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voidsteffy · 2 months

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Anand (S/O Satyamurthy) x fem!OC

A/N: Um so hi 🧍🏽‍♀️Please read this and lemme know how you like it in the comments. This man is my pookie bear, and also this movie plays on the tv whenever I ask for it to ok? This is My Movie. And also @mahi-wayy asks and I deliver again, what can I say🤗 btw, timeline may be skewed ignore that, it fit that way. No trigger warnings except the mention of death. Not proofread.

Word count: 2.2k words

More than grief, grief of a person who they know dying an untimely death, everyone’s face he saw outside his house that day had a glimmer of joy. Joy of his family’s downfall, which would mean they had something to gain from it.

Coming out of that room, having written off all the assets to save his father’s honour, it was the first time Anand had felt truly alone. There was a family depending on his every step now. His mother who saw her husband die ; his brother wasn’t himself after the death and his sister-in-law who was truly herself at the moment - strong and stern ; his little niece, the innocent girl who still couldn’t understand why her grandpa hadn’t come home for dinner.

“Amma…” he sat his mother down. She didn’t have any interest nor want of grandeur, but what he did was going to all but drag them onto the streets. “I had to sign away all the properties. They asked me to claim bankruptcy but I couldn’t drag his name through mud.”

She nodded, suddenly older than he’d remembered leaving her, and held his shaking hands.

“Nandu, your father was Satyamurthy.” (dignified man who tells the truth)

He didn’t have it in him to smile, but years later, he’d look back to that moment and find some courage to smile. “Was. And always will be.”

He planned to sit there until someone called him, until someone needed more from him than his signature. But from the bustle in the house, one voice suddenly stood out.

“How dare you manipulate my client into this trap?! Don’t you realise we can move the court for untimely misrepresentation of information? Just because you’re benefiting from—”

“Listen here, Mrs. Lawyer. If you think I’m standing here in this house by my own free will, think again. I stood no benefit from the shitshow that just took place in that room. I simply gave him his options and—”

“And who are you to give him options? Don’t you think I’m unaware of your motives here Mr. Sambasiva Rao. Henceforth, whatever communication you’re to have with my client, will be through me. I’d suggest you leave these premises unless you want me to drag you and your friends here for their claims of bankruptcy in the past.”

It was a confusing day for Anand, but for a moment he could think of something other than death, debt and his future.

“And it’s Miss Lawyer to you sir! Get out of my sight!”

The owner of the angry voice rounded the corner of the living room, and walked straight into Anand.

“Swapna?”

What was she doing here, fighting battles in the hallways?

She’d changed, from when he last saw her. Her brows were furrowed, nostrils flared from the argument, and her eyes outlined generously by kajal that gave her a divine resemblance. Hair almost falling out from her unkempt bun and files and papers held close to her chest, Swapna re-entered Anand’s life in his favourite dark teal sari.

“Nandu.” she froze.

Maybe she was unnerved by the stoicism on his face or the cluelessness when he asked “What are you doing here?”, that she beckoned him to sit immediately.

“Hey… How are you?”

“I could be better.”

“But you didn’t choose to be better, did you?”

Her accusation, he realised quite quickly, was gentle. He sighed, “What are you doing here, Swapna? Really…”

“I’m the family lawyer, I need to execute the will before anything can be surrendered as debt paid off.”

Anand looked up, imagining his father’s all-knowing smile.

What have you planned, Nanna?

Swapna was the first and last friend he remembered making. Every other friend in his life just came and went, but Swapna… he couldn’t forget her if he tried. Her father, despite being too young to be a father and as much of a successful businessman as he was— shared a faint friendship and acquaintance with Anand’s father. With both her young parents working during school years, Swapna stayed back at Anand’s house more often than not. She was more of a favourite in his house than he himself was. She always had the depth of oceans in her heart when she spoke, the world on her shoulders. Always a serious and loyal daughter, law student, friend and as time went on, his girlfriend.

They didn’t specifically share it with anyone, and no one suspected anything intimate going on with them, nothing different from the normal familiarity. They were each other’s warm embraces and without realising the gravity of his plans, a young Anand already had a diamond ring hidden deep in his cupboard meant for the love of his life.

She had been fidgety and moody after graduating, but Anand chalked it up to fear of the future, and anxiety about revealing their relationship to their parents.

Until the week after her graduation from law school, she was invited to Anand’s home along with her parents for something important.

His parents wanted Swapna to be married to his brother.

Anand hadn’t known about the proposal until it was staring him in the face as a wedding invitation card in the middle of his living room.

Instead of a yes, the entire house sunk in silence, Swapna standing at the centre of it with a guarded ashen face.

“Forgive us if we were too forward amma,” his father smiled sheepishly. “We’ve always thought of you as a part of our family, and became eager at the thought of you being the daughter of this house.”

It was true. Anand saw the emotion behind his father’s statement. But he also saw his brother’s refusal of this proposal. He loved someone. Anand knew this because he had met that sweet, stoic someone just a day ago when she had proposed marriage to his brother.

Swapna had tears in her eyes, shaking hands wiping it away fervently before she shook her head.

“I’m sorry uncle, but I don’t belong in this house.”

She’d looked right at Anand after she’d said it, and she walked away from years of friendship. Years of being with each other, from this house she felt like she didn’t belong in.

Behind her, her parents apologised and left him to pick the pieces of his mother’s and father’s broken hearts.

The day after that, Swapna had flown to Australia for her post-graduation and left Anand behind. With the ring still back somewhere in his cupboard, buried beneath years of friendship and excuses for her.

“Hello!”

“Hello?” his sister-in-law’s stoic voice clicked him out of his anger. All that rage that had been boiling within him melted his bones and his legs felt like jelly.

