#Uncharacteristic for this fandom | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

isfjmel-phleg · 1 year

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I posted 2,140 times in 2022

That's 560 more posts than 2021!

910 posts created (43%)

1,230 posts reblogged (57%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@brown-little-robin

@scarvenartist

@fictionadventurer

@isfjmel-phleg

@lady-merian

I tagged 2,133 of my posts in 2022

#random personal stuff - 585 posts

#the blackberry bushes - 169 posts

#asks - 166 posts

#scarvenartist - 117 posts

#fictionadventurer - 115 posts

#brown-little-robin - 109 posts

#thank you! - 90 posts

#lady-merian - 79 posts

#elystan liddick - 76 posts

#an illusion of wings - 76 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#relatively down-to-earth commoner child paired with and often annoyed by a royal child with a weird upbringing and overwhelming personality

My Top Posts in 2022:

So we're doing Bingo again?

63 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

Not much of a one for gushing in general, but this is me politely banging pots and pans outside your door and informing you that you need to

READ LEAVE IT TO PSMITH

READ IT

READITREADITEREADIT

It’s so good, it’s in public domain in the US, I promise you will enjoy it, what’s stopping you?

121 notes - Posted April 19, 2022

(Young Justice 1998 #7 and #55)

Attitudes toward mortality at the beginning and end of the series.

154 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

I finally put my finger on why a lot of adaptations and retellings of The Secret Garden feel thematically off to me.

So many of these interpret it as a story about healing from grief and loss. Which is very true of Mr. Craven’s subplot, but not for Mary and Colin.

It’s about healing from emotional neglect.

This is mirrored in the neglected garden and how the children’s restoring it--giving it the love and care and attention that they themselves have lacked--heals them in turn. Forming emotional connections is the first step in Mary’s recovery, and the Sowerbys are crucial to the plot because they’re the first people Mary has known who take an interest in her emotional well-being. Colin meanwhile has his turning point when Mary confronts the root of the emotions he’s never been able to address to anyone. These are very different issues from those surrounding loss of a loved one. In fact, these children are the way they are because they’ve never had loved ones.

So to rewrite the story as centrally a tale of overcoming grief recontextualizes everything about the protagonists, and the characterization either makes less sense or needs to be altered accordingly.

Nothing wrong with stories about overcoming grief, of course. That’s just not the story Burnett was telling, and I’m not sure where the shift in interpretation comes from, or why it’s so prevalent.

213 notes - Posted July 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

We’ve finally arrived at an infamous line from Dracula, and I’d like to share some thoughts before anyone (like many, many critics before them) reads too much into Lucy’s comment about her three suitors.

From what we’ve seen (and will continue to see...I’m going to refer to some things that haven’t happened yet), Lucy’s intelligence is primarily interpersonal. She reads others’ mental states well, she’s strongly empathetic, feels things more acutely than others, and speaks out against what she sees as insensitivity. She has an interesting blend of demonstrativeness and reticence. Although she expresses her emotions readily when writing to her friend and when turning down Seward’s and Morris’s proposals, the way she declares to Mina, “There, that does me good,” after confessing her love for Arthur and thanks Mina for allowing her to be “able to tell you and to have your sympathy” suggests relief at being able to express something held back. She admittedly tries to be “a tough nut to crack” in front of Seward and is reluctant to give even Mina the full details of Arthur’s proposal. As much relief as she finds in emotional openness, she also seems to need to self-censor.

The reason lies in the keynote of her character: her need to please other people. One literary critic I’ve encountered has criticized her for apparently having no life beyond her mother and suitors. Lucy’s suitors do indeed take up a lot of her letters’ content, but before these letters comes a request from Mina: “Tell me all of the news when you write. You have not told me anything for a long time. I hear rumours, and especially of a tall, handsome, curly-haired man???” Lucy obligingly gives her friend the information she knows her to be most interested in hearing. As she tells Mina, “I have nothing to tell you. There is really nothing to interest you” (emphasis added). What we know of Lucy so far is only what she believes is relevant to Mina’s interests.

While she does love Arthur greatly, it's telling that the first thing she tells Mina about him is “he and mamma get on very well together; they have so many things to talk about in common.” Presumably he and Lucy relate to each other too, but her primary concern is her mother’s approval of her love interest. Once engaged to Arthur, she is careful to tailor herself to his preferences. Likewise, she filters her emotions through the need to please; she admits she’s “very, very happy” at her engagement but considers herself undeserving and vows to “try in the future to show that I am not ungrateful.” Even while struggling with some incredibly traumatizing things herself, she shows concern for Mina’s anxieties about Jonathan and tries to console her. Later, we’ll see that her letters to Mina and her personal diary present very different pictures of her state; she glosses over her own pain to keep her friend from worrying. She similarly tries to “cheer up” to keep Arthur from being “miserable to see me so” and downplays her problems for the sake of her ailing mother. Even her private diary’s last entry ends not with a comment for her own benefit but an address to others: “Thank everybody for being so good to me! Thank God! Good-night, Arthur” It is as if she struggles to conceive of an identity for herself beyond her relation to others.

Given Lucy’s family situation, it makes sense that she would grow up with this mindset. As the only daughter of a widow, she is her mother’s only immediate family, and pressure seems to be placed on her in this relationship. Her mother expects her to marry, and Lucy does so, with attention to which suitor her mother gets along with. Her mother’s will even leaves “the whole estate, real and personal” to Arthur, requiring that Lucy marry him if she is to have any inheritance. Lucy seems reluctant to be open with her mother, judging from her relief at being able to confide in Mina, and her insistence on concealing her increasing struggles from her mother. Although the delicate state of Mrs. Westenra’s health is ostensibly kept from Lucy, she is implied to be aware that her mother is not well and feels responsible for her health and well-being.

This quality places Lucy’s conduct toward her suitors in a new light. Her remark “Why can’t they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want her, and save all this trouble?” is commonly interpreted by critics as voracious desire for as many men as possible. Lucy’s rhetorical question is indeed unorthodox, as she acknowledges, and viewed in isolation, it does appear to support a reading of an over-sexualized Lucy. However, placed back into context, it becomes more consistent with her desire to please than any unusual lust.

Lucy begins her account to Mina of the proposals with mixed feelings: “Just fancy! THREE proposals in one day! Isn’t it awful! I feel sorry, really and truly sorry for two of the poor fellows. Oh, Mina, I am so happy that I don’t know what to do with myself. And three proposals!” She is clearly flattered by the validation of attracting three men, but her happiness, as indicated later in the letter, refers to her engagement to Arthur more than to exultation at multiple conquests.

Her intermixed sorrow is not on her own account but on the behalf of the men she must reject. She shows no self-pity. Her empathetic nature takes on the emotions of her suitors in addition to her own; as she tells Mina, “it isn’t a happy thing when you have to see a poor fellow, whom you know loves you honestly, going away and looking all broken-hearted, and to know that, no matter what he may say at the moment, you are passing quite out of his life.” So she feels “so miserable, though […] so happy.” After Quincey Morris’s proposal, she is overwhelmed with guilt for “almost making fun of this great-hearted, true gentleman” as she turns him down. This deep regret at having to disappoint another good, worthy person leads her to bring up marrying multiple men as a means to “save all this trouble” of the rejected ones’ pain and her own sorrow at not being about to please everyone.

