it’s not that dayeon expected the role of leader to be easy. not at all. however, she also didn’t expect to be met with such resistance from some of her teammates. she believed that working together and putting on their best performance would be beneficial for everybody, which is why she can’t help but let out a huff of frustration at how eiji seems to be against the idea of dayeon as the leader.
“can we go over the chorus one more time?” she sounds like she’s practically begging at this point, but there were some parts of the choreo that she thought could look better if they tried it again with the counts. dayeon didn’t want to be some hard-cut leader. she believed in taking her teammates with her and being someone who supports them from the back. of course, this may not be the best for everybody, but if she had to take on this role, she wanted to do it in a way that would work for her. that way she could pay attention to everybody else as well.
when it feels like eiji’s ignoring her, she walks up to her and gives her a light pat on the shoulder. “i’d like to go over the chorus again. i think there’s a move where we weren’t completely in sync.” she’s a bit more straightforward this time because that seems to be what works with this specific teammate.
Mason had said that he didn’t mind getting fewer lines or even no lines if it meant he could show off his dancing, and he meant it, but if he was just going to be relegated to a dancer that’s in the back most of the time rather than featured, he was worried about what he would be able to show. He had gone into rapping when he got here because he wasn’t confident at all in his singing voice, but that didn’t mean he was super confident in his abilities as a rapper either. Dancing was his thing. Dancing was the thing that he knew he could do, and if he wanted to debut, he needed to show the CEOs and reporters and everyone that.
Even though he loved both songs a lot, he liked “One” just a little more, and it was a concept he could really get behind and he wanted to show he could do it justice. Plus, even if he had the biggest rap part, it was still like half the size of Robby’s singing lines. Like he said before, he didn’t care, and he wanted Robby to shine too, but it was just a little unbalanced in Mason’s eyes for him to be main dancer and have more lines.
But, Robby was a friend, so Mason was going to try to talk to him about this... key word being “try”.
Mason had worked with Robby for six months and knew he had his moments of... less than niceness, but didn’t everybody? But that meant Mason knew that this could go poorly, which was why he was mentally preparing himself for the interaction, giving himself a little whispering pep talk beforehand. Mason wasn’t great with conflict, and tried to avoid it as much as possible, but this was his future on the line. He needed to at least try.
“You got this, Mason,” he said to himself, nodding slightly before taking a deep breath and approaching Robby.
“Robby! Hey!” he greeted with a smile and a little wave before biting both lips. “Can we talk for a second?”
never in a million years did dayeon imagine that she’d ever be a leader.
that’s not to say that she doubted her abilities of being a good one, but she just didn’t think it’d be her that got the role. nevertheless, she’s dedicated and will be putting everything into this evaluation. considering that it’s already been a little over a year since she began her trainee period, she thinks that it’s time for more improvement, and this seems like a nice opportunity for that to happen.
however, that doesn’t change the fact that she’s a little nervous. she enjoys working with others and wanting the best situation for everybody, but she’s also aware that she can’t always be so sweet and understanding as the leader. the girls had to get the track and choreography down and pull it off. how they perform will be a reflection of her abilities as a leader.
that’s why she’s taken it up on talking it out with suho, who’s be assigned as the leader for the boys. “we can do this! we can!” she says as she makes a quick fighting pose. it’s no secret that she’s trying to convince herself more than him. “how’s it going? have you had to pull out the whole leader role to your teammates yet?” she gives him a quick nudge with her shoulder before letting out a chuckle. she likes to imagine that he’s on the same boat as she is. confused, a little unsure, but still intending to do his best.
It was the first rehearsal for Mason’s first project, and he was drenched with sweat, tired, and thirsty as hell; it was perfect. This was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, and he was really getting a taste of what it’s going to be like when he finally debuts. He was rehearsing for an original song with some of his best friends, and he was absolutely relishing this moment. Sure, he had the fewest lines, but did he care? Absolutely not. He was willing to get no lines if it meant he could show off his moves. He may have been a sub-rapper (even though he had to sign a little which was terrifying but at least it was a duet so he could hide a bit there), but he was Main Dancer and he got a dance solo! A dance solo! This was Mason’s chance to prove that he had improved and worked hard and was really a force to be reckoned with.
They were given ten minutes to catch their breath. Mason was planning on only taking two to drink his entire water bottle and go to the bathroom before coming back to review what he had just learned. However, those plans were shattered when he returned to the room and saw his best friend sitting on the side. Mason smiled wide and ran a bit before sliding on his knees over to him.
