#people are so creative with tags honestly

[rhube]

Listen, having worked in university marketing, I am here to tell you that not all ads are evil or trying to deceive you. People work really hard at conveying precisely the information you need that will tell you if a product is for you.

There are people in advertising and marketing who are well aware of the laws about not deceiving customers and who think constantly about what they can provide evidence to claim, not making stuff up.

And yeah, they're trying to persuade you, but that doesn't automatically mean 'buy this piece of shit we're telling you is solid gold'. It means, 'we really believe in this, we have evidence that it's good and could be a great thing for you, but we need to find a way to tell you that and make you trust us' which takes a lot of thought.

And as a consumer there's a lot of stuff I just wouldn't know about if not for advertising. We need advertising to tell people there are solutions to problems, quality products, and fun things to get excited about.

Advertising isn't inherently BAD. And it's one of the few industries in which creative people can make a liveable wage with their art or writing.

The problem we have at the moment is that a lot of people with no training in making good ads, people who don't care about laws, or are based somewhere with less regulation, who are churning out annoying, misleading, not-accesdible garbage.

And these people aren't researching their audience and tailoring the content to people for whom its relevant. Instead a whole tech industry has grown up where people who know fuck all about marketing have companies that scrape and aggregate your data, who sell it to other tech companies that sell advertising space, which is bought up by yet another automated service that has been trained to get 'the best deal' for the company that wants to sell a product.

That's not how it works when you wanna make a useful ad. You should be doing customer research with your actual customers. Analysing the data you get to tailor both the advert and the advertising space.

But these automated systems talking to other automated systems don't do that.

Like, first off, the data is SHIT. It may not even differentiate content you noped out of from stuff you looked at for half an hour. And if it does, it treats all the content on the page equally. All the stuff you're ignoring is tagged as 'on sites this user spends a lot of time on'. Whereas human customer research, for which customers consent and usually receive some kind of reward, involves tracking eye movements, mouse movements, clicks, and an interview afterwards to ask what they were thinking about and why they stayed on one page over another. This is so much more helpful! It helps make content more useful to users and prevents wasted marketing effort.

But almost no one does it these days because, well, it's expensive. You gotta compensate the consumers you do your research with, design sensible things for them to test, have someone monitor and analyse what they do, and interview them after. That's very expensive compared to a bunch of lightning fast calculations that can all be automated. So companies don't pay to do it properly, and they don't actually tailor their ads to you, and they're not trying to be informative.

At best (and I can't stress enough how rare this is) ads that are based on this data and algorithms and/or machine learning deliver what will get you to look at the ad for longer or click the ad to go to a website. But if that means bright flashing colours and the world's tiniest 'x' so you can't actually close the ad without clicking through, these automated systems are designed to get you to do THAT, not buy the product.

Honestly, I know it sounds like I'm asking for sympathy for the devil, but I have seen this from the tech side, the marketing side, the researcher side, and the user doing the test. I have taken a course on content strategy and heard what academics in this field have to say, and it's honestly not evil. They're trying to adapt to an environment where you're constantly barraged with demands on your attention, so it is in the advertiser's best interest to be clear and tailored and not waste your time.

But unfortunately an awful lot of people have been sold on the idea that these automated systems ARE targeting people who would be interested with stuff that's relevant to them, and they're just NOT.

You can see it if you compare an entertaining TV ad by an established brand who can pay for the research to the vast majority of internet ads. They can be funny, entertaining, informative, even insightful. They can also be stereotyped and annoying of course, but on the whole they're much less of a headache than the nonsense funnel we get exposed to constantly online and in mobile games.

Tbh, advertisers, producers, and consumers have all been screwed over by VC-owned companies that are being squeezed from on high for every last drop of short term capital. And that means automating things because it's cheaper and quicker than human analysis, even if it means the whole thing becomes annoying, unhelpful garbage.

But scale it back and think about your artist friend. Your creator with a small etsy business. Your self-published author. Your inventor with a neat accessibility tool. They aren't producing groceries, but if they don't advertise, literally no one will know their products exist.

Advertising DOES have a good and important role. Under-regulated advertising in a toxic system not aimed at serving producers OR customers is hamstrung and cannot perform that role.

The only acceptable ads should be shit like "groceries on sale" and "free event at the local library"

[novaursa]

A Lion's Leap (strategic truce)

- Summary: The king announces the betrothal of his youngest daughter, you, to Tyland Lannister. But even the Lannister Lord is taken off guard, as there has been some miscommunication regarding the proposal.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Note: This is the last chapter in this story.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: unplanned, unbroken

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @misspendragonsworld

It was a quiet morning at Casterly Rock—a rare and precious occurrence. Tyland had just poured himself a cup of wine and was savoring the peaceful moment when a raven arrived from King’s Landing. He took the message with a casual nod, but his expression quickly shifted from calm to bewildered as he read through the words penned in Otto Hightower’s unmistakable, formal handwriting.

You looked up from your seat, noticing his frown. “Something troubling, love?”

Tyland cleared his throat, squinting at the letter as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning. “It’s from Otto. He’s… calling for a truce?”

“A truce?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “What on earth could he want a truce for?”

Tyland huffed, waving the parchment around. “Apparently, because our children are ‘terrorizing’ the realm. He says their ‘antics’ are making troop movements and shipments from King’s Landing to the surrounding regions ‘unsafe.’”

You snorted, covering your mouth to stifle your laughter. “Our children? Causing havoc across the realm? Surely he’s exaggerating.”

“Oh, no, he’s quite specific,” Tyland muttered, skimming the letter with an expression caught between amusement and indignation. “He claims that Alyssa and Daemon ‘swooped upon a supply convoy’ near the Stormlands, scaring the horses and leaving the soldiers fleeing for cover.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore. “Well, that sounds like them, doesn’t it?”

