i need you to know that i *love* reading your little update things (i forget what you call them but the edits and drafts you make!!)
i also love the idea you have for Stack the Deck and wish i could shake the idea in your brain onto paper (or in this case your blog) so that i can devour it
I'm so sorry it took so long to answer this ask, but I was holding onto it for motivation 😅 Every time I looked at it it made me wanna try untangling this fic from where I'd gotten stuck with it. Because of you, I've managed to unpick it a bit! This update is for you, friend ❤️
Project: Stack The Deck (Ch.1 a5d2)
Concept: Reader is a long-time trainee at JYP Entertainment, on the verge of being dropped completely due to her age. In her first stroke of luck in ages, she's presented with an opportunity: JYPE is producing a brand new type of audition show - 9 lucky trainees will be 'interning' with 6 of JYPE's active groups for a year in hopes of forming the first ever mixed gender AND subgender group in k-pop. The catch? The trainees are only interning with their exact opposite groups, in an effort to appease ongoing protests.
Or - Babs gives in and writes Omegaverse. But this time, there's ~lore~
Word Count: 1,839
Notes: I feel like I have the character voice pretty nailed in atp. My biggest struggle with this first chapter is balancing lore and set-up with actual readability and character voice. I think I'm starting it get it though. If you see places where a paragraph cuts off or information repeats, PLEASE tell me. I've stared at it too long, everything is blurring together. I don't entirely know what paragraphs I've cut or kept anymore. Heavily inspired by To The 9th Degree by azaluvx7 on Ao3.
Warnings: Bullying(implied/sort of shown)
Masterlist | Main Part (not finished :c)
It had been, perhaps, a bit too long since I’d last eaten.
I could acknowledge that, what with the way I absolutely inhale a blueberry muffin from the snack-y little breakfast table tucked off to the side of the conference room. I don’t even sit down with it first, just completely demolish the poor thing while hovering over the tiny trash can next to the table.
In my defense- I’ve been in the building since dawn with no chance for breakfast. By the time I’d started practice, neither JYPE’s cafeteria nor the breakfast bar at my hotel were open. I’d been dancing for hours, and this glorious little blueberry morsel was my first dose of carbs all day.
I can feel judgmental stares picking me apart from the conference table behind me. The other trainees invited to this pre-production meeting were already seated and waiting neatly. Sucks to be them, they probably don’t even know what this meeting is for.
I sniffle against the scent of stale nerves choking out the room and staunchly ignore their gazes. My staring contest with a second muffin is far more important. I haven’t had anything else today, so theoretically I could have it without disobeying my diet. The second I reach for it though, I know for a fact the hyenas behind me will start trying to take chunks out of me.
In the end I decide on grabbing a large apple and a cute little carton of apple juice to chase it down. I gather a spoon and a few napkins and prance back to the stupidly large conference table, pausing just behind Director Kim and her line of ducklings as I try to decide where to sit.
Realistically, I have two options: There’s a seat at the end of the table, past the line of trainees, and one to the right of Director Kim separated from the other trainees by the wall of her tiny, stern form.
Even as I contemplate my options, one of the alpha girls scoots her chair closer to the director’s and shoots me a conniving little smirk. The silent, derisive scoff I give back is almost entirely instinctual. As if this little twerp would ever have the guts to schmooze up to Director Kim.
The good director ends up making my choice for me, scooting out the chair next to her and pointing an authoritative finger at it in a silent command.
The other trainees begin snickering, clearly thinking I’m being put in the ‘hot seat’, so to say, but I skip over to the director’s side with all good cheer. I’d always known I was her favorite.
I could feel singled out, I suppose. Since I’m being separated from the other trainees and all. I only feel relieved though.
It’s not like I have classes with the little goblins anyways. My entire group had been dismissed recently, and there hadn’t been auditions to replace them yet. For now, there was no one old or skilled enough to be put into my group. I’ve been doing a lot of self-study lately.
