#keeping up with the warleggans

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @lazysaturdayonthebeach based on this photoset.

DarkHawk, T

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3.

I Will Always Choose You

—

Cornwallis surrendered and the war was over.  But that wasn’t good enough for George Warleggan, who lost several ships to the guns of the American Navy.  He wanted personal revenge and looked for it by constantly questioning the motives of Ross Poldark’s frequent American visitor.

“I was born and raised in Bristol,”  Jim replied when George started harassing him about his relationship with Ross one evening during a fete at Trenwith.  “My mother still owns an inn there.  I lived in South Carolina but I was an Englishman, like most Americans.  What are you suggesting?  You don’t agree with the King’s decisions?”

The bully was defeated for the evening and hated Jim and Ross all the more for it.  No one could explain his constant anger with Ross.  He had been at it since school and Ross was bored with his ill manners, but refused to engage.

Jim, on the other hand, was exceedingly annoyed and not afraid to point out George’s flaws.

One night, the reason became obvious.  An unusually drunken George accosted Ross in a water closet and tried to kiss him.  Ross just pushed him off and called a servant to take care of George.

A few hours later, George was slightly more sober but tried the same thing with Jim.  Unfortunately, Ross spotted him following Jim.  He yanked George off and threw him across the room.  Only Jim’s quick reaction saved the Warleggan fool from a potentially fatal tumble down the stairs.  Everyone saw and George was humiliated.

In revenge, he began suggesting that Ross’ relationship with the sailor was inappropriate.  Despite several men of rank pointing out that George himself had several men that visited more often and more regularly, he would not let it go.  

George’s Uncle Cary had the gall to mention it to Jim several months later on his next visit.

Jim had had enough.  During his next voyage, he made arrangements to spirit Ross away to America where Warleggan had no influence.  Jim might have only built his company back to three ships, but those ships provided him ample income and good standing in his community.  Ross would be safe with him.

When word came from Trenwith that Ross had threatened George and the Warleggans were pushing for charges, Jim was in Bristol securing contacts.  He left everything in the capable hands of his senior captain and raced to Nampara on a borrowed horse.

Ross was drunk.  Jim stormed in and started packing for him.  He plied Ross with kisses and more drink until he was completely willing to do as he was asked.  Jim threw the bags over Seamus’ back and pulled Ross up behind him on the borrowed horse.  They were sailing for America on the tide, Seamus included.

They fought most of the voyage.  More than once, Jim threatened to have Ross keelhauled if he didn’t sober up and think straight.  He never would, but the arguments were ugly.  Jim was mad at himself, which did not help, sure that they should have left long ago.

Anchored off Barbados for deliveries, trading, and shore leave, the Eagle rocked gently.  Jim napped in a hammock in the rigging.  They had fought again the night before and he was avoiding Ross.

“I’m sober and I made coffee,” Jim heard shouted from the deck, “Please come down and talk to me.”

Well, that was a change, and an improvement.

Jim slid down a nearby rope and stood, arms crossed, staring at the infuriating love of his life.  “What?”

Ross held out the coffee cup and waited.

Jim took a deep drink and sighed, happily satisfied.  “This is good.  Did you make it?  Cook’s coffee isn’t this good.”

Ross smiled, relieved, “I did.  And I may have bribed Jonah to bring fresh eggs, bread, and ham so I could make your favorite breakfast.”

Jim smiled too.  He was so tired of arguing.  All he wanted was to keep Ross alive and safe.  Maybe he didn’t do the best job, but here they were, far from England, and no more Warleggan threat.

“I’m sorry,” Ross said quietly, “I can’t imagine how panicked you must have been.”  He put a tentative arm around Jim and was accepted.  “Can we go eat and talk?”

Talking lasted hours.  Cook left dinner outside their door, knocked, and disappeared.  Jim brought it in, wrapped in only a blanket.  Ross lay across the bed, barely covered, exhausted, and utterly satisfied.  Jim plopped the tray on the bed and stroked Ross’ sweaty curls off his forehead.

Ross smiled up at him, rousing to the smell of stew and biscuits.  “Why are you here?  I mean, I’ve been such an idiot.  Why are you still here?”

Sighing softly, Jim replied, “To save souls.  I thought you understood.”

A tear slipped down Ross’ cheek, “Will you save mine?  I thought you doubted my feelings.”

Another deep sigh, Jim did that a lot since leaving Bristol, “That remains to be seen.  I’m trying.  And I did doubt, but that didn’t change how I feel.”

The journey from Barbados up through Eastern Caribbean islands, required more layers each day.  They had smooth sailing, good weather, excellent trading, and not a single sighting of English colors, but the cool fall weather made itself felt.  By the time the moored in Charleston, an unusually early snow dusted the ground and Christmas was only weeks away.  Ross watched proudly as Jim made sure each crewman was well paid and given time to spend the holidays with their families.

Taking his own advice, Jim took his family, Ross and Jonah, to celebrate Ross’ first Christmas in America at Jim’s farm near Camden.  The fields were bare after harvest, covered by a layer of white, but the farm was far from barren and quiet.  Jonah’s children, and the children of several retired sailors, ran around laughing and making snow angels.   

Ross laughed too, jumping down from Seamus and grabbing snow.  He quickly formed a snowball and targeted Jim.  Soon, they were barricaded behind a trough and a fence and joined by the children in a massive snowball fight.  Adults stopped their work and came out to watch the chaos.  Life was always interesting when Jim was home.

They spent Christmas surrounded by people who loved them and festive celebration.  Ross thought it was his best Christmas ever and he hoped for many more together.  After a huge meal of roast turkey, something Ross had never eaten before but loved, mashed potatoes, corn, carrots, and fresh baked bread, he slipped into a stupor of fullness and contentment in Jim’s favorite overstuffed chair.  Jim locked the door to his study and squeezed himself in next to Ross.

Several hours later, Jim awoke to a nervous Ross kneeling beside the chair.  He held a small velvet bag in his hand and puffed his cheeks on a few exhales.  Jim reached out and stroked his cheek.  “You okay?”