Anand crumpled into the nearest chair. “Ah, hello. Vadina…”

“How are you, all okay? You sound like you’re stressed,”

He snapped his fingers at Param, gesturing him back out from all the earlier plans of leaving. Life had a way of reminding his purpose lately, and it always seemed to squash him more than humble him.

“Nothing like that vadina! How are amma and sweetie?”

“We’re doing okay—”

“The wedding will be done in a few days. We’ll pay the school fee the minute I come back.”

“I didn’t call for that mister.”

She didn’t sound wounded. Three lakhs was not a small amount to have not stressed about. Instead, in her serious reply, a tinge of concern touched him. Seemed like a part of his father lived on in her. She wasn’t infinitely kind like him, or perennially smiling, but till this day he felt like he left his mother at home with his father. Nothing would happen to anybody because vadina had his back.

“But that’s what I came here for.”

After a few instructions on keeping his health from deteriorating any further, his sister-in-law bid goodbye. He was left to accept green flowers and a lot of stupid nonsense from the old man parading around the mandap. But Anand would do it. For his family.

After the party with the groom and Pallavi’s social friends, he sat there at the half-built mandap in the dark after hours, ID card twisted around his wrist like a tourniquet, a reminder of why he was doing this job.

Anand didn’t need a reminder of what whirlwind life had been lately, but bringing Sambasiva Rao to the same wedding he was incharge of was fate’s cruel game.

“Nandu…”

For the past few days, ever since he had called Swapna to look over his contract with Bhadra after realising it was Pallavi’s wedding, she hadn’t left the venue. He behaved like he didn’t see it, but Param and Sameera were somehow always near her to chauffeur her or check on her necessities. If she noticed the special treatment, she didn’t say anything. They began to get closer, bridging the silence of all the years she was away with a conversation here and there while she helped him with stuff way above her paygrade. She didn’t mind, she said, not if it gave her an excuse to talk to Anand.

So that evening, when she approached him like he was a panicked deer, he couldn’t help but give a small smile.

“Hi.”

In seconds, there was a cup of warm coffee in his hands.

“For the hangover. I got it when it was hot actually. But I couldn’t find you that easily.”

“Really? Where did you look?”

“The edge of a cliff for starters.”

A laugh bubbled out of him, which made her crack a smile too. She never could bear it if Anand was moody. She took the change in his demeanour as encouragement and continued with a dramatic sigh.

“And then the bar, and then under some classless businessman’s classless booted foot.”

“So that’s where you found me.”

“Nope, no luck there either,” Swapna’s skirt swirled as she turned about and sat down beside him, “Because you got out from under it.”

It took Anand but a second to remember that for a long time, they had depleted their woes just being there for each other.

No one had been there for him in a while.

“Sameera told me what happened, she feels bad.”

“If I had a buck for everytime someone felt bad that something embarrassing happened to me, I’d have enough money to pay my bills.”

“She’s not someone though,” Swapna offered, “She’s Sambasiva Rao’s daughter.”

“Oh great, now the one friend I’ve made over here is cruel by blood.”

There was no rebuttal from Swapna. It was almost 3 in the morning and the nearest light was a blinking lightbulb somewhere far near the welcome carpet. It was just them, shoulder to shoulder, but Anand felt Swapna slip away like he hated to see all those years ago.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

She shook her head, “No, no you didn’t… I’ve just been wanting to tell you something about Sambasiva Rao.”

“Okay?”

“And everytime I try to pluck up the courage and tell you, it just ends up feeling like the wrong time and then I don’t end up telling you which brings us back to the same—”

“Swapna…” his fingers shushed her lips, rough and calloused just like they were back then. He was closer now, and he whispered like he was okay with her panic. “The time is right now, it’s ok, tell me.”

“Nannu maa parents dattata theeskunnaru,” (“I was adopted by my parents.”)

His brows furrowed.

Swapna rolled her eyes, “Oh my god, speeches you can make, but where’s your mind when it comes to connecting information? Nandu!” she whisper-yelled to continue their conversation. “I was adopted as a kid!” she looked at him like he had to make a comment about it, he assumed.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry,” he hit his temples like he was begging his mind to work, “Sorry! When did you know?”

“The day I graduated…”

He paused. Wait, that meant—

“That was why I rejected the proposal that day… Anand, all those years ago, when I said I didn’t belong with your family, that was because I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere.”

Anand wrapped his arm around her, and like it was muscle memory, her head rested in the nook of his arm.

“So you didn’t hate my family?”

“No! When you weren’t picking up my calls, I called your parents and told them about everything in detail. Aunty said she’d tried to make you talk to me many times, but you hadn’t agreed.”

That was right, and Anand felt his muscles clench at how close he had been to getting her back. If he had just thought about his mother’s requests, then he would have talked to Swapna and gotten the love of his life back. He wouldn’t have been away on his bachelor trip when his father died.

He hesitated, taking in the information when something clicked.

“Wait, what does that have to do with Paida?”

“Because he’s my birth father.”

The world all but gave way under his feet, and Anand wished he could blame it on the alcohol. Swapna didn’t make a big note of him being still quiet, assuming he was just processing what to say.

“So, you singular friend - Sameera is my sister, and by that connection… We’re both cruel by blood if you look at it that way.”

Anand looked up at the stars.

What is this Nanna?

A/N: So.... tada? There can be a part two of this if y'all don't shoo me out of this site after reading this. Also, notice how only his mother and Swapna call him Nandu.

