sorry about the dash spam, wanted to get my open events done asap! and i will be replying to ims asap thanks u guys ♡
hello all! i am mono (she/her, 19, est) the mun behind phoenix’s main rapper/lead dancer and skeleton wannabe, baek hyunbin—or just baek, as he’s known publicly. i’ve got some of his pages linked below (plots page is still a work in progress apologies!) so peruse them at your own leisure. still working on a plots page, but under the cut you’ll find some quick connections to get things going! if you want to plot, you can like/reply to this post and i’ll make sure to get into your dms. if discord or twitter is easier for you, feel free to add me there at mono#5074 and @/monosmuses respectively!
pages : about. career.
QUICK CONNECTIONS
phoenix members! there is a lot of room for different plots here: songwriting, mistaking his shyness for an ego (which is the farthest from the truth), mentor/mentee
he’s lived in seoul his entire life and attended hanlim arts high school. it was probably a big shock that the quiet kid sitting in the back of every class showed up on high school rapper one day and is now missing classes
he is in his third year at yonsei university (majoring in music composition), how he manages to not fail every class is a mystery for the ages. hence why he needs study buddies, especially around exam season.
he’s not too bad at finding a good shot, so don’t feel shy asking him to snap a pic for the gram.
he has a soundcloud, so anyone who wants to can hop on a (completely unpromoted) track for fun would be welcome to!
other rock/punk fans, he will blast your ear off about all of the concerts he went to as a kid if you don’t stop him.
english/language teacher(s) since phoenix has more of a international fanbase he’s trying his best to learn other languages to communicate with fans—even though he absolutely sucks at learning them.
hyunbin had a problem. well he had a lot of problems (that usually started with a load of self doubt) but one his worst problems was boredom. he hated the months between promotions and schedules where he could do whatever he wanted. any normal twenty one year old would take the opportunity to catch up with friends, play video games, maybe visit family. but hyunbin had never been a normal kid. instead of enjoying the bright summer day, he’d spent most of it asleep or huddle over his laptop working...like he did every day.
by 1pm he finally moved out of his room and onto the couch so he could at least say he wasn’t in bed all day. as soon as he heard someone’s door open and the rusting of feet into their living room, he closed his laptop and stretched like a cat just awoken from a nap. “hyunggggg“ he whined when moonsik made the mistake of walking by a restless hyunbin, “i’m bored” he deadpanned, expecting him to have a magic cure.
hyunbin couldn’t be prouder of his best friend for finally making it—and as a leader no less! he knew siwoo was going to kill it just like he had been since he started his journey. if anyone deserved the spotlight it was ryu siwoo. but hyunbin also knew personally how stressful this time had to be. phoenix had debuted with pretty high expectations and he knew blue.m already had plenty of eyes on them (siwoo especially). he knew he wanted to do something to celebrate with his buddy and thought back to what he wanted when his debut on the horizon. his mind went straight to food.
it wasn’t that hyunbin didn’t like food or followed a strict diet (on the contrary, he could easily destroy a bucket of fried chicken unless stopped) the hermit he was would just forget to eat while he was working. he loved his work, so it wasn’t hard for his mind and body to sink into it. so when he was reminded by either his own body or a concerned friend he would (for lack of a better term) pigged the hell out.
they sat in a secluded corner of hyunbin’s favorite quiet bbq place not far from yuseong’s headquarters. a bottle of soju (still unopened) and two shot glasses sat between them and hyunbin had a glass of sprite to his right. he manned the grill, this is your gift, he’d insisted before grabbing the tongs, i’ll do the work. they’d order more than what two normal men their sizes should be able to eat...but he knew better than to underestimate either of their dancer appetites'. flipped the beef strips over and over, they were finally starting to brown. keeping his eyes on the grill, he asks “do they look cooked through?”
the last week of hyunbin’s life had been a blur. high school rapper aired and companies were finding his inbox and phone, for meetings or auditions. he had gone to the show’s casting call to appease a friend (though he did like the concept of having somewhere to show off his favorite hobby). getting in front of the camera and a crowd was shocking, surviving to the finals and placing 3rd over was a whirlwind, and now this? it was overwhelming to say the least. two months ago his biggest worry was getting into a good college to keep his parents happy. now contracts and dreams were being thrust onto him. he could barely process what the hell his life was turning into.
going to an arts school in seoul meant that a fair amount of his classmates meant yuseong was a familiar name. even if kpop wasn’t his typical genre, he knew how hard people fought to get their foot in the door of a company like them. but now he was emailing back and forth with one of their casting agents (under the careful eye of his mother who didn’t want her 18 year old son making a fool of himself before they even met him in person). it felt wrong, he felt wrong for having the opportunity.
he wasn’t sure what they were looking for him to do. he went back and forth between songs and concepts. rap is his strength and must have been what attracted them. but maybe he should surprise them? he’s been told he’s not a terrible dancer. or he could always bring his guitar and try something acoustic. he’ll barely let himself sing in the shower, god forbid in front of a panel of vocal coaches.
the time is set right after his classes end for the day, giving him ample panic time when he should be worried about cellular mitosis. it’s all he can think all day, silent as his friends offer encouragement. he is still wondering what exactly he plans on doing, but nothing but pure fear fills his brain. his mom offered to drive him. he could have easily made it taking the bus, but he’s glad she will be there. his mother gives him one last strong smile before he’s thrown to the wolves.
he is told to introduce himself, so he does trying to hide the shaking present in his voice. “whenever you’re ready” one of the judges says with a smile before turning her head back down to the paper in front of her. right. shit. decision time.
he leans over to the staff that had been changing and playing songs as directed, and asks lowly “can you play a beat? something slow...thank you” he smiles politely and bows quickly. back to the center and he is met face to face with the judges. his eyes fall to the ground as the song starts to play. he smiles as feels the rhythm sink in.
the one thing he really regretted about high school rapper was not diversifying his performances. there was a lot of pressure to do what the audience and judges wanted. he had a newbie shine that he was never fully able to escape during the run of filming. the whole concept of the show was to show off young rappers, but he still worried he was too fresh. the first time he’d done a proper rap battle with cameras and judges was on television. during the course of the show, he was definitely overcompensating, relying on his gritty tone to kill the competition.
he lets himself fall into the beat, the microphone pressed to his lips. all he knows for sure is that only absolute gibberish is coming from his lips. he quickly convinces himself the lyrics don’t matter as much as keeping the syllables clear and confident (even if he’s never felt more insecure in his life). he attempts to add some form of dancing since he knows that’s something all the idols he’s seen do. after barely stopping himself from tripping over his own feet, he decides to keep movement to his lips and occasionally arms. if he is to make it, he knows whatever footage they are recording will haunt him in the years to come—but he can’t worry about that now.
he freestyles for roughly a minute before fading out. the panel in front of him doesn’t move and he can’t gage any of their reactions. he’s honestly not sure if he’ll be able to make it out of the building without puking his guts out. “thank you” he manages still catching his breath and bows lowly. he’s escorted out of the room and told he should hear back in the next week.
he hears back exactly 71 hours later (yes, he did the math) and a day later he’s signing a contract. he’s allowed to stay at home, thankfully, just so his sister can tease him with old photos of bright neon pants and wacky hairstyles that will be his life now. he just rolls his eyes—but he can’t help the shudder when he imagines himself with a rainbow bowl cut.
