#beyond the scene wallpaper

[venusandsaturnsrings]

you sighed heavily, zoning out on some of the elaborate wallpaper in front of you as your friend chattered on enthusiastically at your side.

last week, they had burst into your workplace with an expression so anxious you had thought something was seriously wrong. they went on to elaborate that famous director mr. reca was on penacony and having a surprise casting call and, as a member of the iris family, they just needed to go and audition but the idea of standing in front of such a well known face in the cinema world had them more panicked than they’d ever been before. whining endlessly about how they were so very nervous but couldn’t possibly miss such an opportunity, you easily picked up what exactly they wanted; you to go with them. sighing you offered your companionship partially as a good friend and partially to make the other workers stop glaring daggers, you finally chased them out the door as they promised to meet you at the studio on the weekend.

now in a long line of other actors and actresses hoping to finally get a breakthrough part, the number pinned hastily to your chest was starting to irritate you on top of not wanting to be here in the first place. agreeing so quickly was looking more like a mistake as you were realizing you had no experience or anything prepared and you’d soon be standing in front of a man who’d scrutinize your every move; a real nightmare in the dream.

it took a surprisingly short amount of time for your friend to be whisked away into the audition room with its heavy soundproof doors and you had to stand alone coming to terms with how much of a fool you’d look like. a brief thought of running flitted through your brain as you nervously tapped your foot but before any commitment to bolting could arise, you were ushered in.

the room was elegant but felt unbelievably sterile with the marble floors and delicate chandelier. behind a large wooden table stacked with folders, notes, and expensive looking pens was the man you dreaded explaining this predicament to. with piercing eyes and a predatory smile, mr. reca seemed unnervingly interested in what you’d go on to show him; nothing, unfortunately. you took your place in the centre of the room and awkwardly cleared your throat before dumping a word vomit of an apology and explanation filled with ‘i can’t act for shit,’ and ‘i’m sorry for wasting your time.’ he nodded with a low hum and seemed almost sympathetic as he tapped a finger against his lips while thinking.

“you’re here now and your… appearance… seemed perfectly suited to a personal project of mine i can’t seem to get out of my head,” his smile was unnerving in a way, “humour me and try out a couple poses at the least. such a role would come with magnificent compensation.” not the response you expected but you figured he was owed something for such a fumble. upon your agreement he had you shift into numerous positions that made your face flush with embarrassment but mr. reca seemed beyond pleased if his praise meant anything.

“magnificent. please, i’d love to have you star in a this minor film of mine. such a project will only take a few afternoons and i’ll make sure it’s worth your time.”

it’s the next week when you’re at his home. he welcomes you with a neat suffocating hug and offers numerous snacks and drinks as a show of good will. it’s quite charming until he takes you to where he’s set up for the first scenes.

the room is dim, lit by ambient lighting only and silk ribbons drape across the room. in the middle is a bed covered in luxurious sheets and soft blankets with a table on each side holding a variety of lewd toys; your face is warm. mr. reca cheerfully points to every object explaining the purpose and how it’ll be used after fiddling with all the different locks on the door to successfully trap you in. suddenly you feel sweaty and your chest is tight as you shiver uncontrollably. his personal film was an adult film. he dangles the previously signed contract over your head with a promise to publicly humiliate you if you don’t, “strip and put on these pieces,” a lacy pair of panties and a bra that hides nothing. he’s throwing a pair of stockings at your chest as well before making some adjustments on his camera. with no choice, you change and pray that this will be over soon but the sinking feeling in your gut says otherwise when you see he’s undressing as well.

[0omillo0]

MODEL! HYUNJIN X FEM! MODEL! READER

autor’s note: hi! this is my first post, I hope you’ll like it!

warnings: none!! pure fluff

Hyunjin, a renowned Versace model and gifted artist, has grown used to the fast-paced world of fashion. But when Y/N, a new model, steps into the scene, her authenticity catches his eye. As their paths intertwine, Hyunjin finds himself drawn not just to her beauty, but to something deeper—especially when he discovers a personal connection to his art in her life.

The lights above the runway glowed bright as you walked, your heart racing with every step. It was your first major show—Versace, no less—and the pressure of the fashion world felt like it was resting squarely on your shoulders. You kept your face composed, though. It was the life you had chosen, after all.

As you reached the end of the runway and struck your final pose, you caught a glimpse of someone standing backstage. Hwang Hyunjin. A name you had heard whispered many times, both in the modeling industry and beyond. He was already legendary as a Versace model—and as an artist. He stood with that ethereal grace, watching the runway with a calm confidence. His aura drew you in instantly.

Backstage, the models buzzed with excitement, but you found yourself scanning the room for Hyunjin. You weren’t sure why—maybe it was the effortless way he carried himself, or the way his expressive eyes seemed to speak without words. But there he was, standing near a rack of designer outfits, quietly sketching in a notebook.

He must have felt your gaze, because his eyes lifted from the page and met yours.

You blinked and quickly turned away, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

A moment later, you heard a voice behind you. “Nervous?”

Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with Hyunjin. His smile was small but warm, and it made your heart stutter. “A little,” you admitted, forcing yourself to breathe.

“You didn’t show it out there. You looked great.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I would survive that.”

He chuckled, his laughter soft and genuine. “We all feel that way at first. Trust me.”

You nodded, trying to keep your cool. “You were sketching something?”

“Oh,” he glanced down at the notebook in his hand, almost shyly, “yeah, just passing time. It’s nothing.”

“I bet it’s beautiful,” you said without thinking. His sketches were famous—everyone knew Hyunjin wasn’t just a model but an incredible artist. His works sold out faster than any runway show.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at your comment, looking a little surprised, but his smile grew just a bit wider. “Maybe one day you’ll see for yourself.”

---

Days turned into weeks, and as more Versace events brought you together, you and Hyunjin grew closer. What began as polite conversations evolved into genuine exchanges—talks about art, fashion, and life beyond the glitz and glamor. He was different from the others. Though he was breathtaking in every way, Hyunjin never acted like it. Instead, he carried himself with a quiet humility, a soul deeper than the world around him realized.

One evening, after a long day of fittings, you sat backstage, scrolling through your phone to relax. Hyunjin approached, as he often did these days, and sat beside you. His presence had become comforting.

"What are you looking at?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, nothing special," you said, not thinking much of it as you showed him your phone. But his eyes widened slightly when he saw your lock screen.

It was one of his paintings—a swirling combination of colors and emotion that you had seen in an exhibition once. You loved how raw and alive it felt, and you had put it as your wallpaper without realizing Hyunjin might ever see it.

"That’s... my painting," he said softly, his voice almost touched with disbelief.

You felt a sudden rush of heat rise to your face. "Oh my god, I—yeah, it is. I didn’t think you'd—uh, I really loved it. It just felt so... powerful. I hope that's not weird."

He stared at the screen for a long moment before meeting your eyes. His usual calm demeanor had shifted, and for the first time, you saw something vulnerable in his expression.

"It’s not weird," he murmured, his voice lower than usual. "It’s... actually really special."

His hand brushed against yours as he handed your phone back, and neither of you moved away. The air between you seemed to thicken with something unspoken.

"You know," Hyunjin began, his gaze dropping for a second before looking back up, "people don’t usually talk about my art like that. They just think of me as a model."

"I don’t," you said softly. "I think you’re an incredible artist."

Hyunjin looked at you like you had said something life-changing. His hand stayed close to yours, and you felt a magnetic pull between you, as if something deeper had just clicked into place.

"Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice almost fragile. "I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that."

---

As weeks passed, the connection between you and Hyunjin only deepened. The fashion shows continued, the flashing lights, the crowds, the interviews—but somehow, when you were with him, it all faded into the background.

He would seek you out between shoots, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn’t explain. His attention to detail, the way he viewed the world through an artistic lens, the kindness in his words—it made your heart race every time you saw him.

One evening, after a long day of rehearsals, the two of you found yourselves alone in the studio. Hyunjin was working on a painting in the corner while you sat nearby, watching him with quiet admiration. He glanced at you every so often, his eyes soft.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, breaking the silence.

"Of course."

"Why my painting?" he asked, his voice careful, but curious. "Out of all the art you could’ve chosen, why mine?"

You thought for a moment before answering. "Because it felt real. When I saw it, I felt something… like it was a piece of your soul. It wasn’t just a pretty picture—it had emotion, depth. I could see you in it."

Hyunjin stared at you for a long moment, something intense flickering in his gaze. He set his brush down and took a slow step closer.

"You saw me in it?" he repeated, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

"Yeah," you nodded, holding his gaze. "I did."

Hyunjin's breath hitched, and in that moment, something shifted between you. He reached out, gently taking your hand. His touch was warm, and his thumb brushed over your skin as if testing whether this was real.

"I see you too, Y/N," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "More than you know."

You stared up at him, your heart pounding as he stepped closer. His face was inches from yours now, his gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. And in that quiet space, where words seemed unnecessary, Hyunjin leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

The world faded away, and for a moment, there was only the two of you—two artists, two souls, finding each other in the midst of the chaos.

———

I hope you enjoyed this story! Requests are open!!

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 3 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2])

lilia: falling through time, desperately trying to help alice

agatha: bitch I'm trying to save myself!!!!! oh she's so awkward when she thinks lilia's going mad. she's a moment away from grabbing a broom and going there, there like in that 30 rock scene

I know they had a relatively low budget for this show and it was such a blessing in disguise. they invested in great sets and instead of cgi they relied on classic cinema tricks that I find so satisfying?? Idk if it's just nostalgia talking. here they simply move the camera away for a moment, lower the lights and move the actor in position, and it makes for an amazing jumpscare.

baby lilia asking 'vuoi vedere?' do you want to see? because it is a choice for lilia. for a long time she chose not to use her gift- she was simply too powerful, she saw too much, and the knowledge of the future scarred her and made her an outcast among others

alice's smile at seeing a vision of her mom T-T

why inconvenient? what was jen doing? she was an obstetrician and midwife. she was helping women out with herbs and pagan knowledge passed down from mother to daughter. Back in the day midwives were struggling to get their skills recognized in an increasingly male dominated field, they were advocating alternative treatments for women constantly humiliated by condescending modern doctors - from forced bed rest to insane asylums to lobotomy in worst case scenarios. think Charlotte Perkins Gilman's short story, The Yellow Wallpaper. think about everything that happened to Virginia Woolf.

we know that alice was a teenager when lorna died in a fire. she wasn't well, alice says, and we see now that she had a drinking problem. it's equally possible that the demon got to her or that she set herself on fire out of desperation. and if lorna could feel her own mother dying, alice could too.

daang great zombie makeup on the teacher lady

lilia when her incredible abilities made her able to see Death: burdened by knowledge way beyond the scope of humanity she goes into exile

agatha when her incredible abilities made her able to see Death: you know what I'm gonna tap that

I saw people saying that because the Road wasn't real nothing that happened in the show mattered, that they all died for nothing. I disagree completely, and not only because Billy's chaos magic is so astonishingly powerful that he can create a functional Road out of thin air. like, it wasn't a trick, he made it real. But more importantly, what happened to these women, their experiences, their growth on the Road is real. Even if Billy didn't do it on purpose, even if it's fucked up that a teenager can essentially go, you know what would be cool? if they all experienced their deepest trauma! but that's the point, that's the point, that's the whole damn point of the show. life is chaos and nonsense and heartbreak, it's up to you to find a meaning where there isn't any. look at lilia! the lesson is not that you're going to die, but what you choose to do with the cards that you're dealt, with the time that you're given.

while Patti clearly has an american accent, she is speaking correct sicilian, tutti morti su' - they could have had her talk in italian and hardly anyone would have noticed, but they went above and beyond with the details. the latin in the show is also rather impressive, like they actually hired experts rather than relying on google translate

agatha has gotten too used to run leaving a pile of bodies behind. not so easy to consider them just food when you have to live alongside them and witness their feelings, is it?? first wanda and now this!