Therefore, the emphasis in Lucy’s infamous line is not lust but her own sensitivity to others’ emotional pain. Once she is engaged to Arthur, she shows no sign of wanting the other two back or seeking them out in any way. This is not the behavior of a woman driven by desire for multiple partners. Choosing Arthur pleases her mother and herself, but for someone as committed to taking responsibility for everyone’s happiness as Lucy, a solution that does not satisfy all parties can be difficult to take.

For more on this reading of Lucy, I highly recommend Leah Davydov’s article “Why Can’t They Let a Girl Marry One Man?: The Origins of Lucy Westenra’s Suitors” (Journal of Dracula Studies, vol. 18, 2016, pp. 5-29).

777 notes - Posted May 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#random personal stuff #had to add a cut because the posts are crazy long #Stuff I Post A Lot About: my stories #Stuff People Actually Like: ANYTHING BUT THE STORIES OH NO #anyway top five are 5) the bingo thing 4) urging people to read that book you guys had mixed feelings about #3) comicsposting that broke containment 2) a TSG post that took off somehow (because buzz term?)#and 1) the infamous Lucy post where people were like 'yes but also the thing you were arguing against'#(there was another post on the same topic that I had to make private because it got out of hand)#thanks everyone for sticking around and putting up with all the writing talk and personal whining and a sudden uncharacteristic new fandom #it's been fun

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dazadoop · 2 years

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You know I had been debating making a post about the Cayde stans and how often they flood the d2 tag with posts talking about wanting to murder/watch Cayde murder Crow and how fucking annoying that is. And also how I can’t even go into the Uldren/Crow related tags without seeing their super aggressive posts because they keep tagging the characters. But jesus did I not expect the situation to get as bad as it did!

Really loving a character and being upset that they died and wanting them back is one thing, I get it. I’ve been holding out a sliver of hope that Roman Torchwick will someday return to RWBY and he’s been dead since like 2016. But petitioning and pestering the devs to bring him back for no other reason than he’s your uwu funny husbando, flooding other character tags with hate and calls for violence against that character, and having literal real life breakdowns because you remembered that fictional character is dead are very different things and some of these stans really need to turn the game off, take a break, and maybe talk to a counselor about their unhealthy obsession.

Now all of this is bad and annoying all on it’s own and it’s been an ongoing issue in the d2 tag for a WHILE now and it’s honestly making me not want to check the Destiny and Uldren/Crow tags because I’m so sick of it being filled with this shit.

But finding out that a lot of the prominent Cayde stan blogs follow, reblog, and are friendly with fascists blogs? That they post TERF shit? And yet people in the tag are still reducing this situation to “annoying cayde stans flooding the tag vs the people who are annoyed about them”?? Why are we not more upset about this being seen as acceptable in our fandom space? Is it not bad enough that the d2 fandom on twitter is filled with toxic assholes who constantly make women, poc, and lgbt fans feel unwelcome? Now we’re just gonna downplay and tolerate that kind of thing here too? It’s baffling that I’ve already seen so many posts treating this like petty drama rather than an actual ongoing issue with the d2 fandom.

I’m glad that some people have spoken out about this because this is absolutely a dialog that needs to be started but too many people are treating this like funny fandom drama. But stuff like this being peddled by some pretty prominent fandom blogs IS a huge problem. Seeing these posts, even if you may not agree with them, can normalize it. The messages in these posts can be passively absorbed until you start to actually think “You know what that’s actually a good point”. It’s a pipeline and I promise it’s not worth it just to see fandom content.

It’s especially upsetting because Bungie does a good job at trying to foster inclusivity and show their support for poc, women, the lgbt community so that they feel comfortable playing the game and being involved with fandom. And frankly I’m tired of constantly seeing things that directly go against all of that and instead try to push all of those people out. Toxic gamer dudes on twitter and now conservative terfs on tumblr...

I don’t want to continue to feel pushed out of a fandom that by all accounts I should feel welcomed in.

And in case it wasn’t obvious from my ramblings:

Fuck fascists

Fuck TERFs

Fuck bigots

#destiny 2 #Man I just want to be able to draw my dumb little pictures and share memes #without feeling unwelcome and uncomfortable #I'm sorry for rambling and making an uncharacteristically long post #I'm just very upset #And the d2 fandom being such an unwelcoming space has especially been on my mind #since seeing a twitter thread about how there's basically no fandom merch because women and lgbt don't feel welcome #and they're the ones who make all of that in other fandom spaces #It just really made me start thinking about how bad it really is and then THIS happened like a week later??#It's just been A LOT #I just wish the fandom would do better because it would only benefit us all if it was more welcoming and inclusive #more art more videos more memes more people to play with more people to talk theories and lore with #maybe one day...#I'll stop rambling now cause this is getting way too long #sorry if this sounds disjointed or messy

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spartanxhunterx · 2 years

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*Looks left*

*Looks right*

*Double checks the only schedule I’ve seen*

*Looks at the time*

“Why aren’t y’all freaking out about the new episode yet?”

#According to everything I know it’s been out in the UK for the past 45 minutes #I see nothing as of yet #very uncharacteristic of you Ml fandom

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pellucid-constellations · 4 months

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Of Oblivious Minds (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Azriel's POV (it's a warning here), angst

a/n:��I am blown away by all of you and your support!! I really love writing for this fandom omg. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy ♡ Let me know what you think!! I'll get the next update up soon!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Azriel was losing his ever-loving mind.

A few weeks ago, everything was fine. Not optimal, but fine.

He knew his mate, and that was more than could be said for most of Prythian. But even more than that, he could love her from afar. He could make small remarks and catch the smiles they would elicit. He could send his shadows after her on her walks home, protecting her even though she had the entire Inner Circle looking out for her wellbeing. He could buy the ridiculously expensive pastries she loved and stock the kitchens with them, listening for the small gasps she let out each time she found them.

He could talk to you, listen to you, love you in his small ways, even if it wasn’t the ways in which he longed for.

Because it wasn’t the right time yet. You hadn’t felt the bond for yourself.

So, yes—admittedly, Azriel had not been in the most optimal position with you. But it was leaps and bounds better than the purgatory you were subjecting him to now.

He mulled over his current reality as he sat opposite to you at the dining table. He had had to snag the seat from Mor, ripping the chair from her hand in an uncharacteristic show of aggression, and you hadn’t so much as looked up from your plate. He would’ve rather fought for the seats beside you, but Rhys and Cassian had been sitting before he even entered the room. So now he fought for your eyes and was too far away to offer any lingering, accidental touches.

Not that you would reciprocate either.

You were avoiding him, and Azriel was at his wit's end trying to decipher why.

