#poor victor

[gardensinmymindd]

i feel tanwa developed a certain type of spider sense that let's him know whenever victor plans to make a move on trin HAHAHAHA

[papoochu]

Who's your council bias? 💖 Welcome to the stage Jang Haneul, the eye... sun... thingy... Anyway, we're sooo back! 3 left - who do you think is next?

Background

Jang = common Korean surname meaning “leader” or “strong,” linked to generals and strategists throughout Korean history

Haneul = Korean for “sky” or “heaven,” suggesting unreachable dominion, the divine, and cosmic ambition

Born 1978, in North Pyongan Province, North Korea, in a privileged military family

Raised under the eye of the regime: his father was an elite colonel in the Ministry of State Security; his mother composed propaganda operas for the Party

Indoctrinated early in Juche ideology and the omnipresence of Kim Il-sung - the sun that nourished all life

Spent his childhood under constant surveillance, learning to smile on command, sing with emotion he didn’t feel, and love a nation that only taught fear

Excelled in gymnastics and foreign languages - trained for future diplomatic or propaganda work

Made him emotionally stunted even as a child

Defection (Age 17–20):

During the 1995 famine (“Arduous March”), his world fell apart:

Watched neighbors eat bark, siblings vanish, and the sun (the regime) fail to shine

Father was executed in a purge after a failed military operation; his mother was sent to a re-education camp

Disillusioned and furious, he defected across the Yalu River, guided only by hatred and hunger

Carried with him a smuggled cassette of South Korean pop - which he later described as “the sound of lies wrapped in light”

The Idol Phase (Age 20):

Entered a defector resettlement program in Seoul, where he learned to smile again - this time, for TV cameras

The council tried to recruit him at the camp - but he had other aspirations; they told him that they would keep in touch

Obsessed with how idols commanded worship without guns - how image, not ideology, shaped reality

Joined a major idol agency under the name “Sol” and became the soft-spoken “mysterious defector” in a popular group

Cultivated a fanbase that adored his “sensitive North Korean past” - a myth he exploited

He discovered his true power lay not in being seen, but in controlling what others saw

“Control doesn’t begin with power. It begins with what people find beautiful.”

Accident (Age 26):

At the peak of his budding idol fame, Haneul was cast in a live televised special promoting a corporate-sponsored concert series at a luxury shopping complex

The venue was rushed to completion to meet investor deadlines, cutting corners on fire safety and structural integrity - the cost of image over infrastructure

Construction safety guidelines existed, but due to the agency’s immense cultural and economic influence, the government granted an exemption, citing the company’s “technical expertise” and tight international schedule (Reference to Byford Dolphin Tragedy)

During rehearsal, the overloaded ceiling collapsed.

His fellow group members died instantly. Haneul was trapped beneath flaming wreckage for over eight minutes

His once-pristine face - the “Sun of Seoul,” as tabloids had begun calling him - was burned + crushed beyond recognition

The response: the label suppressed footage, sponsors denied responsibility, insurance companies delayed payouts, the show went on

Haneul underwent eight reconstructive surgeries in total anonymity. By the end, his face was not restored - it was rebuilt, sculpted into something impossibly symmetrical, eerily perfect

Though more handsome than ever, he could no longer perform:

His injuries made it painful to dance or sing

Cameras and fans still loved him - or rather, the idea of him

He refused to perform again; instead, he reached out to the council and accepted their offer

“If the world is just a stage, and people only worship masks - then I will build the mask that rules them all.”

Vision Entertainment (Age 27–40):

Founded Vision Entertainment, blending hyper-optimized idol production with advanced surveillance and psychometric tracking

“The sun blinds. The eye sees. I am both.”

Publicly known for producing the “cleanest” idols - scandal-free, pristine, obedient

Blackmailed executives, manipulated fandoms through bot networks, and ran smear campaigns on rivals

Controlled both the stage and the spotlight - what people saw, what they felt, and who they hated

Slowly monopolizing the entertainment and media industries

Present Day - 2016:

Publicly: beloved entertainment mogul, creator of the "purest" and scandal-free idols in the industry

His philosophy: “What the regime couldn’t do with fear, and capitalism couldn’t do with freedom, I will do with clarity.”

His idols function as prototypes: pure, blank vessels that audiences pour themselves into

Wishes to replace ideology with choreography, history with branding, faith with repetition

“I was born beneath a dying sun. I’ll become the sky that never sets.”

Design Notes/Character Study

References: Lee Byung-Hun, Wol-cheon (Lee Hyun-wook in The Plot 2024)

Fashion References: Lee Jung-jae, Park Sung-hoon, Felix Yongbok Lee

Style leaning towards feminine and cute but "not completely girly"

Embodies deadly sin of sloth and gluttony - likes to indulge in luxury and extravagance

No shoelaces - little detail to show laziness lol

Popular with the ladies - has a reputation that makes his fans coddle him

Think how the Saja Boys manipulate their fans in K-Pop Demon Hunters

Face is eerily symmetrical - USE THE SYMMETRY TOOL!!!

Bleached skin

Body never ages

Dimples - natural charisma

True Blue reference

Always wears a bow around the neck - reference to The Girl with the Green Ribbon

Search up 2000s photos and study camcorder effects

Research runway photos and photoshoots

Gets annoyed easily but usually good at hiding it

[maybe-im-dark]

Blood ties

1832

The wind howled outside, whipping through the cracks of the small, shabby cabin that Victor called home. He sat huddled on a threadbare blanket, watching the dim glow of the fireplace flicker shadows across the walls. His father, Thomas Logan, sat hunched over a small wooden table, a bottle in hand, the sour stench of alcohol clinging to him like a second skin. Victor had grown used to it, had learned to associate that smell with danger.