Tyland gave you a look, though you could tell he was trying not to laugh himself. “And then they apparently decided to ‘escort’ a fleet near Blackwater Bay, which involved them setting a few of the sails on fire ‘for sport,’ as he put it.”

“Setting sails on fire? I must say, they’re getting creative.” You smirked, clearly proud of the havoc your children had been causing.

“Oh, but here’s the best part,” Tyland continued, shaking his head in disbelief. “Otto insists that if we can’t ‘rein in our offspring,’ he’ll be forced to consider drastic measures.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Drastic measures, you say?”

Tyland rolled his eyes. “The man is calling for a truce, all because our children decided to treat the realm like their personal playground. And he has the nerve to ask me, of all people, to ‘bring my household in line.’ As if I’m responsible for the dragons too.”

“Oh, love,” you said, placing a hand on his arm, “don’t be offended. If anything, it’s a compliment. Our children are so much trouble, even Otto Hightower himself is begging us to intervene.”

Tyland scoffed, setting the letter down with an indignant huff. “A truce over two Lannisters and their dragons. The man must be at his wits’ end.”

You grinned, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, if he wanted us on his side, he should have thought of that before conspiring to marry us off in the first place.”

Tyland laughed, though his tone was still tinged with disbelief. “Imagine the gossip in King’s Landing. ‘The Hand of the King forced into negotiation by a pair of Lannister dragonriders.’ If anything, this letter should be framed.”

“Or perhaps,” you suggested, leaning back with a smirk, “we could write back to Otto, saying we’d consider a truce if he sends along a detailed list of all the trouble our children have caused. Just for our amusement.”

Tyland chuckled, clearly amused by the thought. “I’m half-tempted to, just to watch him squirm. But honestly, what does he expect us to do? Chain them to their beds?”

“Perhaps we could suggest a family visit to King’s Landing,” you said with mock seriousness. “Let him deal with the children in person if he thinks it’s so simple.”

Tyland’s eyes gleamed with wicked delight. “Now that might be the finest revenge of all. Can you imagine Otto trying to reason with Daemon and Alyssa?”

You both dissolved into laughter at the image, picturing Otto’s face as he attempted to lecture your children about “proper behavior” while they circled him with dragon-induced chaos. Tyland took a deep breath, finally setting the letter aside.

“Well,” he said, picking up his cup again, “let Otto fret all he likes. A truce over dragon-induced inconveniences… as if that’s going to stop our children.”

You smiled, lifting your own water cup in a toast. “To young Daemon and Alyssa, then. Terrors of the realm and Hightower’s nightmare.”

Tyland clinked his cup against yours, grinning. “May they keep him up at night as much as they’ve kept us entertained.”

And with that, the two of you shared a hearty laugh, knowing that the realm would have to adjust to a new kind of rule—the kind where your children could turn even the Hand of the King into a pleading, desperate negotiator.

In the low lit chambers of the Red Keep, Otto Hightower paced the floor, his face a set in a grimace of frustration as he discussed recent losses with his daughter, Queen Alicent. Aegon lounged nearby, looking thoroughly disinterested as he swirled his goblet of wine, while Aemond stood at the far end of the room, arms crossed and looking particularly annoyed.

“We are losing supplies, morale, and most importantly, patience,” Otto said, his voice taut with irritation. “Those Targaryen-Lannister children are making a mockery of our efforts. Every convoy, every shipment, disrupted or terrorized. It’s becoming untenable.”

Aegon snickered, clearly entertained by the chaos. “Well, Grandsire, who’d have thought you’d be bested by a pair of them? I’d almost feel sorry for you if it weren’t so amusing.”

Alicent shot her son a withering glare. “This is hardly a laughing matter, Aegon. Your throne is at stake.”

Aegon raised his goblet in mock salute. “Yes, and I can clearly see that my throne’s greatest threat is a couple of young dragon-riders playing tag across the realm.”

Aemond’s expression darkened as he glowered into his own drink. “Those… brats,” he muttered, “need a lesson in discipline.”

Otto paused, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against his chin. “Perhaps discipline isn’t the only way to handle them.” He looked pointedly at Aemond. “If we want to avoid further... ‘mishaps,’ perhaps we should consider a strategic marriage.”

Aemond arched an eyebrow, clearly not following. “A strategic marriage?”

“Yes.” Otto’s gaze sharpened, a slight gleam of calculation in his eyes. “You, Aemond, could marry Alyssa. It would bring a certain level of… control over the situation.”

At this, Aemond, in the middle of taking a drink, promptly choked, spraying wine all over the floor. “Marry Alyssa?” he sputtered, looking as if he’d just been told to walk barefoot over hot coals. “You must be joking.”

Aegon burst out laughing, slapping his knee as he watched his brother’s horrified expression. “Now that would be a sight. Aemond, trying to tame a Lannister. Go on, Otto, this is the best suggestion I’ve heard in ages.”

Alicent, still somewhat stunned by the idea, looked at Otto skeptically. “Father, Alyssa is… spirited, to say the least. I doubt she’d easily fall in line.”

Otto shrugged. “Spirited or not, the match would ensure some form of influence over them. And it would bring peace to this absurd game of cat and mouse.”

Aemond, regaining his composure, glared at Otto. “I’d sooner face a battlefield than court that wild dragonling. She has about as much interest in me as I do in playing nursemaid to her mischief.”

Aegon snickered, clearly delighted by the suggestion. “Oh, come now, Aemond. Think of the possibilities. You could spend your days flying after her, trying to keep her from setting more sails on fire.”

Aemond shot his brother a murderous glare. “Not another word, Aegon, or I’ll personally send you to Pentos.”

At the mention of Pentos, Aegon’s face suddenly brightened. “Speaking of which—Mother, Grandfather, I’ve had a rather brilliant idea.”

Alicent sighed, rubbing her temples. “Oh, Seven save us, what now?”

Aegon leaned forward, grinning. “Let’s just… go to Pentos ourselves. Let Rhaenyra have the bloody crown, and we’ll take a nice, quiet life across the Narrow Sea. No throne, no dragons, no pesky nephews and nieces playing aerial games with the troops.”