#manu writes #son of satyamurthy #south indian fanfic #indian cinema #indian fanfic #allu arjun #desiblr

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lunchtimebedamned1997 · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel Mini-comic :3

ft. Jasper (my Hazbin OC) | Non-sepia version, Original sketches, and the speedpaint under the cut :3

This comic takes place when Jazz still works at Val's club and before Val and Angel's relationship 'got bad' AKA this one is in the weird space right before shit hits the fan and Angel is made aware of what kind of man Val really is. That Angel isn't even an 'exception' :(

(Which is why Angel can still talk to Val like Vox could. They're still 'normally dating' besides the contract and the boss/employee thing - "but hey! it's hell!" (<-Angie's inner thoughts lmao I genuinely wanna CRY over that little spider boy))

Tumblr made me resize this twice before it was a small enough png file to post oops XD

ANYWAYS I love my OC. I originally made them just bc I had a lot of cool ideas and I'd seen some other really fab Hazbin OCs, and oops now I'm obsessed with them and they have an entire milanote folder with their backstory in it lmao

Jasper (they/she for this OC btw :3) doesn't really let ppl in hell see what they're feeling bc it doesn't feel safe, and over the years has always gotten around using/drinking despite working for Val (exceptions for Val's pheromones which you really just can't avoid) and this is the part of their story when they finally get publicly drunk and just fucking cry bro. For hours. SOBBING.

Pookie is DEPRESSED y'all they do not wanna be in hell anymore XD

On that chipper fuckin' note (XD) here's the de-saturated version of the final comic, the original sketches, and the speedpaint :D

I think I've had these sketches since May? Early June? A fucking while and I even tried making this comic a while back but it looked CURSED and idk why so that's staying in the cobwebbed corners of my CSP files lmao

Okie! That's all for rn, I've got a shit ton of art WIPs atm as well as fanfics and personal writing stuff I've been chipping away at so it's been taking a bit to actually finish anything haha

Hope you're all well! <3

#my art #hazbin comic #hazbin hotel oc #valentino fanart #angel dust fanart #jasper #hazbin hotel #fanart #speedpaint #digital art #hellaverse fanart #mini comic #hazbin hotel fanart #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino #valentino hazbin #angel hazbin hotel #angel dust #jasper hazbin hotel

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aemysbabyofficial · 8 months

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Sweet Heart; Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!OC

The sweet innocence that Baela and Saela called their sister would soon be back in their arms. But could time and colors finally divide the Targaryen Three?

Warnings: canon divergence; anxiety; tense situations; swearing; no mention of Aemond in this fic btw

The brick of the Red Keep looked down on the sisters. Even if they were greeted in open arms, nothing felt pleasing nor warming about walking into what felt like the lion’s den. Rhaena Targaryen kept up a gracious smile when her cloak was taken off while on the other hand, her older twin sister Baela kept a stern gaze around them. The woman’s cold glare would have frozen all that stood around her if it wasn’t for the beam of sun that melted the ice around her.

It was cold. The courtyard was void of its former rowdiness. Lord Caswell’s greeting was gracious among the grey sky and soundless space, but it did little to stir their hearts. Baela and Rhaena were escorted through the halls.

"Where is our sister?" The eldest inquired.

Caswell's head dropped before a rushed excuse past his lips. "The lady has personal affairs to attend."

"And when will she be...done?"

Baela's voice trailed off when the group were split up. Her arm latched onto Rhaena's while the rest of their family were escorted down separate halls. In place of Lord Caswell was a handmaid. By the freshness of her face, she wasn't that older than them--maybe just two and one.

"My Lady apologizes profusely for not greeting you today." The corner of the handmaid's mouth curved upwards. "Personal affairs of the household occupied more time than she would have liked in her schedule. Plans for future meetings will be further sent to you by letter."

Walking back through the Keep’s halls disturbed them—it felt like they were disturbing something, even if nothing rattled or shook in their presence. The handmaid stood before two doors across from each other, motioned to them with her hands, and left the sisters with a bow of the head.

Once they got settled into their rooms, Rhaena moved to her twin's room where the fire heated them and trays of food and wine were served.

“She is something, that girl. I wonder how life is treating her.”

All around them, moving past dusty linens and lighting candles, were handmaidens preparing for their travels back to King’s Landing. Evening had crept up so fast the sisters hadn't realized their cups of tea were changed for wine.

Since the beginning, Baela and Rhaena knew their youngest sister was something. Was that something good or bad they would never question, but their sweet Saela was something they weren’t for sure. Whereas Baela, the fearsome girl who’d rather fly than sit in a boy’s presence, Saela blossomed around in the attention of the male sex. But just as Rhaena, who was ever graceful with her gentle tongue, Saela had the tooth of a viper if talked to the wrong way.

The twins were four when they first saw their sister swaddled in her cradle. It had come to surprise Lady Laena Velaryon was expecting another child; the early signs hid themselves until late, she had never fallen sick in the months leading up to the birthing bed. Laena had both lamented and rejoiced her birth was the easier but happened so quick she was faced with shock when she held her third daughter. The pressure of bearing a son crushed the lady’s shoulders but the cries of the girl she named Saela eased off her worries. The same dawned on Daemon. Baela remembers more than Rhaena the mix of emotions their father wore. A son would have continued his legacy, but a third daughter…would complete the nest his family created. The prince could not stop his racing heart every time Saela opened her lilac eyes to look into his.

“Jaelan naejot ūndegon Saela, kepa!”

Baela reached to grab the bundle in Daemon’s arms. I want to see Saela, father! Even at the young age, the young lady roared her flames of protectiveness over the innocent. Rhaena hummed behind her sister, peeking her head around to get the best glance.

The bundle called the Targaryen Three were inseparable in their shared qualities and uniqueness.

The girls shared beds until the last moment possible (their sworn protectors had to rip their hands from the sheets that evening); shared gowns until one of their growths spirts ripped too much fabric; would disguise as each other until one of them cut their hair too short and another grew her hair out too long for the rouse to continue.