“Uhh…” Ross began, “I got you something.”  He puffed again, clearly nervous.  He opened the bag and took out a ring that matched his own, except that it was engraved with an H instead of a P on the signet.  “I can’t marry you.  I wish I could.  I’m not even sure I can express exactly how I feel…”

Jim closed both his hands around Ross’ clenched fingers.

“It’s made with a nugget of Wheal Grace copper that I’ve carried around in honor of my parents and for luck.”

“You gave that up for me?”

“I gave up everything for you.  At least, that’s how I felt.  That’s why I was so angry and distraught.  I didn’t feel like it was my decision.”

Jim dropped his hands and sat back.

“But it was.  I was just slow to understand.”  Ross reached out and took Jim’s hand.  “I could have left at any port and gotten a letter of credit and passage back to England.”  He paused and took a deep breath.  “But I didn’t because I chose you.  I chose you over everyone and everything I’ve ever known.”

Jim leaned back into Ross’ space.

“Remember when we talked about you saving my soul?  You saved it.  You saved me.  I haven’t had a nightmare about the war, or the Warleggans, or even worried about my family since before Barbados.”  He leaned even closer and touched his forehead to Jim’s hand.

Jim used his other hand to nudge Ross under the chin until they were looking in each other’s eyes again.  “I will always choose you.  Always.”

Ross slipped the ring on Jim and kissed him.

That was the best, but not last, present that Christmas.  On Boxing Day, a messenger arrived from Jim’s lawyer in Charleston.  He carried news of the tin strike at Wheal Leisure, along with a substantial letter of credit for the first year’s profits.  They purchased a whole side of beef from the butcher in the town and had another feast the next day.  Later, they purchased interests in several new railway companies with the mining profits, with the intent to expand Jim’s, their, shipping company.

They could have spent the rest of their lives as gentlemen of leisure, but a former British Army Captain and a former cabin boy turned ship owner weren’t ready to be idle.  So they spent summers sailing and winters riding the rails to see the expanding American frontier.  But they always returned to the farm for Christmas.

[thoughtsonpoldark]

Thank you for your essays on the Poldark saga. I have gained so much understanding. I have always believed that when Elizabeth and Ross met at the churchyard by her springing on Ross that George doesn't believe Valentine is his child" then by her words "I cannot say" " I will not say" she was admitting Ross was father. Why the need to tell him if it was not true? She hated Ross at that time.And to tell him this!? I believe she had the knowledge of her menses to know when they stopped that she was pregnant and who the fathet was(sex on May 9th, married on June 20th, baby Feb 14). Demelza knew because of Verity s letter. Didn't show to Ross, she had thoughts of her own on the letter and later "they were all so wrong". What do you think? How much did Demelza guess? She could count if no one else could-Aunt Agatha? How much did she know. She was smart and I believe she knew child was definitely full term. Then...What was Ross’s responsibility? Could he have been involved in Valentine's childhood? I don't see how. George and Ross hated each other. Years later a conversation between Verity and Ross talking of Valentine and Verity saying when Valentine small he looked like Ross now he looks, acts like Joshua. I think Verity fishing for the truth, trying to get Ross to admit and he will not. Your thoughts?

Hi there. Thanks for your ask and your kind words.

On the issue of Valentine’s paternity, for some reason Winston Graham chose not to be explicit in narration about whether all the key characters you mentioned including Elizabeth, Demelza, Ross, Verity and Agatha knew about Valentine’s true paternity, and if they did, then when they had this realisation. However he gave us enough information for us to be surer with regards to Elizabeth and then indications which were suggestive for the others.   

Did Elizabeth know Valentine was Ross's baby?

Like you I think it is clear that Elizabeth did know that Valentine was not George’s child when she married him. Ironically the postponement of her intended wedding day (at her request) will have provided her enough time to have missed a menses and to then realise she might be pregnant following Ross’s visit. This is especially as Elizabeth did tell Dr Anselm that her menses were regular. Her comment “I cannot say" and " I will not say" was in keeping with Elizabeth’s way of words when trying to avoid an outright lie while also not giving away the real truth either. Like you said this only serves as an admission because if he was not the father she would have happily confirmed that.

I think it is understandable that in the heat of the moment with pent up anger over three years for the possible destruction of her marriage, that she would let it slip when finally faced with the man who she felt was responsible for it. Winston Graham conveyed that feeling when he wrote “He seemed at that moment the cause, the fount, the initiator of all her present and past miseries.’ Most people who see someone who has hurt and damaged them and see that they appear to be living their life unaware of the hurt they have caused them will want to give them an indication of this. Once Elizabeth said a bit and Ross prodded her as to the exact problem, I think she couldn’t help but say the true issue was a suspicion on paternity.

When did Demelza realise Valentine was Ross's baby?

So there is no clear indication of the point where Demelza knew about Valentine’s paternity but it made clearer that she knew in the later books when Valentine is older and encroaching on the Poldark’s life. I cannot read much into Demelza’s response and thoughts to Verity’s letter in Warleggan with the gossip that Elizabeth might be pregnant. This is because although Demelza’s sharp intelligences and her natural pessimism around Ross and Elizabeth will have meant her thinking it was a possibility that this was Ross’s child, Winston Graham is not clear on the specifics of Demelza’s reflections on it, which part/s this related to and if she withheld the letter from Ross to avoid him being wound up about the wedding in general or because of the pregnancy gossip. Though George confirmed Elizabeth’s pregnancy to Ross it is not clear if this was confirmed to Demelza by the time she thought back on Verity’s letter when she nearly ran out and left Ross at the last scenes. The other thing is that Winston Graham wrote this book thinking it was the last and also that it had a happy ending. 20 years later he decided to continue the saga and it seemed he then developed the idea about Valentine’s paternity being some key point of conflict and tension to build a new book and storylines around. I think it is less likely he had thought of this beforehand for a book he was closing happily ended and where he made no obvious suggestion of a paternity issue. For instance towards the end he covered Elizabeth’s reflections on her marriage. She was 7 months pregnant by then. Despite being heavily pregnant at the time, not only did he not cover her reflections or hints that she thought she was pregnant with Ross’s child or unsure about this, he did not mention her feelings at all about her pregnancy. That suggests to me it was not a solid concept in his mind with any certainty. I am inclined to believe that Valentine being Ross's child was an idea Graham committed to when he reopened the saga and e started the next book.

