#local industrial painters

[clearfinishpaintings]

If you are looking for Industrial Painting Services in Sydney. Contact us for clear finish painting. Our team of licensed and highly expert painters specializes in giving corporate and industrial premises a fresh new clean look and using products that provide weather protection, choosing the right paint is important to get the best results.

[opcpaintings]

Industrial Painters: How to Avail Their Services

OPC Painting provides you the services of industrial painters in Sydney. Our expert industrial painters can do wonders for an organization's visual appeal with fresh coats of paint, arriving on time and working fast and effectively to get the job done correctly.

[unistarpaintingau]

Color Your World: Discovering the Best Painting Services in Frankston South

Home is where the heart is, they say. It’s also where your personal style shines through. One of the most impactful ways to transform and refresh your home is through a fresh coat of paint. In the picturesque suburb of Frankston South, finding the right painting service can make all the difference. Let’s delve into why choosing the best painting service matters, what features to look for, and how to navigate the local industry landscape to ensure your home reflects your unique taste and stands the test of time.

Why Choosing the Right Painting Service Matters

The choice of painting service is not merely about changing colors—it’s about enhancing your home’s aesthetics, protecting it from the elements, and increasing its market value. Professional painters bring expertise that ensures a flawless finish and durability. In Frankston South, where homes vary in style and architecture, the right painting service can tailor their approach to suit both the aesthetic and practical needs of local homeowners.

Features of Top Painting Services in Frankston South

When evaluating painting services, experience and expertise should be at the top of your checklist. Seasoned painters understand the unique climate challenges of Frankston South and can recommend suitable paint types and finishes. Look for testimonials and examples of past projects that showcase their skills in transforming homes similar to yours.

A reputable painting service in Frankston South should offer a comprehensive range of services, from interior and exterior painting to specialty finishes and restoration work. This versatility ensures that they can handle any project, whether it’s a modern beachside home or a heritage-listed property.

Factors to Consider When Choosing a Painting Service

Quality of materials is another crucial factor. Premium paints not only look better but also last longer, saving you money in the long run on maintenance costs. Eco-friendly options, such as low-VOC paints, are gaining popularity for their minimal environmental impact and improved indoor air quality.

Customer reviews and testimonials provide valuable insights into the reliability and satisfaction levels of a painting service. In a tight-knit community like Frankston South, word-of-mouth recommendations can be particularly telling of a service provider's reputation and commitment to customer satisfaction.

Cost is always a consideration, but it shouldn’t be the sole determining factor. It’s essential to balance affordability with quality and value. Transparent pricing and detailed quotes help you understand what you’re paying for and why.

Spotlight on Frankston South's Painting Industry

Frankston South boasts a vibrant painting industry that plays a crucial role in maintaining the suburb’s charm and character. Local painting services contribute not only to the visual appeal of homes but also to the community’s economic vitality. By supporting local businesses, homeowners in Frankston South can contribute to a sustainable local economy while receiving personalized service tailored to their specific needs.

Choosing Your Painting Service in Frankston South

To choose the best painting service in Frankston South, start by gathering recommendations from friends, neighbors, and online reviews. Look for licensing and insurance, which are indicators of professionalism and accountability. Schedule consultations with multiple providers to discuss your project requirements and gauge their level of expertise and customer service.

During these consultations, ask questions about their process, timeline, and warranty options. A reliable painting service will be transparent about their practices and happy to address any concerns you may have. Consider the compatibility of their suggestions with your vision for your home and the practicalities of maintaining the paint job over time.

Conclusion

Choosing the right painting service in Frankston South is about more than just aesthetics—it’s about investing in the long-term value and enjoyment of your home. By prioritizing quality, experience, and customer satisfaction, you can ensure that your home reflects your personality and stands out in the neighborhood.

Whether you’re refreshing your home’s exterior to withstand coastal weather or transforming your interiors to create a cozy retreat, the right painting service can make all the difference. Take the time to research and compare your options in Frankston South, and you’ll be rewarded with a beautifully painted home that enhances your lifestyle and leaves a lasting impression.

Closing Thoughts

As you embark on your journey to find the best painting service in Frankston South, remember that your home is your canvas. Choose a painting service that understands your vision and has the expertise to bring it to life. With careful consideration and a commitment to quality, you’ll soon be enjoying a home that truly reflects your style and enhances your daily life in this picturesque suburb.

[simplepainting]

https://simplepainting.com.au/services

Revamp Your Home with Affordable Painting Services in SA

Are you dreaming of giving your home a fresh new look without breaking the bank? Look no further because Affordable Painting in SA is your go-to solution! Our team of skilled painters is ready to transform your living spaces into vibrant and beautiful areas, all while keeping your budget in check.

[the-midnight-blooms]

ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴛɪꜱᴛ'ꜱ ꜱᴛᴜᴅɪᴏ

pairing: painter!choi san x painter!reader

AU: historical au, joseon dynasty

word count: 10.5k

masterlist

I reach out to my lover, he’s trapped within a painting. The muse of a Renaissance artist- he’s so divine he may have even started the movement.

Her feet pattered down the cold floorboards, pushing through the salmun doors-the fabric of her purple hanbok bunched up in her palms. The midnight bloomed in the depth of the spring, where the cherry blossom trees roared with the wind. A captivating beam from the candle paved the way to the front doors, her heart lurching in her chest as she felt an enchanted soul beckoning her name; her vessel bowed in his essence as if the rapping of the door knocker was to the beat of her name, echoing every syllable. With her hand outstretched for the doors, she hauled it open finding a man whose eyes were squinting as the the coarse rain battered against his supple skin; his teeth chattering with the cold. With a brown leather bag sloped over the shoulder of his light yellow hanbok; hands gripped steely over the handle of his heavy cases. He was tall, with broad shoulders, she quickly discerned but his face almost seemed obscured by the dark clouds and the night slowly filtering into the star studded sky.

"Please, Miss, I'm here to see Mr Yim. I'm a new apprentice at the local government office." His voice was almost mellowed by the crash of thunder against the sky, which had them both flinching at its mercilessness. A surge of relief rested upon him as a slender arm in purple outstretched towards him; the warmth easing the shattering goosebumps bestowed upon his delicate skin. With a contented sigh, the figure in front raised the candle to his face; the soft glow illuminated his crescent eyes which bored into another's burgeoning with curiosity.

"Your name, Sir?" Her honey like voice, slid into his ears; lashes gently fluttering as he breathed in the sight before him the beaming light from the candle forging a halo around this angel. Her tight jaw and deadpan expression was immediately dissolved between the influx of enigma that flooded into her eyes.

"Choi San." Nodding diligently, she gesticulated for him to follow her to her father's study. The hallways of the Yim estate were particularly large, a few candelabras were perched on top of the drawers plastered across the panelled walls-the smoke infiltrating into the empty space. They graced the floor with minimal sound, as if there were ghosts traipsing the corridors rather than real people.

Stood outside the large door, she dipped her head in politeness as he gently caressed the lumber; soft knocks restituting off the walls. With the candle perched within a hand of his own, yet another door opened; the esteemed artist tumbled through the doorway into another life.

Just over two decades ago, on a winter night, where the trees were bare of crisp leaves and the ground was brazen with purest of snow; a couple sat by the fire in their bedroom: a new-born cherub encapsulated within her mother's arms. Mr Yim, the father of the child, was a member of a group of scholars who advocated the need for the government to foster commerce, industry, and technology. He was a part of one of the four schools of thought in Joseon that shifted from speculative theory to attending to more taxing socio-political issues. Therefore, despite being renown for his hard work, and steadfast nature, he was also known for being quite reserved- to put it nicely. There were no 'good mornings' or 'good afternoons' from Mr Yim. Nor were there dirty looks and unwelcoming mannerisms bestowed upon his acquaintances. He liked to keep to himself, Mrs Yim being the only woman in the world capable of seeing that man smile.

"Would you like to hold her, dear?" His wife called, the gentle babbling of his child sending a jolt of fear rushing through him. Eagerly, he dismissed the opportunity, to which Mrs Yim had sighed staring down at her beautiful daughter. "She is your daughter, too. You're going to have to hold her at one point."

"I'll hold her when she is a little older than what she is now."

"Before you know it, she will become a woman and you will reminisce all the opportunities you had to cuddle her when you could." Truthfully, Mr Yim was afraid of fatherhood; he never really understood the notion of it but if having a child would make his darling, Mrs Yim, happy then Mr Yim would give her all the children in the world. How could he raise a child when he was left to raise himself? What could he even teach except say to his daughter after every stumble, every mistake, every stutter, every cry for help but: 'find your way'?

Thus, his aloof nature extended to his daughter, who having been pinned by her mother's side until her unfortunate death, became wholly estranged from her father. He was no longer her mother's husband, but rather just a kind stranger who fed her, clothed her, kept her under his roof and gave her almost anything she wanted.

Miss Yim was rather bizarre.

Or at least, that's what the townspeople thought through her poignant introvertedness; maintaining scant friendships, rejecting all marriage prospects almost immediately preferring the confines of her large quarters-which in themselves were situated in the segregated division of the family home. Her rooms were not bright, but panelled with a dark wood that foremost created a dull atmosphere, there was minimal light other than what streamed in through the open doors and windows that overlooked the vast lawn. A porch ran around the whole building, where Miss Yim frequented, all year round, as she drew.

Oh! The most compelling thing about Miss Yim was that in contrast to her academic father, she had particularly excelled in the arts, often taking on commissions from local noblemen requesting venerated portraits of their wives. As well as the opportunity to put her skills to practise, she saw it as a way of putting a few extra pennies in her pocket. In alignment with her reserved nature, Miss Yim found that she preferred to draw using defined, darker mediums such as charcoal, ink and graphite pencils. There was something so true about the loneliness that could be felt from the intricate brushstrokes as the ink spilled across the page. As if the figurines were her, simply founded to be a mere prop in a large frame.

Smoothing down the hairs on her head, she snapped away her gaze from the mirror to the window overlooking the side of the garden, the silhouette of the hanok roofs, carving elegantly into the sky. The trees rocked and the grass rippled with the pending ferocity of the wind. Indeed, the storm would not subside within the next few days. The door to her bedroom slid open, the older maid stumbled in settling the tray upon her bench.