The Targaryen Three were each others best friends when the days looked to cloudy, and nightmares pricked the skin. They held each other tight until thick blankets and wooden tables, grounding the other in times of need and violent currents. No matter the time, day or night, if either sister needed a cheer up, talk down, or help from afar, Baela, Rhaena, and Saela would burn the world down for their sister.

No secret would leave their mouths from their ears. They were the only ones they could trust—sworn by blood with flames of fire, they whispered at night. No man, no power, no riches could strike their bond.

"You would think she would show her face to at least greet us in this cold." Baela shrugged her shoulders while burrowing herself further into the couch's cushions. The night sky was dark, the halls were quiet, and not a peep from their favorite person. It tickled the lady's mind that Saela hadn't shown her face--at all gatherings she made sure everyone knew her name.

“But she must be busy if her own handmaid was sent down."

Rhaena could feel Baela's ire and much like their father, its flames would grow if untamed.

"You remember how she opens the thread on her sleeves? A tell for whenever she did anything naughty. Mother always scolded her for having ruined her dresses.”

A child Saela was and a child she will always be. Tenderness burned Baela’s eyes come the last drop of her drink. Her hands reached for the decanter before her mind could stop her. A night drinking with her sister to reminisce washed them in a waters of melancholy. With the times they talked about their Saela recently, their hearts truly believed she was with them. But when the wind blows past their open windows and when gowns should go flowing, their minds break not seeing Saela’s open hair fly in the wind.

“And how breathless she becomes when she panics. A trait from the gods, I guess.” Rhaena shrugged her shoulders. Between them both, she could always find their sister’s tells.

“You always acted like mother to her, finding her tells and all. No wonder she went to you after she caused trouble.” Baela hid her smile behind her goblet.

“She needs a mother in her life. After mother…after mother left, that young girl needed a shield from the storm this family went through. She was a blessing we all needed, even if some deny her powers.”

The night was long, and memories were brimming the Targaryen twins minds. Even if their eyes watered and chests ached with the loss of their sister by their side, that gap would soon closely come the new day. Their Heart would be back and safe in her sisters arms.

“Your presence is requested for tea.” A knight stood at attention at large doors. A different handmaid stood at Baela's door with the letter requesting their attendance to tea.

An unspoken pressure settled on the sisters shoulders as their handmaids dressed and prepared them. The messenger stood at attention and made no move to leave or even turn around. The sisters exchanged glances before soundlessly following the woman. When the doors to a dining room was opened, Baela was surprised to see Rhaenyra, Daemon, and their children standing and seated around the room. The youngest children sat next to a lit fire with Rhaenyra on a couch while the boys and Daemon looked around the table.

“Was it for tea, as well?” Rhaena asked the room. Rhaenyra nodded. “Wasn’t told from whom.”

Daemon’s cold glare around the room mirrored Baela’s from earlier. It was calculating all he could see and could not: any secret passageways, a hidden guard, a trapped knife. With the Greens in control of their former home, one couldn’t become too comfortable.

A rattling against the door confused the twins behind them. All that could stand were silent when it was finally pushed open. When the heavy barrier connected the family back to the Keep opened, sun shone bright on them. No longer did the cold chill their bones or unsettle them in their gowns but comforted them in this time of uncertainty. Saela’s smile grew hundredfold when she saw her family.

“Sisters!”

Saela sprung into her sister's open arms. Tension in the room eased; shoulders relaxed, and breaths were no longer bated. The sisters danced in each others’ arms, warmed against the Keep's cold walls. Two handmaids stood behind Saela’s shoulders, their heads down and hands clasped to their fronts. Rhaena's brow twitched when she recognized the one on the right as the lady that showed them to their room the previous day.

“How was the journey?” Saela rubbed her hands over her sisters arms as she led them to the table. “Long and boring, I assume.”

“All that boredom was worth it,” Rhaena smiled. Her gaze jerked to Daemon standing tall above their heads. His eyes looked past her to find Saela’s. They greeted each other in muffled High Valyrian—the leather of his jacket muting some of her words. The way he spun his youngest daughter made the younger twin happy, but it pinched her heart. Rhaena instead focused her sights to the teacups and spread of desserts.

“Princess.”

Saela finally curtsied to Rhaenyra. It was prim, perfect, and controlled. The gown she wore covered her whole body and her hair was pinned away from her face. Saela’s back was straight, and her head was bowed.

The Queen skilled her too well. What else could she say? Saela picked up things fast.

“The moment I heard you would all return, I knew having tea would start everything on the right foot. It’s been so, so long since the days I hosted my childish tea parties, I just couldn’t wait to have one for real.”

Saela spoke once she sat at the table. Her sisters sat on either side, caged by Jacaerys and Lucerys on either end, while Daemon, Rhaenyra and Joffrey were on the other side. Memories and longings spanning six years were shared throughout the afternoon.

As they dined, both sisters mentally picked at Saela. The glow of the youngest shone from her, yet under the gold dress it felt shadowed. May be it court life, Rhaena told herself. Saela's face had slimmed, yet her gentle smile remained, even at Aegon's snotty face. She never pointed but the handmaids knew what she wanted--be it more tea, a rub on the back, or more sunlight--they were an extension of her mind.

"Before I forget, gifts." Saela clapped her hands. "Palina, Arah, the gifts!"

The two handmaids far behind Saela's shoulders dashed to dark corners of the room to retrieve small baskets addressed to each person. Inside were various treats from all around Westeros--lemon cakes, honey cakes, vibrant fruits, and Dornish Red. The smile on Saela's face was one of hostess--like a highborn lady to her guests.