Director Kim gives my hair a quick pat as I sit down, and I pin her with a starry smile.
I owed JYPE’s Head of Training and Development, Director Kim Jae-Hwa, quite a lot. In fact, she was the only reason I was still able to train here at JYPE. The reason I was in this meeting, even. She’d fought for me to be able to stay when I didn’t quit with the rest of my cohort, and I’d be forever grateful for that.
After going through so many debut attempts together, I could be forgiven for thinking I’d grown on her. Like a fungus.
Actually, I’m not sure how much the other trainees know about what we’re here for. I don’t think any of the other trainees invaded the director’s office for lunch every Thursday.
It was a little obvious though. A gathering of JYPE’s top trainees, with any unpresented individuals conspicuously absent? Anyone would guess a new debut team was in the works. Director Kim’s presence in of itself was a clue for that. She only ever dealt with debut groups and troublemakers (I’m both, for the record).
I’m just not sure they know about the reality show.
Oh, wait-
If they thought this was a normal debut team meeting, it was no wonder the kiddies were glaring at me more than usual. No one wanted to spend a career in my vicinity, and none of my groups had ever survived to debut. I probably looked like some kind of blight on their golden opportunity right now.
Poor little ducklings. JYPE’s survival shows were brutal.
I lean back in my chair, glancing at the other eight trainees from behind Director Kim’s back.
Of the nine of us, I was definitely the oldest. At 23, I was the oldest trainee in the entire company. On the other side of Director Kim, the alpha girl that tried to get all smug with me was the next oldest at 19. I think the maknae over there is 16? A bunch of babies. Skilled babies, but babies nonetheless.
Babies with attitude issues too. The meanest few were already looking at me when I glanced over, snickering and whispering behind their hands. I really don’t know why they bother to hide their words. It’s nothing they haven’t said to my face.
Still, now that we’ve noticed each other, I can’t let their mockery go unchallenged. Weakness made you a target in this industry.
I glance at my apple, and then back to the ducklings, considering. I gab it, tossing it up and down a few times to test it’s heft. Then I lean back again, staring at the group of trainees and staring until most of them are looking my way. Slowly, I let any expression fade off of my face.
I give the group of them my best dead-fish stare, bringing my hands up to reveal the hefty red apple between them. Without changing my expression, I stare directly into the eyes of the one I know talks about me the most, press the heels of my palms against the top of the apple, and squeeze.
The apple pops apart with a satisfying crack, and the other trainee’s face goes pale. I maintain my blank eye-contact and continue to split the apple into fourths. I’ve mostly chosen this method because I don’t wanna be crunching on a whole apple when the meeting finally starts, but I can’t deny the satisfaction of watching her face go slightly green with the implied threat.
None of the group looks unaffected by the display.
When I run out of apple to split, I lean back forward to carefully core my apple pieces with my little plastic spoon and happily set about crunching my... lunch? At this point? It was only 10, but again I’ve been here since the doors opened.
Director Kim pats my head again as I settle, and I let the warm glow of self-defense saturate me.
I’m only halfway through my first apple chunk when more people begin trickling in, prompting all of us trainees to stand and greet them. We’re waved down, only for the cycle to repeat when the next group wanders in.
I’m only able to eat another quarter of my apple slice by the time everyone has arrived.
There’s more people involved in this meeting than I had expected, honestly. I’d estimate somewhere between 20 and 30 people were gathered around the table. With more than a few alphas at the table, the air becomes almost headache-inducingly saturated with scent. What had once seemed such an unnecessarily large room, and an equally extravagantly large table, now seemed nearly cramped.
It’s more people in one room than I was prepared for, and I can’t help the little sniffles the sensory overwhelm causes. Director Kim hands me a spare napkin and I take it gratefully, gently clearing my nose with as little noise as possible until I feel like I can breathe again. I tuck the dirtied napkin into a pocket, unwilling to get up and bring attention to myself among so many important strangers.