His shadows had relayed dismal reports, only whispering the words sad and alone and contemplative into his ears each morning. He could have guessed as much, if the display of emotions he had tried to comfort you through all those days ago told him anything.

But Gods, did they really tell him nothing, because you hadn’t spoken to him since.

“—that is certainly something to consider. Y/n, would you be open to the job?”

“Hm?” you hummed, and Azriel watched as your eyes flickered over to Rhys in one abrupt movement. “Sorry, what?”

Rhys raised a brow lined with humor, and Azriel realized he hadn’t been listening to the conversation either. “Helion has extended an invitation to the Night Court—for diplomatic relations and all. It’s mostly a weekend stay for show, but he has quite an extensive library. Feyre and I went last time so it would only be fair if—”

“Yes,” you nodded, the most emotion Azriel had seen on your face in days blooming into a joyous array. “Of course, I would love to go. Are you kidding?”

Rhys chuckled. “I figured. Helion has been quite eager to get you to come as well. Seemed like the perfect time.”

Azriel didn’t miss the way the High Lord’s eyes shone with something other than mirth as he looked closer at the scholar… as he inspected your facade the same way Azriel had been for the past week.

“When can I leave?”

Something in Azriel scratched to a halt. “She’s to go alone?”

Feyre offered the spymaster a soft smile from the other side of the table. “If she wishes. Helion’s invitation was open-ended.”

“Take the vacation, I say,” Mor piped in, wine glass raised in a solitary toast.

“Or… you could take me,” Cassian grinned beside you, jostling you in a playful grip.

You sent a scoff his way. “Aren’t you banned?”

“No, actually. I’m banned from Summer Court, which is completely unrelated.”

A short laugh trickled from your lips. It wasn’t a full one, not like the ones Azriel was so used to—the ones he basked in—but it was a laugh, nonetheless.

He felt the way his eyes seemed to follow the crescendo of it, his blinks in time with the sweet sound.

He committed it to memory.

“Right, well let’s keep you away from neighboring courts as much as possible so we can avoid a repeat of that, okay?”

Something like a grin fought at the side of Azriel’s mouth at your quip.

Cassian prattled on. Something about unjust rules or ridiculous high lords—Azriel wasn’t paying attention. He was too caught up in you and the way you were so close to meeting his gaze.

“Perhaps she shouldn’t go alone,” Azriel spoke up, interrupting his brother’s spiel. You still didn’t look at him, instead turning to catch Rhys’s response.

“Azriel, I can assure you this is a safe visit,” Rhys offered. He knew. Everyone seemed to know but you. “It’s hardly even business. It’s more of a vacation. I’ve been shoving century-old relics in her face for the past few months. She deserves time to herself, don’t you think?”

His High Lord was speaking in code. A terrible, frustrating code that really meant, “give her some distance.”

Azriel had had enough of distance.

He nodded his head all the same.

And then, despite all odds, you looked at him.

You looked at him and it was as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. As if he had been wrung out and stretched thin and every bone in his body forced him to sit up straighter. You were looking at him and Azriel couldn’t conceptualize the way the spectrum in his chest moved so quickly from utter relief to the brink of desolation.

Because you looked at him as if you were broken. A sad—such a sad—smile graced your face, one he had never had the displeasure of seeing before, and he wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to kiss it from your face with soft touches and reassuring whispers and that was startling for Azriel because he usually kept his overwhelming urge to kiss you at bay.

“I’ll bring you back a souvenir,” is all you said. Such simple words to accompany an expression that sent him reeling.

“Thank you,” he replied, with the most sincerity he could muster.

And then he held your gaze as it became downcast. He craned his neck to catch every last second of your eyes as they turned back down to the table.

It was hours later that Azriel found himself in the townhouse, boots creating an indent in the office carpet. Rhys sat just feet away from him, leaning back against the desk, waiting for the Shadowsinger to erupt.

“I would like for you to position your spies further into Autumn. I know you have a few that have integrated into the court, but I need more intel on Eris and his plans.”

“Of course.”

“You can take out any currently residing in Day. Just for the next week or so. With y/n going, she can report any happenings.”

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped. “Would that be wise?”

Rhys stared back at his brother, expression giving nothing away. “Why wouldn’t it be? Do you not trust y/n’s word?”

Azriel’s wings were taut against his back. In truth, he hadn’t felt relaxed in days. With you leaving, that tension would surely pull him into thin compliance.

“Obviously I trust her word, Rhysand.”

“Rhysand? What have I done to earn your grievance?” the High Lord asked, crossing his arms over his chest, still the perfect picture of calm.

Azriel was a juxtaposition before him as he clenched his hands and replied, “You already know.”

“Do I know? I’m not sure you’ve been clear or honest with anyone. Y/n especially.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rhys bent at the elbow and rubbed a restless hand across his jaw. Azriel ignored the movement in favor of holding eye contact with the High Lord. Azriel was being stubborn, he knew that, but there was no other way to be.

He needed to be consistent and reliable. He needed to be a pillar for his family to lean on, and you were part of that. He wasn’t going to take that away from you—to be selfish and call upon a mating bond you hadn't even been made aware of yet.

He wasn’t going to squander your friendship in the hopes of something more.

There was a chance, no matter how much the prospect pained him to consider, that you wouldn’t want the bond. You had never hinted at wanting more with the spymaster, so there was no telling how you might react to the cauldron blessing you with a union. You could reject it, and with it would go your friendship.

Just the thought sent ice through Azriel’s veins.

Truth be told, he had never shown you many signs either. When the bond snapped months ago, it had taken time for Azriel to come to terms with the truth. He had ruminated on it amidst many sleepless nights, watched you from a new perspective over many dinners, and contemplated the path that had led him to you.

And then he had regretted. Cauldron had he regretted.

The feeling still lingered, a reminder of each woman he had taken to his bed before you. All of the fae that had meant nothing, and even the ones that had boarded on something, he wished he could do away with.

Because you had been privy to them all. He knew you had witnessed a few late-night trysts, and even worse, that you had watched him pine after Mor for a century. It all seemed so frivolous now; it all paled in comparison to you.

And the absolute worst part of it all is that he knew.

He knew how easy it would be to fall in love with you from the start, so he pretended not to notice.

He threw himself into impractical longing and meaningless lovers and he pretended that it didn’t hurt to look at you.

The bond had only cemented his foolishness.

He hardly had a chance with you by the time it snapped.

“Late night then, Az?”

You had teased him over breakfast just days before the bond had snapped for him, a small smile on your face as you lounged at the table early in the morning. At the time, Azriel had bit the inside of his cheek and reeled in his snarkiness. He had avoided your gaze, avoided the robe that barely covered your nightgown, and made himself toast in silence. He had already coaxed the blonde fae out of his bed, and he hadn’t needed a reminder of the woman he had been imagining all throughout the night.

Because that had been something else he opted to ignore—that he pictured you, imagined you, at all times.

It snapped three days later. He had been accompanying you through Velaris. “Shopping for fun,” you had said, “and I hate to go alone.”