Alicent looked utterly appalled. “Aegon, that is not an option. The throne is your birthright.”

Aegon shrugged. “Birthright or not, it’s starting to sound like more trouble than it’s worth. Besides, Rhaenyra can keep the realm’s dragons from eating the sheep. Everyone wins.”

Aemond scoffed, looking at his brother as if he’d sprouted two heads. “You would just… leave? After everything?”

Aegon held up his goblet in a toast. “Oh, I’d leave in a heartbeat. No more Otto sending ravens about ‘urgent matters,’ no more dragon antics causing political fallout. Just wine, women, and no more Targaryen infighting. Sounds like paradise, if you ask me.”

Otto’s face darkened. “Paradise or not, this is the Iron Throne we’re talking about, Aegon. You have responsibilities to the realm.”

Aegon waved a dismissive hand. “Responsibilities, sure. But who’s to say the realm wouldn’t be better off with Rhaenyra? Perhaps she’s better suited to handling… unruly cousins.”

Alicent looked horrified, turning to Otto for support. “Father, surely you have a plan to stop this madness. We can’t just hand over the throne.”

Otto, ever the strategist, sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, these… incidents will continue unless we find a way to rein in those children. We’ll need something beyond Aemond’s patience, which appears thin enough as it is.” He glanced back at Aemond, who still looked mutinous about the marriage suggestion.

Aegon laughed again, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Oh, by all means, try your plan, Otto. Maybe a marriage is exactly what Aemond needs to keep him… entertained.”

Aemond shot him a death glare, gripping his goblet so tightly it looked like he might shatter it. “You’ll pay for this amusement, brother.”

Otto, clearly unimpressed with Aegon’s antics, crossed his arms. “Until a more agreeable option presents itself, Aemond, consider the marriage proposal.”

Aemond gritted his teeth. “The day I marry Alyssa Lannister will be the day I willingly set foot in the Dragonpit unarmed.”

Aegon, smirking, raised his goblet in a mocking toast. “To marriage, and to Pentos—where we’d all be much happier.”

Otto and Alicent shared a look of exasperation, but Aegon’s laughter rang out, echoing through the chamber as he toasted his bemused and thoroughly vexed family.

The great hall of Dragonstone was unusually lively as Rhaenyra received a raven with an unexpected invitation—one that bore the official seal of the Hand of the King himself. Her advisors and family gathered around, watching her as she broke the seal and began to read.

Jacaerys, standing close by, looked on with curiosity. “What does it say, Mother?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes scanned the parchment, her brows rising in disbelief. She read aloud: “‘In light of recent… unfortunate incidents caused by young Daemon and Alyssa Lannister, the Hand of the King formally requests a peace meeting between the factions of the Blacks and Greens, to be held at a mutually agreed location.’” She paused, blinking, then added, “‘It is the hope of King Aegon and his council that we may bring an end to hostilities, for the good of the realm.’”

The room fell silent, and then, as if in perfect timing, Daemon—who just returned from Harrenhal—let out a hearty laugh, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “So, it took a couple of Lannisters with dragons to bring Otto Hightower to his knees?”

Rhaenyra smirked, setting the letter down. “It appears that young Daemon and Alyssa have accomplished more mischief than even Otto could handle. They’re practically forcing him into peace talks.”

Baela and Rhaena, standing by with identical smirks, exchanged a glance. “To think,” Baela said, “all it took was some aerial pranks and a bit of ‘creative’ intimidation.”

Jacaerys looked mildly stunned. “Our cousins… forced Otto’s hand? By what? Stealing his supply caravans?”

Daemon grinned, crossing his arms. “Oh, it was much more than that, my boy. They turned half his fleet into smoldering wrecks, and it seems they’ve taken to using his convoys as practice targets. I’d wager Hightower’s had about enough of that.”

Rhaenyra couldn’t suppress her own amusement, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Otto must be beside himself with fury, having to call for peace because of two teenage dragonriders.” She paused, reading the parchment once more. “And to think, he’s phrased it all so… carefully, as though this were a matter of great diplomacy.”

Daemon chuckled, shaking his head. “Diplomacy, my love? No, this is a white flag. Hightower’s waving it desperately before young Daemon and Alyssa burn more of his prized fleets.”

The group shared a round of laughter, the tension in the room melting away at the absurdity of it all. Rhaenyra lifted her chin, her smile transforming into a thoughtful look. “Well, if it means a chance to end this war, perhaps we should consider his invitation. Even if it was coerced.”

Ser Erryk, ever loyal, raised an eyebrow. “Do you think it’s safe, Princess? To trust Otto Hightower?”

Daemon scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Safe? Hardly. But if they’re going to such lengths, I say we give them a taste of Targaryen hospitality. We’ll make sure to bring the children along, just as a reminder.”

Rhaenyra grinned. “Oh, yes. I’d like to see Otto’s face when Alyssa and young Daemon arrive.”

Joffrey, always full of energy and rarely still, piped up, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Are we all going? Are we going to show them what real dragons look like?”

Rhaenyra’s smile softened, and she placed a hand on Joffrey’s shoulder. “Not all of us, my love. But perhaps just enough of us to remind them why we are not to be trifled with.”

Daemon chuckled, patting Joffrey’s head. “Just imagine, love—Otto, desperately trying to keep his composure while two Lannister dragons swoop over his head.”

The hall burst into laughter again at the mental image of Otto Hightower, stiff as a board, watching Daemon and Alyssa dart through the sky in mock intimidation. Jacaerys shook his head, clearly still stunned. “It’s unbelievable. Of all the strategies, all the battles, and it’s this that forces his hand?”

Rhaenyra gave him a wry smile. “Perhaps we’ve all been thinking too much like adults. Daemon and Alyssa saw an opportunity we might never have considered. And it seems to have worked.”