"Will I not be eating with my father today?" Ina looked up from where she was kneeled on the floor, settling the bowls onto the bench.

"Mr Yim is currently accompanied with Mr Choi. Your father requested that you eat by yourself for the duration of his stay, you know how it is." Nodding, she took her seat opposite Ina patiently awaiting for the maid to stop assembling her dishes in a neat line in front of her. Whilst women typically dined by themselves, her father had allowed her to eat with him almost daily; except when there were guests. Despite his neglect towards his daughter, he still valued her feminine dignity and did not trust the vulturous eyes of men that rested their predatory gaze upon her.

"Who is this, Mr Choi, and how is it that I wasn't aware of his arrival until he was knocking on our door?" She questioned, Ina's careful gaze flickered to her before staring out into the open space in contemplation.

"A new apprentice. He’s appointed here, on request of his father." Leaning forward, Ina's voice dropped an octave. "Apparently his father says he's been 'engaging in sin' so he's been estranged from his parents until he gets his act together." Raising a questioning brow, she looked down at her bowl.

"Is he a homosexual?" Immediately, she was wacked on the back of her head by the older maid who didn't miss a single second in scolding her. Her hand sped to the back, rubbing the jolt of pain that seared through her, a temporary look of irritation glazed over her eyes.

"You insolent girl! How could you say such thing, you know how disgraced that is!"

"You said ‘engaging in sin'. I can't think of anything more sinful other than fraternising with men or women." Ina's dirty look penetrated through her bones, provoking a sense of humiliation that would rattle through her in the depth of the night. Scowling at her mistress, she rolled her eyes before getting up from the floorboard.

“Hurry up and eat your food. You need to go to Mrs Kang’s today." Following Ina's orders she gulfed down her food, drowning out the maid's muttering about her being crude and dishonourable.

The light chatter from the front room fell deaf at her ears as she sauntered to the entrance, which the two kitchen maids scuttled in through. Bowing at their mistress, they made a fowl attempt at suppressing a fit of giggles as they subtly snuck a glance into the room. Following their gazes, she warily traipsed in, catching her father converse with their new guest.

"Ah, speak of the devil! Mr Choi, this is my daughter." He teared his gaze away from his mentor to draw his eyes across the room and find the infamous Miss Yim perched by the doorway, gripping onto her onto the full skirts of her dark blue hanbok.

It was hard to deny that Mr Choi was amiable. He was tall, well-built with a toned torso that was still perceptible through his uncreased peach coloured hanbok, dimples adorned his perfectly structured cheeks. He nodded with such elegant eagerness, at her father's command harbouring the position of an obedient son, almost leaving her wondering what was so 'sinful' about that man in the first place? What could he have possibly done so wrong that he had practically been disowned by his family?

"Miss Yim, it's nice to formally meet you." She gave him a polite nod, choosing to stay silent than say something and be met with her father's harsh stare.

"Mr Kang told me you've been over at his home, a few times." Her father spoke breaking the awkward meeting. A breath became lodged in her throat as she anticipated some sort of wrath, after all Mr Yim was supposed to be oblivious to her going out and painting other women for a light commission. She didn't exactly know how he would react to that. "He appreciates your help with Mrs Kang's pregnancy." Mrs Kang is pregnant? That would explain the engorging belly, the mood swings and the other number of odd behaviours that she was listing off in the past few weeks she had been challenged with drawing the difficult woman. At times, Miss Yim thought she ought to have more empathy, it wasn't that she lacked it, it was that she tended to not gift her empathetic abilities to the prejudiced. It was women like Ina, and the cooks that worked in the kitchen that deserved her compassion. Women who strived to be breadwinners, even if it was due to poor socio-economic circumstances. Because women like Mrs Kang were hypocrites to be preaching the old values, pre-Confucianism, when they neglected their own sex.

"Yes, she's been enjoying my company. I intend to go again to deliver herbs she’s asked from Ina’s garden.” She recalled glancing down the extensively large page, as Mrs Kang moaned and groaned when the servants were too late to serve her namul and kimchi.

"Red raspberry leaf, dandelions, echinacea." Grimacing, she looked over her sheet to give the woman a look. "You can just get this from the market, why do you need this from Ina's garden?" Mrs Kang simply pouted rubbing her belly. Now that she thought about it, how did it not occur to her that she was pregnant? Perhaps it was because they begged to slim down her figure in the painting.

"Fresh herbs are good for babies." Were the herbs from the market not fresh enough for her? “I need them picked before they’re here.”

"Perhaps I should add lemon balm to burn that fat." A discourse of exasperated gasps rippled over the room, Mrs Kang waddled out of the room wailing for her husband. It was ruthless and unkind, keeping the unsympathetic Miss Yim awake at night before she travelled back to the Kang estate to see a very unhappy couple.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Kang. You’re beautiful just the way you are, even more with the little belly.” The pregnant woman’s tight grip around her neck, as they hugged, almost choked her to death.

Mr Yim's eyes outcasted through the doorway, there was a light patter of rain yet the howl of the wind had subsided significantly. He let out a small hum before returning back to the young pair staring, ardently, back at him.

"I say Mr Choi, should be your chaperone. It's a little unsafe to be going out by yourself." Before she could open her mouth and argue, her father held out a hand to silence her thoughts. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she nodded once more, before dashing from the room to have a flustered Mr Choi following her.

Hitching up her skirts, she trudged through the field, the sun had filtered into the sky radiating its essence onto the young souls as they surpassed the reams of houses. Had it not been for the joyous discord of infantile laughter, it would have been quiet; San mustering the courage to initiate a conversation. He cleared his throat, she merely blinked at his futile attempt at grabbing her attention.

"Miss Yim, you must slow down I can't keep up with your pace." He declared, striding faster towards her, the tall grass brushing against his knees.

"I think you can cope, Sir. Your legs are longer than mine." Walking through the grass wasn't difficult but when her hanbok was floor length, lifting up the heavy fabric proved tiresome and not to mention her shoes were sinking into the muddy fields, squelching miserably under her heavy steps. Eventually, San matched her pace as they made their way up the steps to the Kang estate.

A shrill voice eructed into the airs, the domestic staff worked at a proficient speed as they amended the damages inflicted from the storm. As a group of servants raised the logs from the path, San ran to their aid significantly lightening their work load. His charity had left her silent contemplating her initial thoughts on his persona. There must be something impure under all that. Surely? There had to be some reason why his father practically disowned him.

Kang Yeosang stood by his front doors, watching as his staff worked the lawn and through the large home. He sought the enigmatic painter launch up the steps, with an unreadable look painted on her face.

“Good Morning, Miss Yim.”

“Morning, Yeosang.” She greeted, he laughed a little at her dull tone.

“I take it, there’s nothing particularly good about this morning.” He jeered, she huffed at his characteristically exuberant manner.

“Not when my father’s spy is here to be my chaperone.” She turned around on the steps, the pair looking down at San moving the heavy logs from the path, dirtying his robes at that. “He’s the new apprentice at the local office, Choi San, I think he said his name was.”

"Oh, the country boy." Country boy? "He's from Yangdong, have you not heard? His family is amongst the richest, they're both scholars and farmers, now." Across the country, Joseon farming techniques had taken a turn within the last few decades, especially with the establishment of irrigation and rice transplantation methods- bringing Joseon to a state of flourishment. It was safe to say, which farmer wasn't rich now? The admirable farm boy was pushed away by the servants, making his way up the steps. Leaving him with Yeosang, she made her way in the direction of the couples' shared quarters, Mrs Kang draped over her bed, her wrist dramatically resting on her forehead.

"Hello, Mrs Kang." The woman jolted up from her seat, an obnoxious groan emitted from her as she propped her back up against the wall. "I brought you your herbs."

"Thank you, my love. You left your paints, they're just on my dressing table." The herbs were exchanged from her paints, digging into the pockets of her hanbok. The older woman began to natter, the discordant tonality rattling in her ears. Mrs Kang loved to talk. Even if it was about absolutely nothing, that woman talked for the whole of Joseon.

I'm leaving this place with a headache.

She often wondered how it was that Yeosang put up with his insufferable wife. Was it love, or a promise that he had made to Mrs Kang's parents that he would never leave her? The thought made her sigh in pity- to be permanently bound to someone in matrimony seemed like too much effort at times. Perhaps the effort itself is what subdued her mother to misery, the poor Mrs Yim eagerly handing her soul to the Angel of Death. Or maybe Miss Yim had possessed a stone-cold heart frozen over by the neglect of life's intimate essence; overpowered by a sense of maturity held over by her mother's early death. She took it upon herself to make it clear that by the time she was thirty, if there was no proposal that had come around she was going to wholly abandon the idea of marriage and work herself to death.

"That man is so pretty." She spoke, dreamily, Miss Yim's eyes lazily fled in the direction of Mrs Kang's. Her head poked through the doorway where both Yeosang and San were travelling down, engaging in intelligent discourse. "Not Yeo, the other one." The pregnant woman clarified.

"He's ok, I suppose. Not bewitching enough to tempt me."

"That has to be the biggest lie I have ever heard."

"What is Miss Yim lying about now?" Yeosang provoked as both men entered the room. Both women shared a look before the painter slumped onto the dressing table chair. "I suppose you're awaiting your payment."

"Well, my services aren't free." She declared, pompously. Yeosang rolled his eyes before he moved to the opposite end of the room, San had almost drawn his body out of the bedroom, a little embarrassed as the pregnant Mrs Kang ogled her eyes at him. Stretching her limbs, she got up taking the velvet bag. "Thank you, Mr Kang. I'll visit when the baby arrives."

His perfection had her repleted with such distaste for him. Simply put, Miss Yim hated Choi San because he was loved by all. Her father loved him, Ina adored him, the maids were constantly drooling over him it shot her with a sense of annoyance. He quickly became a household name, spoken of when he was at the office with her father and even when he was at home. Everywhere she went it was just him, him and him. The worst thing was, was that he was even trying to be nice to her prevailing through her grim looks and hard words.