The sisters clung onto every passing second, wishing it would not pass them by. Daemon and Rhaenyra excused themselves to put the young Aegon and Viserys to nap, kissing the girls heads before leaving the heavy doors.

“Does she want to sit down?”

Rhaena muttered under her breath. From the corner of her eyes, she caught a figure in gold ducking behind hanging tapestries, peeking its head of silver out. In. Out. In. Out. It was like the girl was playing a hiding game. Helaena peeked her head out the moment the sisters looked in the direction. Her eyes widened before she tucked herself back into the shadows. One of her sister’s handmaids whispered something into the princess’ ears.

“Hmm, who?” Saela followed her sister’s line of sight to the corner opposite of them. Rhaena turned to see her sister freeze—her cup stuck between the table and her mouth. It was like her body steeled.

“Sister—”

The handmaid speed-walked back to the table and whispered into Saela’s ears. The chatter between Lucerys and Baela drowned the little Rhaena could hear. But by the way her sister’s brows furrowed and how hard she swallowed, she knew something was wrong. Saela whispered back with dark eyes.

The air in the tea room dampened drastically. No one besides Rhaena could feel and see it. It was choking, heavy, and scary. The Lady had no idea where the air could have turned sour. The sun Saela brought with her vanished behind dark clouds and stones.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

The handmaid from before whispered into Saela's ear. The girl's fingers rimmed her sleeves. She whispered back before shooting Helaena a look.

"Sister?"

"No!" Saela whispered loudly. Luke, who passed by to sit, shot them a glance before adding his point to Baela's comment.

“No, no.” Saela's breath hitched even though she was seated. Her eyes warned her handmaid a message. “No, um, Helaena was--"

The flames of the dragon were heated in Saela's eyes. Urgency burned through her bones and threatned to burn all around her. Rhaena rested a hand on her sister's shoulder to feel her tremble.

"Is something the matter, Saela?" Rhaena's voice was hushed. Yes, the younger lady loved attention, but her sister's shadows was where she found comfort. Fear was stared back at Rhaena. Unspoken fear. Rhaena felt her gut drop. Her mouth opened, but her eyes watched Saela turn to her handmaids.

Whatever Helaena was saying through her waving hands forced Saela from her seat. Rushed apologies fell from her lips before her gold gown trailed behind her running figure. Neither Targaryen nor Velaryon had a chance to stop or thank Saela for hosting them tea when the door slammed behind her, but in the wide space, the cousins continued their talk about anything.

Through all the drinking and dining, a thought tugged at Rhaena's mind. Baela would chide her for bringing it up, but her mind screamed at her heart.

Gold thread from Saela's sleeve were scattered on the table and seat.

Saela wasn't seen for the rest of the day. Whenever Baela or Rhaena asked for her whereabouts, knights would shake their heads and handmaids would bow their heads deeper.

Baela skipped the path she memorized led to her sister's bedchambers. Her daydress was already changed to riding gear and in-hand were matching gloves Rhaenys saved for her granddaughters. It was a surprising hot day at the Keep. The moment heat passed through the red walls, the castle was deserted and those afforded the luxury of not only returning to their homelands, but also those who could sit out the impending succession hearings, vacated the Red Keep.

"I hate the cold." Saela told her sister as they prepared for flight. A hot sun shone down on them without clouds to block its rays. The hot weather was the reason she went without a leather coat or gloves.

"Laevon loves the sun as much as you do." Baela smiled at the silver pair.

"It is how we connect, dear sister. Skin-to-skin. Heat-to-heat."

When Baela reached the hall of her sister's chamber, a knight stepped from the shadows with a lifted hand. Baela didn't miss the other hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Where is my--"

"Tending to business," was the only excuse she and anyone else was given. Baela wasn't given another chance to ask or even open her mouth when the knight physically turned her around and pushed her away. Where she was, she couldn't care less. The problem lay with the fact no one could say where her sister was--almost like it was a sin, or a crime.

Saela was absent for Driftmark's succession hearing--the penultimate reason they were at the Keep.

It was finally at the dinner two days later she reappeared, this time quieter than ever and her eyes dancing all around the table. Fortunate to sit next to her sister again, Rhaena felt her attention was somewhere else. Daemon must have noticed, she thought, because the quiet lady watched her father bore holes into her younger sister's soul.

"You know I love you two, right?"

Saela's drawled under her sheets, muffled from burying her head in her oldest sister's shoulder. It had been over a decade since the Targaryen Three had shared a bed and after a day like today, they needed it. In tangling their limbs and talking until past the Hour of the Owl, the three ladies could be young children again.

"You only have us to love," Rhaena chided with a smile. Saela's body sunk further into the blankets.

"I love you so much, I would do anything for you."

In the dark of the room with the candles blown out, Baela and Rhaena looked over Saela's head. Her head was lolling to the side and her eyes were hooded--sleep threatened to take her under even though she fought hard to stay awake.

"There is nothing I would do to hurt you. Do you understand?" A silent beat past. "Rhaena? Baela?"

"Are you awake, sister?" The latter poked her sister's cheek with raised brows.

"I am always awake...waiting."

Sleep captured the sisters without a word, knocking them into unique worlds of dreams. As the hours slowly passed, their bodies rolled side-to-side and gentle snores past their lips. The scarfs around their heads shifted high and low. A low scoff broke the tranquility in the room.

Baela rolled her eyes as she sat up to re-wrap her hair and readjust her robe. She was about to lay head back down again when she noticed the empty space. Saela was gone. To not disturb her soundless twin, she peeled herself from the bed to peer around the room. She couldn't have gone far, Baela told herself. Light from the moon illuminated enough for Baela not to bump into anything. In the dim state, the lady noticed nothing out of order. The table next to a vanity was higher and as she grazed her hands over the furniture, she was surprised everything was taller and softer. Nothing was out of order.