The only thing Azriel had taken home that day was a gaping hole in his chest and the knowledge that lying to himself had brought him nothing but pain.

The months following were different.

Everything was different.

But for you, he had come to the grim realization, nothing was different at all. He was still Azriel, your friend Azriel, who was secretive and private and cared from afar. You still pictured him as a man who chose his lovers based on convenience and quick practicality even though he hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since your emotions began flowing through his chest.

Gods, your emotions. They were so positive, so addicting, he could sit back and live his days through you until the end of time. You had so much unrestricted joy coursing through you—so much curiosity and delight. Part of Azriel dreaded the day you did recognize the bond; it would dim the connection to you.

That day in the library had been the first time the bond had chafed against his lungs. He had felt the earthquake beneath his feet and thought nothing of it, but then your fear punctured his being and he had run so fast his wings ached.

And then you started having nightmares, ones he couldn’t fix, and Azriel began to feel like he was losing you. Like the bond was withering and eroding within him and you along with it.

“How long, Azriel?” Rhys’s voice cut through the air with a harshness.

The shadowsinger breathed through his nose, jaw tight.

“Tell me. Tell me how long you’re going to keep this up for.”

“You don’t understand, Rhys,” came Azriel’s low reply. “None of you do.”

The High Lord scoffed. “Right, because I had it so easy with Feyre. Az, mates are complicated—”

“Don’t,” Azriel breathed. A dangerous shakiness accompanied the word.

“Explain it to me. Help me to understand how—”

“There was nothing for you to lose!” The rise of the shadowsinger’s voice sent Rhys into silence. “There was nothing! You hadn’t known Feyre for three centuries—hadn’t known what it was like to see her cry over worthless males or laugh until she was doubled over. You didn’t have time to memorize the sound of her voice or understand how it felt to lose that small piece of her. Because she won’t even talk to me anymore and—”

Azriel cut himself off, moving for the first time since he entered office. He paced, the motion of his feet doing little to dispel the tension from the air or from his body. Azriel tugged a hand through his hair, his shadows following the aggressive pull and weaving through the strands.

“How long?” Rhys asked again, but this time, Azriel knew that he was asking a different question. One that even he himself had avoided answering.

The shadowsinger paused. His next words were tainted and his voice cracked.

“I think forever.”

Part 4

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel angst

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skitterplant · 5 months

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!!! NEW FIC INCOMING !!!

OVERSHADOWED

SUMMARY:

Having learned of a streak of dissapearances plaguing city areas neighboring the Pizzaplex, Sun desperately tries to prevent more kids from going missing by any and all means necessary. Even if a highly suspicious "staff" woman, the one that's been stalking his children for weeks, must get lost instead.

Unluckily for him, Management seems uncharacteristically protective that person. Left with no other options, Sun uses the most powerful instrument at his disposal — a half-baked Moon AI. A tool that was supposed to get rid of his problem, and do it quickly. Was supposed to do it efficiently. Was supposed to do it cleanly.

What it wasn't supposed to do was wake up.

I have fallen into the clown-shaped abyss of DCA fandom's bottomless pit of excellent fics and I'm making it everyone else's problem

First chapter coming soon!

There's going to be plenty of art as well fyi

And lots, lots, LOTS of Lore

#daycare attendant x y/n #dca fandom #sun x reader #sun x y/n #moon x reader #moon x y/n #eclipse x reader #eclipse x y/n #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf dca #FNAF #my art #my fics #Overshadowed #Eclipse appears a bit later down the line #and he's a bit special #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #overshadowed y/n

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queers-gambit · 6 months

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Not All That Glitters is Gold

prompt: during your engagement dinner, you learn from your fiancé's niece that he holds choice words about you. or finding out he calls you clingy behind your back.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 3.1k+

warnings: cursing, draaaama, mild angst, AU timeline technically, hurt and comfort (reader don't play those games i guess), relationship angst, half edited.

browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

His cloak was a shimmering beacon of golden glimmer even in the dark of night. It promoted an air of confidence and swagger, something independent from his usual cockiness. No, with that gold cloak, he walked as if the very air you all breathed was produced by him; being silent and domineering in his presence. It had been something you were initially attracted to, his alluring mystery and overwhelming stoic self-awareness.

He moved around the Throne Room like wings were gifted to his feet, carrying him with lithe movements to look as if gliding. All eyes were on him, whether out of admiration, jealousy, confusion, or lust - eyes followed him no matter where he went, no matter what he did, who he interacted with. You lifted the heavy gold goblet to your lips, taking a careful mouthful of wine before setting it down, swallowing, and standing from your seat at the banquet table.

You wanted your lover, so, you got up to satisfy your craving.

You approached him as he spoke to a pair of noblemen, slowing your gait to ease your arrival and not cause a surprise. Your dress was something a little more alluring, more revealing than you'd usually wear, and as you approached the men, the eyes not belonging to your new fiancé nearly bulged from their skulls.

Daemon turned his head and saw you, smirking as his arm opened and he welcomed you into his side. "I was beginning to wonder where you got off to," you told him softly, one arm around his hips as the other planted your hand against his chest. "The Aunties have descended and are becoming insufferable, I fear I needed reprieve."

Daemon grinned, sounding amused, "It was a matter of time before they found you. Stick with us, darling, the Aunties will stay away."

"They're about to serve dinner," you told him, "perhaps we should find our seats?"

He nodded, looking at the men he had been speaking to before you showed up. Daemon bid politely, offering no other explanation besides, "Excuse us, gentlemen."

They bowed out of their Prince's way, letting Daemon lead you toward the head banquet table (again) where his brother, King Viserys, was sitting with other prominent members of court. The night had been pleasant, everyone rejoicing in the upcoming nuptials between you and the Rogue Prince. For years, he'd been something chaotic and shunned; and after the passing of his first wife, Rhea Royce, he was like a kite cut from string. Loose and set adrift. Wild and out-of-reach. And then you came back into Daemon's life after not seeing one another since you were ten-and-six, and all of a sudden, the Rogue Prince was something more domesticated.

It was a refreshing change, albeit totally uncharacteristic for Daemon.

Viserys was the most shocked of them all, constantly praising you for whatever you had done to his brother to reel him into a controllable pace. He thought you and Daemon were perfect for one another, likened you two to fit-together puzzle pieces. The King had been more than happy to host the celebrations, starting with tonight, an engagement party! You had to play part of dutiful fiancé and upstanding citizen since you were to inherit a royal title; being poised and collected at all times with either a calm, passive expression or one of bright entertainment.

"Here, love," Daemon whispered, pulling your chair out for you. He waited until you were sat before taking his own seat, sighing when he glanced around the table only to settle his gaze on you.

"What's wrong, my Dragon?" You asked softly, leaning in to place your hand over his on his lap; pressed into his side despite the wooden chair arms between you.

"Just amusing," he mused, "most of these Lords and Ladies had much to say about my first marriage, and now, they break our bread to celebrate us."