@perpetualanon pointed out yesterday that agatha also had selfish reasons for wanting to save billy, i.e. she didn't want to risk him being poisoned because who knows what horrors a hallucinating billy could create. Yes! exactly that! it's always worth saying that when agatha has these fleeting moments of compassion and altruism it's in the context of a whole lotta selfishness. i think of her as that drawing of Stitch's badness level, her whole body is almost filled to the brim with awfulness and there's only a thin layer of goodness that she's constantly trying to smother. her actions on the Road are almost entirely selfish, but for the first time in centuries she's surrounded by people, like Lilia here and Jen and Alice and especially Billy, who are accidentally nurturing her almost atrophied good side. and lemme tell you she's pissed about it!

of course these two don't know what a sous vide is, one is dirt poor and the other eats people.

I'm gonna take a stand for zoomers here, he might have never learned what counterclockwise means, but millennials like me would also have hesitated and tried to picture it in our minds. because a lot of us lack spacial intelligence and are generally rather dumb

the shock and terror on her face when she hears nicky crying

another great special effect achieved only with lights and the cast shuffling out of frame

they show the darkhold because they need to mislead viewers and can't give nicky's story away just yet, but doesn't it make sense that agatha would see it? all these centuries blaming rio, and deep down agatha is haunted not by Death, but by her own actions and choices. the way she kept Nicky isolated and unsafe. the way she insulted his memory by going on killing sprees instead of letting herself mourn. the way she used the darkhold to corrupt her soul more and more, because she was never brave enough to confront her guilt.

kathryn hahn really said, do you want Emotional Devastation???? do you wanna see a woman SUFFER? do you want your heart put through a blender??? I can do that in TWO seconds

agatha wants to NOT DIE so badly that she has to drop the clown act and give jen a proper pep talk. because she knows what makes people tick and she can uplift just as well as she can destroy, she can help jen because she knows her so well. there's always that potential there, all of agatha's talent and her intelligence and experience could shape her into a great mother and sister in a coven. a potential that evanora refused to see and that will likely never be fulfilled.

and the irony, the irony of never wanting to hurt jen, to deliberately avoid going after her - because she's a midwife. because nicky was stillborn, because she had to give birth alone in the woods. agatha believes with all her heart that jen's work is fundamentally good and important. and yet she was the one who bound and tortured and violated her. she was so fucking focused on herself that she didn't even realize she was tramping and destroying everything in her path like a mad steamroller. she allied with the enemy, she went against her community's best interests. there's a lot to think about there, I really want to explore it more

patti during that hot ones episode

NOW YOU GUYS REMEMBER HER. and of course it's alice who does

your internalized stereotypes are really testing lilia's patience, billy (and while they consider the oven sharon is writhing and dying on the table)

how it started: jen pushing lilia out of the way

how it ended: "you are my sister in the craft" 🥲

I love you patti lupone

alice is strong! alice is noble! alice is pure of heart!

gee i wonder why

they had to add a goonies poster in billy's room because of this scene, but i guess disney didn't want to buy the copyright so the poster says "the goofballs"

agatha shoving everyone and then kicking jen twice for good measure

my guilty pleasure is watching reactors on youtube (don't judge) and everyone, everyone had my same reaction to sharon's death: she is not really dead. it was too unceremonious, too sudden. you cannot have debra jo rupp unconscious for half an episode and then get rid of her like that, she's too talented, too funny, how can they keep the humor up without her? if sharon is gone they don't want to watch anymore! no, they're gonna bring her back for sure, they're witches, they're going to find a way.

And then Alice dies, and it's unfair, it's too sad, she just had her big victory! that doesn't sit right with you, that the writers would do her so dirty. And then Lilia dies.

Wanda said it from the very beginning: we cannot reverse death, no matter how sad it makes us. Some things are forever. Sharon's death was horrible and uncomfortable and senseless on purpose, because these shows are about the exploration of grief. How can you make peace with the impossible? How can you reconcile yourself with a nice fun lady dying after losing her last shred of agency, scared and alone and forgotten? Didn't she deserve so much more than being just a casualty of witchfolk drama? And how can you reconcile yourself with someone as good and as wonderful as Alice dying in such a cruel way? What about the death of a parent? of a spouse? of a child? What about your own death, as inevitable and inescapable as your birth?

I'm posting this one early cos I didn't sleep last night and I wanna take a nap now 🥲 when I'm tired i ramble, I knew that already. sorry-y!

we get to episode four tomorrow, and y'all know what, or rather WHO, that means!

go to episode 4 part 1

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Now, I'm in England with a house I absolutely love, and found that it either didn't sell, or is on the market again. I LOVE this home. Note the 2 statues on the columns playing a game and you drive under it.

This estate is in Dorsington, Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire, UK, has 6bds, 6ba, £3.65M / $4.319M

Do you like the look of beams? This home's ground fl. is completely open concept, but the beams offer a clear view while still marking separations for each area. Here in the living room there's a lovely brick fireplace.

There's a nice round railing in the middle of the floor. Note the exposed brick walls.

The home has a nautical theme. The unusual round kitchen island has nautical accents. I can't make out what the graphics on the walls are, but they must be ship-themed.

I must say that this is some architectural design. It's amazing. I could be very happy here. It gives off a feeling of tranquility.

Also, beyond the kitchen and living room, there's a gorgeous indoor pool and spectacular acquarium that takes up a whole wall.

I like the way the inside of the pool is painted and look at the stained glass window with an ocean scene above. Also, take note of the beams on the left that are carved to look like palm tree trunks.

The hot tub at the end of the pool lit up at night. How romantic is this?

A magnificently carved custom made bed in a child's room. Look at the mermaid with the trident. On the other side there's a pirate with a sword. Is that a canon in the middle? I think that there's also a way to climb up on top of the bed, too.

From the cupola in the eaves there's a pirate ready to swoop down and he has a long sword on his belt.

Now, out here they cheated. That's book shelf wallpaper.

The primary bedroom is very large, and a little too beige.

The home theater has an Art Deco flair. Look at the little side tables, for snacks and drinks.

What an incredible bar. The floor, the lights, the walls. Even the pool table lights up.

Outdoors there's a nice little terrace and what a colorful anchor.

The big chess set.

Gorgeous gardens.

And, as if all of this isn't enough, there's a fairytale cottage with a thatched roof.

Isn't this a cozy living room? Love the red wood stove and Marilyn Monroe above it.

Nice semi-circular kitchen. The extra touches in these homes are so special.

What a lovely sunroom.

https://www.knightfrank.co.uk/properties/residential/for-sale/dorsington-stratford-upon-avon-warwickshire-cv37/STR012428564

[zexapher]

Vacuan Nights, Like Vacuan Days

They’re just so great together! I’d love for Jaune and Weiss to get a little downtime in Vacuo to live out a moment like this. They really deserve it, and I’d love to see Jaune’s guitar make a reappearance.

The comic here was inspired by u/Silverstar1243’s excellent piece of art, A Serenade Under the Moonlight. Send some love to them on their twitter, commission some art if you’re willing and able, they’ve made some great stuff.

You folks may have noticed I threw in a couple of references for those in the know; the Golden Oreos behind Yang (double stuffed, I might add) for the trio’s ship, Weiss liking it rough for Mallobaude’s great fic, and of course I made a whole theme around the Arabian Nights Disney song. A song, along with its Aladdin compatriots, which I spent the better part of a day finding covers for just to listen to on repeat while I worked.

This one’s now officially my longest comic project, with 14 panels, two over the past record since I added the White Knight kiss at the end. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. Not sure I’d say it was more difficult than my Vanity of Vanities post, but for this one I actually knew how to use my editing software going into it (at least somewhat).

Put a lot of work into this one, been working on it on and off since February. Took a few breaks for vacation, to make my memorial post for Rooster Teeth, and another five meme edits or so, but I came back around to it. First half was pretty easy, relatively minor edits inserting characters into scenes and so on. The second half with Jaune and Weiss was tougher though, with color correcting, merging poses, redrawing features, drawing Jaune’s entire head to fix some lighting issues, etc. Really like how the edit to make Jaune strum his guitar turned out.

The time it took to make the whole comic got me down a little, until I did a bit of math. Including my side projects since starting this, all the scripting and editing and all, I’ve been pumping out a panel every two days. That seems pretty good to me, that kind of accomplishment makes me a little proud of myself.

Really need to get around to watching the second part of the Justice League Crossover movies. It’s got a few Vacuo scenes that might make things a little more authentic instead of me just using Saphron’s house and pretending it’s a suite in Vacuo. I do love taking yet more character stills from Jaune and friends experiencing deep trauma and turning it into something positive, been making that a bit of a personal habit. And I’ve got to say, the background for Jaune and Weiss’ scene is really beautiful, pulled it from when Sun and Neptune hear Ruby’s message about Salem. That’s just a really good shot all on its own, I even saved a copy for my computer’s wallpaper after editing out the two.

Posting a big RWBY White Knight edit, watching not one but two RWBY Beyond episodes, and all on the trail of the news that RWBY’s found partners that they’re negotiating with and that the creative team is expected to stay on. And I'm sipping bubble tea. Life is good.

Anyway, pardon the long write up. I’m invested in this one, and am quite pleased with how the comic turned out. I hope you all get a kick out of it as well!

[panlight]

The first Twilight book ending with so much genuinely intriguing information about Alice that is immediately ignored is so crazy to me that it’s honestly funny.

The other vampires don’t necessarily remember their human lives well compared to their vampire ones but they do clearly have a lot of memories that inform who they are as people. And then we find out that Alice remembers almost nothing about being human and is the only vampire we meet who basically had her entire personality be created from only her vampire life. And the idea of who someone would be if they had only ever been a super powered future seeing non human is interesting, and it would have been especially interesting to see how it makes her act different from the others and perceive the world differently because she wouldn’t in any way identify with humanity or being human and any human experiences.

And then she just is exactly like everyone else and no it didn’t actually affect a single thing about her personality. And the fact that as both a human and vampire she has never experienced time in a linear fashion is way less impactful on her character than one would think beyond that she used future sight as a helpful tool.