“Sup?” he said in English with a jokingly chill nod upwards. He then laughed at his own antics, swinging his legs around to hug his knees. “How are you? Are you having as much fun as I am? Can you still feel your legs?”
º ✧ 。––– ( 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕 )
june 2023 / dayeon’s thoughts aftter the evaluation meeting / 367 words.
when dayeon heard the personnel specifically call out her name during the meeting, she thought she was dreaming because there was absolutely no way that she had just been complimented on her leadership. even when the meeting had come to an end and the trainees had returned to their daily routines, she couldn’t believe it.
that was probably the most difficult thing about this round of evaluations. having been the youngest in her family, she had never been a leader in any sort of situation. frankly, she was more used to people being the ones to lead her. thus, when she was first appointed as the leader, she had to sit herself down and think about how she’d get it done.
it was added stress—something she didn’t love—but she must have done a nice job. though dayeon’s unsure if she’d be able to be a more permanent leader, having received such positive comments did boost her self esteem just a bit.
the best part she’d say, however, was getting elevated into a debut candidate. although she was a little bummed that she wasn’t chosen as an addition to iaem, she didn’t think she’d do very well in their group nevertheless. their debut concept was something she couldn’t possibly imagine herself pulling off, and she was more than happy to simply congratulate the girls who did get chosen.
she much prefers the elevated status instead. it means that she’s one step closer to her goal.
the past month was rather difficult on a personal level for dayeon. the added responsibility of leader and the long amount of lines she specifically had for sweet had meant that she practically lived in the practice rooms. however, now that she had become a debut candidate and showed that she wasn’t a shabby leader, it was all worth it.
she thinks this is why the whole trainee process is quite surprising. it’s filled with rigorous hours of training and an uncertainty of what may happen, but it also just feels so fulfilling when things get done. although she’s not sure what will come next, dayeon thinks she’s ready for it. a lot more ready than she was a month ago, at least.
summary : hd: eval | eiji experiences nerves over evals.
notes : this is bad. i’m a little rusty and currently struggling with motivation.
eiji couldn’t shake the nerves that had a hold on her for the past couple of weeks. since the day the company announced the cancellation of practices for an important announcement, she’s had this feeling hanging over her. one of dread and anticipation. she was uncertain why. she was ready to showcase her natural skills. and the hours of practice she put into it with her team.
despite not loving the positions they were assigned she’s made the most out of the performance. she didn’t necessarily want to be a leader, but she felt they could have chosen someone better than dayeon. she seemed too soft. those who were soft got stepped all over. at least from her experience that was the case. she wouldn’t make it very far. and eiji wasn’t one to take orders from really anyone. her parents, but no one else. it was starting to grate on her nerves. in hindsight maybe her career choice was a poor one.
her vocals aren’t really her strength, but she doesn’t have a single line of rapping. it left her disappointed. if she was honest she was jealous of the women who got the rapper position. her vocals weren’t her strength. she was still confident in her vocal skills. but that doesn’t mean she felt her vocals should be the showcased skill.
she got stuck with visuals. it seemed they saw her as just another pretty face. not surprising. but it made her furious. her entire life she’s been judged on her looks. she’s always been told her visuals were unique. it wasn’t always a good thing. people judged her and mocked her. but she was also praised and adored. it’s somethings she’s used to her advantage in the industry. but she didn’t want that to be her legacy. the thing people remember her for when she’s gone. she didn’t want to be forgotten.
evaluations should be easy for her. she’s confident in her vocal abilities. her rapping abilities are her strength. and her dance skills are above average.
she should be able to wow the judges without a second thought. but she’s second guessing herself. despite her confidence and the hours of practice she’s afraid that somehow this evaluation will be royally screwed. dragging her chances of debuting to almost nonexistent.
the longer she waits the more time her nerves have to amplify. she’s trying to distract herself by stretching and going over some of the more complicated moves. but none of it’s helping. she looks around at the other trainees on her team. they all seem calm, or at least she thinks they do. and she wonders why it feels like she’s the only one seemingly freaking out. despite showing no sign of nervousness.
she jumped faster then she should have when they called for her team. she followed the others into the practice room and took her position. eager was an understatement. she was ready to get this over with. she looks over the judges and then turns to see her team members.
the music starts and she goes on autopilot as they start the choreography. they cycle through the choreography and sing in perfect sync. training it seemed has paid off. she sings every line with perfect accuracy and hits every note with perfect pitch. after they cycle through she takes her spot in her ending spot.
she moves from her spot and bows to the judges. she makes a beeline for the door not caring if it was rude of her and she runs to find a an empty room. she slams the door shut and leans against the door sliding down the door. finally she releases a breath of relief. this isn’t her first evaluation but she hopes it will be her last.