“San this, San that. Honestly, he’s not even as esteemed as everyone claims, Ina. He’s just a man, like every other man. And all men are the same. So what if he's good looking, does that suddenly make him god’s greatest gift?” Burying her face into the pillow, an exasperated huff escaped her lips. Ina fell onto her bed, reaching her arms out to stroke her mistress’ back. With a contented sigh, she felt her eyes drooping a little as the maid's soft caresses were gently lulling her to sleep. Her touch felt like that of her mother's, soothing the aches of her heart whilst simultaneously provoking the nostalgia of a mother's love. To have her mother again, to have that woman encircle her into her arms. Rock her back and forth. She longed for her mother's scent again, often chasing the whiff of her familiar saccharine redolence as one chased butterflies in an open field.

“Yet you think of him often. He occupies your thoughts as much as he occupies ours.”

“Hardly, I-,” She stammered in a desperate attempt to recollect her thoughts into a single ambience. “I envy him. How is that he steps into this home for a second and I see my father smile?” Ina’s face dropped, a breath caught in her throat as her mistress spoke aloud the forbidden words she denied her staff to even breathe. The older maid had been rendered silent for too long, giving Miss Yim all of the answers she needed to press forward with her wistful assumptions.

"Perhaps if you grew to understand him, you would know why your father has inhabited such emotions for him. Think of him like a son-in-law. He will love him but not as much as he loves you." The maid reasoned.

"Then that makes him my husband." She grumbled, pulling the duvet over her shoulders.

"Now is that so bad?” Ina teased, before pulling her weight off the bed. With no strength to argue, her eyes fluttered to a close; her soul being dissolved by the night.

The following morning, it was too cold to be even sitting on her porch and with eyes tired of the same dreary scene, she ventured out of her quarters, delving into parts of the home she had missed. By the kitchens, the late Mrs Yim had reserved herself a small room decorated with the tools of all her hobbies in order to enact time alone for herself, away from motherhood and social responsibility. The room was consistently cleaned but usually left empty having it being full of painful memories of the beloved mistress of the household. For the first time in a long time, Miss Yim had felt the drive to find the room again and read her mother's poetry she had spent hours pouring over in the rooms.

Yet it had been almost shot stone-cold dead when the door opened to find San sat by the window hands raised towards the canvas. The anger within her refused to simmer or boil, it was rather the smooth swaying of the soft waves lapping the crust of sand. Her hands feebly reached for the poetry book on the table.

"I didn't know you were a painter, Mr Choi." She proclaimed, her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes sought the intricate details on the canvas. Her eyes glossed over the colours, the succinct shapes, drawing on the brushstrokes herself with the sharp movements of her eyes. It moved her. When was the last time she had been left this breathless?

"You never asked, Miss Yim." Immediately she felt intimidated by his artwork, her own revered drawings felt meek in comparison to his. A mere apprentice in an important official’s presence. To even be this close to him was considered a blessing. "You can sit next to me. I don't bite." Tentatively, she drew closer seating herself on the floorboards next to him; the brush of their fabrics sending a tidal wave of timidness over her. Where was the bold, steadfast Mrs Yim? Long gone, lost to the large expanse of the sea. Drowning under the ocean of his perfection. She didn't even want call for help, allowing herself to be enveloped by his allure. You draw so beautifully, she wanted to say. It's perfect, like something-someone even.

"You should have been a royal painter." The remark was swallowed into a melancholic void within his heart. Sparing a glance, he dipped the tip of the paintbrush into the crevice of the cerulean blue paint before raising to illustrate the canvas.

"Don't say that to my father." She sought the gloom glossed over his brown eyes. Was he, too, held down by social responsibility and expectations? She didn't think it was possible for a man's dreams to be mauled over by society; for she saw it with her father who had the whole world at his feet-picking dreams as if he was picking daisies from a meadow. Dropping her book onto the floor, she rested her head on her knee, solicitude fulfilled the serene atmosphere. Her eyes fell over the fancy metallic pots situated around the easel, which she knew to be various colours of paint pigments. Resting her head on her knee, she tenderly rocked her body from side to side as she watched his hands elegantly work through the canvases.

"Did you ever consider pottery? That's supposed to be quite popular now." Her question breaking through the quiet airs, the delicacy of her voice startling San. It was devoid of boredom, or disinterest like he had always perceived. No lace of judgement like he was silently praying to be diminished from her soul.

"It'll grow out of popularity soon." He stated, resting the paintbrush down to exercise the tense muscles in his hands. "I heard this was the late Mrs Yim's room, I hope you don't mind me being here." It, too, came as a shock to her when she shook her head-with no care in the world that he had colonised the room that she was once sure was hers.

It was sunny for once, which was odd for this time of year-she thought throwing open the door to the porch finding San surrounded by a large number of logs and an axe.

"What's he doing outside?" She pondered, Ina folding up the washed bedsheets before tucking them away into the drawers.

"They stopped properly chopping up the logs so we can use them for the fire, so Mr Choi offered to help." Wandering out through the doors, a smooth current of air tousled her hair, a book held tightly against her chest.

God, he really was toned. Rolling up the sleeves of his hanbok all the way to his bulging biceps, the maids all stopped in their path to rest their elbows on the low garden wall overseeing the vast expanse of grass. Effortlessly he picked up the axe, raising it over his head to slice down the log of wood. She rolled her eyes at her maids, as they watched him with dreamy faces. They nattered in hushed tones, giggling amongst themselves unbeknownst that their mistress was stood behind them. Leaning down to where they were sat on the garden wall, she poked her head in between the sea of charmed maidens.

“What are we looking at?” They squeaked, jumping up from their seats upon sight of their mistress- flapping their hands as some rushed back into the kitchen and others tended to garden duties. “Well? I would like to know too.”

“You wouldn’t understand Miss Yim.” Yes, yes she was the narcissistic Miss Yim who harboured no feelings for men and couldn’t deduce their charming airs. She was the Miss Yim who rejected countless marriage proposals, not based on looks but merely because she found that no man possessed the kind quality in a man that she was seeking. No patience, no loyalty. They were not even ruled by a sense of ambition. So how could she be hypnotised by the sacred beauty of a man, specifically, Choi San.

“Yes, I don’t understand why you’re not doing the job that we’re paying for you to do. All of you, out of the garden, it’s already been tended to!” She shouted, in an instant all of the maids dispersed back into the home. Huffing, she slumped onto the garden wall, glazing her ink pen over the defined lines on the page. Occasionally, she’d peer her eyes over the pages at San, tending to the curve of his body, and the horrific cinching of his waist. When he looked to his side, she hastily returned back to her sketchbook, feeling a blush decorate her cheeks as his steady gaze burned into her skin.

“Very accurate, Miss Yim.” Jumping up from her seat, she screeched the pot of ink spilling onto his face and neck. Whoops.

“Oh goodness, I am so sorry. Ah.” She let out a pained sound, battling with her internal conflict as she grabbed his hand rushing them into the direction of the porch that led to her quarters. Powerfully, she slid the door open darting inside and towards the washroom. Hauling him down to his knees in front of the washing basin, with a soaked rag in hand, she scraped away the ink splashed across his face. “Take this off.” She ordered, signalling to his hanbok.

“W-what?” He stammered, his face heating red.

“Well you’ve got ink and dirt all over it. I can get a new one for you.”

“I can’t just return back to my quarters and change?”

“Well no because then my father will see you and he’ll know I stole his ink again.” An annoyed huff escaped from his lips as she handed him the rag to clean himself. “Here, I’ll go get you a spare set of clothes.” Jumping up from where she was kneeled, her foot slipped over a puddle of water his arms snapped out towards her waist. Gripping his shoulders for stability, a faint blush trickled over her face, their noses barely an inches distance.

"Be careful." Quickly unravelling her hands from his shoulders, Miss Yim ran out of the room towards his quarters. Slipping past the double doors, she rummaged through the drawers for his clothes-picking up a light green set.

"Mr Choi?" A maid's voice called out from behind the closed door. Discerning their shadow moving closer, she made a beeline through the open doors leading into the garden. Scuttling into her washroom, she practically launched the hanbok at him before hiding in her room.

A breath of relief had finally escaped from her when he left from her room, both of their faces burning red in the midst of this shameful meeting. Yet San seemed persistent to know her, feeling that there was still something beneath the stone-cold façade she had constructed; something emotional and raw that he had felt he had to know. And Miss Yim was too becoming more curious, by the day, as to what Choi San’s secret was and why his father perpetually hated him.

Ina had forced them to go on a walk together, she groaned, silently, as they left the home behind making their way down to the meadow. At first an odd tranquillity permeated the air, eventually she grew tired of the jarring dissonance of absolutely nothing.

“A penny for your thoughts?” She inquired.

“I’ll keep the penny. I almost feel you’d judge me for having thoughts.” San bemused, she rolled her eyes, a faint of a smile on her lips. Just the tiniest, but it was practically gone within the same second.

“I don’t judge you, Mr Choi. I do, however, envy you. You’ve taken the place I wanted in my father’s heart.” She confessed, he looked towards her sympathetically, with knowingness that she was indeed right and the Mr Yim, famous for being just as aloof as his daughter, had somehow softened a little upon his arrival. Perhaps it was a son that he had always wanted, not a daughter but the scholar was reserved; San being too terrified to pry.

“Your place is best occupied elsewhere. Somebody else has it, I’m sure. He keeps it safe with love that is too potent that even dreamers can’t feign.” Of course was reading her mother's poetry, she didn't think many could understand the abstract nature of her words; of course it was him out of all who admired her poetry as it was his own.

"I am not pretty enough for that." Miss Yim argued, looking down at her feet. After all, the marriage proposals were not because of her vague good looks, but mainly because Mr Yim claimed an abundance of wealth.

"I disagree with you on that." Her face heated with his affirmation.

"Well, I am no Jang Ok-Jeong."

"There are many beautiful women in Joseon, not all of them have ever been recorded."