Smeyer is so wild for creating genuinely really cool character and world building ideas and then immediately ignoring them and not considering that they would in any way correlate to how that character acts

Oh for sure! There are so many fascinating little character details that just . . . don't . . . go . . . anywhere. Really Alice waking up as a vampire with no memory of anything else is SO interesting and could be such a contrast to the others, but it's only sort of hinted at and doesn't end up really mattering at all. There's Edward's line about how if she hadn't had her ability to see the future and saw Jasper and Carlisle and where her life would end up, she'd probably have turned out to be a feral monster or something and how no one could understand how she could be abandoned like that. SM pays lips service to the idea that Alice doesn't remember being human but she mostly uses that to like, push her into being obsessed with human rites of passage for Bella that she can sort of live vicariously through rather than a deeper, more meaningful exploration of what it would be like to be in Alice's shoes.

Genuinely, I'm fascinated by every single one of the Cullens' stories as newborns except Bella's, because it's just the most boring one. She doesn't give up or lose anything, she doesn't wake up to a world she didn't know existed. She's about as well-informed as a human could be and she wants to be a vampire and is instantly good at it so it's all just so . . . blah. Alice waking up with no memory and superpowers and insatiable thirst is about 1000 times more interesting. Just imagine how disorientating and confusing and frightening that would be! Carlisle lived out his own horror movie as a newborn, being bitten on a vampire hunting raid gone wrong, hiding during his transformation out of fear his father would burn him alive, realizing what he had become and trying to destroy himself before he hurt anyone ending with him starving himself in the woods for months. Jasper, too, had a whole horror movie where he was the nightmarish monster, to humans as well as other vampires. And the other Cullens died and 'woke' up to a new life they had no idea about and had to lean on strangers they either barely knew or didn't know at all. That's the interesting stuff. That's what I like about vampire stories. But these experiences barely matter to how they act in the present day. Jasper's poor self control matters in some scenes and doesn't matter at all in others. Rosalie's baby obsession is a big feature of Breaking Dawn, but Esme, who actually had and lost a baby, might as well be wallpaper in that book. Edward's going on about how could he ever love this thing if it kills Bella, meanwhile Carlisle's mother literally DID die giving birth to him and it never enters the conversation.

And for SM, Alice's whole "doesn't remember being human" ends up being focused entirely on like, shopping and parties and clothes, so she can live vicariously through Bella. And on one hand there's something interesting in there, something pathetic (in the pathos sense) with Alice trying to understand humanity in this sort of superficial way because she doesn't have the experience or memories to go any deeper, but it's mostly portrayed as just wheee isn't Alice fun! I wish I had a sister/best friend like Alice! It's just blatantly obvious that it's less about who Alice is than what she can do for Bella.

Even in New Moon where we find out that Alice has been researching her own history, found her own grave and asylum admission papers, and it goes nowhere! It doesn't change how Alice behaves at all, it doesn't change her relationship with Bella, Bella just kind of goes "huh interesting" and we never hear about it again. I mean Alice goes through it in these books and you wouldn't even know! She finds out that James had hunted her when she was human and this other vampire turned her to save her and died defending her. She finds out she was put in an asylum by her father and he told everyone she was dead. And even though she's the 4th most prominent character after Bella, Edward and Jacob, there's still no room in the Bella-centric narrative for Alice to have the space to actually deal with any of this. She's too busy fulfilling her role as Bella's fairy godmother sister.

[astrialuvs]

"Captured Moments“

➻ SYNOPSIS : When the mischievous twins playfully meddle with Suna's phone, capturing plenty of candid snapshots of you, he finds himself appreciating more than just the stolen moments. The stolen glances unveil a budding connection that goes beyond the surface.

➻ PAIRING : suna rintaro x reader

➻ GENRE : fluff, mutual pining

➻ CONTENT WARNING : slight cursing

➻ WORD COUNT : 746 words

a/n: repost from old account | happy na birthday mo pa!~

another note: the twins definitely know what they're doing 😉

You've grown familiar with Suna Rintaro's daily routine for who knows how long—long enough to recognize his habits and routines such as volleyball, casual banter with the twins, and being perpetually glued to his phone.

As you were making your way towards the place where you normally have lunch, Suna was absorbed in a mobile game and unconsciously wandering about. After losing another round, he hissed for the nth time. You keep a close eye on him, apprehending that he is unaware of his surroundings.

"Excuse me!!!" someone yelled from the back. A group of students carrying boxes rushes through. You stepped aside to give them more room to pass, but Suna maintained his pace.

"Watch out, Rin," you cautioned, tugging on his sleeve and holding him close to you until the students passed.

You tried to give him a mild reprimand for not paying attention; instead, he flashed a rare smile and uttered, "I know you're always there to keep an eye on me.

You averted your gaze to the side at his response. His words lingered, tugging at the strings of your emotions, and you found yourself momentarily breathless.

No. Actually, everything he says and does for you makes your heart skip a thousand beats. You felt the tips of your fingers go cold. You silently wished for a split second to keep your emotions at bay.

"Suna!~ Y/n!~" 

The appearance of the twins disrupted the moment, and Suna's reaction was palpable. Atsumu and Osamu casually walk toward you too. You didn't miss the way Suna's left eye twitched, possibly because of their appearance or maybe because of how loud they are. Or maybe both.

Amidst the chaos, you were startled when you felt a large, warm, calloused hand on your hand. Suna grasped your hand and carefully tugged it off of his sleeve, making you realize that you still clung to his sleeve.

"Your hands feel cold. Are you 'lright?" he inquired.

"Hmm-. Y-yeah. I'm fine. Must be the cold weather," you stammer awkwardly as you reach for your hands, but Suna firmly grasps your hand with both of his hands, seemingly forgetting about his previous activity.

'Oh goodness,' you thought as you noticed your heartbeat quickening.

Lunchtime unfolded, and you found yourselves sharing a table. Except for Suna, who doesn't make lunch for himself, the rest of you settled on one of the tables and took out your own lunches. The twins hatched a mischievous plan involving Suna's phone as soon as he handed over his phone to head to the counter to order his own lunch. 

As soon as he leaves, the twins seize an opportunity to play a prank on Suna's phone when he heads to the counter. The twins, mainly Atsumu, flop themselves beside you, ripping out the phone from your hand, to which you quickly protested.

You hesitated, but eventually succumbed. Unlocking his phone discreetly, you wish Suna hadn't changed his phone's lock after seeing how many times he unlocked it.

As his phone got unlocked, the three of you clamored quietly, the twins comically shaking you. You took notice that his wallpaper display is a blurred silhouette of you, but before you could fully recognize it, the twins attempted to invade his phone, only to be thwarted by password-protected apps. In a spontaneous move, they redirected the camera toward you, capturing candid moments.

"Such a bummer."

"You scumbags," Suna cussed as the twins fled off the scene. You, on the other hand, lowered your head, fully aware that you were complicit in the crime. You braced yourself for what he was going to say, only to have him tell you to continue to eat.

A little later, while Suna opened and checked his phone, he flopped on his bed with one hand behind his head. checking each app to see if the three of you had changed or discovered anything.

He was lying on his bed as he scrolled through his phone. He smiles bashfully as he examines each photo, somehow thinking of how he will confess to you someday.

The first smile after finding out about the stolen shots withered away when facing the twins' stunts. He erased their photographs in haste, but he paused on the candid snaps of you with a shy smile as his future disclosure.

[callmearcturus]

Paradise Killer is 6 dollars on Steam until May 16 and I am here to hard sell you all on it because it's one of the best games I've ever played.

I'm gonna go beyond giving you a bunch of punchy keywords and telling you it's queer as hell and making meme-y jokes, and I'm going to actually tell you what this game is.

So top-level, WHAT IS PARADISE KILLER?

Mechanically, Paradise Killer is an open-world murder mystery. There is zero combat but a lot of exploration of a very unique location. The majority of your time is going to be walking about Paradise 24, looking for people to discuss the case with and for clues that are scattered around the world.

One of the most interesting concepts in Paradise Killer that is both mechanical and narrative is deciding What Is Your Truth? What Is A Truth And What Is A Fact? From the moment you start the game proper, you can turn 180 degrees and begin the trial and decide who the killer is, before talking to anyone about the case.

For example, getting into the actual crime scene takes a lot of puzzle solving to unlock the sealed room where the victims were killed. But maybe instead of examining the crime scene, you talk to everyone on the island and think you have a good idea of what happened.

Meaning: It is perfectly valid to decide you have the answer to the mystery and just go complete the trial whenever you personally are ready. YOU decide when this ends.

Which frankly I think is a cool-as-fuck concept. Also, I fully believe if three different people find EVERY CLUE and talk to EVERY SUSPECT and hear EVERY PIECE OF EVIDENCE.... they might decide on three different truths entirely. And THAT to me is ingenious mechanical design I have not seen anywhere else in a video game.

Okay let's stop burying the lede and talk about the world of Paradise Killer.

The non-batshit version:

Paradise Killer takes place on a big, beautiful island, the 24th Paradise. The architecture is a delightful mix of black obsidian obelisks, brutalist monuments, opal crystals to slumbering alien gods, garden paths, luxury yachts, and a whole lot of gold and neon.

Neo-occultist urban residential vaporwave-core. If you are like me, you will be taking a lot of screenshots. My wallpaper on my computer is Paradise Killer.

Your interactions with the cast are done in visual novel-style, though I feel I have to shout out this isn't your stock Ren'py UI experience. Every single aspect of the way the game looks compounds the vibes even further.

And the characters are infuckingcredible.

(Notice the different font? This game has A FUCKTON OF ACCESSIBILITY OPTIONS, including dyslexic font options.)

Sammy Day Break, born under the sign of Shadow Zero, is the local distillery and bartender for the Syndicate. Talk to him about what's unique about the whiskey he's made on Paradise 24, or about the good old days of the Syndicate.

Is Doctor Doom Jazz, born under the sign of Cosmic Deceit, really that carefree about what happened? Is his willingness to rekindle his fling with Lady Love Dies just a diversion to hide something? Well, he's one of the most cooperative witnesses on the Island.

Crimson Acid has been through a helluva lot since the last time she saw Love Dies. Blessed by the gods with her stunning rack (of horns! OF HORNS!), she's become quite the idol now. So why is she also an information broker? And can you figure out what her true feelings for Love Dies are?

Between all of these conversations, you can explore the island and collect RELICS and BLOOD CRYSTALS (the local currency) and CITY POP SONGS.

Okay so the Slightly Batshit Version:

Shinji: The Syndicate worships alien gods who want to drown the world in war and blood. Lady Love Dies: I don't see how that makes us the bad guys.

You are LADY LOVE DIES, born under the sign KISS ME TO THE MOON, the INVESTIGATION FREAK. She was exiled to the Idle Lands several cycles ago for falling prey to the seduction of the god Damned Harmony and endangering the entire Syndicate. Only now, with the death of the Council on the eve of Paradise 25, is Love Dies summoned back to solve the murder.

The Syndicate are a group of functionally immortal humans from all across history who are trying to create the perfect bubble of reality, their utopic Paradise where they can safely revive their dead gods. They were granted many powers and boons by their first god, Silent Goat, and hope through rescuing more gods they will grow in power.