Distant screams suddenly pierced the night, carried over from the large estate across the clearing—the Howlett estate, looming like a ghost in the darkness.

Victor shifted, his small body tensing at the sound, but he didn’t dare move closer to the window. He knew better than to show interest in things that weren’t meant for him.

Thomas Logan took a long swig from his bottle, letting out a rough laugh. "Hear that, boy? That’s your little brother bein’ born," he said, voice thick and slurred.

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. He stared up at his father, confusion knitting his brow. “Little brother?” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Thomas leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he stared into the flames. “When the time comes, I’ll take him and his mother, and we’ll be out of this place. Away from all this. Ain’t no one gonna keep me from what’s mine.”

Victor swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “What… what happened to my mama?” he asked, innocent and curious, his voice tinged with longing.

The words barely left his lips when Thomas’s expression darkened, and without warning, he hurled the beer bottle against the wall, glass shattering in a spray of amber liquid. Before Victor could even flinch, his father was on him, smacking him across the face with a force that sent the boy sprawling onto the floor.

Victor tasted blood in his mouth, felt it trickle from his busted lip, but he didn’t cry out. He’d learned not to. Instead, he curled into himself, shielding his face with trembling hands, waiting for the next blow.

“Don’t you ever speak of her again!” Thomas roared, his voice shaking the cabin walls. “You hear me, boy?! Never!”

He smacked Victor again, the sound echoing in the silence, and Victor bit back the whimper that threatened to escape his throat. The pain was familiar, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Thomas stood over him, breathing heavily, staring down at his son with a mixture of anger and disgust. “You’ll learn,” he muttered, turning away, stumbling back to his chair. “You’ll learn to keep your mouth shut.”

Victor stayed on the floor, his cheek pressed against the rough wooden planks, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. He didn’t move, didn’t dare to breathe until his father’s snores filled the room.

He let himself relax, just a little, wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his hand. The wound throbbed, but he knew it would heal. It always did.

10 years later

Victor, now a teenager, sat in the corner of James's room, eyes fixed on the floor. His claws were out, gleaming in the dim candlelight, but he kept them hidden beneath his hands, forcing them to retract, feeling the sharp sting as they pulled back into his skin. Across from him, James sat on his bed, watching his older brother with wide, curious eyes.

"Victor," James began hesitantly, "what… what happened to your mother?"

The question hit Victor harder than any blow ever could. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, trying to keep the claws at bay. It took everything he had not to lash out, not to let the rage consume him like it always did.

"It’s none of your business," Victor snapped, his voice colder than he intended. He looked up, and for just a moment, his eyes flashed yellow, feral and dangerous, before he managed to rein it back in.

James flinched but didn’t look away. “I just… I want to know. I've never seen her. Where is she?"

“I said it’s none of your business!” Victor growled, slamming his fist against the wall. The impact left cracks in the plaster, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to remember the nights spent cowering on the floor, blood dripping from his lips, while his father yelled at shadows that weren’t there.

The room fell silent, and Victor forced himself to calm down, to breathe. He unclenched his fists, staring down at the faint lines of blood where his nails had cut into his palms. “There are some things you’re better off not knowing, Jimmy. Not yet anyways.” he said finally, his voice rough with barely contained emotion. “Trust me.”

James nodded, his eyes softening, and for once, he didn’t push. He reached out, placing a hand on Victor’s arm, a silent gesture of comfort, of understanding.

Victor stared at his brother’s hand, the warmth of it seeping into his skin, and something inside him shifted. He would protect James. He would keep him safe from the truth, from the pain that had shaped his own life. Because if there was one thing Victor had learned, it was that no matter how much you tried to bury the past, it always had a way of coming back.

“Come on,” Victor muttered, rising to his feet and sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You should get some sleep. I'll be back tomorrow.”

James nodded and slipped under the covers, and together, they sat for a moment in the dim light, two brothers bound by blood and secrets they could never escape.

When he left the room, Victor cast one last glance at the mirror, at the reflection that stared back at him—wild dark blue eyes, claws just beneath the surface, and the features of his father already edged into his skin. A beard stubble that would grow into mutton chops later and the unmistakable rage of his father bubbling beneath the surface.

And for the first time, he wondered if he would ever be able to escape it.

[ariadne-karloff]

OMG OMG OMG OMG

Now I know why I had a terrible picture of Creed dying of starvation!

It was from Sabretooth and the Exiles!!!

[maikuuro]

Got to participate in a summer themed Strahd exchange :> I was so happy to get to draw this for @tantaliax ! This was a fun event with so many talented artists including Tanta 😭✨

[magicalruffles]

Very bad news, guys. I had to repaint both Sabes' eyes cuz they got erased ✋🏻😭

[reccyls]

lmao Victor's wedding story starts with him mending Jude's and Harrison's clothes and fantasizing about how they'll be so happy he fixed them that they thank him and start saying nice things to him

And Kate is sitting there thinking, 'Absolutely not happening, no way would either of them ever say anything like that'

[calyshine]

Another sketch! This time of Victor, @disastermalkavian ‘s character!

We broke into our dead coterie mates apartment and stole some books. Then Victor had to escape out the window since our dead coterie mates sire came to sift through his belongings … whoops!

So here’s him frantically clutching the stolen books!