And so...
That officially marks the end of the vocal auditions.
And honestly?
It was quite a sight to behold.
Watching these trainees throughout the show, seeing how much they've grown, improved, and evolved...
It's genuinely impressive.
Now, I know we've been making our fair share of snide remarks about some of the trainees.
Okay.
A lot of snide remarks.
But please understand that, at this point, this author has been forced to nitpick.
Because y'all...
These trainees are fucking talented.
Like, you don't understand.
At this point, finding something to criticize is becoming a full-time job.
"Oh, his pitch was slightly off."
"Her breath control could've been better."
"His tone wasn't quite as interesting."
"That guy blinked weirdly during the second chorus."
I'm running out of shit to nitpick!
These trainees have worked their asses off throughout this entire show, and regardless of who I personally like or dislike, I have nothing but respect for them.
Caelan.
Lan.
Ramon.
And yes...
Even Porsche and his little squad of bros.
D.vil.
Abbadon.
The whole gang.
Setting aside my personal distaste for these guys for approximately five seconds...
They're talented.
Extremely talented.
I mean, they wouldn't have made it this far if they weren't.
And yes, I know LEAVEN doesn't really have traditional eliminations.
They can stay in the competition for as long as they want.
But let's be real for a second.
These "bros before hoes" motherfuckers have gone through the same exhausting training, evaluations, pressure, drama, and emotional bullshit as everyone else.
If they genuinely hated being here...
Wouldn't they have left by now?
They've had plenty of opportunities to walk away.
And yet they're still here.
They've endured the long hours.
The evaluations.
The rehearsals.
The pressure.
The criticism.
The physical exhaustion.
The emotional rollercoaster.
And probably enough sleep deprivation to qualify as a minor war crime.
So, as much as I hate to admit it...
They're serious about this.
They worked hard.
They're dedicated.
And they clearly care about the competition and about making it through this journey.
Even if they're...
Well...
Incels.
Talented incels.
Hardworking incels.
Dedicated incels.
But incels nonetheless.
And look at me!
Advocating for equality and recognizing the humanity and talent of people I personally cannot stand.
Character development!
Growth!
Personal evolution!
Look at me go. 😌
Good job, me.
****
Anyway...
Enough self-glaze.
And I better not hear y'all getting up in my ass about the glazing either.
I deserve some self-love, okay?!
I gotta cheer for myself too!
Let me have this!
...Okay.
ANYWAAAAAY.
As I was saying...
The vocal auditions had officially come to an end.
And now?
It was time for what we shall affectionately dub...
THE RAPPER WARS.
Because y'all don't understand.
There were only three spots available for the rap section.
Three.
And approximately a fourth of the entire trainee roster had rapping as their main position.
And what's even crazier?
Some of these rappers only discovered their love for rapping during the show.
So now you've got a whole bunch of people fighting over three spots, with some of them having spent the entire competition sharpening their rap skills, while others had apparently just discovered:
"Wait a minute... I can actually fucking rap."
The tension in the air?
Tense.
Like...
Really tense.
The rappers were sizing each other up.
Shoulders squared.
Chins raised.
Eyes locked.
Everybody was giving everybody else that look.
You know the one.
The:
"I do know you, but I'm already prepared to bury your career."
Type of look.
Everyone was practically asserting dominance without saying a word.
And honestly?
Security might be necessary.
Because at any given moment, I genuinely felt like somebody was going to throw hands.
That's how high the stakes were.
But here's the thing.
This battle wasn't simply about who could rap the best.
Yes, cadence would be judged.
Flow.
Delivery.
Swag.
Timing.
Rhythm.
Presence.
Everything was going to be scrutinized down to the smallest detail.
But one of the biggest factors in this evaluation?
Writing.
Because rapping somebody else's pre-written verse?
For a lot of these rappers, that's candy.
Easy work.
But actually sitting down and writing your own verse?
That's a completely different beast.
You're not just performing anymore.
You're creating.
You have to figure out your own flow.
Your own wordplay.
Your own rhythm.
Your own message.
And you have to make that shit work.
Under pressure.
With a timer running.
No pressure.
No pressure at all.
...