How do you create a bubble of reality to do all this totally ethical shit? Easy! You abduct a bunch of normie humans to live on your island to use as a mass sacrifice to generate energy to fuel the creation of each Paradise. If only the outsiders would stop getting in the way!

Paradise Killer's world is delightfully out of its goddamn mind and half of the fun of the game is just picking up little nuggets of information about each member of the Syndicate, the gods, why each Paradise failed (there was an outbreak of vampirism that took out like three of the Paradises???), and just the way this universe works.

Okay this post is already too long but I'm begging you all to give Paradise Killer a chance. It's gorgeous, it's funny, it's mechanically really interesting, it's chill as hell, it has an incredible soundtrack,

and you should try it.

I'LL SEE YOU IN A PERFECT 25 . . .

[honorarysimp]

Interlude: The Diner

series masterlist

Out of everywhere in town you’ve been since you arrived two weeks ago, this is the only place you’ve truly felt safe.

The diner was a blast from the past, a relic of a time long gone. The checkered linoleum floor worn and scuffed in places, and vinyl-covered booths gave the place a retro feel, while the crackled and faded wallpaper added a touch of nostalgia.

The smell of stale coffee and fried food hung in the air, adding a distinct atmosphere to the place.

The diner was dimly lit, the fluorescent tubes above the counter casting a harsh, almost clinical light over the small space. In one corner, an old radio played quiet music, the sound barely reaching a few booths in the room.

You are currently sat in a booth towards the back, visibly exhausted beyond measure as you nurse a cup of black coffee.

Coffee is suppose to be the answer to everything, but you’ve had to reconvey your initial claim the last week.

Your phone suddenly rings loudly in the quiet diner, the sharp sound causing you to flinch, jarring and breaking the ambiance like a hammer against glass. You glance down at the screen, expression darkening as you saw the word "Mayor" flash across the display.

With a heavy exhale, you let the call ring through to voicemail. The Mayor was the last person you want to deal with at the moment. You’re frustrated and exhausted, as this investigation seems to be leading nowhere.

Why answer her when you have nothing to report? She knows where to find you if she’s that desperate for results.

You reach into your coat pocket and retrieved your tape recorder. You lay it on the worn tabletop and looked at it for a moment with a slight grimace.

You hesitate before starting the recording, the weight of your lack of progress weighing heavily on you. With a weary sigh, you hit the record button and began speaking, voice low and tired.

"It's been two weeks since I arrived here, and so far, I've got nothing. No leads, no suspects, just a whole lot of dead ends."

You continue, your voice growing more frustrated as you detail your efforts thus far.

"I've tried everything," you admit, hand running through your hair in exasperation. "Witness interviews, forensic analysis, even digging through records going back decades. But every time I think I'm onto something, it just leads nowhere."

You lean back in the booth, shoulders slouched in exhaustion. "It's like this town is intentionally keeping secrets."

You pause for a moment, expression thoughtful.

"The people here," you begin, voice a bit softer. "They're just as much victims as anyone. I've started to get to know some of them, and they're just trying to live their lives. But then there's this..."

You trail off, expression conflicted. You knew you’ve always tried to be logical and professional when it comes to your job, ruled by rationality and evidence. But this case is pushing your boundaries, forcing you to question your own beliefs.

"Maybe... maybe there's no logical explanation," you admit, voice barely a whisper “the only thing that’s consistent is the fact one person goes missing a month, but even that doesn’t make sense because it stops and starts randomly- goddamn it.”

You hit the pause button on the tape recorder, frustrated. You sit back, the silence in the diner somehow making the weight of the case even heavier.

You sat for a moment, eyes unfocused as you mull over everything that has happened in the last two weeks. The disappearances, the dead ends, the strange events... everything about this case was slowly chipping away at your certainty, your usual rational mind struggling to find footing.

You start the tape recorder again, voice weary but determined.

"The attack in the woods," you began. "I've tried to make sense of it, but it just doesn't add up. The masked figure came out of nowhere, silently and unexpectedly. The knife cut me, but there was no blood, no trace of any kind at the scene. And even after searching, there were no footprints or tracks of any kind. Nothing."

You trail off, eyes fixed on the tabletop. "It's like the assault never even happened."

You again continued, tense with disbelief. "And then there's Wes," you say, shaking your head. "He just vanishes after walking into the lake. We've searched the lake more times than I can count, and we haven't found a body. Nothing. It's like he just vanished into thin air."

Your frustration and confusion becomes more and more evident the more you spoke, the mystery of the case growing more complex with each passing moment as you verbally try to debunk it aloud. "It makes no sense," you mutter, raking a hand through your hair once more, knee bouncing in a fidget underneath the table.

You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm your frustration. "The disappearances, the attack, the lack of any solid evidence... everything about this case just feels wrong. Like there's something bigger going on, something just out of my grasp.”

You look down at the tape recorder, brow furrowed. "But how do I solve something when I can't even see all the pieces? How do I find answers when everything I've tried leads to more questions?"

You sat slumped in the booth, gaze unfocused as you wrestle with your thoughts. "I need... I need..." you repeat in a low voice, frustration and desperation mingling in your tone.

I need a fucking cigarette.

You clench your fists, refocusing on trying to piece together the elusive clues in your mind. "I need something decisive, something concrete," you continue, eyes sweeping over the steam rising from your mug as if the answers were etched within the small bubbles resting on the liquid’s surface.

You let out a heavy sigh, the frustration etched on your face. You reach out and hit the pause button, shutting off the tape recorder.

You lean back in the booth once again, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. The weight of the case hung heavily on you, the lack of progress a crushing disappointment. Never has a case had you so in the weeds before, you should have something by now.

"I need to find something," you mutter to yourself, jaw clenched. "I can't keep spinning my fucking wheels like this."

You rest your elbows to the table for a moment, rubbing a hand over your face as if trying to scrub away the fatigue and temporary defeat. Everything about this case was getting under your skin, the lack of progress wearing on your already frayed nerves.

The Diner's bell jangled as someone entered, causing you to look up from your thoughts. Your gaze lands on Tara of all people, who had just walked in.

You register the first responder uniform she is wearing, coming to the conclusion that she must be working the night shift. Or just got off it, depending on what time it is, that of which you aren’t sure. Your eyes lingered on her for a moment, taking in her tired but determined expression.

Her head turns and you’re already meeting her gaze, a pause between you, and then you silently gesturing for her to join you. You see the hesitation on her face, the fatigue and worry that mirrored your own. But after a moment, she relents and walks over to the booth, sliding into the seat opposite you.

“Hey” you start softly, watching her take your coffee mug off the table and take a small whiff before taking a sip.

You don’t question it.

“Nothing yet on our end, you?”

You shake your head, “even if we did, I’m sure Sam would be the first one to let you know.”

Tara nods, and you both fall silent.

The one waitress that seems to be working tonight walks over, she gives you both a kind smile.

“You’re working late tonight, Cici” Tara says politely, which makes the woman laugh good naturely.

“I could say the same to you, coffee?”

“Please.”

She scribbles it down, glancing back up “and the usual?”

Another nod from Tara, which then has Cici’s gaze going to you expectantly.

“I’m still doing okay with just coffee-“

“The Detective will have what I’m having Cici, thank you” Tara cuts you off, making Cici glance between you knowingly as she jots the order down and heads off without another word.

You look to Tara and narrow your eyes, but she beats you to it before you can speak.

“I wish you’d stop making assumptions about me, you know.”

A pause, you reach across the table for your mug but she pulls it from your reach.

There’s a good chance Tara is talking about the last conversation you two had before you found Wes and Chad, but of course you’d hate to assume.

So you wait for her to continue, after a moment her expression softens slightly and she nudges your coffee mug back across the table to you.

“For what it’s worth, I’m rightfully in the same boat. Worrying certain people are only around for information, for wanting to know things rather than-“ she stops, clearing her throat.

That’s when you get it. The hot and cold.

“Look… I’ve never once been dishonest with you, I’ve got no reason to be” you start slowly, giving your still aching shoulder a little roll before reaching across the table to accept your mug back.

“But-“ you pause, as your fingers brush against hers, neither of you acknowledge it as you pull the coffee mug back to your side “unfortunately that’s the one thing I’m under contract not to tell you, which is who hired me. You already know why I’m here, and if there’s one thing I can promise you is that I’m not using you for any reason.”

She is clearly skeptical, you can tell by the way she looks at you. But you can also see that slight softness between her brow, like she wants to believe you.

You sip your coffee, sitting it to the side before placing your palms flat on the table top, “ask me anything you want, no pool games, no deals, no trades, no bullshit. And then I’ll do the same.”

That look returns, the one Tara gave you a week ago when you’d asked her out for drinks.

“You still are trying to pick my brain” Tara says with an amused tone, you offer a smile and shrug.

“I wanna know you, is that so hard to believe?” You say as you nudge your coffee mug back over to her, a silent offer.

Tara eyes you, then the mug, then you again. She’s fighting back a smile, something you’ve noticed she does a lot with you. In a way you consider it a win, because it means she’s starting to like you even when she doesn’t want to.

“Fine” she agrees, pushing the coffee mug back across the table to you before crossing her arms, “but you’re on thin ice hot shot.”

You grin, trying not to feel triumphant for finally managing to somewhat get through to her.

“First things first, what’s your favorite scary movie?”

The disapproving look Tara gives you makes you laugh harder than it should, which in return, makes her smile more than she should.

And for the first time in a while, a sense of normalcy envelops you both. It won’t last, but for now, it’s nice.

previous, next

[robsheridan]

Photographs recovered from the mysterious Zorovic Building in New York prior to its destruction in 1913, showing summonings, materializations, and other dark magic rituals which allegedly occurred in the building’s various rooms around the turn of the 20th century.

Legend goes that the Zorovic Building's foundation ran deep underground into a “soft place” - a “wound” in the fabric of spacetime where our dimension becomes unnaturally close to other realms; imperceptible to human senses but ripe, according to spiritualists, for channeling beings and magic from beyond.

Officially, however, so little is known about the building that historians classify its entire existence as urban folklore, as it does not appear in any historical records. But paranormal researchers and amateur sleuths believe records were altered and destroyed to protect the exact location where the building once stood, so its unique paranormal attributes could never again be exploited for the terrifying evils which once occurred there; or perhaps, more sinisterly, to conceal the secrets of whichever new building now stands on its plot… 

-----------

NOTE: This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series. NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon for frequent exclusive hi-res wallpaper packs, behind-the-scenes features, downloads, events, contests, and an awesome fan community. Direct fan support is what keeps me going as an independent creator, and it means the world to me.