Despite the above my view is that Winston Graham wrote with it in mind that Demelza did believe Valentine was Ross’s child from her first appearance in The Black Moon. That was in mid March of 1794 and Elizabeth had given birth two weeks before. Winston Graham specifically wrote that ‘The birth and christening of Valentine Warleggan was the latest thorn in the flesh. Neither said what was uppermost in their minds; it could never be uttered by anyone.’ By then Ross and Demelza had been reconciled for nearly three months and they had processed George and Elizabeth being married, which they had by then been for 9 months. Why would the birth of their first child concern them? I do think that this alludes to a feeling of discomfort about the timing and since Demelza was quite sharp minded she will surely have guessed about the paternity. This is because if Elizabeth got pregnant from her wedding night with George then their baby would not have been due until mid-late March. That would arose suspicion for Demelza. Then whafrom t are the chances of conception soon after marriage but particularly the wedding night. Using a conception date to birth date calculator the due date would be around 26th March if Elizabeth conceived on her wedding day. Valentine's birth on 14th Feb was perfectly in line with conception on 9th May when Ross took Elizabeth against her will.

Ross on paternity and duty to Valentine

You didn't ask about Ross's knowledge of Valentine's paternity before Elizabeth told him but I think it is relevant and also to the question of him taking responsibility and getting involved with Valentine's childhood. In response to Caroline’s letter in 'The Black Moon' about Valentine's Christening Winston Graham said Ross would have been glad not to have read it and that Caroline ‘…did not know half the story.’ I think that relates to him thinking how she did not know about 9th May. Between Ross and Demelza I think Ross subconsciously did not want to think further about paternity and you might have or will notice that whenever Valentine was mentioned to him before he met Elizabeth before she raised the parternity issue to him, he ignored the subject. For instance when his cousin St John at Ralph-Allen Daniell’s dinner party told him Elizabeth had fallen down the stairs while pregnant he asked Ross if he had said something in reply. He had not and Ross said ‘I said nothing.’  He then did not make any further comment or ask any clarifying question on what he was told. Also when he went with Caroline to see Agatha at Trenwith Caroline mentioned about being there for Valentine’s Christening and Winston Graham wrote  ‘Ross did not answer.’ So Winston Graham made a point of Ross swerving any talk of Valentine. I don’t think that was because he resented it as a child of George’s and Elizabeth’s but because of the fear it could be his.

Other than Ross’s initial exclamation of “Oh God. God in Heaven.” when Elizabeth told Ross of the basis to George’s suspicions about Valentine, I do not perceive that Ross was that shocked and I don’t think Demelza would have been either. In his later reflections it was worded that Ross was shocked and worried about George’s suspicions as if George being suspicious was the problem for him rather than the fact that he (Ross) might be Valentine’s father. I think that this is because at some conscious level he had already considered that a possibility and this was why he (and Demelza) did not want to say what was on their minds about Valentine after he was born. Ross stated to Elizabeth that he did not want a cuckoo in the nest and was keen on helping her kill George's suspicion. He avoided Valentine for years until teenage sought him out in the later books. It is clear from his angry reaction to John Treneglos who implied Valentine was his son in the later books that paramount for Ross was the embarrassment caused to Demelza but he also implied to Valentine that the suggestion Elizabeth had been with another man out of marriage would damage her reputation. Elizabeth also wanted Valentine to be believed as George's child and to get his inheritance from him. Ross taking responsibility for Valentine voluntarily as if he was accepting he was the father, would have sullied Elizabeth's name, hurt his own family and complicated inheritance issues. Ross only stepped in when Valentine was estranged from George and by force due to a heavy dose of guilt for how Valentine's life was going and even then he threatened Valentine not to repeat his suspicions that he was his father. Just like men were expected to be distress if they had a mistress, if Ross got involved with Valentine earlier it would have to have been discreet but it would have been very odd before George and Valentine were estranged since George was rich and there would be no need for Ross to be involved with Valentine in a kind of parental way.

Did Verity know of Valentine's true paternity?

I feel quite certain that Verity did not suspect Ross was Valentine’s father. She lived out of town for so long and would have had no idea of Ross possibly having had sex with Elizabeth and being unfaithful to Demelza who she was close with. She was too much of a sweetheart to taunt Ross in the way of making remarks to put him on the spot about paternity and to make him feel awkward or get him to admit he was the father of her sister in law. That would be quite an explosive thing which I think she would prefer to stay away from if she had suspected anything and respect his privacy unless perhaps she perceived it was the source of discontent in Ross. I think she made the comments because Valentine actually being Ross's child was the furthest thing from her mind and that Winston Graham just used Verity's innocent musings as a vehicle to put Ross in awkward situation of that paternity issue alongside the subplot of George having difficulties with Valentine and himself reflecting on the paternity issue. Verity just commenting on an observation that she had about Valentine's likeness to a family member in the Poldark line was a mirror of when Geoffrey Charles said out loud his thoughts that Valentine looked like Ross on his rocking horse. I see these incidents as devices by Graham to taunt Ross in the former occasion and George and Elizabeth in the latter occasion that Ross was the father. It was a interesting way to show the reader that this was not a dead or unforgotten issue and the secret was a dangerous one because Valentine’s Poldark traits were occasionally noticed by people who innocently commented on this while not having a clue that there might actually be a paternity issue with Valentine.

Did Agatha know that Valentine Was Ross's Child?