Okay, maybe a little pressure.
But credit where credit is due.
These trainees actually managed to scramble and write their verses with the limited time they were given.
Were they good?
Were they bad?
Were they absolute bars?
Were they lyrical war crimes?
Only one way to find out.
And that time...
Was now.
Effie, our beloved production crew member, stepped out to announce the beginning of the rap auditions.
And Effie was serving.
I mean SERVING.
The most aggressively white foundation known to mankind.
A bright red lipstick shaped into a dramatic geisha-inspired pout.
Smoky, theatrical eyes.
And a lilac Victorian wig sitting proudly on top of her head.
She looked like she had walked out of a haunted aristocratic dollhouse and somehow ended up working in reality television.
And honestly?
We love her for it.
Now, just a little side note.
Effie is dressed like that because Foca is very much about self-expression.
As long as everyone is doing their jobs properly, Foca really doesn't care what people wear.
Want to show up in a suit?
Go ahead.
Want to wear a ball gown?
Knock yourself out.
Want to dress like a Victorian ghost who has unfinished business with the living?
Apparently, also fine.
So...
Clap clap for Sir Foca.
Remember, y'all...
In Sir Foca we trust.
Anyway, Effie cleared her throat.
"Alright, everybody!"
"It's time for the rap auditions."
"For everyone participating, please head down to the stage."
And the rappers stood.
One by one, they made their way toward the stage.
And honestly?
Add some slow motion.
Throw in some dramatic orchestral music.
Maybe a few unnecessary close-ups of their eyes.
And this could've easily been a scene from a shonen anime.
The camera pans across their faces.
One by one.
DUN.
Kang Ian.
DUN.
Silas.
DUN.
Nikola.
DUN.
Nox.
DUN.
Pink.
DUN.
Kayden.
DUN.
And the rest of the rappers.
Cue the narrator:
"A battle between legends is about to begin."
Back in reality...
Tuesday looked across the stage.
"Y'all..."
"Why do I feel like the testosterone in this room just spiked?"
Luca smirked.
"It's about to be a battle royale."
And judging by his expression...
He was enjoying this.
A little too much.
Luca clearly enjoyed a good bloodbath.
Especially when the bloodbath was artistic.
Lorelei suddenly leaned forward.
"I know we're supposed to be impartial..."
She pointed toward the stage.
"But I'm sorry."
"I'm putting my money on my boy Timmy."
Her eyes remained locked on him.
Timmy looked hilariously out of place among the intimidating rappers surrounding him.
While everyone else looked like they were preparing to enter a gladiator arena...
Timmy looked like he was just happy to be there.
As usual.
The boy was basically a cheerful little sunflower standing in the middle of a field of landmines.
Robin looked at her partner.
"You've always had a special place in your heart for Timmy."
"I agree," Foca added.
"It's almost as if you've personally taken Timmy under your wing."
Lorelei smiled.
"I can't really help it."
"That kid has talent that's incredibly rare these days."
She wasn't joking.
She genuinely believed in him.
Cat nodded.
"Now I'm even more excited."
She glanced toward the stage.
"We also have Kayden here."
"Finally in his own element."
Luca nodded.
"Yeah."
"But these guys have their work cut out for them."
"Ain't that the truth," Tuesday said.
She started counting them off with her fingers.
"Kang Ian."
"Silas."
"Nikola."
"Nox."
"And Pink."
"Those five are monsters when it comes to rapping."
"They're part of the debut lineup for a reason."
Robin nodded.
"And then we have the jack-of-all-trades."
"Eli."
"August."
"And Yone from the debut lineup."
"And among the trainees, Jeremiah and Mikko."
"So..."
"Yeah."
"Good luck to everybody."
And then...
Suddenly...
BANG!
The studio doors burst open.
Everyone turned.
A figure rushed inside.
Suitcase in hand.
Breathing heavily.
He stopped.
Bowed toward the evaluators.
Then immediately hurried toward the stage.
June.
The room went silent.
Luca's eyes widened.
Then his grin slowly spread across his face.
"Aaaaannnnd..."
"A new challenger has just joined!"
The trainees were stunned.
Because they'd thought June had left.