"She caught the eye of the King, a man who has a kingdom at his feet, he is supposed to be too superior to even look at his subjects. And he looks at her? Is that not a beautiful woman?" They were both fuelled by this argument, the debate igniting a set of powerful emotions that roared within them. This, was what they both deeply felt conversations were supposed to be. Potent discourse about society, literature and art. Not idle chatter on the weather, marriage and the social laws that subdued them.

"A man is supposed to be ruled by his head, not emotions. I say if any man bestowed more than a single glance, on a woman, and his breath was taken away, then she is more gorgeous than Venus herself."

"Not that wretched painting. It's so...vulgar." San snickered, squeezing his eyes as he let out a melodious laughter. "It says so much about the male gaze." She spat out as they trudged through the fields back in the direction of her home.

“I wonder if you like any art, at all? Other than your own?” He questioned.

“Owon is good. Apart from the vulgarity of Renaissance paintings-,”

“Which I must say is the majority of the whole movement, pray, continue.” He teased, his pestering smirk seemed to stitch wings on her heart, for it fluttered at his amiability, his devoutness to mankind and all of its endearing qualities and his perseverance. Despite her uncompromising attitudes and distasteful demeanour, he seemed compliant with listening to her, talking to her, truly trying to understand her and not just turning a blind eye. Choi San truly wanted to know her, for her; and not follow some false allegation that she was devoid of a heart or soul. He commended she had both and they were wrought with an existentialist quality that he wanted nothing but to huddle in the corner of a library and read away his life until it dissolved under the cover of her persona.

"What about you?" She questioned, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her own ear. At once, San was drawn into the world of virtuosity describing each of his favourite pieces as if it could be encapsulated into a single globe. The sweet dissonance of his voice lugging her into a dreamscape as they gently glissaded through the empty hallways of the Yim estate. They sought their eyes over the panelled wall, following the intricate lines of carved wood. They could almost be called mad people loose from the dreaded ward. For their eyes did not see the same way a normal persons did. He saw the shimmer in the air, the light poring through the crevices, the faint blemishes on a skin unseen with a naked eye-too vague to be called a taint, a mark, a scar. And she would see what he saw, whether it was not there she could reach to the depths of her sanity and pour out the image before her eyes to satisfy him.

It became a wonder to her how they spent several nights, the light patter of her feet as she rushed to his quarters with fulfilling arguments over art pieces, sharing techniques, rifling through each other's sketchbooks. His style was a stark contrast to her own: luminous watercolours, velvety acrylic paints, oily crayons. His muses were full of life and wonder, the strokes brimming with fruition. It was if a single segment of his painting held more hope than what could exist in her whole being.

There was something about him, too. She could see it now, his compassion, his adoration. As the weeks spun by, she became less repulsed by his sincerity and opened up to it more, almost finding herself craving his attention. His affection was much welcomed; she often wondered what it would be like to be so loved by him.

In her mother's old drawing room, she found him again, his large hands drifting over the pages again. Peering over his shoulder, she softly blew into his ear; the warmth tickling him.

"What are you drawing?" Her eyes scanned over the cartridge sheet, its intimacy striking her. It looked like her. Every sketch line, every shade, every little detail, every little blemish on her face.

"You." He answered, he didn't dare tear his eyes away from her for her hair was falling down her face in perfect waves that lured him into uncharted depths.

"You drew me so pretty."

"I only drew what I saw." Her heart wavered in piety, his devotion provoking an arrangement of madness. He was going to drive her insane and she was content with it.

"I wonder, what was it that you were excommunicated for?" Her silence broke through the passionate airs, culminating the objectivity that fulfilled among them as his sins held heavy on his tongue.

"I am not a scholar, a farmer or a devout son. I am an artist, a man who sees the world despite all of its maliciousness. I see the world so raw, it almost disgusts me but I am not terrified by its honesty. I find it so beautiful, it belongs on a page: drawn." Her body swayed towards him, hypnotised by his delicate words drawn his intoxicating tenacity, filling her with such immitigable rage that within that severe moment all she wanted was him. "I was 'excommunicated' because I am not the man my father wants me to be. I return as soon as I am devoid of all the emotions he renders vile." Tentatively, her fingers curled through his hair his eyes fluttering shut under her gentle touch.

"What about you Miss Yim? Why are you so solitary?" He murmured, their quiet voices serenaded the room.

"I am not solitary by choice. It's been enforced upon me and I know nothing and no one else but myself." Her whispers, though full of hurt and pain, were seldom dulcet. He thrived himself upon her words alone, it was enough to send him into delirium but her whole unmatched beauty with her words? He was sure to be sent to the wretched institute.

With an envelope gripped in her hands, she made her way over to his quarters slipping into the warmth, his smile greeting her as she slumped onto the chair in front of him.

"Mrs Choi? Your mother?" She inquired, handing over the envelope. San snickered at her nosiness, rolling her eyes as he took the sheet from her grasp, ripping open the seal to reel his eyes down the page.

"Actually, it's my wife." He announced, sparing her a single glance as he continued to read the words sprawled across the page. A sharp pang penetrated through the barriers in her heart, she felt her feet slipping under the ground, the walls pulverising as they caved in on her. For some reason, the room felt much more smaller than it was. Her heart was beating faster than any poetic declaration he had bestowed upon her, any time he had made her feel as if she was truly a worthy soul of being loved. Her heart palpitated faster than when he made her feel she would not die from a cataclysmic loneliness.

"I didn't know you were married." She breathed out, gripping the sage green silk in hand; feeling almost disgusted with herself for fixating her whole being on a man who never belonged to her in the beginning.

"We'll be officially married when I return back home." With a teasing smile on his lips, he grabbed a clean sheet from his desk and began elegantly carving the characters onto the page. "I'll be sure to send you an invite, if you'll come?"

“Of course, I’ll come. You know, for the food.” She quipped, his dimpled smile shattering the months of pining she had set for this revered soul. “I’ll take your leave, San.”

She fled from the room her bare feet blessing the sweet earth, the velvety wisps of the wind taunting her as tears welled up in her eyes. With a breath hitched in her throat, she fell onto her bed; bottom lip quivering as pearl tears escaped from her eyes dribbling down her cheeks before splattering onto the bedsheets. Her painful howl terrorised the desolate quarters as she had done on several dispassionate nights, the skies mimicked her torment, the light patter of rain hit against the window as if it understood all her wretched emotions. As if it understood her anger, hatred and hurt. As if it understood how disgusting it felt be left vulnerable by a man who could never be hers.

Was it some false delusion that she had been seduced by? That he, who was carved from a sculpturers most wild emotions, by all of his tenacity and his violent rage that he wished to create a being made of light: could truly be hers? By his yearning and pent up sentiment, by his dying wish that this world was not at peace until some divine figure from a concealed land would touch her world? Her hands shook as she sought to remove the tears streaming endlessly down her face. After all it had now made sense to all of the sympathetic souls that had heard her be plunged through such pain, to read her tale and understand the reason for her aloof nature.

Up the walls went back up. Brick by brick.

Curse you, Choi San, for breaking them down in the first place.

San had not seen Miss Yim for the remainder of the week or the subsequent. Granted, he had been flooded with an overwhelming amount of work but such was to be expected with the incredible staff shortage and Mr Yim’s high expectations. Regardless, he missed the snarky comments and unrelenting stares from across the room. He missed her moodiness, how ever infuriating it was at times; he missed the sense of quietude she presented at his feet and its ability to render his mind numb. Overall, he missed her. Yet, she seemed to be nowhere in sight and in fact missing even under the cover of the night.

“Ina, do you know where I can find Miss Yim?” He questioned, the agony rupturing the sutures of his weak heart apart.

"In her room, Mr Choi. She's, specifically, requested not to see anyone." Oh. His mood deflated after that concession, wracking his mind for all the things he had said in their last engagement; anything potentially hurtful or offensive but he didn’t recall anything particularly endangering. His quest to venture into her quarters, despite her ruthless commands which had the servants petrified over her uncharacteristic (but not abnormal) behaviour, had been cut short by Mr Yim’s desire to keep a tightened hold on the apprentice. He thought about bringing it up as he ate dinner with his mentor.

“How is Miss Yim? I heard she’s isolated herself in her quarters?” He raised, tentatively, as Mr Yim’s eyes scoured down the reports. Her father was a little too quick to dismiss her actions.

“Never mind her, that’s not something new. I was surprised she was even roaming around the house when you arrived…” Mr Yim trailed off as a thought infiltrated his mind, shutting the book close, his furrowed brows silenced the questions in San’s mind.

The moonlight spilt in through the window, the luminous shadows dancing with the light breeze. With dried tear tracks staining her puffy cheeks, she circulated her finger around the cotton sheets pulling up the heavy duvet over her shoulders, a trail of heat comforted her. The door to her room, silently, slid open; oblivious to the soft bustling of footsteps she stretched her limbs sitting up in her bed.

“Miss Yim?” Her head snapped up at the deep voice, its familiarity sending an agonising wave of heartache through her being. There he was, the perpetrator himself, settling in front of her with a teacup in his palms as if nothing had happened in the first place. “Are you ok? I know you don’t like echinacea, so I got you lemon and ginger tea.” Placing the tea cup on her night stand, he rested his palm against her forehead.

“What are you doing here, San?” Huffing, she fisted up the hair in her palms before sticking a dry paint brush through it to create a tight knot.

“You’re burning u- were you crying?” His finger lightly smoothed her damp skin, shaking her head she pushed his hand away from her face. God, she felt awful for his wife who had to endure his infidelity. “What’s wrong, jagiya, speak to me?” Biting down on her lower lip, Miss Yim threw her gaze out of her window, she sought the light shimmering as her vision blurred.

“Just leave, please.” There was no more hostility left in her tone, a coarse throat lacerated with the phlegm that built up from endless nights of sobbing herself to sleep. Tiredness gnawed at her, she just wanted to dissolve back into the covers. Pleading, begging she’d do whatever she could to force him to leave because if he didn’t then she would tear down the path to the Angel of Death and beg him to take her dwindling heart. On her knees she would go, for the mere sight of her lover crumbled the steadfast walls she had tried so hard to rebuild.