º ✧ 。––– ( 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 )
may 2022 / the day of evaluations for sweet / 705 words.
when dayeon first began rehearsing for sweet, she was surprised to find that she had quite a presence in the song. she’s not sure if it was a perk that came with being the leader—could that even be considered a perk?—but there was simply a lot that she had to consider during the performance. despite not being the main vocalist, she had a prominent number of lines and there were times where she was placed in the center. it’s almost like, because she was the leader, she had to be the foundation for the whole performance.
or, at least that’s the mindset she decided to have as she practiced.
when the day of the actual evaluation comes by, dayeon feels like she’s super prepared. she definitely leans into the mindset of practice makes perfect and she made sure that she stuck to that. it’s why she spent hours and hours perfecting the routine and making sure that her breath was supported. sticking to the basics was important to her, and she wanted to show the trainers that she has indeed improved. compared to some of the other artists in this industry, she’s aware that she hasn’t been training long, but she can feel that she’s hit a wall. it’s been about a year and a half, and she’s beginning to feel like she’s walking in the same circle.
she needed this evaluation to prove herself wrong. working with the other girls wasn’t difficult. she thinks it helps that her cheerful attitude kept the atmosphere up as they practiced. once she heard that she was the leader, she wanted to ensure that the rest of her teammates didn’t feel like they had to treat her differently. a superior leader wasn’t always the right answer, and she knows she wouldn’t have been able to pull it off anyway.
it’s why she led in her style. in the way she would have liked to be led as well. pep talks, encouraging messages after a long day and working alongside her teammates was her motto. she didn’t want anyone to feel left behind or that dayeon was ignoring them. at the end of the day, she’s positive that the trainers will be looking at their teamwork first and foremost, and she didn’t want to hear that they didn’t feel like a team. sure, this might be temporary just for this evaluation, but there’s also the chance that the girls might debut with one another in the future. they needed to prove that they can work together.
when they finally get called in, she gathers the girls together and gives them one last talk about how they’re going to do just fine. that if they do as they practiced, it’ll be a great performance. she checks everybody’s equipment once again so that a technical error doesn’t bother any of them. while she’s not some expert, she knows that it could be a big bother if something out of their control goes wrong. dayeon wouldn’t wish that upon anybody.
the actual performance kind of flashes by in the blink of an eye. just as she hoped for, the choreography sort of comes out like muscle memory. that’s only natural considering how long they focused on a single track. dayeon also wants to believe that her vocals have improved. the song they were given wasn’t vocal heavy, but dayeon has this belief that vocals are the foundation of any performance. a song that has strong vocals is good to listen to even if the performance may be a bit lacking. of course, that wasn’t what she was aiming for, but she did try her best to focus on that.
additionally, the song itself sort of has a sultry feel to it, and she did her best to portray that. expressions haven’t been her forte, but she spent a few extra hours on those as well. an idol has to be captivating, and she thinks that this song was great practice for that aspect of a performance.
before she knows it, the girls are all bowing and being escorted out of the room. while dayeon may not be a trainer herself, she just knows that her diary entry tonight won’t be so negative.
━━ : 𝐎𝐇, 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 ( I MEAN THAT, I NEED THAT ) .
DATED: early february 2023
FEATURING: canon npc’s !
WORD COUNT: 1,270
NOTES: coming off a nightmarish week, but writing minseon is my means of catharsis ♡ formal interview 23Q1 ! ( cw, as always: self-loathing, maladaptive daydreaming, compartmentalization gone wrong )
MINSEON IS TIRED OF BEING ALONE.
It’s a development that seems, from an outside perspective, prompted by long evenings spent stretched in solitude, a lack of consequence in time ( minutes, hours, days ) burned studying his reflection in the mirror, counting the bones in his rib cage, the moles scattered like stars across the expanse of his skin— And… it’s not an entirely incorrect assumption to make. Following the quarterly evaluation, he’s found himself already missing the structure of a team, missing the feeling of running together towards something, rather than running alone from… something else.