He hadn't appeared at the beginning of the week.
He hadn't been around during preparations.
He hadn't been seen anywhere.
And honestly?
Some trainees had secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Because one of their biggest competitors was nowhere to be found.
They thought he was gone.
They thought they didn't have to worry about him anymore.
Apparently...
They were wrong.
Because the fact that June was standing right there meant one thing.
He never left the show.
He'd simply been gone.
And now...
Fresh off a flight.
Suitcase still in hand.
He had walked straight into the studio...
And straight into the rap auditions.
The relief everyone had felt earlier in the week?
Gone.
Absolutely fucking gone.
The biggest question wasn't:
"Why is June here?"
It was:
"What the hell is he about to do?"
****
"June, I'm glad to see you back," Foca said with a warm smile.
"Were you able to finish what you had to take care of?"
"Ahh... Y-yes."
June bowed deeply.
"Thank you so much for letting me finish it and allowing me to come back, even though I'm late."
He was still panting.
Apparently, he'd practically sprinted to the studio the moment he got off the boat.
Foca gave him an understanding nod.
"Well, you've already been briefed before."
"Since you're late, we can only allow you to audition for the remaining openings today, which are rapping and dancing."
Foca paused.
"Were you able to prepare a verse for the rap section?"
June hesitated.
"I'm sorry..."
"Not yet."
Then he said something that made practically every trainee on the stage turn toward him.
"But if you give me a little bit of time..."
"I can whip something up."
The studio went silent.
"...The fuck did he just say?"
One trainee looked genuinely offended by the sheer audacity.
"It took me the entire amount of time they gave us to write my verse," another trainee whispered.
"And mine isn't even completely finished."
"He just said he can whip something up in a short amount of time?"
Luca chuckled.
"You're talking like you're about to whip up a quick breakfast."
He leaned forward.
"Are you confident that whatever you make in such a short amount of time can actually wow us?"
June shook his head.
"I don't know about wowing you guys."
"But I have to at least try my best."
Luca nodded.
"Fair enough."
Foca gestured toward the other rappers.
"Well, June, we'll let you audition last."
"So you'll have however long it takes for us to get through these guys first."
June bowed.
"Thank you."
Then he immediately ran toward his suitcase.
He pulled out a leather notebook.
The production team quickly handed him a pair of headphones and a tablet.
June put the headphones on.
And for the first time...
He listened to the signal song.
The very song he was about to write a rap verse for.
With almost no preparation time.
No pressure.
None whatsoever.
Tuesday smiled.
"Alright, everybody."
"Let's begin."
Her smile said one thing:
Y'all better be ready.
And thus...
The Rap Auditions began.
One by one, the trainees stepped forward.
The rap section of the signal song played.
And let's just say...
Some of these guys were inspired.
Some had clearly managed to finish their verses.
Some had obviously run out of time before they could properly polish theirs.
And then...
There were the ones who seemed to be living in an entirely different universe.
Their verses had little to nothing to do with the message of the signal song.
Some completely missed the point.
Some didn't even come close to the point.
And then there was...
D.vil.
D.vil stepped forward with absolute confidence.
Shoulders squared.
Chin up.
That smug little grin on his face.
He looked like a man who was about to drop the greatest verse ever written.
And then...
He started.
🎶 Yeah, they said "reach for the stars," I heard "reach for the Sprite"
Got my dreams in the trunk but the rims catchin' light
Grandma said "believe in yourself," now watch the beam get bright
Brrraaa! Bling bling, I'm believin' every night
They asked what's my passion, I said "passion for the drip"
Manifest a mansion, manifest the whip
Vision board is just my card, swipin' on a trip
Chase the sunrise? Nah, I'm chasin' that receipt
Hook said "you can be anything," I chose loud
Diamonds doin' pushups on my neck, so proud
Dream big, they told me, bought a bigger cloud
Brrraaa! Ring ring, wake up rich, no alarm allowed 🎶
D.vil finished.
He stood there.
Chest slightly puffed out.
That expression on his face said:
"Crushed it."
And his bros were absolutely feeling it.
"THAT'S FUCKING RIGHT!"
Porsche cheered.
