Is ATEEZ Leader The Oldest Member?

The journey of the SHINee leader, Onew, is pretty fascinating, filled with all kinds of diverse solo projects that showcase his versatility and talent. One standout moment was his debut solo mini-album, 'Voice', which hit us with such heartfelt tracks. The lead single, 'Sunflower', really allowed him to shine and showcase his unique vocal color. I remember just getting lost in the melodies while driving, thinking how beautiful the lyrics were. It's so personal and resonates deeply, especially for those of us who have been following him since SHINee's early days. His venture into acting is also noteworthy. I was surprised yet thrilled to see him taking on a role in the drama 'Descendants of the Sun'. It was like seeing a whole new side of him, immersing himself into acting while still maintaining his musical identity. His charm really came through, capturing the hearts of many fans, including mine. And then there’s his musical contributions for soundtracks; I absolutely loved his track for 'The King: Eternal Monarch'. It's that kind of song that can bring back emotional moments from the series and still feel fresh every time you listen. He definitely knows how to tug at those heartstrings! Beyond music and drama, Onew's also explored theater! His role in the musical 'Gwanghwamun Sonata' was such a bold step, proving he’s willing to push boundaries. The love he received for his performances was totally deserved— it’s hard work, and he poured his heart into it. Knowing he thrives on stage, transcending the typical pop idol image, is inspiring. You can't help but cheer him on, as Onew continues to carve his path, showing that there’s so much more to him beyond just SHINee. Onew’s solo journey reflects not only his growth as an artist but also his genuine passion for music and performance. I can’t wait to see what he comes up with next!

Late-night scribbles and rainy-city neon blended into the first sparks of 'HER, DARK LEADER'. I was reading a stack of political essays and then flipped to a battered anthology of myths, and both voices started arguing with each other in my head: the dry cadence of realpolitik versus the flamboyant, tragic arcs of queens and monsters. That clash — ordinary systems of power meeting mythic psychology — became the engine for the plot. I wanted a story where a woman's ascent to absolute control felt both eerily modern (think surveillance, PR machines, populist speeches) and ancient, as if Zeus-level bargains and curses still framed every decision. The protagonist's moral grayness came from watching how small compromises spiral in real life: an offhanded lie, one broken promise, a policy made “for the greater good” that mutates into something monstrous. Aesthetics and tone drove a lot of narrative choices. Musically, I kept picturing synth-laden choral pieces and shoegaze that could score a coup; visually I borrowed from high-contrast noir, cathedral interiors, and ruined statues with vines — so the plot needed scenes that let those images breathe: a coronation done under flickering power, a secret meeting in a cathedral basement, a demolished statue reclaimed by protesters. I leaned on classic tragic templates — echoes of 'Macbeth' for ambition and fate, the moral ambiguity of 'Blade Runner' for who counts as human and who is expendable, and the psychological intensity of 'Neon Genesis Evangelion' where inner demons externalize as literal threats. But I also threaded in softer influences: folktales where bargains always have a hidden cost, and modern memoirs about leadership that show how charisma can feel both authentic and performative. Practically, the plot emerged by blending timeline jumps and shifting perspectives so the reader experiences both the public rise and private sediment of choices. I wanted readers to see the trope of the charismatic leader from multiple angles — the fervent follower, the cynical advisor, the betrayed sibling — so plot beats are often mirrored: a rally that looks triumphant from the podium and catastrophic from the crowd. Real-world events — protests that turned ugly, whistleblowers, climate crisis panic — seeded specific scenes, but the heart is human: how love, fear, and grief become the fuel of political myth. Writing it felt like carving a statue that keeps revealing unexpected veins of marble; whenever I reread certain chapters I notice new echoes, and that keeps me hooked.

I get a little excited when these leadership comparisons come up because they reveal so much about why people lead the way they do. To me, a 360-degree leader is defined by influence—it's someone who leads up, across, and down without relying on a title. I think of it like being a hub in a wheel: you pull together peers, coach your boss with honest feedback, and support direct reports so the whole system spins better. The 360-degree approach is pragmatic and relational; it emphasizes persuasion, networking, and adaptability in all directions. Servant leadership, on the other hand, feels more mission-driven and ethically anchored. I've read excerpts of 'The 360 Degree Leader' and paired that with pieces on 'Servant Leadership' in a weekend binge of management books, and what stood out was purpose. A servant leader puts others’ growth and well-being first, often sacrificing their own visibility to develop people and community. So while a 360-degree leader emphasizes influence across formal boundaries, a servant leader emphasizes humility, stewardship, and the flourishing of followers. In everyday terms: if I'm nudging a peer to collaborate on a deadline, that's a 360-degree move. If I'm spending my energy helping someone build their confidence, coaching them for the long haul without necessarily seeking recognition, that's servant leadership. They overlap—many effective leaders blend both—but the starting point and core motivation differ, and that shapes daily choices and priorities.