[pxnsneverland]

Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 4)

(gif source: sluttyhenley)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

plot summary: Amidst the grime and squalor of Victorian England's winding cobblestone alleys, a young woman's life hangs precariously in the balance. Violet, a poor peasant girl with long raven locks and piercing gray eyes, possesses a haunting beauty that belies the harsh realities of her existence. Tragedy struck two years prior when Violet's mother succumbed to illness, leaving her to fend for herself and her father – a cruel, selfish man consumed by vices of alcohol and gambling. On one fateful night, Violet's father drags her unwillingly to that very den of iniquity, and there she learns a horrifying truth from the club's greedy, perverted owner: to repay his mounting gambling debts, her father has sold her into sexual servitude. Violet's vehement protests fall on deaf ears, until an unlikely savior emerges from the shadows. Lord Austin Butler intervenes with a bargain of his own. This dangerous man offers to pay off Violet's father's debts in exchange for her accompaniment, and Violet is torn from the only life she has known. While Austin's demeanor remains shrouded in mystery and detachment at first, Violet gradually glimpses his softer, even playful side as time passes within the manor's walls and an unexpected connection blossoms between the unlikely pair.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 2,548

warnings/notes:

Chapter 4: First Day in a New World

In her dreams, Violet navigated a maze of endless rooms, each more opulent and suffocating than the last. She ran her fingers along the silk wallpapers, the textures vivid even in her slumbering state, as whispers echoed off the gilded mirrors. The labyrinth seemed a perfect metaphor for the world she had been thrust into—a world where every luxury masked a hidden snare, where every friendly face might conceal a treacherous intent.

In one room, she found herself staring at a portrait that seemed oddly familiar. It was Austin, painted in stern strokes yet with an undeniable vulnerability bleeding through the canvas. As she gazed at it, the eyes in the painting flickered with life, beseeching her to understand, to pierce through the layers of aristocracy and see the man beneath. But before she could reach out, the scene shifted and she was back in the darkened carriage, feeling Austin's intense gaze upon her.

Violet woke with a start, her breath shallow, as dawn's gray light seeped through the carriage windows. She glanced over at Austin; he was still awake, staring out into the breaking day with an expression that was hard to read—was it contemplation or regret?

Austin's gaze shifted from the dawn's first light back to Violet, noticing her wakeful state. "Bad dreams?" he inquired, his voice gentle yet carrying an undertone of concern that seemed out of character for the guarded aristocrat she had so far perceived him to be.

Violet hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "Just...strange ones," she finally admitted, pushing back the haunting images of labyrinthine corridors and whispering shadows. Her voice was hoarse with sleep and latent anxiety, a testament to the unrest that plagued her both in wakefulness and in slumber.

Austin nodded solemnly, as if her words had confirmed something he already suspected. "Dreams can often be more telling than our waking thoughts," he said softly, though his eyes remained fixed on the view outside, where the landscape was changing rapidly as they approached his estate.

The carriage rolled through towering wrought iron gates, flanked by stone pillars that were cloaked in creeping ivy. Beyond lay a manicured path lined with ancient oaks and blossoming cherry trees, their petals fluttering like soft pink snowflakes in the mild breeze. The air was fresher here, tinged with the scent of earth and bloom. Violet felt a twinge of unease as the manor came into view. It was a grand structure of gray stone and towering spires that pierced the sky with Gothic elegance. Its windows glistened like eyes, reflecting the morning sun in blinding bursts. It seemed to watch her approach with an intensity that matched its owner’s.

As they drew closer, the details of the manor revealed themselves—ornate carvings framed each window and door, gargoyles perched on the roof's edges, their expressions twisted in silent screams or mocking grins. The beauty of it was undeniable, yet it also bore an oppressive air, as though each stone were imbued with whispers.

Violet's heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and trepidation as the carriage jolted slightly, marking their halt at the front steps of the manor. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, and stepped down from the carriage, her worn shoes hitting the gravel with a soft crunch. The grandeur of Austin's manor unfolded before her in relentless waves. Each column, each archway, was a testament to both the might and the burden of wealth. The air around her felt heavy with history, each breath she took seemed laced with untold stories.

A line of servants awaited, their faces blank slates of practiced neutrality. As Violet ascended the stone steps, she noted how their eyes darted towards her — quick, furtive glances that seemed to size her up and place her in the social hierarchy that she knew nothing about. Her presence was an intrusion into their world, an anomaly in their otherwise orderly existence.

The wide doors opened silently as if by some unseen hand, revealing an entrance hall that dazzled in opulence. High ceilings arching into distant shadows gave way to walls adorned with intricate tapestries and paintings that whispered tales of grandeur and despair. The floor was a mosaic of marble tiles so polished she could see her reflection. Her gaze swept over the assembly of servants whose lives were tied to the whims of their master. A butler, austere in a perfectly tailored black coat with coattails that brushed his calves, stepped forward. His hair was silvered at the temples, matching the spectacles perched on his hawk-like nose. He carried an air of unflappable authority, the very embodiment of discipline and decorum.

Beside him stood a housekeeper, her dark hair drawn back into a severe bun that accentuated the sharp angles of her face. She wore a gray dress, its starched collar peeking out from beneath a black silk shawl draped over her shoulders—a matronly figure who, Violet sensed, ruled the indoor staff with a mix of maternal concern and iron resolve. A young valet hovered near the butler, his posture rigid with the eager tension of youth. His eyes brightened as they rested briefly on Violet, offering a silent promise of friendly allegiance amidst this sea of unfamiliar faces. Clad in a simple, yet immaculate suit, he seemed ready to leap to service at the slightest nod.

The butler cleared his throat softly, breaking the charged silence. "Miss Everly, welcome to Butler Manor," he intoned, his voice resonant and precise. "I am Mr. Pembroke, the butler here. Please allow me to introduce Mrs. Aldridge, our housekeeper."

Mrs. Aldridge stepped forward, her eyes appraising Violet with a scrutiny that made her feel momentarily like an exhibit rather than a guest. "We are honored to have you," she said, though her tone carried the faintest trace of reservation. Her gaze lingered on Violet's attire—a simple dress, faded from too many washes and mended in several places.

Violet felt a flush of self-consciousness but met Mrs. Aldridge’s gaze steadily. She had learned long ago that the directness of her eyes could be as effective a shield as any armor.

"And this is Thomas," Mr. Pembroke continued, nodding toward the young valet who had been eyeing Violet with curiosity. Thomas stepped forward, dipping into a respectful bow that seemed too grand for his youthful appearance.

"It's a pleasure, Miss," Thomas said, his voice betraying a hint of nervous excitement. "Should you need anything during your stay, please do not hesitate to ask."

Violet gave a small, awkward bow back. “Thank you, Thomas.” She glanced over at Austin who was now standing beside her. “How do they know my name?”

Austin smiled slightly and Violet noticed how it made his face look even younger. “I sent someone ahead to inform them. I wanted to make sure things were already in order.”

Violet nodded cautiously, feeling the weight of many eyes upon her as she followed Mr. Pembroke through the grand foyer and up a sweeping staircase. The opulence was suffocating, every detail from the gold leaf cornices to the plush red carpets screamed of wealth and excess. She could hardly believe such a world existed, let alone that she was stepping foot in it.

The echoing click of their footsteps rang out as they ascended to the residential floors. Portraits lined the walls, ancestors of Austin with stern faces and luxurious attire, watching over their modern-day descendants. Violet felt their gazes pressing down upon her, each one seeming to question her worthiness to tread these hallowed halls.

At the top of the stairs, they turned down a long corridor adorned with even more artwork and statues that spoke of ancient Greek and Roman grandeur. Finally, Mr. Pembroke stopped before a large door, its wood polished to a shine with intricate carvings around the handle.

"Your quarters," he announced, pushing open the door to reveal a room that took Violet's breath away.

The chamber was vast, with a ceiling painted like the sky at dusk, dark blues and purples mingling with stars. A massive four-poster bed stood against one wall, draped with velvet curtains the color of midnight. Across the room, tall windows draped in heavy brocade curtains let in shafts of light that danced across the rich, dark wooden floors. Each piece of furniture seemed to be a work of art itself, from the ornately carved wardrobe that whispered of secrets to the elegant writing desk that beckoned with the promise of quiet contemplation. The fireplace’s mantel was adorned with an array of miniature paintings and porcelain figures that looked as though they had been chosen with care.

Violet moved slowly toward the bed, her hands tracing the soft fabric of the velvet draperies. She could hardly believe that such luxury was meant for her, a girl who had slept on straw and tattered blankets for most of her life. The contrast was overwhelming, filling her with a sense of disbelief mingled with an anxious foreboding. Could she truly belong in such a place?

As if sensing her disquiet, Mr. Pembroke spoke up. “I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Miss Everly? If there is anything you desire to make your stay more comfortable, do not hesitate to inform us.”

Violet turned, offering him a tentative smile. “It’s more than I could have ever imagined, Mr. Pembark. Thank you.” Her voice was a soft murmur lost amidst the vastness of the chamber. She felt the weight of the room pressing in around her, the opulence almost suffocating in its intensity. This was a world far removed from anything she had known. How could she, Violet Everly, a girl of simple means and simpler expectations, ever fit into such grandeur? She felt like an imposter in a play, dressed in the wrong costume.

Austin stepped closer, noting the apprehension that flickered across her face like shadows cast by candlelight. "It can be overwhelming at first," he acknowledged, his voice low and perhaps unintentionally soothing. His blue eyes scanned her face with an intensity that made her heart flutter uncontrollably.

"But you will find your place here, I'm quite certain." His assurance was threaded with an inexplicable warmth that momentarily lifted the weight from her shoulders.

Violet nodded, allowing herself a moment to absorb his words. The room seemed to expand and contract with each breath she took, a tangible manifestation of the nervous excitement that fluttered within her chest. "I shall try," she replied, her voice more steady than she felt.

Austin offered a small, understanding smile and gestured toward the window. "The view here is particularly beautiful at sunset. The light plays off the landscape in a way that is quite spectacular. I hope you will find some comfort in it."

Reluctantly, Violet walked towards the window, her fingers brushing against the luxurious fabric of the curtains as she passed. Pulling them back, she was greeted with an expansive view of the estate’s manicured gardens, their geometric perfection a stark contrast to the wild, untended fields she had grown up near. The setting sun cast a golden glow over everything, bathing the world in a warm light that made it look like a scene from another world.

She turned back to Austin, who was observing her with an expression that was hard to read. "It's beautiful," she admitted quietly, her voice carrying a hint of wonder. "I've never seen anything quite like it."

Austin’s face softened at her words. "And you shall see more," he promised, stepping beside her at the window. "This estate holds many secrets—some delightful, some a bit darker. But all are part of its charm."

Violet glanced up at him, intrigued by his mention of secrets. She wanted to ask him about them—about everything that lay hidden beneath the surface of his polished demeanor and this grand estate. But she held back, reminding herself not to get too comfortable too quickly. Austin turned to her then, his gaze intense yet not unkind, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

"There is much to learn about this place," he said, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious room. "And much to learn about each other," he added, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Violet's heart skipped a beat. His words were an invitation but also a reminder of their different stations in life. She was under no illusion about her own position here—as much as this room and the view it offered belonged to her temporarily, they could just as easily be taken away.

"Yes," she replied, mustering her resolve. "I look forward to learning."

"Good," Austin nodded approvingly, then gestured towards a small bell pull near the fireplace. "Should you need anything at any time, pull that cord. Someone will attend to you promptly," he instructed, his tone carrying the air of someone accustomed to being obeyed.