After everyone finds their seats, the meeting begins. 10:30 on the dot.
A slight woman I recognize as a senior writer from the in-house staff gets up and struts to the front of the room, a confident smile and neat folder of documents in hand. A packet of papers is distributed among the meeting’s attendees as the lights dim and a projector whirs to life over head.
The first slide reads:
PROJECT: STACK THE DECK
[pre-production summary and cast check-in meeting]
The senior writer clears her throat to begin, and I idly flip through the paper packet as she speaks.
“As you all know, the trainees with us here today have been selected to be the cast of our newest reality show project.”
I tune her out and look around for a pen or something else I can doodle with. I’d heard all this before; Director Kim had directly asked me to participate. Or, welI— I cast a sidelong glance at her. She’s got an extra pen on the table in front of her, so I take it, earning myself a stern glance— she’d told me it was participate or quit.
“Our chosen trainees are the best of the best here at JYPE, and participating in this program will allow them to both earn relevant experience as well as bond as a debut group.”
I consider the page in front of me for a long moment. A forest maybe, on the edge of the printed slide. That’d be cool.
The real interesting bit that the presenter isn’t telling us is that the idols themselves had picked us out. JYPE couldn’t risk pissing off their cash cows too bad by saddling them with random trainees. I’d learned from the director that they’d shown the groups every trainee that fit their parameters. Videos, progress reports, testimonies from our trainers. The works.
Now that I think about it, they’re probably saving that reveal for the show. I should practice pretending to be shocked. They do have a camera recording this meeting too, though, so they’ll probably reveal—
“The proposed debut group will be completely co-ed, in opposition to current industry standards. We believe this will meet current market demands and allow us to break into a new niche. As such, part of the show will be testing the trainees’ ability to function well with other genders, and we will be placing them with completely opposite-gendered groups.”
Yeah, that. That hot fucking garbage.
I quickly pretend I had been actively paying attention, dropping my stolen pen and snapping my head around to look at the presenter with a jaw dropped in ‘shock’. I look over at the other trainees, do my best to copy their body language, and then train my gaze on Director Kim.
Concept: Reader is a long-time trainee at JYP Entertainment, on the verge of being dropped completely due to her age. In her first stroke of luck in ages, she's presented with an opportunity: JYPE is producing a brand new type of audition show - 9 lucky trainees will be 'interning' with 6 of JYPE's active groups for a year in hopes of forming the first ever mixed gender AND mixed subgender group in k-pop. The catch? The trainees are only interning with their exact opposite groups, in an effort to appease ongoing protests.
Or - Babs gives in and writes Omegaverse. But this time, there's ~lore~
Word Count: 1,035
Notes: Started the new intro~ Not quite sold on it yet, but i so still like it more than the old one. I think it's better for characterization and lore, but it still feels a bit choppy and jumbled rn. please do give feedback if u have any <3
Heavily inspired by To The 9th Degree by azaluvx7 on Ao3.
Warnings: Bullying(implied/sort of shown)
Masterlist | Main Part (not finished :c)
It had been, perhaps, a bit too long since I’d last eaten.
I could acknowledge that, what with the way I absolutely inhale a blueberry muffin from the snack-y little breakfast table tucked off to the side of the conference room. I don’t even sit down with it first, just completely demolish the poor thing while hovering over the tiny trash can next to the table.
Judgemental stares prickle at the back of my head from the other trainees attending this per-production meeting. I staunchly ignore them, much more invested in staring down a second muffin and trying desperately to make the calorie-counting work in my head.
In the end, I decide to be good, selecting a large apple and a cute little carton of apple juice to chase it down. I gather a spoon and a few napkins and prance back to the stupidly large conference table, taking my place on the opposite side of Director Kim from the other trainees.
I could feel a bit singled out being separated from the other trainees like this, but as the oldest trainee in the company I don’t take classes with most of them anyways. If anything, Director Kim Jae-Hwa’s stern countenance is a safe and steady shield against the venomous murmurs from the kiddos.