"Cannot be the first time someone's tried to suck up to you," you chuckled, moving your conjoined hands in your lap. "The dragon does not concern himself with the opinion of the sheep," you advised smartly, "they only tolerate the sheep because one day, the dragon will need to feast - hmm?"

Daemon smirked, "When did you become so insightful, darling?"

"I've always been, you're just pussy-whipped now that I make a lot more sense."

He laughed, letting a servant pour your wine. In your ear, he mused, "Jest all you want, but you were meant to be a Targaryen. Once we are wed, I will plant my seed, and bind us together for eternity."

"Our marriage wouldn't doing exactly that already?"

"A child is more tangible - it's a bloodline."

You shrugged as a plate of blood-red lobster was set in front of you. Viserys truly went all out - giving a wide variety of foods to taste. "A marriage is for life, though," you countered.

"So is a child."

"Until they are married off."

Conversation continued, flowing easily between the family members and patrons of court. Viserys looked pleased, enjoying the celebration as his ailment often caused him grave pain and he could not attend events. He hardly had reason to smile, but when he watched you feed a bite to Daemon, he let his lips spread without thought. Queen Alicent clocked the King's expression, glancing at you and Daemon, then smiled fondly before reaching for her husband's hand.

Throughout the dinner, Rhaenyra watched you and Daemon with a bitter glare on her face; jaw locked and lips pursed. You ignored her obvious displeasure in favor of your husband, both too enraptured with one another to ever pay attention to the Princess' distain. When the meal was over, the dancing, mingling, drinking, and musical portion of the evening commenced.

And cake. Cake was to be served.

Daemon's golden cloak swept around guests as you both played dutiful host for your party, and mingled with those who arrived tonight to celebrate your upcoming nuptials. You did your best to keep up with the plethora of Lords and Ladies, like Daemon did so effortlessly, but it was a lot. You still held your own, but by Gods, there was a lot of people in attendance tonight and there was noway you could remember any names.

Thankfully, while Daemon was caught in a conversation with Ser Gerold Royce, you eventually made it to a small group of familiar faces: Princess Rhaenyra, Ser Harwin Strong, his brother, Larys, Lady Laena Velaryon, and her twin, Ser Laenor.

You graciously received the compliments, well-wishes, and joyful greetings of them all, but acutely noted the Princess did not offer even so much as a polite greeting. "This dress was made for you, it's just darling," Laena complimented, petting the bodice. "It must've cost a fortune."

"It was a gift from Daemon," you told her with a soft smile. "And the necklace, too! See?" You showed her, "He had it custom made, it's Valyrian Steel with embedded jewels."

"The perfect combination of your Houses, and a gorgeous piece of art to hang on such a gorgeous neck," she praised, but it was Princess Rhaenyra's scoff of annoyance that peaked your interest.

You thanked Laena Velaryon before eyeing Rhaenyra. "Princess?" You questioned. "If I may ask you something, plainly?"

"By all means."

"Have I... Upset you in anyway?"

"You mean beside my uncle spending the Crown's coin to buy you something exquisitely made; being a fleeting, lady interest of the Princes'? No, no, nothing's wrong," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"What is this distain you hold towards me - towards my relationship with Daemon?" You demanded, the alcohol in your system spurring you on despite knowing the looming consequences of offering a member of the Royal family sharpened words.

"Truly? You wish to know why I do not fawn over you as others?"

"They do not fawn, oh - " You stopped yourself, sighing deeply and correcting yourself, "Of course I wish to know what the issue at hand here is, Princess, I do not wish for ill-will between us. I wish to resolve this."

"In truth, I simply do not understand it, this - this sham of a wedding," she snapped. "Daemon might buy you pretty things, but it's only out of guilt."

"What guilt could he possibly - "

"He finds you overwhelming, overbearing, suffocatingly clingy. So, with his distain, he, too, felt fleeting guilt - being why he showers you with gifts, it's for his own conscious. But if you ask me why I host such distain towards this union, it is because I know my uncle is not happy with your overwhelmingly clingy behavior. He's voiced his displeasure many-a-time. Not just to me, but to the King and Queen, as well."

You felt shell-shocked, acutely aware of the lingering eyes of the audience around you. You worried: how many of them had heard this rumor, how many secretly pitied you? Finding your voice, you managed to squeak out, "I beg your pardon?"

Rhaenyra only shrugged, "You asked, I answered."

"I see," you cleared your throat. "And your answer is that my betrothed has, what, started to slander my name behind my back?"

"Indeed. His chief complaint is how you seem to cling to him more and more, and he doesn't have the heart to push you away more than he already has. You're the one daft enough to not take a hint."

"And where do you get your information from?"

"Daemon, himself."

Your mind raced with all the little things: how Daemon would release your person during public events, avoid physical touch, ignore you sometimes, shut down your woes (call that gaslighting), how he stiffened at times you took his arm, how he seemed to shut down and only offer bored 'mmhms' when you spoke to him about your life. Your heart sank to your feet as you realized there were some truths to Rhaenyra's words.

You nodded slowly as Daemon chose that moment to approach your awkward group. His arm slithered around your waist, but you were silent as the grave and stiff as the corpse in said grave. Your mind raced with the idea that Rhaenyra could just be fucking with you, but the also with the idea that all she said was true.

"I'm going to retire for the evening, I've a headache," you told Daemon, finding an easy way out of his grip, "but you stay, enjoy the celebration. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am just tired."

He agreed and gently kissed you - sure to remain modest but still affectionate. "I'll visit you tonight," he muttered in your ear.

"No, I am truly tired," you told him softly but sternly. "We'll see each other tomorrow."

He hummed, "Then I shall walk you out - "

"No, you're needed here to save face. Go, mingle, play nice," you dismissed him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You bid whoever you came across a good and safe night; thanking them for their attendance tonight. After thanking the King for hosting the party, you disappeared, taking a few secret passages to avoid the main hustle-and-bustle of the feast. When you arrived in your room, you slammed the door, bolted it, and leaned against it for a good long moment. Your mind was reeling with all kinds of thoughts regarding your intended, his niece, all of it suddenly feeling very overwhelming.

You were exhausted, so, you swiftly stripped, unpinned your hair, refused your maid's help, and soaked in a long, hot bath. After, you settled into bed with a book, and tried not to overwhelm yourself with the anxiety tomorrow would bring.

About an hour later, you heard Daemon knocking at your passage door. You paused, not making a sound, hearing his muffled voice, "Love? My love, are you awake?"

You didn't answer.

"Please, sweet girl, let me in," he begged quietly.

When you wrenched the door open, you seethed, "NO!"

"What - ?"

"I heard plenty tonight from your niece. In your moments of frustration, you know what? Sure, complain about your woes - but to find out you call me clingy when in regard to my affection - that's not something I'm going to be happy hearing, Daemon!"

"I know, but let me explain - "

"What? What will you say? That you just needed someone to talk to? To vent your feelings? I get that - I really do. But you fully offered slander to my name, to our relationship; to who I am as a partner. Your poisoned words of your irritation is soaked into your family, in the courts. And now, I must endure the pity those will offer knowing my husband truly holds distain for me!"