Daemon folded his arms, clearly proud. “Oh, I don’t doubt it worked. But let’s be clear—this meeting doesn’t mean we’ll be playing nice. We go with our heads high, our dragons ready, and our terms firmly in place.”

Rhaenyra nodded, her expression resolute. “Exactly. Let Otto stew in his own desperation a bit longer. We’ll make him understand that we are not here to be pacified or bribed. If he wants peace, he’ll have to pay for it.”

As she looked around at her family and allies, she felt a surge of pride. This was her family, her strength, and with Daemon, her children, and her loyal supporters by her side, she knew they were unstoppable. Whatever Otto had planned, she would be ready.

Taking up a fresh sheet of parchment, she began to draft her reply, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Shall we make this… official, then?”

Daemon grinned, standing beside her. “Yes, let’s. And perhaps add a note for young Daemon and Alyssa: ‘Your recent ‘diplomatic efforts’ have not gone unnoticed.’”

The hall echoed with another round of laughter as Rhaenyra wrote, each word crafted with the precision of a queen who knew that, in the end, dragons could win the day—whether they were on the battlefield or in the sky, piloted by a pair of teenage terrors who had turned diplomacy into an art form of mischief.

The Blacks and the Greens had gathered in a neutral castle, the great hall prepared as though it were the stage for some dark comedy.

Rhaenyra and her family arrived in grand fashion, her children flanking her with the reader and Tyland standing proudly beside them. Alyssa and young Daemon both looked particularly pleased with themselves, clearly relishing the fact that their antics had led to this moment. Tyland, meanwhile, looked slightly weary but kept a tight hold on his dignity, which was more than could be said for the other side.

Otto Hightower sat stiffly with Alicent beside him, both looking thoroughly resigned, while Aegon lounged in his chair, clearly bored. Aemond stood nearby, his face a mask of irritation that barely concealed his nerves. He looked over at Alyssa and young Daemon with something that might have been dread mixed with respect.

Otto cleared his throat, his voice strained but formal. “We’re here to discuss the possibility of a lasting peace between our families. It’s clear that the realm suffers each day this conflict continues.”

Rhaenyra gave him a measured nod. “Go on, Otto. Speak your terms.”

Otto shot her a stiff smile, turning to Aemond, then to Alyssa, who stood with her chin held high, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “To secure our peace,” Otto began, choosing his words with care, “I propose that Alyssa Lannister marry Prince Aemond. A union between them would seal our families’ bond and bring stability to Westeros.”

Aemond, sipping from his goblet, choked slightly, shooting his uncle a horrified look. Alyssa, however, seemed entirely unfazed. She arched an eyebrow, considering the proposal with a surprising air of indifference.

“Well,” she said, her tone thoughtful, “I can think of worse matches.” She threw Aemond a mischievous look, watching as his face turned an impressive shade of red.

Aemond set his goblet down a bit too forcefully, looking completely unprepared for her response. “Wait… you’re not objecting?”

Alyssa shrugged, flashing him a challenging smile. “What’s there to object to? I think you’ll find I’m quite a handful.”

Aegon let out a snort, clapping his hands together in mock applause. “This meeting’s already worth it for that alone! Poor Aemond, bound to be outwitted by a Lannister.” He leaned back, barely containing his laughter. “Oh, this just keeps getting better.”

Rhaenyra, regaining her composure, steered the conversation back to the matter at hand. “That’s all very charming, Otto,” she said, eyes narrowing, “but what of the throne?”

Aegon, as if waiting for this moment, waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, the throne.” He sighed heavily, looking every bit the bored king. “Honestly, Rhaenyra, if you want it so badly, you can have it. Helaena and I have been talking, and we’re quite eager to go on a grand tour—explore the realm, visit Essos. The crown’s just been…” He searched for the word. “Dull.”

Alicent’s mouth fell open, and Otto’s face turned a dangerous shade of purple. “Aegon!” Alicent hissed. “This is not the time for foolish jokes!”

But Aegon just shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Mother, I’m completely serious. Rhaenyra here wants the Iron Throne, I’d prefer to see the rest of the world, and honestly, it feels like a win for everyone. Besides, maybe ruling will be as dull for her as it was for me. Then we can all laugh about it.”

Rhaenyra shot him a look that was equal parts baffled and amused. “You mean to say… you’d give up the throne?”

Aegon raised his goblet in a mock toast. “Absolutely. All yours, dear sister. I’ll keep the crown as a keepsake, of course. Just a souvenir.”

Otto’s head snapped toward Tyland and you, who were quietly watching the entire display with mild amusement. Otto’s eyes narrowed, noticing your advanced pregnancy, the way you held your hand to your back as if the strain was weighing on you.

“How many children are you planning to have?” Otto asked, his voice coming out in a strained whisper as he watched Tyland’s relaxed, almost smug expression.

Tyland feigned surprise, putting a thoughtful hand to his chin. “Oh, I’d say… six? Or perhaps a full dozen? It’s hard to say, really. We do seem to have a knack for growing the family, don’t we, love?”

You shot Tyland an amused look, catching the glint of jest in his eye, and nodded with a sly smile. “Who knows, Otto? It may end up being more. Dragons and Targaryens have a way of multiplying.”

Otto looked positively stricken, his face ashen as he contemplated the idea of even more dragon-wielding Lannisters tearing across the realm.

Alicent glanced at her father, noting the horror on his face. “Father, I think… perhaps we should have prepared for this meeting differently.”

Otto shot her a look of exasperation. “Oh, trust me, Alicent. I had preparations… but nothing could have prepared me for this family.”

Tyland leaned over, lowering his voice just enough for Otto to hear. “Now, Otto, think of it as… population growth. A sign of peace and prosperity.”

Otto closed his eyes, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer. But before he could say anything more, Rhaenyra turned back to him, her voice calm but steely.