Violet nodded, her gaze lingering on the ornate bell pull as Austin continued to speak. “Dinner will be served in the main dining hall at seven each evening. You are expected to join.” he explained, though there was a trace of something unreadable in his voice—a hint of warning, perhaps, or an underlying challenge.

As he spoke, Violet felt the weight of her new reality settling around her like the heavy velvet curtains framing the windows. This was no simple act of charity; she was entering a world of complex social games and hidden agendas, where every gesture and word could have layers of meaning.

Violet hesitated for a moment, the weight of Austin's words sinking in. "I understand," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her mind raced with thoughts of the elaborate dinners and the intricate social dances she would have to learn. The splendor of the estate no longer seemed just beautiful but also a gilded cage with rules she had yet to understand.

Austin studied her for a moment longer, as if gauging her reaction. "I have no doubt you will adapt quickly," he reassured her, but his words seemed to hold a double edge—a compliment laced with a challenge.

He then turned to leave, his figure retreating towards the door before pausing briefly. “Mr. Pembroke will help you with anything else you might need to settle in,” he said without turning back. With a final nod, he exited, leaving Violet alone in her new quarters.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Violet felt a sudden emptiness engulf the room. She was alone, truly alone in this foreign opulence. She walked slowly around the room, touching the silken fabrics and eyeing the exquisite artwork that adorned the walls. Each item was a testament to a life so vastly different from her own that it almost seemed fantastical.

Caught between awe and an increasing sense of isolation, Violet perched on the edge of the plush bed. The softness of the mattress beneath her was a sharp contrast to the hard, unforgiving surfaces she had grown accustomed to. It was all too luxurious, too quiet, too serene—an unsettling tranquility that made her heart throb painfully in her chest. There, in the silence of her lavish prison, she pondered about the price of such comfort.

Stay tuned for part 5!! Click HERE to view!

Taglist: @buckysteveloki-me

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Ok, so this is the MUCH REQUESTED addition to Chapter 8 of I'm Your Man, in which Rosie is forced to put Jill to bed on Christmas day. This one's for the girl-dad Rosie fans, I love you.

Word Count: 1.6k

Her fingers were sticky as they clung to the cuff of his sleeve, tugging downwards against his shoulder, the remnants of a hastily devoured mince pie lining her mouth. Rosie wasn't sure he'd ever been responsible for something so tiny before - so fragile, so utterly beyond his own understanding. The stairs creaked beneath their feet as they climbed, cast in the shadow of a single bulb, illuminating the upstairs hallway. Here it felt like stepping into the past, into a part of Frankie's life that she had long since left behind, old crayon doodles littering the wallpaper at knee height that no one had ever bothered covering over.

It was a motif in all of her childhood drawings - two stick figures, a huge man and a little girl, holding each other's little stick hands and smiling little stick smiles. Up ahead, Jill waddled into the bathroom, socks sticking to a puddle on the tile. She dragged a small box stool across the floor, hauling herself up by the rim of the sink until she could only just see her own face in the mirror, her reflection never making it past the bridge of her nose.

"Whatcha doin' there?" Rosie asked, leaning against the doorframe. She had handed him the ragged old teddy bear that she had been carrying in one hand, and he tucked it under one arm, its head poking out as if watching over the scene before it.

The girl's brow furrowed, looking over at him as if he were a fool. "Brushin' teeth."

"Ah, I see," He nodded. In her obscured reflection, Jill couldn't see the mess that covered the lower half of her face, and before she could raise the brush to her mouth, he stepped forward. "Hey, hey, wait a sec."

She raised a brow, tracking his movements as Rosie crouched down before her, their eyes at level height. Dipping one hand into the warm water she had half-filled the sink with, he gently rubbed the pad of his thumb around the corner of her mouth, wiping away the muck. There was certainly a family resemblance when he stood this close, the same brown eyes even beneath that crop of silver-blonde hair that never seemed to lay flat. Jill giggled, his soft touch tickling her cheeks, and he felt himself mirror her grin as he finished, washing away the stickiness from his hands. "There ya go. All done."

"Aw," The girl tutted disappointedly, craning as high as she could to catch a glimpse of her freshly cleaned face in the mirror. "Will there be more pies tomorrow?"

Rosie chuckled, folding his arms across his chest as he stepped back into the doorway. "I'm sure there will be. But not if you don't brush your teeth first."

Jill obliged, and he could hear her whispering through the foam that filled her mouth as she brushed away, quietly counting the seconds like she'd no doubt been taught, making sure she did a good job. He smiled, fighting every urge in his body to ignore the conversation that drifted up to his ear from downstairs.

"That lad's in love with you, else he wouldn't have crossed the bloody country on Christmas Eve to come eat old carrots with you."

It seemed almost too much to take in in a single moment - too heavy, too full of brilliant, wonderful implications for him to deal with right now. The only way to stop himself from standing there, frozen, hanging on every word, was to convince his mind that this was a mission - that this little girl on her wooden step, toothpaste foam running down her chin, was his only objective, and he couldn't afford to be distracted.

Jill bent forward, spitting into the sink, wiping the back of one chubby palm across her face to clean it. The floor creaked beneath her as she jumped down from her step, baring her teeth at him as proof of her hard work. Rosie narrowed his eyes, inspecting closely. "Open up," He demanded, authoritative tone making the child giggle as she stretched her mouth open as wide as possible, peering up at him as he surveyed the job. "Excellent job, soldier - we oughta put you in for a medal for this one," Rosie grinned, raising a hand to his forehead in salute, and a gleeful laugh erupted from her, echoing in the tiny room.

It was a short walk to the girls' bedroom, and he realised upon entering that it must have once belonged to Frankie's parents, sacrificed by her father to accommodate their growing family. The two girls shared a double bed, and Alice had already rolled onto her side, facing the wall as she read a book quietly, waiting for her sister to settle. Rosie uttered an apology as they entered, but she seemed entirely unphased by the noise as Jill clambered clumsily up onto the mattress, clutching her teddy to her chest. "Storytime," She uttered, whispering in the dim light.

"Ah, right," He nodded, and waited until the girl pointed to one of the books that filled the shelf on the wall. Rosie pulled it from the rest, smiling at the boy and the little yellow bear that decorated the cover. His knees ached as he crouched down beside the bed, flicking through the battered, yellowed pages until Jill held out a hand, stopping at the section she liked best.

"What a good choice," Rosie declared. Although the book bore almost no familiarity for him, it was clear in the wear of the paper that it had been loved.

Jill listened intently, blankets tucked up to her chin as he read, angling the book towards her so that she could see its illustrations.

"'Hallo Pooh,' he said. 'How's things?'

'Terrible and Sad,' said Pooh, 'because Eeyore, who is a friend of mine, has lost his tail-"

"Do the voices," Jill whispered, her voice so meek and tired that Rosie almost didn't hear her over the sound of his own.

"What's that, honey?"

"You've gotta do the voices. Everyone always does the voices."

Of course. He considered himself foolish for ever thinking he could get away without such a thing. "Oh, right. Uh-

'-because Eeyore, who is a friend of mine, has lost his tail. And he's Moping about it. So could you very kindly tell me how to find it for him?'"

Rosie paused again at the sound of giggling, muffled beneath the blankets as Jill lifted them to cover her mouth. "That's not the right voice," She snickered, cheeks flushing red at the hilarity of his failure. "Read a different one."

The book fell shut in his lap, and he nodded firmly, pitying Alice as she tried to ignore their chattering. "Alright. Which one do you think the voices will be good for?"

Her blankets rustled as Jill scurried out of bed, padding across the floor towards the shelf as she scoured the books, an expression of utmost seriousness furrowing her brow. After a moment of deliberation, she plucked out a new book, this one even more battered than the last, a rabbit in a blue jacket adorning its cover. On the inside page, Frankie's name was scrawled in messy, faded pencil.

"...'Peter never stopped running or looked behind him till he got home to the big fir-tree. He was so tired that he flopped down upon the nice soft sand on the floor of the rabbit hole, and shut his eyes...'"

Before he had managed to reach the end of the book, the soft sound of little snores alerted Rosie to the fact that his audience wasn't quite listening anymore. Teddy bear tucked tight beneath her chin, cheek squished against the pillow, Jill's mouth hung open slightly as she slept, tiny snores escaping her every now and then. A soft smile curled his lips, and he let the book close, slotting both stories back into their place up on the shelf. By the time he'd turned back towards the bed, Jill had rolled over in her sleep, arm outstretched towards her sister.

"You need anything, Alice?" He whispered, soft words piercing the veil of silence. Alice smiled over at her baby sister, discarding her own book upon the nightstand.

"Nah. I'm ok. Thanks, Rosie."

The floorboards creaked beneath him as he left the room, and he tip-toed to lessen the sound as best he could. "D'you want the door left open or shut?"

"Leave it open. Jill's scared of the dark."

"Alright then. G'night."

Frankie's father had already headed upstairs by the time Rosie came down, a gentle, content quiet laying over the house. His heart was beating so hard he could hear it inside his skull as he descended the staircase, the conversation he had overheard playing over and over again in his head.

This was good - this wasn't something to be afraid of - and yet he was. He was until he reached the doorway to the living room, and Frankie was lying there, sprawled out atop the pile of cushions and blankets he had called a bed the night before, staring at the wall, at her childhood self's attempt at drawing a rainbow without half of the prerequisite colours. This house was the beating heart of who she was, an altar to every moment of her life, an archive of a younger version of her. If he could meet her here, he could meet her anywhere.

"You're in my bed."

[ardentpoop]

here’s what I wrote tonight bc idk if it’ll turn into anything. john&sam&dean yet again :)

On a lifeless night deep in October, Dean crashes through the door of the bungalow they’ve been squatting in and sets the foyer abuzz with his grating breaths, his boots heavy on the stained vinyl, one of the weapons fitted against his back or his thighs emitting a metallic chirp as he trips and accidentally assaults the entryway table that Dad’s stubbed his toe on at least twice. Dean’s kicking it, then, over and over, vicious, cussing so hard he’s panting with it.

Sam is still adjusting to the shock of Dean’s red-hot presence, filling the whole house in a split second, so it takes him a moment too long to slide off the kitchen counter; to lose his spot in his book and put his hands up cautiously and say, Dean, Dean, Dean, what happened? What’re you doing?

The trinket bowl had thudded to the floor as Dean whaled on the poor table, and he’s picking it up now, flinging it with all his might in the direction of the door. It shatters on the edge of the jamb, and Sam winces and ducks instinctively, hands trembling over his head as the shards scatter over the floor.

Fuck! The word punches through Dean’s throat, his voice raw like he’d been screaming all night - Sam’s only just noticed - and he stretches it into an awful multisyllabic howl, his voice finally guttering out as he drops to his knees and buries his fingers in his hair, his entire body juddering with stifled sobs.

Dean, Sam tries to say, but he’s too scared now, tears spilling down his cheeks, heart twisted into a painful knot, pulsing erratically around the usual question. Where’s Dad? Where’s Dad? Where’s Dad?

Right on cue for once, Dad enters the scene, the smells of the damp night creeping in with him as he leaves the door hanging open, the straggler crickets in the dying bushes outside keening mournfully. Sammy, Dad says, pulling out his emptiest smile, setting his gun on the abused table with a meaningful thunk. Go to your room.

