ever since she started doing pilates this year, her body’s gotten even better and she wasn’t adverse to showing it off in certain situations like tonight.

     so when she spots another girl in a similarly tight suit, yura is curious about who it could be. not everyone is comfortable in a costume like that, after all.

     but when she approaches the girl, she soon gets her answer and a smile lights up her face. with SUA‘s back to her, yura takes it as her cue to sneak up on the other and pounce on her by putting her hands on the girl’s shoulder in an attempt to surprise her. “SUA!” she yells before dissolving into laughter right after, her grin teasing. “you look hot - but i shouldn’t even be surprised, right?”

it starts to get annoying at hour three. once moon sua’s had her fill of drinks and finger food and games and niceties and cameras in her face. well, maybe not so much the latter. maybe it’s more so the networking, the asskissing, the elevator eyes every time she spoke to a man or a woman. whatever it was, sua finds herself growing increasingly antsy, perhaps even ready to get the hell out of here.

though, what excuse would she use? none. of course. she knows deep inside that no matter how much (and it’s very very much) she hated doing this, she wasn’t going to go anywhere. the possibilities of what opportunities she might’ve missed out on because she couldn’t hang lingers in her head constantly, keeps her from stepping for the exit—and unfortunately, traps her here and now. 

but for the most part, sua takes it like a champ. mans the business smile in the most professional manner as she glides from table to table, hold hands and take the occasional selfies with people that, though she doesn’t necessarily care for, knows looks good and well look even better paired with her. speaking of—she jumps at the hands on her shoulder, flinching when yura screams in her ear. “yah—” her face forms a scowl, turning to squint at the girl. “i almost dropped my phone—what’s wrong with you?”