On paper, I’m separated from them because of my living situation, since I have to go to another meeting about that after this. I know it’s just the director’s kindness to me, though. She’s a softie at heart, really.
Director Kim shoots me a sidelong glance, like she could hear my thoughts. I offer her an angelic smile, earning myself an amused chuff and a hand ruffling my hair.
JYP’s Head of Training and Development, Director Kim Jae-Hwa, had dragged us trainees to this conference room a solid hour before the meeting was supposed to begin. I’d begrudge her for it, but it wasn’t like I would be doing anything particularly productive with this hour anyways. There are only so many times you can practice the same song before the trainers arrive and expect to make any progress.
Director Kim isn’t someone the other trainees would have met very often. The severe omegan woman really only directly dealt with debut teams and trouble makers. Both of which I had been at some point.
That doesn't mean anything happens in the practice rooms without her knowledge.
Director Kim’s familiar heavy presence is enough to keep the little ones in check while we wait, their usual outright jabs traded for simple murmuring among themselves, but after seven years and too many debut attempts to keep track of, her intimidating presence had lost a bit of it’s splendor for me.
So of course I lean back in my seat to taunt the kiddies behind her back.
Several of them are already staring at me, of course, and I can see the meanest among them smirking in my direction whilst whispering behind their hands. I’m not sure why they bother to hide what they’re saying— it’s not like they haven’t said it to my face before.
“She’s so fat”, “ugly”, “disgraceful”, “old”.
A failure
I wish I could say their taunts didn’t hurt. That the practiced-pretty giggles behind their hands didn’t mean anything to me. Alas, I had always been the sensitive type.
But I’ve also always been the weird type. So I wait until most of them are looking my way, and slowly let any expression fade off of my face.
I give the group of them my best dead-fish stare, bringing my hands up to reveal the hefty red apple between them. Without changing my expression, I stare directly into the eyes of the one I know talks about me the most, press the heels of my palms against the top of the apple, and squeeze.
The apple pops apart with a satisfying crack, and the other trainee’s face goes pale. I maintain my blank eye-contact and continue to split the apple into fourths. It’s mostly because I don’t wanna be crunching on a whole apple when the meeting finally starts, but I can’t deny the satisfaction of watching her face go slightly green with the implied threat. None of the group looks unaffected by the display.
When I run out of apple to split, I lean back forward to carefully core my apple pieces with my little plastic spoon and happily set about crunching my... lunch? At this point?
It was only 9am, but I’d been retrieved from the practice room, where I’d been up and at it since security had unlocked the door. The only reason Director Kim hadn’t scolded me for my muffin-demolition, I’m sure.
I’m only halfway through my first apple chunk when more people begin trickling in, prompting all of us trainees to stand and greet them. We’re waved down, only for the cycle to repeat when the next group wanders in.
I’m only able to eat another quarter of my apple slice by the time everyone has arrived.
There’s more people involved in this meeting than I had expected, honestly. I’d estimate somewhere between 20 and 30 people were gathered around the table. What had once seemed such an unnecessarily large room, and an equally extravagantly large table, now seemed nearly cramped.
It’s more people in one room than I was prepared for, and I can’t help the little sniffles the sensory overwhelm causes. Director Kim hands me a spare napkin and I take it gratefully, gently clearing my nose with as little noise as possible until I feel like I can breathe again. I tuck the dirtied napkin into a pocket, unwilling to get up and bring attention to myself among so many important strangers.
After everyone finds their seats, the meeting begins- 9:30 on the dot.
A slight woman I recognize as a senior writer from the in-house staff gets up and struts to the front of the room, a confident smile and neat folder of documents in hand. A packet of papers is distributed among the meeting’s attendees as the lights dim and a projector whirs to life over head.
The first slide reads:
PROJECT: STACK THE DECK
[pre-production summary and cast check-in meeting]