Dad - Sam starts, swaying to him, stopping when he notices that he’s standing funny, tilted to one side like a house with a bad foundation. Something’s wrong with his right leg, a bulbous knot of fabric encasing his knee, the denim around it drenched black for at least three inches in every direction. Dad sighs, drags himself over to Sam with a patience that rarely makes itself known, Dean still crying in Sam’s periphery. He puts a hand in Sam’s hair, his skin rank and gritty, then thumbs at the wetness on Sam’s cheeks, leaving traces of the woods behind, prickling in concert with his remaining tears.

S’okay, Dad says, leaving his palm on Sam’s shoulder for a beat. Had a couple close calls, is all.

Sam swallows, staring up into his shadowed face in case the truth decides to peek out. Is Dean…?

He’ll be fine. Dad nods his head in the direction of Sam’s room, retracting his fingers and starting towards Dean instead. Go, Sammy.

But Sam stays hidden just around the corner, sinking into the jaundiced wallpaper, listening hard to try to make out the words that Dad murmurs at Dean as he crouches before him with a hand on his back.

Mistake.

But.

Human.

And then, more emphatically, Not human.

Not human.

The front door creaks in the breeze leaking into the foyer, and Sam wishes he could slam it shut and put the chain back on; the deep shadows beyond the scope of the single functioning porch light taking on new life.

By Sam’s bare foot is a jagged fragment of the bowl Dean had destroyed, the sight of its blue glaze and its tiny white butterflies putting a fresh lump in his throat.

Before tonight, it had been the prettiest thing in the whole place.

[the-fiction-witch]

Present

Media - Doctor Who Character - The Doctor (11th) Couple - The Doctor X Reader Reader - Y/n (wife) Rating - 15 Word Count - 1156

Fictional Advent Day Fourteen

The Doctor dashed around the TARDIS control room, his blazer billowing behind him as he tinkered with the controls, adjusted settings, and rearranged various gadgets. Despite his efforts to keep himself occupied, he couldn't shake the feeling of restlessness and unease that lingered within him. It was as if he was trying to create order in the chaos of his own thoughts, but deep down, he knew it was just a temporary distraction.

His mind thought only of her. 

As if he could feel her agony going through him, 

His hearts beating anxiously out of sync with one another the longer he waited for word. 

He sighed leaning his hip against the console and rubbing his eyes, he ran a hand through his hair and tried to force away his ever-flooding concern. 

He walked, slowly through the corridors reaching their bedroom. 

The room sat as usual with the blue half-panelled walls with blue and gold striped wallpaper above, a dusty chandelier hung from above, and fireplace sat burning with a soft purple flame, the sofa sat looking over it with the blanket and pillows still draped across it. Their four-poster bed sat with half-made sheets and curtains not tied back around the posts from the nights he had spent alone. 

He sat down on the bed and ran his hand across her side imagining her body there, all its swells and divots and how his hands would glide so smoothly over them. 

He forced himself away walking deeper down the corridors.

The room itself made him feel sickly, but he couldn’t help but peak within. 

With the tall white walls and shiny white floor, the whole room smelt unnerving clean, littered with medical tools and supplies from across the galaxy but one in particular. 

A rejuvenation pod sat in the centre of the room, the white padding inside slowly being cleaned from blood by the machine itself. The screen on the side still flashed that the protocol had been stopped and the program ended without finishing it. 

The whole scene made him feel sick. 

He forced himself to walk away, and just then the phone began to ring.

So The doctor bolted back to the main console grabbed the phone and waited, the very few seconds felt like years as he waited.

“Doctor, we have an update.” The Talaxi nurse told him, 

“Just tell me.” He said sharply but immediately relented, “I…am…so sorry.” 

“You’d be surprised how often it happens, nerves are a killer to us all.” They answered, “All is well, she is fine and they are both ready to see you.” 

Immediately tears began to well up, “thank you, I’ll be there in a moment.” He swiftly hung up the phone and wiped his eyes a relief of all the fear he had built up for so long.

But he didn’t want to keep them waiting. 

The doctor dressed himself in his best suit, making sure to look his best. He made his way out of the tardis finding himself in the small cupboard, so he carefully left walking the cold silent halls, as he did his watch’s alarm sounded. 

Midnight. 

Meaning officially, it was Christmas.

He reached the room and he fixed his hair, and straightened his bow tie before he walked in and instantly he felt warm, cosy, and so full of joy, that his hearts stopped a moment before they began to race. The little room with soft sky blue walls, and a window looking out across the planet from so high in the sky. A few of the nurses still milling about inside the room. 

But there, on the bed Y/n laid. 

Her hair was a mess and her eyes were tired, but she had a glow about her. 

In her arms the sweet baby laid. 

His hearts swelled beyond anything he had ever felt, his legs refused to move even if he so desperately wanted them to. 

“Hello…” He smiled already getting choked up, 

“Hello,” she smiled weakly, “You going to come say hello?”

“I can?”

“Of course,” she nodded, 

He smiled and rushed over sitting on the bed beside her trying hard to keep the tears in his eyes from falling as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, “How are you?”

“...Merry.” She said sarcastically bringing a chuckle to them both, “I feel… Okay,”

“I’m glad,” he smiled, “I was so worried.” He admitted, 

“I know you were,” she smiled back, “But it's over now.”

“And?”

“And he’s an angel.” She gently shifted the baby in her arms so he could see him better, “Here he is, happy and healthy,” 

He began to cry, “Can I?” He begged, 

“Of course,” She chuckled gently handing the baby over to him,

He held the baby boy sweety in his arms, cradling the newborn like he was the most precious thing, and in many ways he was. 

“and he’s just like his daddy,” she told him, 

“He- He is?”

“Mhm,” 

“The first time lord, born since the war. The first time lord and human baby born for… who knows how long. Our baby. Our little boy.” He cooed fighting back his tears as he kissed the baby’s little head, 

Y/n smiled and rested her head on The Doctor’s shoulder watching the baby in his arms and of course his adorable reaction. “Our little boy,” She giggled, “for now I suppose he might change that later.”

“Timelord so have a habit of going through phases, got to try everything and see what feels best.” He nodded, “But our little boy for now, till he knows.” 

“You could have been here, you know.”

“I didn’t want to be in the way,” he admits, “You know I wouldn’t be able to sit still while you're in pain. This is the best hospital in the galaxy and I was only in the tardis just down the corridor.” 

“I know, maybe next time.”

“Next time?” He raised an eyebrow, 

“You know what I mean,” she laughed, “I am sorry to say you don’t get a present this year,” 

He smiled and gave her a soft tender kiss, “You have given me the best present I’ve ever gotten.” He gently got to his feet and soothed the little boy in his arms to let Y/n rest, and he smiled down at him muttering softly, “And you little one, Not only are you the best present I have ever received. But you are going to get all the best presents every day for the whole of your life. All the toys you can ever want. Whatever pets you desire. Give you the stars and all else. Anything in this universe you want I will get it for you. Becuase you are the most precious thing ever to exist and I will do anything for you.” He smiled,

“You’re going to spoil him,” Y/n teased, 

“Indeed I am.” he smiled, “Everyday will be christmas for you little one, I swear it.” 

[jangseonjang]

I really like this interview that I just have to share it 😚

Sports Seoul

Woo Da-bi: “‘Jeongnyeon’ Was a Turning Point, Working with Kim Tae-ri, Jung Eun-chae, and Shin Ye-eun Felt Like a Dream” [SS Interview①] By Ham Sang-beom Published: 2024.11.28, 6:01 AM

In front of her stood actress Kim Tae-ri, confidently resting a hand on her hip. To one side was the prince-like Jung Eun-chae, and to the other, Shin Ye-eun, a star graduate of Anyang High School of Arts. For rookie actress Woo Da-bi, tvN’s Jeongnyeon was nothing short of a dream come true.

Woo went through four rounds of auditions for the role of Hong Joo-ran, Yoon Jeongnyeon’s (played by Kim Tae-ri) one and only friend. It was a role with substantial screen time and significance that any newcomer would covet. In the early episodes, Joo-ran helps Jeongnyeon settle into the Maeran National Drama Troupe, while later on, she becomes a key figure in Jeongnyeon’s awakening. Woo watched the audition results with a pounding heart.

In an interview with Sports Seoul at a café in Gangnam, Seoul, Woo Da-bi shared, “For the audition, I performed ‘Namwon Fortress’ from the first episode of Jeongnyeon. The judges said, ‘It’s not quite singing or vocalizing, but it’s unique.’ I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a critique. I went through four rounds of auditions, and I kept quiet because I didn’t want to jinx it. I just kept thinking, ‘Please, let this be it.’ When I got the part, I was so happy.”

Preparation for the role took six months. Once the cast of Jeongnyeon was confirmed, all the actors headed straight to the practice room, including Woo. The production demanded extensive training in pansori, stage acting, and dancing.

“We received lessons for the play-within-a-play scenes, as well as dance lessons. Led by Tae-ri unni, the Maeran National Drama Troupe truly came together as one. Even though Tae-ri unni was already skilled, she practiced so much. We all gave it our all, not wanting to fall behind.”

At the start of filming, Woo Da-bi wasn’t yet a widely known figure. She admitted to observing the other actors in awe, as if she were a member of the audience, completely captivated by their performances. It was an honor to act alongside Kim Tae-ri, whom she had long admired, Jung Eun-chae, a personal favorite, and Shin Ye-eun, her senior by two years at Anyang High School of Arts.

“Tae-ri unni needs no explanation. She’s probably the number one actress people my age dream of working with. Jung Eun-chae, our prince, is someone I’ve loved as a fan. For a while, she was even my phone wallpaper. Even though I really admire her, I couldn’t bring myself to say it aloud. As for Shin Ye-eun sunbae, she was like the school’s Moon Ok-kyung (Jung Eun-chae’s character)—popular and someone everyone looked up to. Rami Ran sunbae brought so much energy to the set, and director Jung Ji-in, whose work on The Red Sleeve touched my heart deeply, is like a god to me. Just being with them filled me with pride.”

The Complexity of Relationships in Jeongnyeon

Jeongnyeon explores themes of same-sex intimacy. The relationships between Moon Ok-kyung and Seo Hye-rang (Kim Yoon-hye) and between Yoon Jeongnyeon and Hong Joo-ran weave a tapestry of love, friendship, solidarity, and envy. Before leaving the Maeran National Drama Troupe, Hong Joo-ran tells Jeongnyeon, “My one and only prince.” It’s one of the drama’s most memorable lines.

“When I think about my acting career, that scene will probably stand out as one of the most symbolic. Physically, my chest ached while filming it. Even now, I feel like crying when I think about it. The relationship goes beyond friendship; there are such profound emotions there. I think it was love—something truly extraordinary. Tae-ri unni and I didn’t over-rehearse; we just relied on the emotions we felt in the moment. Jeongnyeon has given me so much. It will forever be a turning point in my acting career. I’ll continue to prepare thoroughly and live up to the opportunities I receive.”