“Well, Otto,” she said, “it seems you’ve gotten what you wanted—a union, peace, and a clear path to the throne. Just as you planned, isn’t it?”

Otto’s mouth opened, then closed, clearly at a loss. He looked around at the grinning Aegon, the smug Tyland, the mischievous Alyssa, and the serene Y/N, and finally slumped in his chair, thoroughly defeated.

“Yes,” he muttered, almost to himself, “exactly as I planned.”

And as the room filled with laughter and smirks, it was clear to everyone present that the Greens had lost not just a battle, but their last shred of dignity as well.

The grand hall was alive with music and laughter as the great celebration for Alyssa’s and Aemond’s wedding reached its peak. Lords and ladies from all corners of the realm raised their goblets in toast after toast, their voices mingling with the melodies played by the musicians. Even Aegon, normally so indifferent to royal festivities, seemed genuinely amused as he clinked goblets with guests, a lazy smile on his face.

But amid the revelry, there was one figure notably absent: you, the bride’s mother.

Instead of joining the festivities, you were in a nearby chamber giving birth, a fact that had drawn murmurs of both awe and concern among the guests. Tyland, ever the loyal husband, had been in the room with you as long as possible, pacing and muttering encouragement, though it was clear he was barely holding himself together.

Outside, however, there was another spectacle in full swing. Viseron, your son Daemon’s dragon, was trying his very best to stick his massive bronze head through the doors of the great hall from the courtyard. Every now and then, the dragon’s golden-green eye would peek through the doorway, much to the terror of Ser Criston Cole and his men, who were trying—without much success—to deter the curious beast from sticking his snout into the festivities.

“Back! Go on, shoo!” Ser Criston waved his arms frantically, his usually stern expression replaced by one of pure desperation.

Viseron, unimpressed, tilted his head, letting out a low rumble that sent half of Criston’s men scrambling for cover. The dragon huffed, smoke billowing from his nostrils, making it abundantly clear that he had no intention of being shooed away from whatever curious noises were happening inside the hall.

Just as Ser Criston was about to wave for more reinforcements, the doors swung open, and Tyland burst into the great hall, his face flushed but positively beaming. He cleared his throat, shouting above the din of the party, “My lords and ladies, it is my pleasure to announce… that my wife has given birth!”

A cheer rose through the hall, goblets raised as shouts of congratulations filled the air. Tyland held up a hand, grinning. “And not only that—twins! A son and a daughter!”

The hall erupted in another round of cheers, even louder than the first. Guests raised their glasses, laughing and clapping, and Aegon whistled, clearly entertained by the news. “Twins, you say?” he called out, smirking. “Well done, Tyland! Twice the dragons, twice the trouble!”

Tyland chuckled, but his smile faltered slightly as he caught sight of Prince Daemon standing up from his seat at the high table, a smirk on his face and… two dragon eggs, one in each hand.

“I thought this moment might come soon,” Daemon declared with a glint in his eye, holding up the eggs for all to see. “So I brought these along in case. Gifts for the newest Targaryens.”

Tyland’s face turned several shades paler, and he nearly dropped his goblet. “Daemon… two dragon eggs?” His voice was barely more than a squeak as he looked at the eggs, which gleamed with fiery hues under the candlelight.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, you have two new children, don’t you? It seems only fitting they each have an egg of their own.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the hall as guests exchanged knowing smiles. Tyland’s eyes darted to the dragon eggs, then to Daemon, then back to the eggs as if calculating just how much more chaos his household could take.

“I… well, I appreciate the thought,” he stammered, running a hand through his hair, “but perhaps we could… delay the dragon gifts just a little bit?”

Daemon smirked, stepping forward and placing the eggs on a cloth-covered table, the heat from them palpable even from a distance. “Come now, Tyland. You married into this family. This is what you signed up for.”

Aegon, lounging nearby, raised his goblet in a toast. “Here’s to more dragons! I say the realm’s overdue for a few more fire-breathing beasts.”

The guests laughed and clinked glasses, while Tyland cast a sidelong glance at his son Daemon and daughter Alyssa, who were clearly relishing their father’s discomfort. Alyssa leaned over to her brother, her voice loud enough for Tyland to hear. “What do you think, Daemon? Shall we teach the twins dragon-riding as soon as they can walk?”

Young Daemon grinned, casting his father a wicked smile. “Absolutely. We’ll have them in saddles by the time they’re talking.”

Tyland looked as if he were about to faint, muttering something about needing a very strong drink. But before he could escape, Prince Daemon clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning. “You’ll be fine, Tyland. Look at it this way—you’re helping to rebuild the Targaryen legacy one dragon at a time.”

In the background, Viseron took another try at sticking his head through the doorway, sending a plume of smoke wafting into the hall. Ser Criston’s desperate shouts were barely audible over the cheers and laughter, and one could only imagine the chaos waiting outside as the dragon continued to persist in his curiosity.

Tyland sighed, resigning himself to his fate, raising his goblet one last time in a toast. “To family, to dragons… and to surviving this mad, mad world.”

The hall echoed with laughter as the celebration continued, and somewhere in the crowd, someone muttered, “Only a Targaryen wedding would end with two new dragons on the way and a dragon trying to join the party.”

And with that, the revelry resumed, leaving Tyland with the knowledge that his family—and his household—was about to become more chaotic, more fiery, and far more unforgettable than he had ever anticipated.

[sh0jun]

Okay Hideyoshi

No offense

But that sounded more like a group study project rather than discussing war

[a-candle-maker]

not tagging the person bcs i don't want to call anyone out but like,,,, saw this one girl and her post formatting made it even look like a chatgpt generated thing... checked her other stuff to see and they all had that one formatting... thought i'd tell her and like. babe. you turning off asks just about confirms it for me, i mean imma just guess that you noticed lots of asks telling you the same and decided we're sooooooooo mean!! and ignored it

[p1ctur3]

Can't believe it has been a full year since I starting posting AvA/M fanart

so I redrew my first piece of fanart :]

[rgbfall]

ok so, i really like The Day The World Broke by @saladmix, and I am so in love with the description of how the bell monsters sound, it gave me such a vivid sound in my brain, so I wanted to try and recreate it!