I don’t believe that Agatha knew Valentine’s true paternity. She would not have had any idea that Ross and Elizabeth slept together but the circumstances of Valentines birth on a black moon and premature did get her attention. In her argument with George before she died she was taking what I think were shots in the dark around the two elements of Valentine’s birth that were unique. For being under a black moon she could run the argument that this meant the child would be evil or ‘twisted’ as she said. Then the child being premature naturally would mean he could not be the father. That was an obvious taunt to make. I say that too was a shot in the dark because she even suggested Valentine was neither a seven month or eight month baby and she had seen 8 month newborns and that they did not look how Valentine did who she said was a full term child. However according to the enquiries George later made with Dr Behenna in the next book Agatha’s claims upon which she based this on were wrong. She said that unlike full term babies 8 month babies did not have nails, were wrinkled and red and did not have hair. Dr Behenna who said in his career he had delivered a considerable number of 6, 7 and 8 month babies denied each of those assertions were quite true. Hence Agatha was taking shots in the dark with this too in order to make him think Valentine was conceived before marriage. Also just before Agatha died she regretted what she said with Graham taking no opportunity to narrate clearly that nevertheless Agatha had revealed a long held suspicion that she had and believed was true. He just narrated her questioning ‘What she had said’ as if she knew it was crazy rather than and not meaning to injure Elizabeth.  I think that especially as she hated George all along, that if Agatha really believed what she said was actually true there would have been indications along the way or little under the breath jibs about him not being full term, rather than this outburst a year and half after Valentine was born.

[hms-tardimpala]

Ficbinding: A Poison Tree by @mildredmost

A year and a half ago (ish), I was getting started in bookbinding and one of my first projects was A Poison Tree, a Poldark fic I loved. I was proud of it at the time, but I've learned a lot since then and thought it was time to have another go at it. (long post ahead)

The fic: Poldark, Ross Poldark/George Warleggan, E, 50.6k

What happened between Ross and George at school that began their life-long feud?

The reason I like this fic so much is that it surprised me. I was looking for Ross/George fics and this is one, but not only. George's character is so well-explored here that you can't help but be on his side (while understanding why the things he does offend Ross) and wish him to be happy. I'm not usually into OCs, but the one in this story is so good I loved him as much as the other characters. I went in expecting something specific, the author went another way midway through, and I loved it. The atmosphere is perfect too, it's faithful to the time period and the show/books.

The bind: I kept some ideas from the original bind, such as the color of the cover, headbands and bookmark, and the paper type, but I improved the general quality and added details. I used blue and green because they're the Warleggans' heraldy's colors in the books. The endpaper is a florentine design with golden touches, the kind of luxurious-looking stuff a 1780s nouveau riche would love. I added the Blake poem the story takes its title from at the beginning because it's one of my favorite poems ever.

New things I tried:

This is the first time I combine several elements for a cover. The green strips scared me because MATHS but they turned out good in the end. I'm still not interested in putting titles on my binds, but I think I'll keep exploring decorations of that kind.

Real endpapers. Up until now, I used paper that wasn't made for bookbinding because the thinness of true endpapers scared me, but it holds up perfectly. The book still feels strudy. And look at it, it's so FANCY.

Free vector images to make decorations. There's a wealth of free resources out there!

Huge positives:

I printed, folded, sewed, glued and trimmed this a first time, but wasn't satisfied with the cut. If you've read more than one of these posts, you know I'm desperately wrangling my guillotine into compliance. The second time, I trimmed the texblock before sewing and gluing, which is scary because the signatures are LOOSE, but it worked perfectly. The result is so fucking neat. I was ready to sandpaper the edges but didn't have to.

Look at this snuggy fat boy. This is the thickest book I've made at the A6 format, and it sits very nicely in the hand. The spine is round, the leather is smooth, and it's still very light. A pretty baby.

Details:

The typesetting: I tried many fonts (what's new) before I landed on the right one. It had to have serifs to fit with the period context. I already mentioned the decorations (I looked up georgian-period books to get inspired and discovered they weren't all that decorated, so I made those up). The drop caps are very nice.

The tree: I decided to get the most out of my printer and, after fiddling with the settings a little, got it to print in color with magnificent quality (which you can't see because of the cold light. It's cloudy today, I'm sorry).

Negatives:

The cover boards should have been wider. The pages are very close to sticking out from the edge of the cover. They're not, but it's a tight fit. I think that from now on, I'll use a 5mm "overhang" (is that the word?) instead of a 3mm one like I've learned. I like my spines too round, 3mm are not enough to compensate.

That's it this time. I don't want to brag, but I'm getting good at this (it's been a year and a half jesus).

Characteristics: Fonts: Castellar (title), Colonna MT (author name), Bell MT (text), Apex Lake (drop caps) Materials: blue and green apple leather and endpapers from Schmedt, 80g/m² Clairefontaine ivory paper, pre-made headband and synthetic ribbon.

Feel free to ask me more about materialsand fonts (or whatever), it won’t bother me at all to tell you what I used, but I’m too lazy rn to write it in this post that’s long enough already.

--

Comparison (because why not):

[lumiereandcogsworth]

4, 7, 8 (😈), 17, aaaaaaaand 18 for adam !!!

would you believe i went off.

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in? oh i would simply loooove to write his backstory. i mean i already HAVE. but like, officially. i think it would honestly be best suited as a book, though it could be an exquisitely tragic little mini series too. one could absolutely make a whole show about his life in the prologue debauchery days, many people would eat that up. is that what the question is asking?? or is it like, putting him in an already EXISTING media? i just realized that could be what it means. if that’s the case, hmm. he’d fit in nicely in any number of period dramas, though poldark comes quickest to mind. he could be george warleggan’s slimy friend (WHO THEN FALLS IN LOVE WITH THE LOCAL BOOKWORM!!! (who would definitely be friends with demelza!!!)) but also modern au adam would absolutely SLAY in succession, oh my gosh.

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like? uhhh…. they make really incredible art of him, a lot of the time. very gorgeous, and i always love every different beast design !!! and also i mean, i guess i’m not the ONLY one who understands him well. but boy, we are few.