The title of strongest 'Pokemon Gym Leader' is hotly debated, but I lean toward Blue from the Kanto region. Unlike other leaders who specialize in a single type, Blue’s team is diverse and unpredictable, making him a nightmare to counter. His Pokemon are high-leveled and well-balanced, covering weaknesses that mono-type teams often have. He’s also the only leader who used to be a Champion, giving him an edge in strategy and experience. His Pidgeot and Exeggutor can sweep unprepared teams, while his Alakazam’s Psychic attacks devastate most opponents. His role as a final test before the Elite Four cements his reputation—defeating him requires serious skill and adaptability, not just type advantages. What sets Blue apart is his growth. From rival to Champion to Gym Leader, he’s constantly improving, which reflects in his team composition. Later games even show him mentoring others, proving his deep understanding of battles. While Cynthia or Red might overshadow him in raw power, as a Gym Leader, Blue’s mix of unpredictability and sheer competence makes him the toughest challenge in the franchise.

In 'Rise of a Young Clan Leader', the protagonist’s journey to power is a mix of strategy, grit, and sheer will. Initially, they start as an underdog, overlooked by their own clan due to their youth and inexperience. But through relentless training and mastering forbidden techniques, they begin to stand out. The key moment comes when they uncover an ancient artifact hidden in their clan’s ruins, granting them abilities no one else possesses. Their rise isn’t just about brute strength—it’s about alliances. They earn the loyalty of rogue warriors and exiled elders by proving their worth in battles and solving long-standing clan disputes. The protagonist also learns to manipulate political tensions between rival factions, turning enemies into reluctant allies. By the time they challenge the current leader, their reputation as a unifier and powerhouse is undeniable. The final duel isn’t won with strength alone but by outthinking their opponent, showcasing how power in this world is as much about intellect as it is about force.

In 'Rise of a Young Clan Leader', the rivals are as diverse as they are formidable. The protagonist faces the Luo Clan, a long-standing enemy with deep-rooted grudges and a ruthless approach to power. Their leader, Luo Feng, is a cunning strategist who uses underhanded tactics to undermine the protagonist's rise. Another key rival is the mysterious Shadow Faction, a group of assassins and spies operating in the shadows, always one step ahead. Then there's the White Tiger Alliance, a coalition of smaller clans that band together to resist the protagonist's growing influence. Their strength lies in numbers, but their lack of unity often becomes their downfall. Lastly, the protagonist's own uncle, a traitor within the clan, poses a personal and emotional challenge, blurring the lines between family and foe. These rivals create a dynamic and tense narrative, each bringing unique threats to the table.

I get excited whenever this topic comes up, because it's one of those things where the line between individual and group blur in a lovely way. There aren’t many awards handed out that say “best group leader” and pin it to one person, so most of the formal recognition tied to BTS’s leadership actually comes as group honors that RM accepted or led the band through. The big, formal one that often gets mentioned is the South Korean government's Hwagwan Order of Cultural Merit in 2018 — that was awarded to BTS for spreading Korean culture worldwide, and RM, as group leader, was part of that honor. Beyond that, BTS has won major international prizes under his leadership: multiple Billboard Music Awards, American Music Awards, MTV awards and big domestic trophies at shows like Mnet and Melon, plus Grammy nominations that marked huge milestones. So if you’re counting trophies that reflect his leadership, look at the group’s global achievements and the national commendation like the Order of Cultural Merit — they’re the clearest, official nods to what he’s helped build with the members. For a fuller list, the band’s official pages and major music award archives are great to browse; it’s rewarding to see how many different stages RM has led them onto.

Honestly, some of my favorite deep-dives into RM's songwriting come from long-form interviews where he isn't being rushed — those let him unpack the why behind lines. I usually start with features on Billboard and Rolling Stone: they do multi-page conversations that often dive into lyrical themes, how he drafts in his notebook, and the translation choices he faces when writing in Korean and wanting global nuance. Another place I keep going back to is the 'Genius' material and the artist breakdowns on YouTube. When RM annotates lyrics or sits through a lyric-by-lyric video, you get the most granular glimpse of his thought process — line edits, the image he wanted, what he cut. Also, the BTS documentaries like 'Burn the Stage' and 'Bring the Soul' include behind-the-scenes studio moments where he talks about composing, collaboration with producers, and the emotional seeds of songs. If you hunt on YouTube, Apple Music (Zane Lowe interviews), and BTS' official channels or Weverse, you'll find clips where he literally shows his notebooks or talks through a draft. I love revisiting those to hear the stray lines that never made it, because they reveal the craft almost more than the finished product.