This first one is what they sound like from a distance (it's just wind chimes and wind sfx)

headphone listeners beware for this next one, but it's how I imagine them when much closer. it's not exactly the effect I wanted (i wanted louder and clearer bells), but i did scour youtube for a WHILE and sat through some incredibly crunchy change bell ringing, so this will have to do.

[misscouchpotatobew]

Found footage of the Blackpool Pleasure Beach Hardluck Bears show!!!

Here's all the footage of the hlbs

And here's the full video. Insane how that video is 8 years old and no one had found it.

[starflungwaddledee]

hello!! its me!! in your inbox again!! Ive gotta know: what kind of thought went into Starstucks design? do you have any beta designs, early sketches, or has she always been so cute?!

HELLOOoooooo yesssss quality asks from moonie!!!! i am always so excited!!! i'll pop this under a cut because it got long, but the short answer is: sadly i'm boring and predictable 😂

i am SO embarrassed to tell you that very little thought went into her design, at least on any sort of... cerebral level. the reason for this is because she is my sona, though she does now have a story of her own, and i personally have an extremely rigid set of personal iconography! both irl and online

i joked with my gf and some friends who know me beyond kirby that if you knew me outside of here you would spot me a mile off because my aesthetics for sonas or personal representation have been rock-solid consistent for almost a decade!

i'm always pink and cream and ice blue, always have star themes, always have grey-blue/pink eyes, always have freckles (often white constellations) over big pink cockatiel cheeks, and always have huge bows 😂 also often i have flower crowns but she avoided this by being All Head. i did accessorise her festive outfit though!

so really... she couldn't have looked much different to how she does. i did add the stars on the bottom of her feet (hidden stars are a typical design choice for me tho) and the heart shaped face marking after drawing her a few times on the blog! i just thought the heart shaped marking added a little interest at the time, especially above the eyes; maybe because i was used to drawing bandee who's bandana covers that top edge of his face marking!

now that some time has passed, of course parts of her design tie into her lore in fun ways ("oh she has stars on her feet!" "what makes the constellations on her cheeks move!" "wow her bow looks a bit like wi-!!"), but that was entirely unexpected when i designed her. i never intended to develop her as much as she has been because the interest from others was frankly so unexpected; but i'm having a total blast doing it!

i also chose a waddle dee rather than any of the other aliens on offer because i personally tend to just... feel pretty average! not impressive or significant enough to be a knight or a puffball or anything like that! waddle dees resonate with me, they're just easily spooked little critters with zero defensive mechanisms doing their best and i can relate to that

though i suppose that it's now rather clear that starstruck is not an average waddle dee, if one at all.. so i guess time will tell

sorry if this is a bit of a let down 😅 the unfortunate answer is that she's based on Me and how i look/feel/dress/etc irl. my hair is that shade of pink. i have an exceptionally comprehensive collection of flower crowns and comedically oversized bows. i am very small and very round. i do have intensive freckles in constellation patterns. sadly, alas, my eyes are only grey-blue. so there was only ever so many variations she'd be able to draw on from my rigid set of aesthetics haha!

[buttercup-barf]

Under the cut are mostly self-insert doodles of decreasing quality. Again, not much directly tied to Team Fortress 2. Might as well toss these out while I have no access to my puter. Much yapping under the cut and in the tags incoming.

Another self-insert, this time less of a "here's me as a tenth class" and more of a "here's my game experiences translated into the class I would take the place of". The Cleaner. Although I guess they could still be wearing either suit. It doesn't matter that much.

That one Convict's Case taunt with Backup would be extremely funny, because the man would be on the verge of a breakdown (he does not want to go to jail so bad you have no idea). The second image- I owe no explanation. You know what I am. You see the pattern with my favourites.

The duality of the man. Resting face versus "just heard you express interest in religion/Russian folklore" face. He's not that hard to make friends with, when you pull him away from all the explosions.

Some doodles of trying to figure his face out. Unfortunately, the more I stare at him, the more I worry that he looks like A Certain Guy With The Last Name "Kazarin", and the fear of never being original in my life caught up to me.

Don't look at me, don't perceive me, I refuse to explain any of my actions to you.

[goldentigerfestival]

I love the vocal nuance in this exchange, but also posting this for my differences posts because this is one of the changes that infuriates me the most. Yuri didn't threaten Ioder, did not threaten him with a weapon, and just said he'd punch him in a lazy, half joking voice (half joking as in, he really doesn't want to hear that - that's just his way of saying so; but that's not the voice of someone who is super angry and threatening).

My other huge grievance is that this is a recurring issue between them in the dub. Yuri is pretty much always vocally rude to Ioder. Ioder has done nothing to wrong him or anyone and has only ever done good for the people where he's able to.

Yet despite Ioder being nothing but sincere, honest and polite with Yuri, in fact even happy to see him here and there, dub Yuri is outright tonally rude to him leading right up this scene where he threatens Ioder in this dark voice. Meanwhile he's actually just supposed to be… lazily telling Ioder he'll punch him in his Yuri Lowell way of saying "I don't want to hear that".

The dub really just wanted to turn Yuri into this dark edgelord and I hate that for my goofy, silly boy.

[papyrus-onlyblogokay]

i love your blog, thank you for reblogging papyrus for me to look at!!!!!!!!!

💚💚💚!!! Of course! I love papyrus and i love sharing papyrus! I think out of every blog i have ever made, this one is the most worth it for people like you💚! Cheers to the coolest skeleton!