“Are you upset because I’m going home next week? If that’s the case-,”

“San, are you dense?” She interrupted. He was subjugated to silence, a look of hurt flashing over his face. “Leave means leave.” Adjusting her body so she could slide under the covers, she stridently hauled the fabric over her head, gripping her lips tight shut, so no more pitiful sobs escaped her and she was no more a servant to his cruel love.

The Yim estate was left with a melancholic air as the venerated bachelor made his preparations to leave the home. The maids were forlorn as they’d no longer have the privilege of seeing his striking face to bless their monotone days. Miss Yim had finally mustered the courage to take a stroll through the garden, avoiding San's quarters at that. Lingering by the flowers, she wrapped her arms around herself to manifest a sense of warmth that failed to prevail with the awful weather. She didn't notice her lover tear down the garden to her, his heart leaping within his own chest.

"Miss Yim?" Her body whipped around upon his words, her hands balled up into fists the anger displaced by fear. "Do you know how painful it has been for me to go days without seeing you? I am leaving for Yangdong, today, and god knows if I didn't even so much as see your face I would have gone feral."

"I- why?" She stuttered, at a desperate attempt to collect together her words and form a sentence. How and when did he culminate such passionate feelings for her?

"Why? Isn't it obvious? I am in love with you." He declared, she shook her head, profusely, at him.

"How can you say that?" Her voice raised an octave, parrying against the harsh winds that blew at them.

“If being in love with you is a deadly sin, then I am the greatest sinner there is. I will walk up to the gates of hell and open them myself. Hand over my arms and ask them to bound me to its greatest depths.” His chest heaved up and down, tears brimming at the front of her eyes. “I cannot live without you. I would not even do so much as breathe unless you asked me to. If you asked me to stop breathing, I would!”

“You’re a married man, San. Do you know how god awful that sounds?”

“I’m barely married but engaged. When I go back home, I will once again beg to not be wed off to her. I don’t love her, how can my father expect me to marry her? How can you expect me to marry her?”

“I don’t think you understand, San. I can’t love you.” His arms outstretched for her waist, hauling her towards him, the rain beating down on them both. With the gentle flick of his finger, her head tipped up to peer into his eyes.

“Look into my eyes and tell me you don’t love me, or even feel as much as a small emotion for me. One word from you, would silence me forever.” She bit furiously down on her lip as his vehement fixation tore through the borders of her soul. When did she fall so vulnerable in his conquest for her being?

“I don’t love you the same way you love me. I am incapable of doing so.” His own brown eyes fulfilled with hot tears, pouring soundlessly down his cheeks. Her heart wavered with misery as he ripped away his grip, stumbling backwards upon her untruth.

“I understand. Thank you, Miss Yim. For the first time in my life, someone saw me for who I really am and not who I am meant to be.” Once again, the thunder cracked against the sky as San turned his back on her striding back into the home. The maids ran out to shut the doors, summoning their mistress back in but she sunk to the floor erupting into a fit of sobs; a wave of shock rattling through them. Her heart burned with such pain, even as Ina cooed lifting her up from the floor to guide her back into the home. Melting into the older woman's arms, her ears drowned out the distant sound of her lover ambling far, far away from her to a land in which even its notion would never grace the depths of her mind.

Her father's office was warm, but not the comforting kind as the biting airs of Joseon persisted. It was more suffocating as they sat across from each other in his office, discussing the state of her future now that he had managed to complete some of burdening tasks at work. He had several proposals lined in front of her, some prospects from his workplace, some from Mr Kang and even Ina had managed to find one or two seemingly agreeable men within their social class. A sigh fulfilled her, it would be a lie to say that she didn't look for the smallest hint of San within them all.

"I'm sorry Father, I don't like any of these men." He closed his eyes in indignation, rubbing his face before collecting the sheets from in front of her and throwing them into the fire. The embers cackled in a slow, seething ferocity as he leaned back in his chair.

"I honestly don't know what to do with you anymore. You won't marry, you won't leave your quarters. You've stopped helping around the house. All you want to do is sit in your room all day and stare into space." He scolded, she shook her head before raising from her seat. "You are becoming a burden to me."

"Well if I am such a burden to you, then just get rid of me." She taunted. An animosity truanted through him at her discourtesy.

“What do you think I have been trying to do since your mother left us? It should have not been your mother that had died! It should have been you! I would trade my soul to have your mother in place of you.” He blurted, before quickly slapping the palm of his hand to his mouth, cursing him for the spoiled words that left it.

“I would trade my soul too, to have my mother where you stand. You are a poor excuse of a man and to call you my father is an insult to me.” She hissed through gritted teeth, the shock reverberating at Mr Yim’s core; the severity of her words pulsating through his blood.

“You shouldn’t have been a father if all I was going to be to you was a pretty doll in a picture. The truth was she didn’t die because she was ill, it was the heartbreak of carrying a whole marriage on her back. It was the fact that you didn’t care about her wants, but your own.”

"You are in no position to say that to me. I loved your mother like it was breathing, I loved her as if she was the greatest blessing, as if God had granted me mercy for all the times I had done him wrong." His chest suspired, brittle hands shaking as a heavy tension remained suspended in the air between them; Ina loitering outside afraid to walk into the war zone.

"But you didn't love me! It was my mother who loved me, and I wasn't allowed to have her! I wasn't my mother's daughter, or my father's. I was a daughter of a servant with my name merely attached to you." At the end of the day, she was the figure in those paintings. Trapped within a frame, four equidistant lines on a piece of cartridge paper, bound by brushstrokes, sketch lines, constricted and held down by the artist. Subservient and stuck to a position in which she could not move.

Mr Yim deserved the brutal honesty of those words, no matter how harsh it was, and with a pounding headache, she ran out of his office ignoring her father’s calls for her to return to his side. This was it, there was nothing and no one by her side now and she was now the destitute figure that she had feared she would become.

“What’s wrong my dear? What’s hurt you so much?” Ina’s soft voice dilapidated at her mistress’ gloom, one she had seen prolong within her late madam too. Squeezing her eyes shut, she summoned the courage to spill her heart to her maid. She told her of how much she adored him, how deeply she wanted him and the ways in which he had made her fall in love with him. And how he had hurt her too.

“So call me heartless and apathetic all you want but I couldn’t take another woman’s man from her.”

“My love.” Ina’s weak fingers travelled through her hair. “You are far from heartless and apathetic. A man who you love is your whole life, you gave your life away to another woman.” She looked over to Ina, falling into her motherly embrace, breathing in her scent. There it was. The same scent that her mother had, the scent she was dreaming to come back to her in the midst of the night, and her a fool to dismiss that it was in front of her the whole time.

“What should I do now?” Her weak inquiry, breaking her heart, sinking deeper into the void than she already was.

“Go back to him and tell him you love him. He is a gentleman who accepts despondency like a soldier. So you, his general, must go back and tell him to return home to you.”

“Ina-,”

“Do not deny yourself of what you deserve. Your mother did, I won’t see you walk the same path.”

“I will let time run its cycle. Time will tell if he is meant to be mine.” She declared, to which the maid rested her palm on her cheek.

Mrs Kang’s baby boy, Kang Minho, was indeed a beauty. His bedazzling little eyes stared up at her in wonder, babbling as she lightly drew the tip of her finger over his chubby cheeks. It was astonishing for Mrs Kang to see that it was merely a little baby that would eruct a smile out of the secluded Miss Yim. It had been about four months since San had left the estate, and a while it took for her to leave the confines of her quarters. Once again, she took requests after requests painting and painting until her hands became stiff and sore. And so even more marriage prospects came, and her eyes lingered slightly over a potential husband. Both Ina and her father were pleased when she stayed a little longer at the doorway of their home talking to one of the young apprentice’s at the office. He was tall, handsome and kind; perhaps it was flickers of San she saw within him that had her thinking that spending the rest of her life with this man: wouldn’t be particularly gruesome. Regardless, she made no firm decision but still, for her father this was significant progress.

“He likes you.” Mrs Kang chimed, grinning down at her baby. She hummed carefully, softly tickling his smooth cheeks.

“Maybe I like him too.” Her gaze lightly flickered to the elated mother. “Where is Yeosang? I didn’t see him on my way in?”

“Oh he’s in his office with San.” Her head snapped up from the baby at the sound of his name. Goodness, how long had it been since she had heard that single syllable name, forever it seemed it would merely reverberate inside her head. “Did you not know he was in town? He came to see Minho.” Shaking her head, she got up from the bed consoling herself.

“I- I think I’ll leave now. I’ll come visit another time.” She announced, before awkwardly patting Mrs Kang’s head; a poor endeavour at affection but for Mrs Kang this affection was whole-heartedly appreciated. Her footsteps sped down the hallways, she came to an abrupt halt at the exist of the Kang estate.

There he was, stood there with Yeosang conversing if they were age-old best friends her heart palpitated with anxiety, knowing that she’d have to walk past him again. The sight of him almost triggered her, she gripped onto her deep purple skirts, his own yellow hanbok beaming like the sun.

“Miss Yim! I didn’t know you had arrived, leaving so soon?” Mr Kang chirped from the door. She shook at her head at him.

“I’ve been here for over an hour and a half. I’ll visit another time, especially since Minho is the only tolerable person in this household.”

“Just say you love him.” A grumble erupted from her lips, she rolled her eyes- with a delicate playfulness- before squeezing past the pair of men. A pounding of footsteps travelled after her as she trudged back through the fields in the direction of her home.

“Miss Yim, allow me to accompany you.” San professed, breathlessly. With a diligent nod, she transgressed forwards ignoring his burning gaze into her skin. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine. What about you?” He responded he was great all the same, reporting that the weather in Yangdong was a little warmer than in her hometown.

“When is your wedding date? I’m still awaiting on an invite.” It was a joke, nonetheless, but one that didn't hesitate to puncture holes in her heart.

“We broke off the engagement, it was mutual really. She was in love with someone else.” With a breath lodged in her throat, her stare tore away from the fields piercing straight into his eyes. It was then she had realised how burdened he truly was. Where was the San that always smiled and joked, and was so full of love it seemed inhumane to have so much of it? They didn't need to say anything to each other in that moment, they stopped walking subsided to a silent, paralysed position. "I think I'll just take your leave." His voice quivered, sending a jolt of agony through her.