"No, you've got it wrong, I don't - "

"Then why!?" You demanded, voice cracking. "Why say those things? Why not come to me and communicate you're not comfortable with this and that behavior!? I won't know unless you tell me, so, instead of talking your shit to the courts and your family, why not just speak to me!?"

"I should have!" He admitted quickly. "I should have, I know that, and it was my mistake, my love. But I regret it, I regret feeling so, so - I don't know! Sure, let's call it frustrated, irritated, I don't care, I just needed it off my chest!"

"I understand that fully, but being as we're to marry one another, I should be the one listening to you when you need something off your chest. You should talk to me. And if I'm the one you need to speak about, choose more trustworthy confidants that do not need further reason to despise me!"

"What're you...? What? What does that mean?"

"Rhaenyra, Daemon! Your niece, Rhaenyra! Every-fucking-thing you've said to her, she remembers, and holds it against me! You forget, when you speak to family about the woes of your relationship, that's all they remember. You get to make up with me, we get to move on, but because you needed t'vent to them, that's what they can hold against me. Do you even wish to marry me, still!?"

"Of course, I do!"

"Then something needs to change," you deadpanned, exhausted by this. "I refuse to be belittled, spat on, and disrespected by your niece any longer."

"I will speak to her."

"Yes, you will! This is far too out of hand! She has weaponized your frustration to drive a wedge between us, and she chose a public event with an audience to lob it all at me!"

"What truly happened with Rhaenyra? What was so bad?"

"Daemon, she called me out for 'being clingy' in front of an audience! At our engagement celebration! Do you know how humiliating that was!? I'm more embarrassed than angry!"

He nodded, "I'll handle this. I swear, my darling, this will be resolved."

"You know what?" You breathed. "Do whatever you please because I've realized something. Not only did Rhaenyra spew our business to others, but you... You said it in the first place. You said those words..."

"Out of anger - "

"But you still spoke them!"

"I was foolish to do so!"

"You are a fool for many reasons, Daemon, but this is one act I am not willing to forgive so blindly. Wear your jester hat all you'd like, but it will take more than pretty words to make this up to me."

"I'll do what it takes to fix this." He tried to step into the room with you, but you held your ground in the doorway. "My love, please, how can I make it up to you if you do not let me in?"

"You must find any other way to do this because there's no chance in any of the Seven Hells that you share my bed again - married or not." You offered him a look of distain, musing, "You know what, I've decided: I simply don't care what you or your family thinks. I am extremely proud of who I am, and there's not a soul alive that can make me feel lesser than. Your words hurt, they cut deeper hearing it from the Princess, but that's simply your opinion," you eased. "I refuse to modify myself, but it's good to know you don't like my affection - I can always reserve it for whoever I choose to warm my bed. What was it you said?" You quipped venomously, "Marriages are political arrangements?"

"Not ours," he snapped.

"Oh? We're so different, are we?" You laughed.

"Of course we are, there's nothing I'd change. Hear me? Nothing," he sounded angry. "I was a fool to speak out of term, but you're right, I should talk to you about it - I am simply unequipped to having a wife I've chosen."

"Oh, spare me - "

"It's true," he insisted, "what woman in my life has loved me as you do? Has encouraged me to be so - so - loving and safe?"

"Apparently, I've been clingy and not as encouraging as I thought."

"I spoke out of turn," he insisted. "You're right - I can't go and take back what I've said. But I will do all I can to ensure I change their opinions on you, to mop up whatever verbal mess I've made."

You laughed without humor.

"And I will set Rhaenyra straight about all of this, I will ensure she knows that there's no room for such tension, jealousy, hatred."

"You swear to clean up all your messes?" You wondered earnestly.

"I swear."

"Good," you mused, "after that, how do you intend on rebuilding my trust?"

Daemon blinked, "You do not trust me anymore?"

"Of course not," you assured, "not since finding out how you speak of me so hatefully without my knowledge. That's where trust comes in, Daemon, but you proved me wrong, and now, that trust is gone."

Daemon looked confused, mouth opening and closing rapidly, shaking his head, "No, no, no, love, don't do this. We're okay, all right? We're fine, things with us - we're fine. We're okay."

"Saying it doesn't make it true."

"Do not tell me," He snapped. "H-Have I lost you?"

"Mhm. Not saying you can't fix things between us, but as of now, there's nothing about you I can trust."

"And if you cannot trust me, can you love me?"

You paused, considering his words. Honestly, his betrayal was something that hurt worse than anything you've endured before. "I'll have to think about that one," you whispered. With a saddened look, you hugged the door, sighing, and bid, "Goodnight, my Prince."

"My sweet - don't shut me out. Don't do this."

"Find a way to make this all up to me," you demanded, "because I'd hate for either of us to eventually resent this marriage, too."

He tried to argue but you shut the door on him forcefully; loudly locking it from the inside to prevent him from following you. You felt yourself brimming with anger, but nothing was like the betrayal coursing through your heart and veins. There was no sleep that night, there was a lot of tears, a lot of pacing, and a lot of grumbling to yourself.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

Clingy Baby collection

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cantquitu · 2 years

Note

Your tag, history repeating itself, was Louis in Australia when he broke up with Eleanor last time?

Yeah - Eleanor was in Australia with Louis for some 1D tour dates, and they must have either broken up then or when she left. Two or 3 weeks later he was papped kissing a girl in Bangkok, and it was reported that they'd broken up 3 weeks earlier.

#and i can't remember why but the fandom did suspect it was true that they were broken up before he was papped #because of eleanor going to LA and posting some pics that had uncharacteristically single girl vibes or something #so the official story kind of tracked

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wannaeatramyeon · 4 months

Text

Goo Kim x Reader: Suspicious

G/N. So so stupid.

Your boyfriend is indulging in suspicious behaviour.

More and more, you catch him smiling sweetly at his phone, chuckling. At times you think you might have heard a squeal. He's always staring into it late at night, first thing in the morning, hiding his screen away from you.

Which usually would put you on edge if he was anyone else. Leave your imagination running wild, cause your insecurities to rise to the surface.

But you know Goo. He would have no problem kicking you out of his bed, his apartment, his life if he didn't want this anymore.

Except this isn't that. He's still as clingy as ever, still a mischievous menace. A brat, feral and needy, showing his own brand of affection and fondness.

You're almost certain that if you asked, he would shave his head for you. His precious blonde locks. That's how much he loves you.

However. The behaviour is peculiar, odd. You don't know what to think.

He's engrossed in his phone even more than usual this evening.

He didn't hear you come through the door, pad through the apartment, sneak up over his shoulder, almost breathing into his ear, eyes briefly scanning over his screen until-

"What's this?"

Goo yelps. Jerks away violently and with such force his glasses clatter onto the floor.

"Shit!" You hear him mutter under his breath as he tries to discreetly click his screen off and bend down for his glasses.

You're pretty certain you saw what you think you did.

…Really? Is this what he's been hiding from you?