[throwaway-yandere]

in all seriousness, your fics and especially your murder mystery fic is SO friggin amazing, it’s definitely inspired me since I have my own ARG I’ve been making with a friend and seeing the gepard fic show up onto my recommended just, it just connected, You’re awesome! Keep doing what you’re doing!!! ^^

(The yan!gepard murder mystery fic)

( ⚈̥̥̥̥̥́⌢⚈̥̥̥̥̥̀) i never thought I'd actually help inspire someone with their ARG, no matter how small that influence may be– feels like I've done something good for once ;;;--;;; it's comforting to know that fic was appreciated since it's my fave out of all the things I've written.

Thank you for sending this, I hope your ARG goes well!!! The most important lesson in my entire writing career is that Google forms is a very fun tool to mess with people /j. I'm not a good coder but if your ARG has a tumblr, you can try editing your blog that leaves clues and such on headings, background, etc. Hehe, ARG sounds super fun. May you continue doing what you love as well! Keep that flame running, trailblazer <3

[whoredmode]

god okay i’m gonna talk about the johnny and troy subplot of my srtt rewrite real quick bc it’s the only thing on my mind rn

so troy rejoins the saints right after they go after loren. troy realizes he can no longer protect anteros and the saints from behind his desk in stilwater anymore, so he quits. and he’s so fucking happy about it; this was a long time coming. so he shows up in steelport, much to anteros’ delight. unfortunately, anteros is quite literally the only person glad to see him. 

at this point the saints are really on the rocks. one of the most crucial notes of my rewrite (at least for the first act) is that at this point in their lives, the saints are really goddamn sick of each other. the limelight has exasperated so many issues but they’ve been forced to keep up appearances and unable to get time to solve their problems. so the return of troy is not helping things, especially for johnny. johnny is the most vocal critic of this, immediately about to punch troy in the jaw, but anteros gets in between them. they back off, but johnny is fucking pissed. shaundi is on johnny’s side, though less visibly angry since she doesn’t have a personal connection to troy. pierce tends to be on anteros’ side with things, and he’s still trying to be, but even this, from what he understands, is kinda suspect. still, anteros vouches for troy and continues to do so. troy tries to explain himself as well, and the whole thing ends on a very tense note. 

fast forward a bit. they take out loren, saving oleg in the process; he was being held prisoner in the building (not the DNA cloning stuff; it’s a different plot as well, but i digress). oleg obviously joins the saints and tells them about some people who could help (or at least have info that could help) with taking down the syndicate. to their surprise, troy’s actually heard of them before. kinzie’s whole story of being kicked from the FBI was something he’d heard about when it happened several years ago. it was some interesting workplace chatter. zimos was a pretty big-name pimp in the area decades ago; way before his time, but he’d heard about the guy from older folks he’d worked with. and angel? very casual wrestling fan. more of his older brother’s interest but he’d seen some fights. troy tells them that if they give him some time, he could help oleg track down these three much faster. oleg appreciates the help, so they get to work.

obviously they track them down, and when it comes time to assign lieutenants to tasks, johnny volunteers to take down killbane. he thinks the fight will be fun. anteros agrees, and assigns troy to help him out. johnny…very loudly takes issue with this. after some back-and-forth, johnny eventually just ends the discussion with a “whatever” and leaves. 

so at the start of troy and johnny working together (along with angel, but angel is mostly keeping to himself/training atp), things are seemingly okay? things seem pretty standard between them and they honestly appear to be getting work done.

it’s late one night, and johnny’s driving them back, just him and troy. he goes down a different way, and suddenly they’re on an empty bridge. it’s the middle of the night, foggy, and eerily quiet. johnny stops the car and says he sees something out there, and asks troy to take a look. troy hesitates, but ultimately agrees and gets out. he says he sees nothing, and as he’s about to turn around, he hears the click of a revolver. johnny’s gonna do what he should’ve done a long time ago. and he’s not gonna miss this time. troy’s shoulders relax. he’s not gonna stop him, and he’s not gonna beg for his life, but he says that if johnny was gonna do it, he would’ve done it already. he’s not the type for big speeches with this sort of shit. so what’s stopping him?

johnny lowers the gun. even he realizes he’s hesitating. 

to say johnny had been struggling since the events of sr2 is an understatement. aisha’s death had signaled the beginning of an internal downward spiral that had only worsened in recent years, due partly because of his newfound status as a celebrity. he never wanted any of this. you think he likes parading around being some fucking poster boy? he’s not meant for that kind of life, but it’s what the saints were now, so what was he supposed to do? he can’t hate the saints. right? but that’s where troy came in. troy was easy to blame. he was easy to hate—he was supposed to hate him. he betrayed them. even if troy had no attachment to his old job, even if he was never helping the SPD/old ultor and was ultimately doing what he could for the saints, he still lied to them. and johnny knew deep down that he didn’t actually hate troy as much as he said (yeah he still stands by trying to kill him the first time, but now? all these years later? what’s the point), but troy was a living figure he could direct these feelings towards, and it made sense. he wasn’t a saint, so it was fine. but then suddenly he’s back in? what the fuck is he supposed to do. 

in some ways, johnny can’t help but feel as if the saints failed him. and in some ways, they did. aisha’s death was avoidable. he and the saints should’ve been able to save her. but why couldn’t they? why did he feel so alone these days?

troy takes a step towards johnny. and all he can say is. i’m so sorry. and he is. he’s sorry for everything. all that’s happened has haunted him every day since; he took anteros’ return from certain death as a second chance. and while anteros had been the true object of his desire, the most important thing he wanted to protect, the saints were just as dear to him. all of them. they were his friends. and he would go through hell for them. and now that he’s back, he’s ready to do whatever it takes. but he can’t do it without johnny.

they look each other in the eyes for the first time in a long time. johnny says they should head back; anteros is gonna get worried about them if they’re gone for much longer. 

so after their confrontation on the bridge, their relationship gets much, much better. they’re back to bantering like old friends, and things are really starting settle. it’s around the halfway mark of the plot at this point, and thankfully the relationships and mood within the saints is leagues better than it was at the beginning of the story. everyone’s working as a team much better, and the addition of new faces honestly helped a bit in keeping things together. 

i kinda talked about it in that one post but johnny and troy and angel do the murderbrawl fight together; johnny as the stilwater butcher and troy as the referee (but really just there to keep killbane’s backup off them). johnny had fun, troy’s not a huge fan of being absolutely drenched in blood, but you think johnny’s not gonna use a chainsaw on a bunch of guys?? they succeed in humiliating killbane, and johnny will get his chance to actually kill the guy a little later. 