The hallways were quiet, lit by lamps and littered with few knights and servants going to and fro. In spite the fact it had been years since she walked these halls at night, Baela's feet guided her throughout the Keep until she made a new turn. A hallway to her left was darker than the whole castle. A cool wind blew at the lady's nightgown, both driving and inviting her in. The moment Baela took a step into the hall, laughter filled the air.

It was light, weightless.

A child. No, children.

Light peeked from a single door in the hallway. The more Baela approached the door, the louder the children's laughter became. Then voices intermingled with the supposed children. Her fingers glided across the cold walls before the cool metal of the hinges stung her skin. A voice inside asked for the windows to be shut. No, just "a voice. The tone was familiar, smooth with its warning yet sharp in its urgency. That voice carried a light laugh at the end as it shushed a loud yell, telling the child they shouldn't yell at night. The cold touch of the metal hinges froze Baela in her place.

The door suddenly creaked open. Saela caressed her breasts with a low groan. Her robes hung loose around her and fatigue dripped from her long breaths.

“Where were you?”

“Fuck!” Saela screamed. Her hands flew to her chest and her eyes, wide with fright, stared at the long figure in front of her.

A pregnant pause passed around the sisters; confusion in the dead of night swam through the air, unravelling thoughts and perceptions of their space and time. The door Saela clung to closed to allow the little most pass through the crack. Given her taller height, Baela could just the collection of silver-haired children sitting in a circle.

"W-what are you doing here?" Saela asked breathlessly. She still held a hand to her chest while the other let the door shut fully.

"I believe we share the same question." Baela raised a curious brow. "You leave your sisters sleeping in your bedchambers without a word, Saela. You can't--"

Saela shook her head while she focused her gaze onto her older sister. It was more controlled before and her voice came out clearer, like she hadn't been running through the halls, "I mean, what are you doing here?"

"Saela."

The air around the girl's mouth must have tasted salty because she smacked her mouth and licked her lips. An uncharacteristic show of expression. Baela frowned at the expression.

"I-I was--" The door whipped open again.

"Jaehaera was asking if--" the moment Helaena noticed Baela, she disappeared back into the room. Before the door shut, her flashing eyes tuned to Saela's back before it locked.

"This is nursery, if you had to ask, for whenever a child gets sick. I was helping Helaena with her daughter. The poor girl felt horrible and I couldn't let my friend suffer in silence."

A twinkle returned to Saela's eye after she looked at the closed door. Her chest fell down with a soft sigh and the fingers rubbing circles on her chest soon fell to her sides.

"It is late and those children had me running around. You need to stop asking me questions before my head explodes. Let me tell Helaena goodnight, first."

Baela had yet to say a word in what felt like ten minutes. Saela had ducked back into the room and said all the goodbyes she needed to before trekking down the Keep's quiet halls back to her bedchambers. The walk was quiet and no questions were asked. Even as they slid under the sheets of the softest cotton, velvet, and fur, it was quiet.

Not a word passed through the room until the morning. Unlike the previous mornings where handmaids would dress them before their minds could snap into focus, the Targaryen Three were left to their own devices. Morning light from a drawn curtain forced Rhaena from her sleep. When she turned to poke her sister's awake, she gasped an early morning breath.

Baela stared at her with a near-hollow gaze. Her eyes were awake and alert, darting over them like she expected something to happen. On the contrary, eyebags hung under Saela's closed eyes. Her breathing was deep and slow.

"She won't wake any time soon," Baela spoke, though her voice descended to a whisper.

“Do you think she is hiding something from us?”

Rhaena frowned. It was too early to think about hidden antics or double meanings. But she couldn't deny her own thoughts. She looked over to her sister.

“Do you think she could?”

Saela Targaryen was many things if not something, her sisters could not deny that fact. A liar? They would never wish, not even imagine, that name to be spoken in the same sentence as their sister’s name. Hiding something? We all had our secrets and private wants.

After the sisters rose from their bed and the twins left the bedchambers, Saela vanished again.

What Saela was hiding made them curious, urging them to discover the truth their sister hid behind the Keep’s walls. Maybe it was the long time that separated them—over half a decade apart could change a person. How much that time could mattered on the power of pigment and the fealty to one’s union. Whether Saela’s blood shed for Black or Green was a question they would never ask. Not yet, they hoped, or not ever.

#house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon x oc #hotd x oc #house of the dragon oc #house of the dragon x targaryen!oc #baela and rhaena #baela targaryen #rhaena targaryen #aemond x oc #aemysbaby #aemond targaryen x oc

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olderthannetfic · 1 year

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There is that one person in my fandom that I had to block because they annoyed the fuck out of me. Among other things they were constantly doing the "Te-hee I am so CrAzY rAnDoMe! :D" stick all the time in a very obnoxious way. They went on and on about how crazy and "sick" they were for liking certain things or how progressive they were because idk they liked a ship with height difference but would scream "sicko pedos!" when people shipped 2 people (who are adults btw) that we saw knowing each other as kids in a flashback. They would go on and on about how they would do this BIG PROJECT for the fandom and would show off some OCs with "te-hee random!" quirks like "drinks only water that has been left out for a day because of this very cool edgy backstory I won't tell you because te-hee you gonna need to read my project to find out!" It has gone on for months. Also according to them they have all the mental illnesses under the sun which makes them "So Crazy!". Like. I doubt it HEAVILY. Left the Discord they were in, blocked them, unfollowed them everywhere. They were most likely either somebody very young trying to be edgy on the internet or somebody that seriously needs a break from online spaces but not my circus not my monkeys, I enjoy the calm now in my little fandom corner. But damn did that person tick me off.