Tentatively, because it's obvious this guy is touchy as hell about this, you ask, "Is that-"

"Nope!" He snaps, a very uncharacteristic blush blooming over his cheeks.

"Goo," You grin, eyes crinkling. "Are you embarrassed?"

He puts his glasses back on, adjusting them as he peers over haughtily at you, regaining some of his composure. "No cupcake, I don't get embarrassed."

You put your hand on your hips, raising an eyebrow. "Sure. That's why you've been sneaking around with your phone."

"I have not been sneaking."

"Sneaking."

"I-"

"Sneak. Ing." You emphasize each syllable, then ready your fingers at his forehead. "I may have thought you were up to no good." With that, you give Goo a light flick that he grossly overreacts to and screeches.

"So what?" he rubs his forehead with a pout, "I'm always up to no good."

That's true. You admit it with a sigh.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, clicks it back on sheepishly. "They just... They love each other."

"I know." You tread carefully, not sure which of his manic moods he's rapidly approaching.

"And they both die in the manga." You swear you see Goo's lip wobble, "I just want them to be happy."

Ok, that was definitely his voice cracking you heard there as he shows you his browser, tabs upon tabs of fanfiction open-

Really, goddamn. That is a lot of fanfiction. Although you understand the grip of a hyperfixation all too well.

Maybe you should have seen this coming. You know Goo loves his manga and anime, and you know he loves this particular one. You just didn't know how much. You didn’t realise he indulges in fandom activities.

But-

Did he not realise you loved it too? The amount of fanfiction you gorge on? That there was no need to hide this from you? You wouldn’t have ever made him feel ashamed of this.

"Hey,” You give him an encouraging smile and a nudge, “Did you read the college AU one? Where they're both-"

"PROFESSORS AND MARRIED!" Goo interjects, eyes widening in realisation.

"Cupcake!" He purrs, any embarrassment or hesitation a thing of the past. The distant past. He throws his arm around you. Ecstatic at finding new common ground, starts to ramble and talk about his favourite fics, his least favourite. The tropes he loves, the tropes he hates. Mouth running a mile a minute.

When he finally pauses to take a breath, he smooches you on the cheek. Reading between the lines, as a way of apology for his suspicious behaviour.

And continues, until you interrupt him and tell him that your favourite ship is actually these other characters and-

"Ugh. Tasteless." Goo scoffs, removing his arm from you and stepping away as if your terrible taste will infect him.

#happy new year btw everyone!! thank you all for reading my bs. I really cant emphasise how much i appreciate it #lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism hc #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #goo kim #goo kim x reader #kim joongoo #kim joongoo x reader #wannaeatramyeon #....yes this is really OOC. i just wanted to write the scenario 😭

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sgiandubh · 4 days

Text

The door faces North

This has been, by far, one of the most complex investigations I have ever done in this fandom, and I am truly sorry for the long wait I had to inflict on many of you & for the uncharacteristic radio silence in DMs and comments. During this peculiar journey, I checked, double-checked and cross-checked as many details as I could and I carefully considered at least two different theories, of which I still think they do not exclude each other. I am now confident enough to make not only an educated guess, but also a daring bet on SRH's next whisky move.

Also, sorry for the length of this post. Truly sorry - think of the completely pulverized night sleep I had to give up, in order to bring this to you.

But first, a word on Marple's obvious PR tip on the Hopetoun Estate refurbishment and distillery old/new project. I am fair game enough to tell you the obvious: her overall recounting of the principals is roughly correct, spare perhaps one or two minor details. Correct, but dry - she limits herself to the technical documentation submitted by Golden Decanters and The Hopetoun Estates Trust to the West Lothian Council for approval. She correctly points out that S is not a visible part of the deal, at this point in time and she does a decent summing up of a very, very, VERY plethoric amount of bureaucratic information. She concludes, and I think she is partially right, that he might be interested in becoming an investor (I am taking things a bit further, though). But in doing so, she focuses on the development phase of the project only: the possible connections with SRH and his own spirits business are less, if at all, obvious.

I am going to give you my view of all this charade and, if I am going to mention (and probably repeat) some things already found by her, I am going to focus on the people: this is where the whole story starts to become remarkably interesting, at least to me. After all, I remember promising you some more clarity. Here's an honest, fair play take.

Little did I know, when I started to write about that (now defunct) company, Midhope Castle Distillery, Ltd (https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/748597198794670080/the-info-provided-above-is-correct-but-outdated?source=share), that my investigation would turn to this:

... for it was to be just an almost random layer of a juggernaut matryoshka of defunct or still active companies, featuring roughly the same people and no less than 6 different name combinations centered around Midhope, Hopetoun, etc.

The following pics will give you an idea - feel free to open them in a separate tab, for clarity . I preferred this synthetic approach, because otherwise you will curse the shite out of me. But it had to be done, with or without Depon, Advil's Greek cousin (and before you ask a graphologist, this is my handwriting, and nobody else's 🙃):

The only explanation for the whole almost frantic Midhope/Hopetoun crisscross/hopscotch (LOL) combos I can think of is two people trying to secure one (several?) credit lines or to attract significant investors for their project and ultimately failing to do so. But I might be wrong (although I doubt that, thank you). Out of this entire maze ( I swear I now have a migraine), there are only two active companies remaining: Golden Decanters Ltd (renamed GD Spirits Ltd, in April 2022) and Midhope Ltd (renamed Skosk Ltd, in July 2023). It is on them I am going to focus my gaze.

GD Spirits Ltd was incorporated in Berwick-upon-Tweed, England (just across the Scottish border), probably for tax reasons, on March 11, 2015, the nature of its business being listed as 'wholesale of wine, beer, spirits, etc.'. It started with a team of two women: Julia Mackenzie-Gillanders and Ann Medlock, whose names we are going to see over and over again in all the eight corporate avatars. Later down the timeline (LOL for three decades and a half), on January 30, 2018, they were briefly (until July 19, 2018) joined by two very interesting professionals: Mrs. Margaret Boswell, an attorney at the very prestigious international law firm Gide Loyrette Nouel (Paris and London offices)...

...and Ken Robertson, former Corporate Affairs Director at Diageo Whisky, a subsidiary of the international Diageo group, one of the major players on the world spirits' market:

The second company, Skosk Ltd, was incorporated in August 2021, in Perth, Scotland, its nature of business being listed as 'distilling, rectifying and blending of spirits', with the clear intention to align with the exacting criteria prescribed by the 2009 Scotch Whisky Regulations:

[ Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scotch_whisky - sorry, I don't have time to wax lyrical on this, and neither do you]

This time, we only meet again the two distillerettes, Gillanders and Medwick. Up until now, at least, nobody else (attorney, former sales executive, whisky expert) has joined the platoon - TBC? I would not speculate and leave all options open.

There is little to 0 transparency on Skosk's financial situation, at the moment and to be honest, it looks very much like S's co-star (hehe)'s Irish business venture...