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise? hahaha. yeah. i truly don’t know which irritates me more but they kind of go hand in hand anyway. it’s a combination of people thinking he should have remained a beast, and people not calling him by his name. (you don’t have to use adam but my BROTHER, his name is not beast. OR PRINCE.) it’s just overall a HUGE lack of respect and regard for him as a character and his story in general. people somehow just… do not understand it. it’s shocking, really.

adam wasn’t rewarded for good behavior, nor was belle rewarded for loving a monster. that’s not the POINT. the POINT is that a LESSON IN VANITY HAD TO BE LEARNED. adam (who was born a human being, btw. he lived as a human being for many years. and he is. a human being. BY THE WAY.) was unkind and deeply self-centered. he was vain!! incredibly vain!! he judged people only by their outward appearance, and in turn, he only thought that he himself had value BASED on his outward appearance! that’s the only kind of approval that he sought after, because it’s how his father raised him to be! adam was never liked for who he was. from school bullies to his own father, he just couldn’t be himself. so he learned to wear masks, lots of masks. pretty masks! and he fell into a crowd that praised him for it, so he fell in deeper! he lived for vanity and material gain and NOTHING more!

so the enchantress decided to teach him a LESSON!!!!! “what if you were an ugly monster!! what if you had all your beauty, everything you hold dear in life, taken from you!! NOW try to be loved!! try to LOVE!!!” and so the curse was placed on him, and he became trapped in the beastly body, essentially like a prison. and well, against all odds, he beat it. despite his stubbornness and pride and self-loathing, he met the kindest, most understanding person, who looked not with the eyes, but with the mind, and he fell in love. and she fell in love with him! not with his appearance, not because she pitied him, but because she fell in love with his mind! his heart! his TRUE self!! finally all the masks had fallen off, for both of them, and they were able to just BE themselves. and it turned out that was precisely who they needed to be to fall in love.

so, adam beat the curse, and the enchantress kept her word. there was love found in his heart, and in belle’s, so she tore him from his prison, and restored him to his true form, free to live a second chance at life! it’s such a beautiful story. which is why it is so utterly, deeply infuriating when people think it’s fun to keep him as a beast forever, even remaining with belle. it really and truly falls so far from canon and the point of the story that i would so dearly love to take it away from so many people :) but alas, i cannot. all i can do is speak the TRUTH. anyway, yeah that’s pretty annoying to me :]

17. What's a ship for this character you don't hate but it's not your favorite that you're fine with? hmmm idk. i don’t really like shipping him with anyone else in canon, none of those make any sense to me. i don’t at all mind when people ship his prologue self with OCs or other characters, because it’s like. yeah. the way he lived? possibilities are pretty much endless, lmao. but once he meets belle, sorry y’all, he literally has tunnel vision. eyes only for his one true love <3

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire? HMMMM!!!!!!!! I JUST!!!!!!!

I JUST CANT THINK OF ANY!!!!!!!!!!

THIS IS SO HARD LIKE I WONDER

IF ONLY THERE WAS A PERFECT PERSON FOR HIM

IF ONLY HE HAD SOME MAGNIFICENT SOULMATE

TO BE BEST FRIENDS IN LOVE WITH

TO MARRY AND HAVE CHILDREN WITH

TO DANCE AND LAUGH AND GROW OLD WITH

OH IF ONLY IF ONLY!!!!!!! :)))))

character asks!

[harry-leroy]

George Warleggan in Series 5 of Poldark (2019) 

[lashbrook11]

@upstartpoodle @forcebros @ticketybooser @harry-leroy

Ok Poldark fans, answer me this: is Cary Warleggan gay? He’s rich and fairly good looking for a man his age, yet he’s single. I understand that he grew up in the lower classes, being the son of a blacksmith,and would be expected to marry someone from the upper classes because of his new found wealth. It may not be appealing to most, but a woman from a family with plenty of titles but cash poor would do, as would a widow left penniless after her husband’s death. Is he just a misogynist, and doesn’t want any females in his life? I can’t remember the earlier seasons of the show that well. Was it ever talked about, him being with a woman in the past or present? What about female prostitutes. Was anything mentioned in the books? What about any hints he liked men over women? Also how was he described in the books as far as looks go? Is he prettier on the show? I personally don’t think he’s gay. I think he’s just a woman hater. I think he probably visits a brothel to satisfy his sexual needs. What do the books say and what do YOU think? And go...

[tiffanyachings]

#i’d like to thank god, the writers and above all verity blamey

[siiinfilled]

for @kingdom-of-vanity​’s george w from natalie verse: main

“He’s so tiny,” she whispered, finding herself incapable of looking away from the baby in her arms. Valentine was her first child, and she loved him fiercely. Natalie could sense George close by, but she wanted to keep staring at their boy, who had a tuft of dark hair on the top of his head and the Warleggan profile. He might not resemble George to a T, but there were enough of the family features there to prove whose son he was. Valentine slept peacefully, his tiny head resting over her breast where he’d just suckled, and only then did she look over at her husband. Her mind returned to the night she returned to him being in a crazed state, and she shuddered to think what might have happened if she hadn’t gone home when she did. He wouldn’t be there to see their son born, and he might not have recognized her at all. Pushing those memories to the back of her mind, Natalie held her other hand out for him, smiling up at George. “Are you imagining him as a banker, my love? Or will he be in charge of the mines when he’s older?” The baptism was in a few days, long enough for her to fully recover from the birth. Social events still made her feel a little iffy, but with George close by, she always managed to get through them.

[nervousladytraveler]

end of year WIP meme!

Am I too late to ask? 👀 thanks so much!

Thanks @osmarinamo for the ask.

This bit is from another modern Poldark AU. Untitled. Unfinished. A conversation long overdue--but is it too late? ---

“Fancy a drink?” she called.  

Ross turned at the sound of Demelza’s bright voice and even from a distance he could see she was smiling. A nervous smile maybe, but sincere. She’d always been honest with him.

“Yes, I would,” he exhaled, half laugh, half relief. He took a few slippery steps towards her and purposely didn’t look at his watch. This was more important than any errands.

“I'm sorry I couldn't resist asking. “ she said as he approached. “Maybe I should have left things. I mean, we had our polite ‘catch up’ conversation over coffee so then aren’t we supposed to just go our separate ways now? It was a nice crisp ending wasn't it?”

“But it wasn't an ending,” he said. He felt drunk already.

“You’re right, Ross. I walked about five yards and knew I wanted to keep talking to you,” she said. “But I don’t want more coffee.”

“Me too.”

“Um...I think there’s a pub right up here. Unless you’ve a favourite…?”