Speaking of flashbacks, I was just forcibly transported to 2002.

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jyohan · 5 months

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Monoma Birthday Countdown!!!

I decided I should draw Monoma and my OC together as a countdown for his birthday!

7 days left before Monoma's birthday! I'll be drawing him with mi oc while counting down eehehehehe~ (btw this was supposed to be posted last night but no, the moment I'm about to post it, our ISP decided to fuck its job up! <3)

6 Days left before Monoma's Birthday!!!

(look at the top left corner hehe)

I'm sorry Monoma you have to deal with the most single cell brained person ever.

Also! I'm currently writing a fanfic for them! It'll be around 10-20 chapters :>

Here's the idea, basically:

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ss-shitstorm · 1 month

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Hey I am considering writing my own book for a different fandom (gravity falls ) and you are without a doubt my favorite author (I recommended your works to my sgt lol). I have a few questions if you feel like answering if not that’s totally fine too.

First off- how do you prepare a space and headspace to get in the writing mood

Second- do you have any recommended playlist that help

Third- how do you make your characters so personable and yet not copy paste persona

I really enjoy how passionate you are and how much it shows through your work and would like a crumb of knowledge on how to derive from it 🙇‍♀️

My brain is sorta fried but I'm so fucking flattered you'd ask and are gonna do my best to answer this.

This is kinda complicated. I kinda...don't. I just force myself to do it. It's part of my routine like brushing my teeth or exercising. If I need to be in a specific mood for a specific character then I've got moodboards and by moodboards I mean picture folders of the character in question with a bunch of memes/shitposts/aesthetic fodder that reminds me of them. But a huge part of my productivity is to make it routine. That and (if I can help it) writing it as early in the day as possible, and leaving more mundane, less cognition-intensive tasks for later. (looking up "chronotypes" has actually been super helpful for this. Most people's brains have a certain time of day that they work best)

2. I don't really have a specific playlist for writing, but I kinda trained my brain to respond to certain musical genres by *only* playing them while I was studying or writing, so now when that type of music comes on, my brain goes "oh. It's time to learn chemistry/write." if you wanna try this then I suggest using a genre that you're not gonna really be tempted to listen to in different settings. Something pleasant to you that you're sorta ambivalent about.(I personally listen to Keji Haino and drone metal bc the odds of hearing or wanting to hear that shit outside of writing sessions is really low)

3. Ooh. this one's a (super flattering btw!) toughie. My personal technique for this is to write every character as though at some point, I might have to make the protag fall in love with them.(Or if that's not appropriate/possible for whatever reason, then the protag might adopt them/become extremely close found family) This way I learn more about them, take them more seriously, and I fall in love with them a little too. It kinda makes nobody a true side character.

Another thing is giving the preexisting characters(if we're speaking strictly fanfic) multiple new traits and hobbies that don't clash with their canon personality. Take your blorbo. Plop this fucker down in front of you and see how hard you can OC-ify their ass before they're no longer the character you started out with. Basically blingee the evershitting FUCK out of them. Then dial it back. Strip your new OC back down until they start resembling the character you started out with, and stop somewhere around there. That's your blueprint. You don't start OUT with this brand new freshly makeover'd guy, you slowly let your readers get to know them over the course of multiple chapters.

There's a thin line between enhancing their personality/backtory and covering up, and you'll probably cross it multiple times. But if there's one thing I've learned from decades of reading fanfic, it's that risking OOC behavior is kinda necessary to turn a good fic into a *mind-blowingly* good fic.

thank you for asking bro and good luck. I don't know much about GF other than ppl want to fuck the old guys and the flying dorrito but I'm in your corner the whole way. LMK when you write that shit

#asks #bread #fp #kinda #I'm so fucking flattered I can't even think straight bro

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slothpower-central · 6 days

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Rolling out the Red Carpet for the Cinema branch!!

Hello,hi, it's me that one person who makes the funny videos and thinks she can draw(she cannot) Inspiration hit me in the middle of my film studies course while watching Vertigo by Alfred Hitchcock and I thought "what if I made my own LCB branch where every sinner is based on a movie I've watched in my film class (and just general classic Hollywood cinema) and so I did it! The branch is currently VERY unfinished,as I add a new sinner each week for every film we watch in the class,so lemme introduce you to the guys that I've at least doodled so far(awful art incoming lol)

First up,we need a manager,or should I say,director(get it, because it's based on movies?) anyway here's Dorothy! If it wasn't obvious, she's based on the Wizard of Oz,She may or may not have come from the Outskirts and now she's running around with these sinners,and her little dog too! Oh and her red slippers(boots now,IG lol)? Those have a use, clicking her heels 3 times allows her to bring her sinners back to life!

Our guide is Glinda! Also based on Wizard of Oz,I have....not drawn her yet! But she is ultra hands off,she mainly communicates by sending Dorothy letters in bubbles,oh and did I mention she's a color fixer? ...yea I probably should have started with that

Now onto our actual sinners, don't ask me about major plot details about them,I haven't worked it out yet,

Sinner #1,This is Chaplin! Based on Modern Times by Charlie Chaplin,this guy is more of a fusion of the two main characters of the movie since uhm...neither of them have names and frankly their stories are both so intertwined that You could easily mix them together so here we are. They are the most comical of the sinners,I have described them as having a lot of cat like behaviors to a degree, and they are selectively mute(silent film lol) They have a white board they write on like it's Lethal Company and they have Heelys(mainly for the funny)