"SPIT THOSE BARS!"
"DAS RIGHT!"
Abbadon shouted.
Meanwhile...
The evaluators were experiencing several conflicting emotions at once.
They didn't know whether to laugh...
Or cry.
Tuesday slowly wrote something down in her booklet.
"That was definitely..."
She paused.
"...something."
Robin looked at the notes in front of her.
"I mean..."
"Compared to some of the others, at least this one is complete."
Lorelei sighed.
"Yeah."
"It might be complete..."
She looked toward D.vil.
"But those verses..."
She shook her head.
"I thought I was going to have a seizure listening to that."
She was clearly trying to remain professional.
It wasn't working.
There was disappointment creeping into her voice.
Luca turned toward Foca.
"What about you, babe?"
Apparently, he'd forgotten he was supposed to be professional for approximately half a second.
Foca didn't even react.
He was too busy staring at the stage.
His brain was still processing what he'd just heard.
"It was..."
He stopped.
He tried again.
"It was..."
Another pause.
Then a sigh.
A long, defeated sigh.
And honestly?
That sigh said more than words ever could.
Was it a bad verse?
No.
Was it good?
Absolutely not.
It was just...
Meh.
The kind of verse that wasn't technically broken enough to throw away...
But wasn't good enough to keep.
Maybe, in another song, it could've worked.
Maybe in a track about money, luxury, ambition, or flexing...
Sure.
But for this song?
A song about dreams, perseverance, hope, and moving forward together?
It felt like D.vil had shown up fully prepared...
Had his bags packed...
Had his passport ready...
And somehow...
Boarded the wrong fucking flight.
****
And so, as the auditions continued, it was finally Timmy's turn.
"LET'S GO, TIMMY!" Johnny cheered.
Timmy turned toward him and gave him two enthusiastic thumbs up.
"Alright, Timothy..." Lorelei said, practically vibrating with excitement. "Show us what you've got."
Timmy nodded.
He closed his eyes.
Took a deep breath.
And when he opened them...
It was no longer Timmy standing there.
It was Timothy.
🎶 Through every loss, we rise again
Sweat on our backs, fire in our eyes
We fall, we fight, we reach the skies
No shortcuts, no easy way
We put in work, day after day
If one gets tired, we pull them through
Your dream is mine, and mine is yours too
One voice? Nah, hear the crowd
A hundred hearts are beating loud
Not following footprints in the sand
We build the road with our own hands 🎶
After delivering the final line, Timothy closed his eyes.
And when he opened them again...
Timmy was back.
And let's just say...
Lorelei was not wrong to put her money on Timmy.
"Finally!"
Luca nodded approvingly.
"Some good fucking food."
"AHHH! TIMMY!" Lorelei practically squealed. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint!"
"Thank you!"
Timmy beamed, flashing his trademark two thumbs up.
Awkward.
Adorable.
Completely Timmy.
Tuesday leaned forward dramatically.
"Baby boy, who the hell are you?!"
"I'm Timmy!"
Timmy answered with a bright smile.
Tuesday blinked.
"I know."
She pointed at him.
"But who's this Timothy I've been hearing about?"
"Oh!"
Timmy's eyes lit up.
"He helps me with rapping."
Tuesday nodded slowly.
"He sure as hell did."
She looked impressed.
"But you also did great, Timmy."
"Thank you!"
And there were those two thumbs again.
Then Foca spoke.
"Timmy, about this part where you mentioned a hundred beating hearts..."
Timmy looked toward him.
"Can you tell me about the thought process behind that? Why an exact number of a hundred?"
Foca's question was genuine curiosity.
After all, there weren't even a hundred trainees standing in the studio anymore.
Timmy smiled.
"Oh, because the show originally started with a hundred trainees."
He shrugged lightly.
"So I thought, why not run it back and give a little shout-out to everyone?"
The room grew quieter.
"Some of them might have already left. Then new guys came in. Then some left again."
Timmy looked around the studio.
"I just wanted to give them all a shout-out because, once upon a time, a hundred hearts started this hopeful journey together."
He smiled.
"Even if they're not here anymore, they were still part of it."
For someone who could be so adorably awkward in regular conversation...