Email: intellybeast@sportsseoul.com By Ham Sang-beom

[podfeels]

Podfeels Season 1 Retrospective

4/13/2024 marked the two year anniversary of Podfeels’ first airing, and in August, we will celebrate the three year anniversary of its inception as a project. It feels so strange, looking back on it all. To me, it feels simultaneously like its always been in my life, and also like it just started yesterday.

I’ve spent nearly three years now spearheading this project, and we’ve expanded from a team of ten to a team of thirty in that time, and have put out roughly four hours of highly produced, full cast, full sound effect audio drama.

That may not sound like much, but for a team composed almost exclusively of first timers at its inception, and with two big hiatuses out of everyone’s control, I’m pretty damn proud.

With Season 1 ending back in January, us currently in the exact two month midpoint between anniversaries, and Season 2 being worked on behind the scenes, I thought now would be a good time to release a bit of a retrospective on our first season. Talk about the process, what went wrong, what went right, and also release our assets for the public.

I’m splitting this into three sections so you can skip around based on what you give a shit about. 

Looking 8ack

Reminiscence about how I got into godfeels through a series of insane coincidences that make my heart feel warm.

2. Adapt8ion

Discussing the process of adapting the work into our medium.

3. Portr8s, 8ackgrounds, and Sound8ites

A release of Season 1’s art and sound assets for your perusal outside of the videos, use as desktop wallpapers, or what have you. 

Looking 8ack

In March 2020, I got covid for the first time. My workplace had no protections for it yet, so I lost my job. And while bedridden with covid, subsisting off a diet of lukewarm broth, saltines, and nyquil, I set my youtube Watch Later (ok, thats a lie, it was my Likes, which i used ((still use)) as a watch later instead of using the actual watch later function, BUT-) playlist to shuffle. And in this fugue state, I stumbled on the video that would completely change the trajectory of my life.

“What I Learned Writing 50,000 Words of Homestuck Fanfiction”, by Sarah Zedig. I vaguely remembered her from some video about the McElroys and from Hbomberguy’s stream, and I had put off watching this because at the time of its release, I hadn’t yet finished Homestuck. So I shuffled it away for later, and it found its way back into my lap at the perfect time. Having now finished the comic, read the Epilogues, actively reading Homestuck ^2: Beyond Canon, and five months in to my first ever real creative outlet in my semi-abandoned video essay channel, I was interested to hear what this goat had to say.

In the video Sarah went into detail about a ton of wider context about the Homestuck Renaissance that I was fully unaware of, and made a very strong case for her own postcanon work, godfeels. Her passion bled through and I figured, sure, why not, I’ve got nothing better going on, I’ll read the story of Spiderjeggings’ No Good Very Bad Transition. Why not!

55,660 words later, crying alone in bed, I was now a girl. Reading the scene of June making her list of wants the morning after Terezi’s return, I said out loud to myself, hoarse as can be, “I can’t put it off any longer.” 

After reading to current I ended up joining the godfeels fanserver, and from getting settled in these circles I’ve met so many people I wouldn’t have otherwise, and come into myself in ways I can’t begin to fully quantify. I went from one relationship to fourteen to now a stable four, the other person in my head shook back loose after a decade of suppression by me (sorry again, Aegis), I’ve become more cultured, I’ve gained more friends, I’ve gained more hobbies, and most relevant of all… I’ve gained Podfeels.

Podfeels proper actually started in a really funny and impromptu way. In Sarah’s video she mentions wanting to start a podfic adaptation of it, but with that being two years past with no more word, a conversation about it cropped up in the server, and it was revealed that it had been canceled for various reasons. Everyone immediately understood why that had to happen. It was an insane amount of work, especially now that Godfeels was entering the territory of a space opera. But the demand was there among all of us, and after almost a dozen loops of us all going “drat, would be cool. I wish someone would take the helm on that!”, I just went ALRIGHT I GET IT and opened up casting. Podfeels was actually originally a joke name made by someone in the server before I even entered the conversation, but we used it for so long during development that by the time we came to release day it just felt wrong to call the project anything else. The name just stuck.

After a few hours of people daydreaming about it happening, and me encouraging other people to take the helm, I finally gave in and opened up casting. Now, it’s important to understand, I had never directed ANYTHING like this before in my life. I made a really terrible sketch in high school theater class and that’s about it. I’ve always been a bit of a natural leader but never anything with the kind of scale this would require, and it showed. I crowdfunded almost all ideas for what to do and how to handle it, and my best idea for how to do auditions was “just send in a few lines of you doing whatever character you want”. And my language was… insufferably fawning. I was hedging my bets at every opportunity. Every development in the project was “tentative”, I was the “director” until someone else took charge, etc. Looking back its actually kind of adorable? 

Look at that sweetheart. She’s so scared. She has no idea the beautiful changes she is in for.

The casting process was an unmitigated DISASTER. Nobody there knew how to audition, and I didn’t know how to wrangle. We were an unstructured gaggle of doofasses stumbling into each other. And due to the limited pool, I was stretched kind of thin on where to put people. Obviously I stand by all our decisions and love our cast, but because I was pulling entirely from the fanserver, options were very limited. I wanted to get everyone who wanted one into a role, but having to do the math of “this person is 40% good at Character A and 60% good at Character B, but this OTHER person is 80% good at Character B and the closest runner up for Character A is only 35% good” was agonizing.

We ended up deciding to make a few demos first, to test our chops as actors and mine as editor. We had four planned. But after we fully produced our first two demos and had recorded the third… I decided we should immediately start chronological production.

Why did I make this decision, you ask? Well. We had a few months until 4/13/2022. If we immediately all went overdrive, me especially, we had the chance to get our first episode out on the 13th 4/13 anniversary of Homestuck, and like HELL was I about to let us pass that up. 

This was the right call, I think, but it did bring us into a BUNCH of complications. First off, it meant we never really tested our violence and drama chops on the houseraid. Second, if I had waited, we would have been able to dodge our first big hiatus, where I put us on pause for a couple months while we waited to see if our Terezi wanted to leave after she floated the idea, which she ended up doing. If we had stayed in prepro, we would have skipped a huge hiatus and not replaced a key character between episode one and two. It also meant that we didn’t fully solidify an editing pipeline, and I was handling practically all editing until around episode 3. Additional prepro time would have helped us iron that out, as well, rather than me breaking myself on the first couple episodes before bringing in help out of desperation. This rush ALSO led to us having to release episode 1’s video around a week after the audio’s release, and with a fucked up background because I was crunching so hard I didn’t notice I’d accidentally completely butchered John’s bedroom somehow! I think I somehow content aware filled the wall? Fucked if I know why!

This is an abridged version because I want to get us to the meat of the matter today and I feel a lot of the longer story is best saved for a video I plan on making down the line, when we’ve reached 50 hours of runtime. For now, let’s move on.

Adapt8ion

A few folks have asked for indepth adaptation notes for what we change in an episode and why. As a general rule, we make changes with three primary motivations. First, adjusting text-based ideas to sound-based. Godfeels plays with its medium in countless compelling ways that, when shifted to a different medium, are either clunky or incomprehensible. So our first job is to translate those into sound. Second, turning narration into sound effects. We don’t need to discuss sounds in the scene, or a character’s tone, when we can just hear it all ourselves now. This then expands into further issues, however, as some things DO need to stay as narration. There’s a lot of pathos in the narration, and often there’s details that can’t be conveyed through audio alone. But by removing just the audio cues, we are left with very clunky phrasing that does our source material no justice. So we have to rephrase entire sections to give them the same resonance, meaning, and clarity while also getting rid of all the things that are now extraneous in our medium. The third main type of edit is bringing it more in line with what comes later. Godfeels has been running a long time and has become a very different beast from where it began. I love this about it, but some ideas have ended up with insufficient preparation, and some thematic resonances are easy to see looking back but may be partially unintentional. We can take advantage of hindsight and bring certain things more in line with the work’s modern philosophies, such as putting an additional focus on the citizens of Earth C, introducing X as its own entity, playing with Dirk more as a villain, and introducing the question of “what happens to the leftover Junes in a retcon?”, all during Episode 6. 

I’ll be releasing a few other posts soon with detailed adaptation notes for every episode in the coming days, but I’ll leave it here for now and bring us to our final section-

Portr8s, 8ackgrounds, and Sound8ites

While the idea for video versions was a relatively late addition to our process, I’m very proud of the work everyone has put into making them what they are. Our art team and video editor do wonders. First up, we’ve got the talkpogs.

The talkpogs were my own invention, but I can hardly claim they’re an original idea. I’m sure something almost identical has been done before. What directly inspired me, though, was the old Polygon podcasts, where they’d have the hosts faces made out of polygons, with one loose and separated, synced to that host’s audio track. It was the first time I’d seen something like that and I knew I wanted something similar to indicate who was talking. From there it all fell into place pretty easily. The outer ring and the waveform is the character’s text color, and the background is their name color. If those two are the same (as they usually are), I apply a slight darkening to the background just for differentiation. The sprites, though, were all the art team. Unfortunately we didn’t have a base early on, so different artists drew to different scales. 

For the art style I told the artists to try to strike a middleground between Homestuck classic and girlpillz’s style which had just been shown in GF3.1.8.E, where godfeels got its first spritework. Otherwise, designs were largely up to the artists but we had conversations about them as a project. Overall I’m very satisfied with the work everyone turned in.

Backgrounds were a more complicated beast, but paradoxically also have less to talk about. We started out with one background per episode, which was pretty doable, but with the season 1 finale, and our expanded art team, we opted to expand out into a background per setting. The first two are just Pesterquest backgrounds I edited by hand, but after that we started having custom art. That was largely due to restraints lifting as the team grew, but it also turned out pretty good thematically, as the first episode with custom art was Episode 3, where June’s egg cracks. We left official art behind as June left the officially plotted course. I think it’s resonant.

Now we come to our latest introduction. KEY ART. We started doing this in Episode 6 and it’s so sick. Don’t expect these inclusions to be TOO common, but… we have some cool things in store here, and I think you’ll all be really excited to see ‘em. For now, here’s our first and so far only public piece of key art, Dirk menacing June against the tree. The final piece of art of Season 1, and the final piece of art of Season 1’s retrospective. It only seems fair.

Which now brings us to my own inclusion: sound assets. I’m very proud of the work I’ve put in to giving each character and concept their own unique aural profile. From the magical girl burning radiation of Jade’s magic, to the shattering static of June’s retcon, to threading the needle of Hammer, Sword, Plastic Toy, Dice, And Doomsday Device in June’s vrillyhoo. 

That’s all for today. In the coming week or so I’ll put together a few more posts, going over each episode in more detail, from point by point script edit notes, to specific art discussions. I also plan to bring in a few people who have been around since day one to talk about our experience setting up the project.

But for now, look forward to seeing more from us soon. Both in the upcoming devposts, and in Season 2. We've been on a hiatus to get our preproduction pipeline settled, and because we wanted to get a few episodes prepped so we can try to maintain a monthly schedule. But we're getting to the end of this phase now, and will be announcing Episode 7's release date very soon.

Until next time! :::;)