And, well. That’s where sympathy for his plight begins to run a bit thin.
Because for as long as he can remember, Minseon has planted secrets within himself, kept knowledge of his whereabouts hidden from his own eyes. Too many mornings he’s come to, body aching, dull discomfort in the back of his head, with the awareness that he’s done things the evening prior but is left with no memory of them. When he finds time to lick his wounds, he’s haunted by the understanding that they are self-inflicted, that there is a… creature living inside him that he’s all but fed by turning a blind eye to it and its exploits.
And… Minseon would have continued to refuse responsibility, plead ignorance of it, if its existence did not begin to manifest in his dreams, then his waking hours. — It eventually reaches a point where it begins to collide into him, interrupt his quiet life, shake him from his sleep, until finally, he’s forced to reckon the truth that he’s run so fast and so far from himself that he hardly recognizes that this creature in the mirror is his own reflection.
So, he’s tired of being alone.
But more than that, he’s tired of being alone with himself.
MINSEON SHIFTS A LITTLE IN HIS SEAT. The training studio is still, but not in the way that he likes. There’s a stiff, brittle sort of air about it that seems to encourage feelings of unease. He’s prepared for this tension, though, managed to dress himself in a pressed collared shirt and fitted slacks, straightened his posture, even, before he entered the room. He’s been looking forward to this interview since he received notice of it, and he tells his current company as such when they first greet him in.
The consulting team takes their time opening up the discussion in an official capacity; Minseon does not mind the exchange of pleasantries, but it’s clear he becomes visibly on edge when things finally begin. He’s happy to hear that his group as a whole has received high praise, but his expression remains pleasantly neutral throughout the debrief, only returning a smile when he is offered one. He does not miss the way the majority of their feedback is framed to commend their individual talents, and when asked about his feelings working with the team, he knows that the question is pointed. He carefully considers his choice of words, wets his lips before speaking:
“I felt… more sure of myself with the team than I would have on my own. … Truth is, they made me better.” His eyes briefly fall to the floor before they skip back up again, regarding each interviewer in measured thought. “Think it’s rare for any group to avoid tension, ‘specially at the start. — ‘s… good to have disagreements, I think. Good to have differences in opinion. Think we all learned how to work with each other to put on the best performance that we could.”
He is met with a polite smile that he reflects.
They move on to individual scores.
He shrinks.
Like a shadow shies from the sun, he’s spent his latter years always at the edge, the outside looking in. So when formal training for the quarter began and he pushed himself into taking center position of his group, Minseon had felt… terrified. As practice sessions carried onward, he convinced himself that this was his penance for flying too high: That his fate was to burn.
— Except, as it turns out, it… wasn’t, and he didn’t.
With this performance, he proved that he could emerge into the light without cowering from it. In fact, by the song’s conclusion, he felt like he’d almost managed to eclipse the light entirely. And… it was such an inviting idea, to find himself capable; it was compelling. — So compelling, in fact, that Minseon began to torment himself, wondering if he could reach this high ever again. After the evaluation, he plunged himself headfirst into practice, eluded sleep through the night, enveloped himself in his work when he could think, left curious visitors short-lived souvenirs ( tender bruises, kiss-swollen lips ) when he couldn’t.
And all the while, his head continued to echo a bewildering refrain:
WOULD THEY TURN TO LOOK AT ME,
WOULD THEY STILL LOVE ME IF MY SHADOW SWALLOWED THE SUN?
( It’s a mouthwatering notion, and Minseon’s appetite is voracious. )
He pulls himself from his thoughts with an apprehensive shudder, realizing with a start that his hands have clenched themselves into fists, tense and white-knuckled. A large part of him, the part with an unfortunate propensity for self-sabotage, silently pleads for misfortune. He’s not sure this is a fever he can sweat out on his own, so he solicits an intervention—
… But he’s left unanswered. ( Maybe his fate is to burn. )
Following the disclosure of his results, Minseon’s eyes widen, and he quickly ducks his head down into a long, gratified bow. The word ‘hunger’ is used in an observation, and he almost has to bite back a laugh at how stripped it makes him feel, the way everyone can see through to him so easily— He’s remarkably pleased. When he lifts his head, there’s a feral curl to his lip. No longer pleasantly neutral. No longer polite. Veritably him.