Timmy had just explained his creative thought process with surprising eloquence.
There was something almost poetic about it.
Robin leaned slightly toward Lorelei.
"I'm not gonna lie..."
She whispered.
"That gave me chills."
Lorelei nodded, her eyes still fixed on Timmy.
"Same."
Foca smiled warmly.
"I'm going to be completely honest with you, Timmy."
"Now that I've heard the context behind that line..."
He paused.
"I like it even more."
His smile widened.
"Because you weren't just throwing out a number that sounded good. You were thinking about everyone who started this journey with you."
Foca nodded approvingly.
"I love it, Timmy."
"Congratulations."
"You've done an excellent job."
Timmy's face immediately lit up.
"Thank you!"
There it was again.
That giant smile.
Those two thumbs up.
The Timmy™ Experience was back in full force.
"You can head back now, Timmy," Luca said with a grin. "Good job."
Timmy nodded happily and made his way back.
And just like that, the boy who had walked onto the stage looking like he might accidentally trip over his own shoelaces...
Had left behind a verse that made an entire room remember the hundred hearts that started this journey.
Then...
Someone in the group coughed.
Cough.
"Fucking..."
Cough.
"Weirdo."
Cough.
And what do you know?
It was our resident incel.
"Dude, shut up!" Johnny immediately snapped, coming to Timmy's defense.
D.vil raised his hands innocently.
"What'd I say?"
He had the audacity to look confused.
Johnny was already preparing to give the man a piece of his mind when Timmy suddenly stopped him.
Then Timmy turned toward D.vil.
And said, in a voice that was unmistakably more Timothy than Timmy...
"Hey, fucker."
He paused.
"Suck my dick."
Silence.
The entire studio froze.
Timmy just fired back.
And he wasn't shooting blanks either.
"OOOOHHHHHH!"
"BURNNNN!"
"911! I just witnessed a murder!"
"OH MY GOD!"
Everywhere, trainees were losing their minds.
Johnny stared at Timmy like he'd just witnessed a solar eclipse.
"Holy shit, Timmy!"
He leaned closer.
"That was kinda hot, not gonna lie."
Then, because apparently Johnny had decided today was the day he would stop having shame...
"Can I maybe do the sucking?"
Timmy blinked.
"Huh?"
He tilted his head.
"What are you gonna suck?"
Johnny froze.
His soul briefly left his body.
"You know what?"
He slowly turned around.
"Never mind."
And just like that, Johnny made a tactical retreat.
Because Timmy was back.
Meanwhile, on the evaluators' side, Cat leaned slightly toward Foca.
"I've always been curious..."
She hesitated.
"I don't know if it's my place to ask, but..."
Cat tapped the side of her head.
"Doesn't Timmy have... something going on up there?"
Foca gave a small, thoughtful smile.
"Well, that's the thing."
"Even the professionals I've brought in couldn't exactly pinpoint what was happening."
The other evaluators listened closely.
"What they do know is that Timmy experienced something traumatic when he was young."
Foca glanced toward Timmy, who was now happily chatting with Johnny as though he hadn't just verbally annihilated someone thirty seconds ago.
"They've observed what appears to be two distinct states."
"Timmy, who's more childlike and innocent..."
"And Timothy, who seems to function as a protector."
Lorelei's eyebrows lifted.
"So... Timmy has DID?"
"Not quite."
Foca shook his head.
"That's what makes his situation so unusual."
"Typically, people don't simply choose when another identity state takes over. But with Timmy, the transition can happen almost instantaneously, sometimes seemingly in response to a situation."
He paused.
"It's complicated. Even the psychologists and mental-health professionals I've consulted have told me they've rarely, if ever, encountered something quite like it."
The evaluators looked toward Timmy again.
"But whatever is happening with him..."
Foca smiled warmly.
"He's still an artist."
"And that's what I'm interested in."
Tuesday nodded.
"Yeah."
She smiled.
"You're right."
The other evaluators nodded in agreement.
Whatever Timmy's story was...
Whatever Timothy's story was...
They were standing on that stage for the same reason as everyone else.
To make art.
And today?
Timothy had made damn sure they remembered his name.