“No. That sounds perfect,” he said. “Let’s go.”

The pavement ahead was icier still. He longed to take her arm, but didn’t dare.

----

“Cheers! Here’s to old friends,” he said and handed her a glass.”You are one of my oldest friends, you know.”

“Oh Ross, I was so young!” She shook her head and laughed lightly.

“You always had such a mature sense about you,” he countered.

“But I've gotten older, so much since then…”

“You don't look like an old lady,” he teased.

“That's not what I meant,” she seemed flustered for a moment then allowed herself to laugh at his joke.

“I know,” he said and suddenly grew more serious. “But just because you were young doesn't mean it wasn’t important.”

“I know, Ross.”

“And just because you were young doesn't mean it wasn't real.”

“That I really know,” she smiled softly.

“Even if we’d supped at other tables,” he continued.

“That wasn't the furniture I'd call to mind…” The tip of her tongue peeked through her open lips. Now it was her turn to tease.

“I meant, Demelza, that I know I wasn’t your first.”

“You were my first love, Ross.That's something else entirely.”

Now Ross did look at his watch. It has taken them less than five minutes to arrive at this conversation. Eight years and five minutes.

“I know.” He took a drink for courage. “Ha... Here I am hoping you never got over your first love while in order for this...conversation to continue it’s important I got over mine. And if I tell you I did, will you believe me?”

“I'm assuming you did. I mean you're not with her now, Ross. How is Elizabeth Warleggan?” She drew out the last name as if it was something distasteful. It was.

“She's well. From what Verity reports now and then,” he said. “We don’t talk anymore.”

“Ever?” She seemed surprised.

“No.There isn’t anything left to say, really.”

“Were you disappointed to learn Valentine isn't your son?” she asked.

“Demelza…” He didn’t know what to say now that wouldn’t derail this conversation straightaway.

“Sorry--I just thought…” She shrugged her shoulders as if to say she’d change the subject if that’s what was warranted. They had gone too deep, too fast.  Perhaps they needed to get back to exchanging shallow pleasantries.

Damn that.

“No, Demelza...you are the only one who has asked me how I felt. And no, I'm not sorry,” he said and tried his best to catch her eye so he could look straight at her. She bit her lip uncomfortably but nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“It would have made things complicated for all of them if I were his father,” Ross went on. “George would have rejected him outright--how would he thrive in such a household? And then Elizabeth’s dream life--marriage, house, car-- would most likely end.”

“Did George ever know there was a doubt?” she asked.

“No.”

“Oh that's awkward since I knew,” she sputtered.

“I always tried to be honest with you,” he said.

And when I failed it had been spectacular.

“So you did, Ross.” She took a long draught from her glass and looked at the table for a moment.

“Of course I would have done what I could if he were my child…” He thought that was important to say, but maybe he should just leave this topic altogether.

“What if she hadn't wanted it? What if she wanted to keep it a secret and shut you out? How much would you have fought?”

“Good question “ He shook his head and smiled, impressed by her thinking. Oh, she did know him well! “Then George would have to become involved and I think if I did insist the fight would take on a life of its own and it would no longer be about the boy but the territory.”

“But he does look a lot like you--I saw him last week. In the shops with his nanny, I guess she was. You sure Elizabeth wasn’t lying to you?“

“Yes, I saw the actual test results. But the real reason I’m not sad is that I wouldn't want to co parent with Elizabeth…”

“Co parent? Listen to you!” she laughed.

“I’ve learned a lot in eight years, Demelza.”

“Of course you have. I’m sorry...you were saying?” She looked at him again, earnestly.

“No need. I was saying Elizabeth doesn't have the same outlook, the same priorities as I do…”

“Turns out that’s important,” she said. “You look like you could use another, Ross.”

“I am driving so I shouldn’t have too many,” he said, wishing it weren’t so.

“It’s Christmas...almost anyway. Christmas Eve-eve. Have another and if it is too much we can get a cab,” she coaxed. “Two cabs, two cabs to two separate locations,” she added quickly.

“Allow me…” he said. But instead of rising to his feet he found himself staring at her, watching her lashes blink and her tongue lick the remaining drops of drink from her lips. Then she laughed, tilting her head to the side and exposing her long neck.

It wasn’t arousal that he felt but the ache of loss and loneliness. And love. It was still there--it had never left him. He knew it--but did she?

She reached to hand him her empty glass and her fingers brushed against his. He didn’t pull away and neither did she. Instead she covered his hand entirely with her own.

She’d made the first move.

He needed no further coaxing and interlaced his fingers in hers.

[thatoneguitargirl]

𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘴 | geoffrey charles poldark x sister!reader

headcanons about being geoffrey charles’ twin sister (tw: this is so fucking sad)

my masterlist

»»————-　　————-««

immediately after being born you two were the love of elizabeth and francis’ lives

francis took a liking to you more (always wanting a girl)

and you really helped bring him back home

helped him escape from all the prostitutes and gambling

the four of you were a really happy family

you and geoffrey charles played together in the yard

and we’re often scolded for being to rowdy

agatha wanted you to be just like her

even teaching you to read tarot from a very young age

also don’t forget about how kind ross was once your families were mended

the poldarks were finally free from hardship

until tragedy struck

and francis drowned

after news broke, you cried for months in your room

not letting anyone in except geoffrey charles and elizabeth on occasion

your mom promptly remarried george warleggan

he hated both you and geoffrey charles

always talking about your last name like it was disgusting

but you and geoffrey learned to be proud of it

“WE’RE CHANGING OUR MIDDLE NAMES TO FRANCIS”

your mother didn’t do much to discourage george so you found much comfort in nampara

and in little valentine

you knew he was a warleggan but you couldn’t help but love him

you carried him around as if he were your own son

and soon enough

it was time for geoffrey charles to start school

morwenna was hired as a governess

teaching geoffrey charles about math and you about how to be ladylike

as if anyone could do that

the three of you frequented nampara beach

where you and your brother would become matchmakers for morwenna and drake

purposefully bumping them into each other

“Wenna, you really must be less clumsy! Drake won’t always be here to catch your fall!”