... but I was a bit more lucky, and the numbers more chatty, as far as GD Spirits was concerned:

Paging all shipper chartered accountants out there, but to me, it doesn't look great, at the moment. Cash is ridiculous, the net worth is hemorrhaging and the current assets are negligible, compared to 2020, when I think they managed to secure one or two credit lines, but not nearly enough for what they needed. Just enough to pay themselves and their external consultants and cover the operating costs, if you ask me.

The revised Planning Statement, of 8 February 2024, posted first by Marple, echoes my initial guess (COVID blew it up, see link to the first post) and the above assessment:

Mark this: 'Discussions are now proceeding with investors and there is a realistic prospect that work will begin in the near future (2024/2025) to implement the permission.' Given that they will start with the road and parking rehabilitation and upgrading, probably overlapping with the distillery building, it would make sense to begin this autumn at the earliest, with the most urgent: access to the site itself.

The initial Planning Statement, dated 9 July 2020 and re-posted on March 21st, 2024, tells a more detailed story. This is part and parcel of the current project as well, since the revision is just pointing out the changes operated, not the entire rest, which remains unchanged. You be the judge:

Also keep in mind this tiny, tiny thing: the Business Plan is 'submitted (...) under Private and Confidential Cover'. See where I am looking?

The initial plan was (and still is) for GD Spirits to produce their own booze, using Midhope's own barley (this is very important for the rest of my theory!). They even offer an overview of the real impact of their project on the local economy:

20 to 38 initial new job creations for a £ 15 to 30 million investment is not 'huge', madam Marple. Cumbernauld is huge. This? This is rather modest, if you ask me. But hey, what do I know about the labor market, right?

That initial Statement tells also the story they want to tell about the genesis of their idea, the scouting for the right location and a couple of other interesting details:

So they are telling us they started to look for the perfect location in 2018 and oh, hello, they found the Hopetoun Estate rather quickly, already starting the pre-planning application consultations as early as July 2019 (don't get me started, please):

If so, then why did they incorporate not one, but two different companies clearly linking them to the Estate (Hopetoun Estate Distillery Ltd and Hopetoun Estate Whiskies Ltd) the same day and as early as May 23rd 2017 (and both dissolved in December 2022), as my above penciled timeline (LOOOOOL) shows? Who is really behind this project and why this entire ballet? It's like me pre-emptively looking for rental properties in (let's randomly guess) Lisbon, when it's just wishful thinking, heavily projecting and with 0 guarantees I will be posted there, right? I mean, I adore and deeply know Lisbon and I would be thrilled to go there. But I am not currently looking for any rental property, just like that, because that would be a #silly, rookie mistake. In their case, I think there's a different situation - again, you be the judge.

A first answer, as to who is really behind that project, was given by the UK media, back in 2020:

How odd, when we know that both Mrs. Boswell, the well-traveled attorney and Mr. Robertson resigned from GD Spirits in July 2018. Do they still say hi to the two distillerettes? Do they quietly keep an eye on the project? Are they silent partners? Business angels? Shareholders? Time to remind you that under UK law, there is 0 visibility on the shareholder's structure of a company. You just see the officers (Director, Secretary, etc), on the Company House website. On an umpteenth, last- second cross-check, it became apparent that Mr. Robertson remained involved in another company of the distillerettes, Hopetoun Estate Whiskies Ltd (yes, the one mentioned above), until its voluntary strike-off, in December 2022.

Their best laid plans do mention OL, and how could it be otherwise? But all this £ 15 to 30 million hullaballoo for 20.000 people only (who counted them and how?), on a seasonal basis?

High-end restaurant, luxury B&B, event spaces, you name it. Interesting, to say the least.

And, for the people in the back, who still think SRH has a 100 years lease at Midhope (Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, the stupidity!):

This is why he commented as a 'member of the public'. At face value, there is no public involvement into that project. Yet. But it is my belief there is a vested interest in all this, justifying the comment, the visit, those papers rolled in his fist, etc. At first, I thought that was a visit to Lallybroch by the Exec Producer of OL's Season 8, to discuss technicalities - and shared that privately with a wonderful friend only. I mean, why not and still perfectly possible. But then, as I could not sleep tonight and felt guilty to have you all waiting, I started to connect some tiny dots.

Like this one, for a start:

Yes, I know, Marple told you that FIRST, I would not dare say otherwise, because if I did there would be a transcontinental screech. That trademark application was filed at the US Patent and Trade Office in September 2023 and I thought (and still partially do) it was a potential rebranding solution to The Sassenach's EUIPO nightmare (much exaggerated by the fandom's toothbrush experts):

But you also know I am an idiot and I always check people's CVs, when I follow a thread. This morning, the one Distillerette I am particularly interested in is Mrs. Julia Hall-Mackenzie-Gillanders (née Scales) and not like *urv would be.

Her LinkedIn profile is exceptionally talkative, too:

... and a BA (with Honors) in Fashion Design, class of 2005, at the Northumbria University.

The Financial Times article 'From packing boxes to wine deals worth millions', you can read on her LinkedIn page, tells a very interesting story. It is the story of a shy underdog (lots of temple bells clinging, at the moment), who made it by sheer persistence. It starts like this:

'When a painfully shy young woman contacted a fine wine merchant and said ' I have no qualifications- can I help?', she got the job and today is signing deals worth millions of pounds.'

It obviously did ring a bell and if SRH knows she exists (she is married, *urv!), and I dare to speculate he does, it must have struck a deep chord. Would I do business with her? I wouldn't speculate, although I am not very sure. Would he? He'd probably listen very carefully to what she has to pitch, for a start.

And what she has to pitch is also very interesting, in his world. A brief look at the Golden Decanters' website shows a first high-end single malt sourced collection of 4 exceptional expressions already sold out:

And when they mean high-end, they mean gold leaf labelling and all the tralala:

And, some last minute news, too:

Remind me, because I am an old woman, after this white night: wasn't The Sassenach (no comment, we agree to disagree and I am very skeptical), a blend?

We have these dots, then:

Bold Underdog ->spirits business->high-end collection of single malts sold out->business partnership with owners of Midhope Castle, fictional Lallybroch in OL, including a distillery and whisky production with Midhope/Lallybroch barley -> visit by the male lead and spirits entrepreneur (also the fictional Lallybroch laird) to Midhope/Lallybroch and vested interest in the estate's most recent business project....

What if The Sassenach would be included, for a start, in that new Blended Collection? And could it really be fanfic to imagine a future high-end, limited edition, Lallybroch whisky produced at Midhope, with Midhope/Lallybroch barley? It wouldn't be the first time, would it: after all, they did it with that limited tequila batch.

As I said, because I am (remember Someone? LOL) a 'silly cow', I was hoping he wouldn't do it. But my guess is he might very well do exactly that, with those people and under that label.

It's half past eight AM, local time and I need a strong, black coffee.

I rest my case (and I am bracing myself for the screeching). I will answer Anons later, after I come back from the hairdresser's. Appointments must be kept at all costs. Thank you all for your patience.

#boozewars #business #fandom #shitshow

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