--

lmfao @ myself. talking about them “real quick” yeah sure 

i think the themes of lost friendships and betrayal that’s prevalent in angel and killbane’s lore is fitting for what johnny and troy have going on. more specifically though, i think killbane’s death speech is arguably much more fitting for johnny to hear. because killbane is giving johnny what he wants for the first time in literal years. he feels like a saint again, not some cheap fucking brand with saints colors. he feels alive again. 

also idk if this is even an unpopular reading of johnny but like. i think he should be allowed to criticize the saints. i think he’d feel hurt by them. genuinely. after what they’ve become? after all that’s happened? there’s a line from johnny tag of all characters, a clone of johnny from the sr2 era, where he says the saints failed him. and if he’s from 2011, what else could he be referring to? johnny feels as if the saints failed him when it came to aisha. but how is he supposed to grapple with that? johnny is so painfully conflicted in srtt, and it’s a crime we don’t get that introspection in the game. even sriv does a slightly better job of this, with johnny reliving aisha’s death over and over in his mind. johnny gat is fucking haunted. but so is troy. and i think ultimately they’d find some much needed solace in each other. troy’s been in a similar boat for years, so it’d be good for them to have each other to rely on. there’s lots to get outta the way first, but in the end i think they’d be thankful. even if neither of them are the best at expressing it.

[corviiids]

thank you sincerely to everyone who has said nice things about muppet odyssey

[ladsofsorrow24]

i like tomshizu second after izashizu because this ship look wholesome at first glance

but then when i read more into it,

i realized this ship can be even more convoluted than izashizu

like tomshizu got so many tropes, such as

first love in middle school

childhood friends long separated then meet again after a life-shattering conflict

senpai-kouhai love

workplace affair

it's hilarious how narita tried so hard to make them straight but then he ended up fueling the fire even more without realizing lol

[thugbiscuits]

october fic rec list 18+ ONLY MDNI

please note: none of these fan fictions were written by me. when you read please make sure to like, comment, and reblog. IT MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE. (also go check out their blogs because they have way more delicious writing that you’re looking for 👀)

HEHEHEEHEE thank you for keeping up w/ my monthly recs, honestly. it’s so cool to see writers get recognized for their creative skills and to meet likeminded people on this app ! i love it here sometimes. anyways, enjoy this beautiful spread of fics. love you all MWAH. ageless blogs / minors get blocked

logan howlett fics

➺ swallow (oldman!logan howlett x reader, smut) @strangererotica

➺ hurricane (series, ex bf!logan howlett x reader, smut) @bpmiranda

➺ young rich & in love (dbf!logan howlett x reader, smut) @prettycoolgirl

➺ swipe right, bub (mutant!logan howlett x human!reader, fluff) @shybluebirdninja

➺ big bad wolf (logan howlett x fem!reader, smut) @not-neverland06

➺ verona (boyfriend!logan howlett x reader, fluff) @lanadelreyscokewhor3

➺ size difference (logan howlett x reader, smut) @l0vergirlsw0rld

➺ nameless as a river undiscovered underground (logan howlett x reader, smut) @moonlight-prose

➺ fuck or nothing (logan howlett x reader, smut) @adelliet

➺ be nice! (logan howlett x reader x wade wilson, smut) @hotgirlslovecyclops

➺ like animals (logan howlett x mutant!reader, smut) @areyouwell

➺ logan taking care of drunk reader (fluff) @mcrdvcks

➺ baby fever (logan howlett x reader, smut) @silverskyeline

wade wilson (deadpool) fics

➺ his favorite slut (mean!wade wilson x reader, smut) @softfem-dom

➺ dialed in (deadpool x reader, smut) @tteotlma

➺ involuted (wade wilson x reader, smut) @inklore

➺ blowout (wade wilson x fem!reader, smut) @baka-bakeneko

➺ deadpool as your boyfriend headcanons (deadpool x reader, fluff/smutty) @titaswrld

➺ knee deep in the passengers seat (deadpool x reader, smut) @runawrites-blog

➺ high sex w/ Wade (wade wilson x reader, smut) @lillian-gallows

➺ kinktober #21 (gunplay) (wade wilson x reader, smut) @avocado-writing

bucky barnes fics

➺ fri(end)s (bucky barnes x fem!reader, smut) @buckymorelikefuckme

joel miller fics

➺ maple hazel (joel miller x reader, fluff) @razrbladekiss

➺ seeing pink (joel miller x reader, smut) @gutsby

➺ a burning desire (series, firefighter!joel miller x reader) @honeyedmiller

➺ bdsmaid (series, joel miller x reader, smut) @mountainsandmayhem

➺ howl-o-ween (joel miller x reader, smut) @covetyou

➺ harder (joel miller x f!reader, smut) @toxicanonymity

➺ sweet cherry (joel miller x f!reader, smut) @aurorawritestoescape

santiago ‘pope’ garcia fics

➺ think about it (pope garcia x reader, smut) @fettuccin-e

➺ when you move, i move (santiago garcia x reader, smut) @noisynaia

cooper adams fics

➺ pretty little princess (cooper adams x reader, smut) @steph-speaks

➺ stockholm syndrome fic (cooper adams x reader, read tags!) @thebutchersbitch

dividers by @/saradika-graphics <3 header by me!

lovey’s note: what do you guys think of the header i made fr? 😭 cause i tried to make her cute ! also please check out all the series on here, im HOOKED seriously