come nightfall, you and your sibling would sit in each others’ rooms and share stories

talking about what you would do when you grow up

listening to the frogs a certain lovesick puppy put in the pond

your brother telling you that you’d never leave trenwith

that’d you’d stay here together forever

at least until george sent him to school

far far away

farther than you’ve ever been from him

you wrote him every day

but the only things that gave you solace were agatha and valentine

elizabeth did much less for you now

and your love for her seemed to lessen by the day

no doubt george was the cause

you spent your days reading books to your younger brother

and hearing old stories from your great aunt

soon, her “100th” birthday came around

but george being the ass he is cancelled it

and she died

you become utterly and completely depressed

accelerated by the fact that george moved you to truro…

this broke you like never before

everything is changing

and you’re but a teenager

to have your father, brother, aunt, and home stripped away was more than you could bear

upon moving, elizabeth paraded you around like a prize

though you were never in a mood for parties

no matter the endless streams of boys who danced with you

you just wanted your family back

and for everything to be like it was

even just one year ago

so you went through the motions

trying to best to keep up appearances

for the sake of the family

but only one person knew how much you were hurting

no, not elizabeth

not valentine

not ross

and definitely not george

it was the one person you could always trust

geoffrey charles poldark

and if anyone besides him saw your letters

they might die from a broken heart on the spot

[romantic-hero]

The Night Ross Went To Elizabeth

Warning if you hate the idea of Ross and Elizabeth, scroll on by. Ross repeatedly asks Elizabeth if she wants him to continue. If spanking is a trigger, scroll on by. I hope the keep reading break works.....If not, don’t look!

When Ross read the note from Elizabeth, all he could see was red. The fury was all consuming. He could see that Demelza was speaking, but he could not hear the words. She was an impediment that he had to get past, and later when he thought about that night, he was ashamed he had pushed her out of his way.

Ross didn’t remember the ride to Trenwith. The next thing he remembered was kicking in the front door and making his way upstairs. And then there was  Elizabeth, her long hair brushed and brilliant in the candle light. He had never seen her in nightclothes before, and even though they were arguing, part of his mind was preoccupied with taking her. It had been hard enough to know Francis had stolen what he had always felt was his, but he’d be damned if he gave her up to George Warleggan.  

When she spat at him that she loved George to distraction, the red anger turned to black and he roughly pulled Elizabeth and found her mouth and started kissing her. He was furious. Here he was finally kissing the woman he thought he loved and his kisses were harsh. His lips were bruising her’s and he forced his tongue past her mouth, but he felt her yield and she returned his kisses just as forcefully.

Ross picked Elizabeth up and threw her on the bed. Though she was protesting,  she laid back against the pillows, if she hadn’t wanted him, she could have screamed.  She could have hit him, but instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him kiss her. Ross was more tempestuous than he meant to be and pulled back. He licked his lips and kissed her again. He tentatively ran his tongue over her  lips, and when she didn’t protest, he put his tongue fully in her mouth.  Elizabeth instantly responded kissing him back. She didn’t stop him when he pulled her nightdress off. At last, after years of dreaming, her body was his.  

Her breasts were milky white and her nipples were large and deep pink. He started to massage both breasts. Then he sucked one nipple and then the other. He’d never heard Elizabeth moan in ecstasy before. “Elizabeth! Do you like this? “

“Oh, Ross. Please don’t stop.” Elizabeth tangled her fingers in his hair and arched her back.  Ross licked one nipple, then blew on it.  It tightened into a point and he gently took it between his teeth, before turning his head and kissing her other nipple. Then while he still squeezed her breasts he started kissing her belly. He took his hands and pushed her knees apart.

A bower of dark curls crowned her womanhood. Without thinking he kissed her between the legs.  

“Ross, stop! You mustn’t do that!” She was yanking his hair and he took both of her hands in one of his and held her arms behind her head.

“Why, Elizabeth? Didn’t your husband ever kiss you there? Taste your honey?” He growled and bit her neck and was pleased her hips bucked up.

“I..I n-never let him.”  

“Then you will let me.  If you don’t keep your legs apart Elizabeth, you will be sorry.” Ross stroked her cunny. It was wet and and her knees fell open. He took his fingers and opened her gash. “You’re beautiful, Elizabeth.” And he stoked her with his fingers before lowering his mouth and covering her mound completely. His tongue found that little nub of pleasure and he circled it gently until Elizabeth was crying his name over and over. He knew she’d never had any release if this was the first time her flower had been tasted. He would be the first to pleasure her completely. And for the rest of her life she’d think of Ross Poldark every time George made love to her.

“Do you like this, Elizabeth? Should I stop now?”  His cock was rock hard and he had to take his clothes off.

He stood beside the bed and undressed. Elizabeth was heaving.  She looked at his cock, standing at attention. She didn’t know it but she was licking her lips. “I like it, Ross. I like it very much.”

“I am glad.” He got back in the bed and knelt between her legs. Again he he ran his fingers up and down her dripping slit. When he felt that little bud harden he rolled her over on her stomach. He straddled her hips and rubbed her shoulders. He kissed her neck and worked down to her buttocks.  He squeezed her cheeks and kissed her soft skin. He lightly ran his fingers over her bottom. And then his mind went red again.

“Elizabeth, You deserve a good spanking.  You lied to me. You married my cousin and now you want to marry my greatest enemy. “ Ross got up and sat on the side of the bed. “Come here. “ He knew he was being unreasonable. He pulled Elizabeth over his lap and he held her legs down with one of his. His cock was hard and stood erect between his belly and the side of Elizabeth’s breasts. Her ass looked ripe. He bet in her life it had never been struck. And now he would make her beg for him. To strum her after. Margaret had  taught him that a little spanking made a lady’s bits tingle and want more.

Elizabeth was unnaturally calm and didn’t squirm or protest. Ross caressed her gorgeous derriere.  He spread her cheeks and her hips raised as she gasped. Then without warning, he spanked first one cheek and then the other. Twice. Then he lightly ran his fingers over the slight redness.

“Should I stop, Elizabeth?” he asked as he put his finger in her vale, surprised at the amount of jelly he found.