Hadn't she made him suffer enough? After all he was the same man who loved her as if she was the vessel that kept the blood running through his veins, his heart beating and his feet walking.

Go back to him and tell him you love him.

Tell him to return back home to you.

His body almost disappeared behind the vast expanse of buildings, when she raced down the fields, as fast as her legs could carry her, ignoring the vicious ache gnawing at her muscles and the agitated pounding of her heart against her chest. Tearing down the path towards him, in the chance that if she didn't run any faster she was going to lose her lover to the wind.

"San!" Her shout echoed in the breeze, but reached to his ears anyway, a tug at the weak strings that had barely held down his soul. He turned, so desperate that she would come to him like she had done in the dead of the night. Feeling his lover crawl into his arms, pledging that she would never leave from his side.

"Miss Yim, what's wrong?"

“I lied to you, when I said I didn’t love you. I really, really do, I almost feel disgusted by it. I never thought, that someone as ruthless and as cold as me would be privileged enough to fall in love but when you entered my life I felt like my mother.” She sucked in a deep breath, her lover making gentle steps toward her as the wind whipped their hair. “I felt like her when she said: ‘If he was the muse in a painting, to be an object, a fleck of paint, or even dust on it would be my greatest honour.’” Warm tears forged in his eyes, biting down his bottom lip to prevent them from escaping. She wanted to outstretch her arms towards him but it was too soon.

“So, Choi San, it’s an honour to be loved by you. I came back, because I had to tell you that. I hurt you so much. I was scared that being vulnerable to love would only hurt me but the only person who gave me such torment was myself.” Her confession disturbed her, yet it was the unspoken truth that only he was entitled to. A tense silence suffused the air as she pended his response, but all he could do was try to convince himself that it was not a dream and she really had said all of the words he had spent countless nights praying that she would declare.

“I love you, Miss Yim. I loved you yesterday, I love you today and I will love you for eternity. There is simply nothing that one can do to tear my heart away from yours, not even you.”

"Do you mean that?" It was a stupid question, but she could not help the words be spilled from her mouth. He nodded violently.

"I do. With my whole entity." Choking back on her sobs, her arms reached out for him throwing them around his neck. Nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck, her grip tightened as he ensnared his hands around her waist; breathing in her scent as if it was oxygen. "Come home with me my dear, come home and be mine."

•••

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DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

'Yim' meaning light

A/N: the long awaited painter!san fic (with a twist 😏) that i've been waiting too long to put out. I hope you liked this one. :))

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tags: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho

[firespirited]

It's always funny to me how a company says "we own everything an employee makes even on their own time" when the employee can just...

not tell them. Sit on it until they're unemployed.

well... about that... Carter Bryant waited until his contract was over before pitching the full Bratz concept while trying to get work elsewhere.

When Bratz made it big, someone at Mattel did manage to remember he had at some point vaguely tried to pitch a teen doll line and it'd been rejected and they went digging. In court, they used the fact that he'd done some sketches on the free notepads they hand to their designers as evidence it probably wasn't done on company time but on company "property".

For a while there Mattel owned Bratz until the decision was reversed. And you might be thinking like I did, ah good the property reverted to its original owner.

Nope, Bryant gets nothing. MGAe are using the work he did in the early 2000s on the repros and he gets nothing. Both big doll companies won't employ him. Same for Garrett Sander: he sells artwork of "teen monsters" and does conventions.

It was part of their job to keep coming up with ideas and pitch as many as possible but it's also part of their job that they're disposable as designers... but if they pitch old ideas there's a chance it could result in litigation. I can't be certain but I think Sanders is hamstrung by having worked extensively on the (non cartoon) She-Ra: he couldn't pitch a warrior princess, magical girl or superhero line to any company without Mattel saying they own it or some design elements like a cape and sword combo, look they have these files in their vaults!

This, from companies that copy liberally from each other, from celebs and from fashion. The whole thing is absurd. These two designers have less ownership over their work than your local painter.

So a doll designer can't sit on anything unless they keep their ideas in their head and it's literally their job to be not just spitballing but sketching ideas all day and the company will only produce a few (but own them all).

I don't know many many industries this spans but it's wild: imagine Disney suing Taika Waititi for a new film he wrote the super basic outline for while he was bored on a plane for a press conference for Thor 4 because he used a company rental tablet to rehearse for questions and send himself an email, what if it had jokes he pitched in a writers' room at some point not knowing someone was keeping minutes?

Steven Sumners currently works for MGAe but I've been following on flickr since the 2010s and he's worked at Spinmaster, Mattel and Hasbro. They're expected to bounce around the industry as doll lines come and go but somehow keep the ideas flowing but also locked in their heads? Also no royalties, no copyright. Baffling.

[vcendent]

art vs industry

Sometimes I'm having a good day, but then sometimes I think about how industry is actively killing creative fields and that goes away. People no longer go to woodworkers for tables and chairs and cabinets, but instead pick from one of hundreds of mass-produced designs made out of cheap particle board instead of paying a carpenter for furniture that is both made to last generations and leaves room for customization. With the growth of population and international trade, the convenience and low production costs are beneficial in some aspects, but how many local craftsmen across the world were put out of business? How many people witnessed their craft die before their eyes? There is no heart or identity put into mass produced items; be it furniture, ceramics, metalwork, or home decor; and at the end of the day everybody ends up with the same, carbon copy stuff in their homes.

I'm a big fan of animated movies, and I see this same thing happening too. When was the last time western audiences saw a new 2D animated movie hit theatres? I can't speak for other countries, but, at least in America, I believe The Princess and the Frog was the last major 2D movie released and that was back in 2009. Major studios nowadays are unwilling to spend the time and money that it would take to pay traditional animators who have spent years honing their craft to go frame by frame, and to pay painters to create scene backgrounds. We talk a lot about machines replacing jobs, but when the machines come, artistry professions are some of the first to be axed (in part because industry does not see artistry as "valuable" professions). Art, music, and writing are no longer seen as "real" jobs because they belong to the creative field and there's this inane idea that anyone who goes into those fields will be unsuccessful and starving. I'm not saying that 3D animation is bad, it has its own merits and required skills and can be just as impressive as anything 2D, but it has smothered 2D animation and reduced it largely to studios that cannot afford the tech to animate 3D.

And now we have this whole AI thing to deal with, stealing existing artists' work to "train" it to take over those few professions that, until now, required actual people to do them. Internet artists have already been dealing with people complaining about the price of art for years and now have to face their work being stolen to train AI. With AI technology, anyone who undervalues the work of the artist can now get something generated at little or no cost to them, all at the expense of the artists themselves. Why would studios pay script writers when they could just get an algorithm to do it without pay? Why pay actors to bring characters to life or pay models to pose for ads when CGI has progressed enough we could digitally render humans and cut out having to pay people entirely? Why use practical effects or film on location when green screens and adding in-post is faster and so much cheaper? It's no wonder we had the SAG-AFTRA strike. AI has already been trained to write children's books and produce music, continuing down this road will replace authors and musicians too at the convenience of cost. How much longer until the actual, real-life people behind all forms of artistry become completely obsolete?

Industry is just driving the cost of people-made crafts up and up with every mass produced product and every streamlined shortcut to reduce costs, which only makes it harder and harder for artists of all kinds to make a living, as very few people want to pay for the time and skill of artists when they could just pick something off a shelf or feed AI a prompt and get something satisfactory enough, yet not what they actually wanted, for so much cheaper.

[touloserlautrec]

OC Deep Dive Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @pandoras-comment-box! (Check out their deep dive here and read about two of my blorbos!)

Rules: answer the following questions for your OCs!

I'm gonna mix it up and not limit this just to Sunset OCs for once! Weird. I'll answer for Alex (from Sunset), Lux (My mech pilot/mechanic), and Piper (my freckled punk dream-walker).

What uncommon/common fear do they have?

Alex- Purposelessness Lux- Hurting someone he'd rather keep safe Piper- Abandonment

Do they have any pet peeves?

Alex- Being treated like he's not capable Lux- When people try not to crack a smile for the sake of appearances Piper- Sore losers

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Alex- (When he had a bedroom of his own) a laptop covered in stickers, a good bluetooth speaker, colorful clothes that should have been folded and put away but are in a crumpled pile instead Lux- A desk covered in tools and little robot toys he's been tinkering with building, a fluffy blanket, a framed photo of his mother Piper- An easel and paints, an electric keyboard, a record player and his vinyl collection

What do they notice first in a person?

Alex- Their posture Lux- Their smile Piper- He notices their smell first but he tries to look for their butt first

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Alex- At the start of Sunset vol 1, probably a solid 6/10, but by Vol 3 he's (unfortunately) closer to a 9/10 Lux- 7/10 Piper- He's very smol, you see. 3/10

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Alex- Fight Lux- Fight Piper- Flight or Freeze

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Alex- Alex was raised by (very dysfunctional) adoptive parents until he was 14, then found his found family, who he's very dedicated to. And it tends to grow. Lux- It was just Lux and his mother when he was growing up, but he'd definitely consider himself a family person. She's gone now, but he's far from lonely or isolated. Piper- Piper bounced from foster home to foster home, and has developed a heck of a wall around himself. His found-family has found him though-- he just has to realize it's safe to let them in.

What animal represents them best?

Alex- A feral orange cat Lux- An industrious, curious squirrel Piper- A scrappy little mutt of a dog who thinks it's bigger than it is

What is a smell that they dislike?

Alex- Antiseptic cleaner Lux- Raw meat Piper- Cooking mushrooms

Have they broken any bones?

Alex- Yup (fighting monsters tends to do that) Lux- So many (war tends to do that) Piper- Nope!

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Alex- Early in Sunset: That queer little shit with the burn scar on his cheek and cherry-red hair. Later on in Sunset: The short guy with long hair, covered in scars and tattoos. Looks like someone you probably don't want to tangle with, but he's got a cute butt. Lux- The guy with the a robotic arm and blue hair. Piper- Little gutter punk with freckles and long hair.

Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

Alex- Night owl and then some Lux- More of a morning person Piper- Night owl

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

Alex- Hate: bitter things; Love: cheesy flavors Lux- Hate: artificial chocolate flavor; Love: cinnamon Piper- Hate: watermelon; Love: sour candy

Do they have any hobbies?

Alex- When he's got the luxury of hobbies, Alex enjoys dancing, video games, music Lux- Lux tinkers and builds little robotic toys in his spare time, and usually drops them off with local charities for kids Piper- Piper's a painter and a musician. He plays piano and sings, and noodles around with weird, experimental music.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

Alex- It's not really a surprise, because he's a psychometrist and almost certainly Read the history of people planning it before it happens. But he'd totally eat it up nonetheless. Lux- Lux would be totally overjoyed. He loves surprises, trying new things, laughing, getting curious, being silly... He'd be thrilled. Piper- Piper would initially panic and freeze, then be suspicious of the whole thing and get a little cagey, but he'd express gratitude and do his best to have a good time.

Do they like to wear jewelry?

Alex- Yes, to a point- he has stretched ears so he always wears plugs, and as the story unfolds, he starts wearing a specific necklace that has a lot of meaning to him. He'd probably wear more if it were feasible with his on-the-run life. Lux- He has a few earrings, but otherwise no. Lux is pretty practical and utilitarian. Even his blue hair is natural--he'd never put in the effort to maintain a dye job. Jewelry is the same. Piper- Yes! He is pierced, wears necklaces and bracelets-- pentacles and ankhs and inverted crosses, thumb rings, safety pins galore... You get the idea.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Alex- Super messy. Alex didn't learn to properly read and write until he was 14, and it's more or less reflected in his handwriting. Lux- It's the kind of all-caps printed chicken scratch that looks nice on a page when you look at it as a whole, but when you try to read it, it's harder to decipher. Piper- Very neat. He always manages to write in perfectly straight lines on blank sheets of paper, which is very annoying to the rest of us humans.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Alex- Love, pride Lux- Joy, melancholy Piper- Fear, defensiveness

Do they have a favorite fabric?

Alex- Hoodies Lux- Sturdy canvas Piper- Flannel

What kind of accent do they have?

Alex- Alex is American but spends of a lot of time living and traveling through Europe, so that influences it in subtle ways. Lux- Lux is an alien, but has something of an American Southern lilt (in the immortal words of The Doctor, "Lots of planets have a South") Piper- Very subtle American Mid-western accent

That was fun! Thanks for reading :D I'll tag: @mk-writes-stuff @winterandwords @an-elegant-void @revenantlore and @scribe-of-stories if you're into it!

Here are the blank questions: What uncommon/common fear do they have? Do they have any pet peeves? What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom? What do they notice first in a person? On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance? Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? Do they come from a big family/are they a family person? What animal represents them best? What is a smell that they dislike? Have they broken any bones? How would a stranger likely describe them? Are they a night owl or a morning bird? What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love? Do they have any hobbies? Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises? Do they like to wear jewelry? Do they have neat or messy handwriting? What are the two emotions they feel the most? Do they have a favorite fabric? What kind of accent do they have?

[yico0]

Roundtable 3: An American in Paris

"An American in Paris" is a classic musical from 1951, directed by Vincente Minnelli and featuring the lively music of George Gershwin. The film stars Gene Kelly as Jerry Mulligan, an American painter living in Paris, who falls in love with a beautiful dancer named Lise, played by Leslie Caron.

What are the social aspects within the film’s narrative that align with the film’s songs?

Cultural Exchange and Integration, "I Got Rhythm": Jerry Mulligan performs this song when surrounded by French children. The scene illustrates the cultural exchange between the American protagonist and the local Parisians. Jerry, who is an American, uses his charm and artistic flair to connect with French culture, which is receptive but also distinct. It symbolizing the blend and appreciation of different cultures.

Post-War Optimism and Recovery, “I’ll Build a Stairway to Paradise": Performed during a lavish nightclub scene, this song reflects the luxurious and escapist environments that became popular in post-war Europe as a way to move past the hardships of World War II. The entertainment industry, including nightclubs and music halls, played a crucial role in this societal recovery.

How do the historiographies of previously recorded songs inform audience relationships with the musical’s narrative and performers?

Period Reflection: The songs selected for the film not only reflect the musical zeitgeist of Gershwin's time but also evoke the vibrant energy of the Jazz Age and the subsequent years. This cultural embedding helps the audience connect the narrative’s setting—post-war Paris—with the broader historical narrative of American music and its influence.

Gene Kelly’s Star Power: Gene Kelly was not just an actor but a celebrated dancer and singer whose performances were major draws for audiences. His ability to embody the spirit of Gershwin’s music through dance (particularly evident in the ballet sequence) and song significantly influences how audiences perceive and connect with the film. Kelly's own history and persona as a performer add an additional layer of appreciation and engagement for the audience.

What musical genre/style drives the film’s score, and how does the genre/style (re)define the film as a musical? 

The musical genre that primarily drives the score of "An American in Paris" is a fusion of classical and jazz music, uniquely embodied through the compositions of George Gershwin.

Redefining Musical Film Structure: Unlike many musicals of the time, which often featured scores written directly for the screen, "An American in Paris" uses a pre-existing, concert-oriented score that is adapted into the film's narrative. This approach allowed the film to explore more complex musical forms typically associated with the concert hall rather than the musical stage. The extended ballet sequence set to Gershwin‘s "An American in Paris" is a prime example, offering a narrative told almost entirely through dance and music, reminiscent of a classical ballet but infused with jazz energy.

Broadening Audience Appeal: The integration of jazz with classical music broadened the film's appeal, attracting not only traditional fans of musical theater but also those who appreciated more serious musical forms. This crossover appeal helped redefine what a musical film could be, making it both a popular entertainment medium and a serious artistic endeavor.

[unicorrrrrn]

what are your fav kdramas?

Yay! An ask on my main tumblr!! I have SO many favorite k-dramas that I love for different reasons but these are the ones that come to mind that I think about a lot.

Most of My favorite K-dramas:

Extraordinary You/ A Day Found By Chance (fantasy/romance): This magical k-drama has my heart. It plays with all of the predictable tropes and then just goes crazy! While not perfect towards the end, I give this show bonus points for being super creative AND inspiring me to read a LOT of fan fic. I think about this drama more than any other.

Fight for My Way (romcom) I love this drama! The couple is one of my OTPs and it’s really funny and a mostly lighthearted story of a group of friends. It’s down to earth and adorable - I’ve never had anyone complain about this one!

Melo Is My Nature (slice of life): This drama is by far my favorite slice-of-life drama of 2019. Found family, strong and complex characters, I laughed, I cried. Plus a gay character that’s an actual character, with the gay as a casual side note (classy k-drama!!) It was just a perfect show for me. There’s romance, but all of the stories are super interesting.

Extraordinary You/ A Day Found By Chance (fantasy/romance): This magical k-drama has my heart. It plays with all of the predictable tropes and then just goes crazy! While not perfect towards the end, I give this show bonus points for being super creative AND inspiring me to read a LOT of fan fic. I think about this drama more than any other and Eun Dan Oh is so special!!

Shopping King Louie (romcom): Ridiculously fun and lighthearted romp following a spoiled and useless chaebol with amnesia who is being taken care of by a country bumpkin in the city. Very low stakes, super adorable couple, and as many tropes as you can fit in your bag, this one is one of my favorites to recommend.

Just Between Lovers (romance/melo): Slice of Life romance between poor trauma babies just trying to live! The OTP is one of my favorite couples EVER and even as the years go on, very few couples have matched their love in my opinion. There’s a lot of comfort/healing themes with for me is just *chef’s kiss.* Lee Junho became my bias wrecker because of that drama.

The Eighth Sense (bl queer romance): This is the only 2023 drama to make this list! It's super atmospheric and has so much more character development than any korean bl I've ever seen. I loved it so much!

Run On: (rom com) This show follows four people in their daily lives: An athletic, a translator, a CEO and an artist. Soft soft couples!! Y'all know I love this slice of life rom com for so many reasons, but you might not know that Kang Tae Oh’s character (the himbo painter) is like one of my dream boys. BLORBO FROM MY SHOWS. Also there is so much bi nuance and an ace character, just saying!

The Best Hit / Hit The Top (romcom): A famous 90′s boyband dude travels into the future and meets up with his family and friends in this really cute drama featuring Yoon Shi Yoon. I LOVE Yoon Shi Yoon in pretty much everything but this role was made for him - he is hilarious. It’s a slice of life but features the k-pop music industry so the setting is unique.

Into The Ring (workplace/romcom): The perfect slice-of-life rom com! Goo Se Ra has trouble holding down a job due to her passionate personality so after she loses her latest job working for the ML, she decides to run for a small government office position because it pays a salary. Literally she does it for the money which is just *chef’s kiss.* The show is about her dealing with local politics and it’s SO FUNNY and smart and the OTP is the best! 

Flower of Evil: A psychological thriller centered around a jewelry maker who is running from his past, and his cop wife (power couple alert!)  who doesn’t know his original identity. The chemistry of the couple is amazing and all of the characters are nuanced and interesting. I was on the edge of my seat, AND sobbing! I’m going to be rewatching this in 2021 for sure. 

The Smile Has Left Your Eyes (psychological thriller): This drama has a lot of psychological thriller-y aspects but the style of filming is really interesting and the leads could not be more angsty (especially the guy). It takes them a while to get together and while not entirely pleasant, this show is one of my faves.

Healer: Everyone knows healer will always have my heart and it’s a super popular k-drama. Healer is played by Ji Chang Wook (swoon) and he gets involved with a feisty reporter played by Park Min Young (also swoon). It’s an action adventure with some very classic tropes: Rich people scandals, murders and hidden pasts. But it also has some of my favorite tropes: Beta Male Lead, childhood friends to lovers and traumatic pasts.