The consulting team continues reviewing details regarding the new survival project and Minseon’s role within it. They broach the topic of his placement as a ‘brand option,’ and a small noise of disbelief catches in his throat. He raises both eyebrows, processing. This decision is immediately grounded in the evaluation results, he understands, but he can’t quite fathom the thought process behind anyone wanting to see… more of him?
The team continues with words of advice: “Study your surroundings. Know a teammate’s next step before their feet move.”
And then suddenly, Minseon is awash with light— white hot and blinding.
“The company will watch you with sharp precision.”
When his eyes adjust, he is standing center stage against a sea of unrecognizable faces. Every eye is fixed upon him. He says, “Watch me, then.”
And… though he’s surrounded by spectators, he’s alone again.
Again, alone. — His hands are cold, he doesn’t remember the last time they were held, and he’s so tired of having to count the time in between ( days, months, years ).
The Boy— the creature— his voice echoes from somewhere stage right: “Just remember that I’m stuck with you too. I’m stuck with you too…”
He closes his eyes.
.
When he opens them again, he’s sitting in a studio with a stiff, brittle sort of air about it that seems to encourage feelings of unease. He rises from his seat, hands in his pockets, posture poor but looking more certain of himself than he has the entire half-hour. “Thank you for your time and your… confidence in me.” His smile grows somewhat sharp. “I won’t let you down.”
The anticipated evaluations marked a crucial moment to your character’s idol progression. Teams A, B, and C, were slotted for the very first day of evaluations between over 30+ qualified trainees. With training reverting back to normal, your character, Kang Minseon, will receive an e-mail from Hydra Staff with the date and time for their formal interview. Dress code is business casual, and the interview place will take place in the Office Section of the building, led by Talent Consultant Jang Hei-ran and her team. They’ll be the ones relaying individual scores, remarks from personnel (CEOs, instructors, etc.), and as previously stated, providing next step strategies. It’s a hallmark moment that, admittedly, the company believes your character is ready for. The meeting will presumably last for half an hour or more, pending on dialogue.
𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐁 is met with hesitant stares, lengthy greetings to feel the emotions of each male presenting trainee. Heiran answers each sentiment with a leveled reply. “This team proved to be outstanding in terms of skill. From a listener’s perspective, we wish the rappers were given more parts; the foundation really came from them. Ultimately, the vocals cast a large shadow on the other teams; the ranges were consistent and quite appealing to the ear.” Her eyes light in excitement. “Personally my favorite team to watch.” The positive comments may warrant a smile, laugh, or brief response, then the leading assistant is quick to interrupt, “It was a strong overall performance; there were massive comments about how well the concept matched individual strengths. In light of such recognition, while practicing, the instructors gave us notes about all team practices. How do you feel working in a team?” They proceed with individual scores after given answers.
“The center position was quite befitting; the company saw a hunger beneath your glances that couldn’t go unnoticed.” Heiran nods along to her words, “It’s true, the tape we saw demonstrated acute dedication, and your several coaches raved about your skillset. It was eye-catching.” The consultant gives her own vetted opinion and looks briefly to the right for the assistant to carry on. “There is room for improvement, but it places you at an desirable mark. The survival project for male trainees under Wonder Nation you signed up has been accepted for entry, and we’re delighted to see you participate. With your scores, we’ve decided to place you as a brand option for the show; this goes towards any visual opportunities, from screentime to promotional footage. As your present consultant team, the best advice to give is to study your surroundings, know a teammate’s next step before their feet move. This outstanding score means the company will watch you with sharp precision during this project. We sincerely wish you the best luck.”
This task is for Kang Minseon! Formal Interviews traditionally go over more overview notes (skillset critique) and the extended trainee contract to highlight the need for discrepancy. Your character is now a Debut Candidate under 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 and will have access to the backdoor entrance of the company building, allowed mostly for artists and staff. In order to complete the Debut Preparation Task, players will have to:
SOLO: Write a complete thread (300+ words) about your character’s second interview. Take into account the results, potential debut news, feelings about meeting fellow contestants, and having to be on their best behavior. The interview will be between your character and two Hydra personnel in a private training studio located on the lower floors of Hydra’s main building. Earn 25 POINTS to increase any skill on their point page or choose to collect.
Be sure to tag threads with #hd:tasks & #hd:eval! The deadline for threads/point submissions is February 13, 2023. Please, do not post mod submission until thread is completed. The thread should be placed above the divider and under a ‘read more’ if not already placed.