I haven't uhm.....finished sinner #2 yet because everytime I try to draw him my art style makes him look like the Pringles mascot lol but it's Kane! Kane is based on Charles Foster Kane from Citizen Kane by Orson Welles! Right now currently he's like "god I'm in a company of all women...AND CHAPLIN" He's rich like....richer than Hong Lu rich,he does seem to offhandedly mention something Rosebud and it seems almost like he's searching for it...wonder what that could be?(Btw go watch Citizen Kane, I'm not telling you what Rosebud is)

Finally out last Sinner at the moment: Sinner #3 Judy based on Judy from Vertigo! Yessir this is the reason for the branch, her source got my imagination spinning (she may or may not be mine and Amia's favorite atm of the branch) I would have made Scottie a sinner but......I hate his ass and need him exploded and not in the cute way(JUDYYYYYY YOU DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER GIRLLL) Judy is also 20x more fun as a character than Mr. "I'm gonna stare at women for 70% of my screentime" Honestly I could gush so much about her but I won't to keep this brief... essentially by the end of Vertigo Scottie convinces her to change everything about herself to turn her into his lost love/obsession Madeleine (ai know there's more too it but uhm....Go watch Vertigo, I'm not spoiling the movie)[PS, Ignore the doodle in the corner, that was from an idea that Amia's OC Tessie and Judy would get along well]

Tomorrow we'll actually have Sinner #4 who's gonna be based on someone from the movie Sunset Boulevard ( I don't pre watch these bc my attention span actually increases so much when I analyze movies for Limbus)

Anyway I'll keep updating you on the Cinema branch their tag is "LCB Cinema Branch" if you want everything in one place oh! And feel free to draw my lil guys if u want,just @ me or tag me or something. uhm don't ask about their weapons or colors or anything I haven't thought that far ahead yet lol

#slothpower #LCB cinema branch #limbus company oc #Amia's actually drawn Judy before but I wasn't gonna post that here I'll let them do it #If Limbus was more popular I'd so try and get extra credit for this like “look at me and how media literate I am”#I think I've made poor Amia watch more classic Hollywood cinema than they ever considered over this branch

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artfightdramaconfessions · 2 months

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post/755736860361457664 (I interchangeably say you both as in anon and in general, and I both as in myself and the theoretical person the argument applies to.)

And I don't understand people who find characters with "don't include in mass attacks" in the description and then include them in mass attacks, but here we are anyway. <- guy who was included in a mass attack despite having a disclaimer not to in bold and italics eight fucking times throughout his whole profile, character descriptions, individual permissions and global permissions and is currently a little bit miffed about it and this whole debate.

Assuming the given person is okay with character interaction (I'm not, for example. Not with your characters and not with a stranger's characters.), there's a bit of a difference between "X and Y character are interacting and this is the focus of the piece" and "the piece consists of 50 different and mostly unrelated characters all desperately fighting for the viewers attention while crammed onto one canvas and/or the focus is on some rando you've never seen in your life and don't care about while your character is a total of 20 pixels in the bottom left corner and facing away from the viewer and/or all of the characters are standing separately and you might as well just cut the piece up to make each one an individual attack because the level of interaction between them is next to none". It's about the scope of the thing. I don't care about "feeling special", I just don't want a piece obviously meant for someone else.

Regarding point 1: you do realise that thousands of people daily draw individual character attacks just fine, right? I've done that. I've drawn several characters with a similar theme in a bunch of individual attacks and it was fine. Why are you going into this argument assuming you HAVE to include every character fitting a particular theme in a mass attack? I promise you, anyone who hates mass attacks is gonna be okay with you not including their theoretical pirate OC in your pirate themed mass attack. Because they don't like mass attacks. That's the point. You may not understand it, but some of us would simply rather get 1 attack of our individual OC than 20 mass attacks. And that's okay! Not everyone is going to like something just because you do. That's okay. There are tons of people on art fight who would love to be included, stop trying to force people who don't into it. I am begging you. This isn't reverse psychology or a "change my mind" situation, if someone says they don't like mass attacks, including them in one is not going to make them happy.

Also, probably petty but I need to point it out, if you make a 100 OC mass attack then you wouldn't be able to fit my 1 in there anyway, because there's a 100 characters per attack limit.

Regarding point 2: I don't care about ratio. My ratio is fine. Hell, here's an opposite argument: why make a mass attack when you could make a bunch of separate attacks and boost your ratio? I mean, it's free number goes up. If you care about ratio then that's the superior option here, innit?

Anyway, it doesn't matter if it's "free art" - and I hate this argument too btw. Not drawing my characters at all if you don't like my permissions is free too! I'm not forcing you to draw for me. I don't even know when you do until you post it. You're not doing me a solid by drawing something I explicitly said I don't like. You're just making the whole thing awkward and uncomfortable.

I don't want to be included in mass attacks, and you could think my reason for this preference is the stupidest, pettiest, most inconsequential reason one could possibly have, or I could not tell you my reason at all, and either way it wouldn't matter at all. Because it's my character. Include your own characters in as many mass attacks as you want. Include the characters of people who like mass attacks in as many mass attacks as you want. Leave mine out of them. I'll be fine. I don't want my character be the focus of a mass attack and I don't want my character in the corner or something. That's the whole point. I don't want them included at all. And that's all that matters. So just don't. Don't waste your time and don't waste my time, either.

TL;DR people have preferences, anon. There's nothing to understand here.

(Also, my actual personal reasons for this are: 1. I have OCs who are so incredibly personal to me that I don't want them shoved in with a bunch of strangers, 2. art fight's blocking system sucks and I don't want someone to accidentally put me in the same piece as someone I blocked, for obvious reasons - just the thought of it gives me anxiety, 3. just as one of the commenters said, there are people I don't want to interact with that are popular in fandoms I have OCs in, and I don't want my OCs on the same canvas as theirs. And I just don't like them.)

#submission

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