Cheating because it's a jdrama: Cherry Magic! (30-sai made Dotei Da to Mahotsukai ni Nareru rashii): I know this is a Jdrama but it’s the only drama that got a perfect score from me in 2020! If you’ve never felt like trying a jdrama, Cherry Magic is the one! Every episode was so endearing and sweet, and it even has ace representation, and does it well! I basically smiled the whole time and loved every second. Soft Romance and the best couple!

[clearfinishpaintings]

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[opcpaintings]

Local Industrial Painters Sydney

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[kdramaxoxo]

Hey I love your blog soooooo much!! 💖 I’m going through a tough time rn and I was wondering if you had any funny kdrama recommendations?! Or kdramas that made you feel really happy when you watched it?!

Thank you for all your posts and recommendations btw! I’ve loved so many of your recommendations and I’m so grateful for your blog!!💕💕💕

Oh anon i'm so sorry you're going through it :( Thank you so much for the blog love and hopefully one of these will fit your mood!

K-dramas to brighten your day:

Shopping King Louie (romcom): Ridiculously fun and lighthearted romp following a spoiled and useless chaebol with amnesia who is being taken care of by a country bumpkin in the city. Very low stakes, super adorable couple, and as many tropes as you can fit in your bag, this one is one of my favorites to recommend.

Extraordinary You/ A Day Found By Chance (fantasy/romance): This magical k-drama has my heart. It plays with all of the predictable tropes and then just goes crazy! While not perfect towards the end, I give this show bonus points for being super creative AND inspiring me to read a LOT of fan fic. I think about this drama more than any other.

Soundtrack #1: (romance) A short drama about two friends. One of them is helping the other write a love song (while also being in love with her). It’s cute!

Hit The Spot: rom/com-ish: Just a heads up this is legit rated-r and has graphic sex scenes. I don't usually go for that (and actually the scenes are pretty funny to me personally - the first episode starts that way but I swear you can just skip those scenes) but the actual drama was soooo good (and maybe sponsored by a sex toy company?) Hani delivers (i love her so much) and the sex positive messaging and just two ladies getting what they need?? So funny and so fun!! But take care if this isn't for you.

Run On: (rom com) This show follows four people in their daily lives: An athletic, a translator, a CEO and an artist. Soft soft couples!! Y'all know I love this slice of life rom com for so many reasons, but you might not know that Kang Tae Oh’s character (the painter) is like one of my dream boys. BLORBO FROM MY SHOWS.

Have a Nice Dessert (another cute web drama): If you’re looking for low angst and a super soft boy, this is your drama!! It’s a web drama (youtube) about a girl who loves photographing desserts and the boy who likes her.  Like all web dramas, it’s short, and there’s really no time for angst and breakups :)

The Best Hit / Hit The Top (romcom): A famous 90′s boyband dude travels into the future and meets up with his family and friends in this really cute drama featuring Yoon Shi Yoon. I LOVE Yoon Shi Yoon in pretty much everything but this role was made for him - he is hilarious. It’s a slice of life but features the k-pop music industry so the setting is unique.

Into The Ring (workplace/romcom): The perfect slice-of-life rom com! Goo Se Ra has trouble holding down a job due to her passionate personality so after she loses her latest job working for the ML, she decides to run for a small government office position because it pays a salary. Literally she does it for the money which is just *chef’s kiss.* The show is about her dealing with local politics and it’s SO FUNNY and smart and the OTP is the best! 

Eulachacha Waikiki / Laughter In Waikiki: (ridiculous comedy) I hope you’re ready for a crazy amount of unlikely situations and nutty hijinks because this show is probably one the most silly ones I’ve ever watched. It follows a group of friends who own a hostel so it’s a slice of life drama. At certain points I was like “this is TOO silly” but I’m glad I stuck with it cause it was so hilarious. Plus, the baby is a star!

Light On Me (web drama bl): I absolutely adored this simple and sweet drama! One of my favorite korean BLs EVER! Because it’s longer than the average Korean BL, it actually has: *cues triumphant music* Character development!

Fight for My Way (romcom) I love this drama! The couple is one of my OTPs and it’s really funny and a mostly lighthearted story of a group of friends. It’s down to earth and adorable - I’ve never had anyone complain about this one!

Wok of Love: (romcom) Despite the fact that the show was shortened by two episodes because of sports, this drama is a funny and quirky show worth watching. Many people dropped it because it was SO crazy for the first couple of episodes (it has a talking horse people!), but it does settle into a really sweet and fun story about a chef, a gangster and a rich girl and her family. If you love food, this show is for YOU!

Splash Splash Love: (short drama) Featuring a girl struggling with her studies and magically ends up in an ancient land working for a king! It’s awesome!

Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo: Super cute and fluffy drama featuring a female weightlifter lacking confidence, and a popular and good looking swimmer. Romance & great friendships!

Top Management: Adorable mini drama about a girl who can see the future and becomes the rookie manager for a kpop band. Fun and easy (plus they seem to be setting it up for another season…)

***J-drama rec*** Cherry Magic! Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard?!: (romance, fluff, represenation!)  If you’re used to k-dramas were everything could go wrong at any time, you’re in for a real treat! Cherry Magic is my absolute favorite drama of last year and this year combined (even with a silly name like it has!) - It’s the ONLY show I’ve ever given a 10/10 rating to. An introverted guy finds out a seemingly popular and confident co-worker has a crush on him. This drama is so so soft, so so sweet and it has not one but TWO ace characters and a lot of gay panic! I’ve rewatched it recently and smiled the ENTIRE time. Plus there’s a valentines day special that’s really fun.

Bonus short shows for instant relief:

Gaduri Sushi Restaurant

Semantic Error

Out of Breath (gl!)

The Best Mistake

Kiss Goblin

XX

Enjoy and I hope you feel better soon!!

[simplepainting]

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[jamieroxxartist]

Tuesday, July 23, 2024. Episode #1409 of 🎨#JamieRoxx’s Pop Roxx Radio 🎙️#TalkShow and 🎧#Podcast w/ Featured Guests:

Doug Strong (#Director, Co-#Writer) & Kira L. Wilson (#Actress) The Parallels of Loneliness; #Film | #Short, #drama

Pop Art Painter Jamie #Roxx (www.JamieRoxx.us) welcomes #DougStrong & #KiraLWilson ( #TheParallelsofLoneliness; Film | Short, Drama) to the Show!

● IMDB (Film) www.imdb.com/title/tt31433636 ● IMDB (Doug) www.imdb.com/name/nm9950977 ● IMDB (Kira) www.imdb.com/name/nm8381237

The Parallels of Loneliness was originally made for Winterfilm XI competition. It was nominated for 10 awards and took home trophies for: Best Picture, Best Cinematography, Best Production Design and Best Lead Female Actor. This film has been revised and sent to numerous film festivals around the world. At this time, it will only be viewable during the festival screenings.

Doug Strong is a director, editor, writer, and cinematographer from Cincinnati, Ohio. Known for River Road, Psycho Bastard, 24 Percent, and The Parallels of Loneliness, He's won many awards for his work including Best Film: Psycho Bastard (Fright Film 2021), Best Narrative Short: Psycho Bastard (Blue Chip Media Awards 2022), Best Cinematography: 24 Percent (Winterfilm 2023) and Best Film and Best Cinematography: The Parallels of Loneliness (Winterfilm 2024). Best Kill for Psycho Bastard 2022 (Days of the Dead Indianapolis) and Doug has also been nominated by Cincinnati City Beat Magazine for Best Local Filmmaker 4 years in a row. He has two dogs, a German Shepherd named Elio and a red Boston Terrier named Apple. Next up for Doug is the Fright Film competition in August 2024, and currently he's doing a film festival run with Parallels of Loneliness, already being officially selected for 2 upcoming festivals including DMoff and Hilliard. A feature-length horror film could be on the horizon. Favorite movies include John Carpenter's Halloween, and Stanley Kubrick's The Shining.

Kira L. Wilson is a multi-award winning actress, production designer, and producer from Dayton, Ohio represented by Heyman Talent Agency as well as Talent Fusion. 8 years ago, Kira was a full-time insurance agent and happened to “fall into” acting on a local feature film. It had always been her dream to be an actor but never had the opportunity to do so until then. After a highly successful 2 years of networking and acting work, she left her career of 20 years to pursue acting professionally. In addition to acting, she has produced a number of highly successful short films, worked on production design/set decorating, and wardrobing, has been a location manager quite a few times, and assisted with casting projects.

Kira has been involved in over 200 projects such as commercials, print modeling, short & feature films, music videos, and industrials and can be seen on numerous streaming services and television programs for AppleTV, Amazon Prime, Tubi, Roku Channel, Cineverse, Oxygen, TVOne, and HLN networks. Kira is also known by many of her industry peers as “The Chameleon” for her ability to physically transform into practically any character thus making her a well sought after actor to portray biographical roles.

When she’s not working on projects and studying her craft, Kira enjoys traveling, watching movies, attending film festivals, filming alternative hair educational videos on Instagram and YouTube, cooking, volunteering, and fostering for animal rescue, interior design, and spending time with her family and 3 dogs.

● Media Inquiries: Doug Strong, FB: @DougStrong Kira L. Wilson, FB @kira8899

[chandandhillon21]

Local Competition

In the past 2 weeks, i decided to embark on a business to face my fears. My search for an appropriate business idea landed me to this amazing idea of Chandan House Paintings where we blend colors and craftsmanship to create stunning transformations in commercial and residential spaces.

However, When analyzing the local competition for Chandan House Painting, we are putting into consideration various competitors within the painting services industry. These include independent painters, established painting companies, and other related businesses offering painting and decorating services. They offer competitive prices though they may lack the professionalism needed in the painting industry.

Opportunities for Chandan House Painting:

Personalized Services: By offering customized solutions and exceptional customer service, we can attract clients who value quality and uniqueness.

Eco-Friendly Options: Providing environmentally friendly painting options can appeal to environmentally conscious consumers.

Niche Markets: Expanding into niche markets such as artistic murals or historical restorations can differentiate us from general painting services.

Threats to Chandan House Painting:

Price Competition: Independent painters and larger companies may offer competitive pricing, challenging us to justify our pricing with superior quality and service.

Market Saturation: High competition in the local area can make it challenging to capture market share quickly.