“No, Ross. I think you should spank me hard.” She looked at him, her eyes glowing. “Shall I get my brush?”

Ross held her arm and helped her get to her feet. She glided to her dressing table and returned with the brush and handed it to him. “Kneel on the bed,” he told her and Elizabeth obeyed. Put your face down and he pulled her hips until her ass was in the air.  Again the sight of her bower was too much to resist and Ross dipped his fingers in.  Then he spanked her. Slowly, one side and then the other. When her posterior was bright red, he threw the brush across the room and picked her up in his arms. He placed her in the bed and wordlessly she spread her legs. Again he could tell she was shocked but he knew unless he worshiped her alter with his tongue, he would not be satisfied.

Ross licked her center of attraction and when he again found that secret little bud, he circled it with the tip of his tongue until he thought Elizabeth might pull all of his hair out.  “Should I stop, Elizabeth?”

Her breath was ragged. “Oh my god, no!” And he again slurped and licked and finally her whole body quivered and her bower pulsated and she let go in his mouth.

“Ross what happened?” She lay back panting.

“That is what pleasure is, Elizabeth.” His cock was ready he stroked it and said rather primly, “May I plow the field?” To his surprise Elizabeth took him in hand and guided him to her sugar-hole.

He was finally balls deep in the place he’d dreamed of since he’d gone to America. Elizabeth wrapped her legs around his waist. They didn’t kiss or talk but Ross rode her hard and long until at last he filled her kitty with his cream.

In exhaustion they fell asleep. The sun woke Ross. He jumped out of bed. His head was clear. Clear at last to know he had committed the worse mistake of his life.  He couldn’t look at Elizabeth and could hardly answer her questions. He vaguely promised to come back and talk but at that instant he realized his heart belonged to only one.  

He couldn’t kiss Elizabeth. He just hurried down the stairs and thanked God the horse hadn’t wandered off. He flew along the coast path to Nampara and he had never been more frightened in his life by anything as he was by the sight of Demelza hanging the laundry in the courtyard, her face  as thunderous as any storm that had ever  battered Cornwall. Ross had no idea what his punishment would be, but he had no doubt he deserved every thing that was to befall him for his idiocy.

[upstartpoodle]

👀👀 :D

Thanks for the ask! This first one’s from my vampire couple AU, some various bits and bobs of which can be found here.

“You shouldn’t be so close to the window at sunrise, sir,” came a voice from behind him, familiar enough that, though he stirred at the sound of it, he did not turn around to greet the intruder into his solitude. “The light will burn you if you aren’t careful.”

“I am always careful, Tankard" he returned dully, barely twitching as he saw the man in question come to stand at his side through the corner of his eye. Mr Tankard, his attorney, looked the same as ever – dressed from head to toe in black, skin white as a sheet against his dark hair and eyes, unblinking and intense as they ever were. His words did little to reassure the other man, however, and with a short, sharp sigh, George reached over and pointedly pulled the drapes fully together so that no light could pass through them at all. In response, Tankard sent him a small nod and offered him one of the two glasses clasped in his bony hands, filled with a viscous red liquid which George could tell from the smell was not wine.

“With the compliments of Tom Harry.”

George raised an eyebrow at him, lips pinched in a thin line. He did not take the offered glass.

“That is human blood,” he said, his tone stern. “What has he done this time?”

Tankard had the grace to look a little sheepish.

“A gang of men attempted to rob and murder him on the road,” he said. “Completely ineffective, of course, but...well, we are both well acquainted with Tom and his...temper. He got a little carried away.”

George’s eyebrows travelled even further up his forehead.

“And his intentions in presenting us with this...essence of unwashed brigand was meant to achieve what, exactly?”

“Perhaps he didn’t want to waste a good meal?” replied Tankard with a shrug, making no move to withdraw the offer. George snorted decisively.

“I’m not sure I would describe it as ‘good,'" he retorted, his tone scathing, but nevertheless he plucked the glass from his hand and took a reluctant sip. He forced down a shudder as the coppery tang hit his tongue – no matter how many centuries passed, there would always be a small part of him that would be repulsed by this.

“It is human, sir,” Tankard pointed out carefully – he was, after all, well-acquainted with his employer's slight squeamishness in that regard, no matter what benefits human blood offered to their kind over animal. “And it is a long time since you last fed. Or, for that matter, rested.”

“I have no need of rest,” George replied with a frown; he and Tankard were well acquainted enough that he might almost have considered him a friend under different circumstances, but nevertheless his bizarre attempts to mother him irritated him. By now, he was several centuries too old for such treatment, for all that the man seemed to forget it on occasions. “There is much which requires my attention. And besides, I can’t see that it would do me much harm. I am already dead, after all.”

“Undead,” corrected Tankard cautiously. “But that doesn’t mean you are invincible.”

And this one is from the soulmate AU from the month of AUs which I’ve completely forgotten about and has, true to form, been ending up far, far longer than I was trying to make it.

A while passed—perhaps half an hour; she was not entirely sure—before she heard the light tap of boots approaching her along the floor of the hallway, and she turned about to see who it was. George Warleggan, neat and prim as ever and dressed elegantly, though not exuberantly, for the occasion, sent her a small, tentative smile from where he lingered in the doorway, waiting for her acknowledgement. There was in his expression, as there had been all evening, a slight whisper of embarrassment, an awareness of his intrusion into their midst that the other members of his party had failed to notice upon inviting themselves to dinner. Just as when they first arrived, the look on his face told her he would quite easily depart if she requested of him to be alone, but after a little time of solitude to compose herself, she found she no longer wished it. She smiled back at him, and he took it as a cue to approach, coming to stand beside her at the hearth.

“You played beautifully tonight, Elizabeth” he said. There was such earnestness in his voice that it might have taken her breath away had she not been so familiar with it. His affection for her always seemed to shine through at its greatest when he complimented her, but really, even if he had deigned to talk to her of nothing but interest rates, it would have taken a blind man to have remained ignorant of it for long. His austere face had a way of lighting up when he saw her, which she, unlike her husband, had not failed to notice—indeed, it was a wonder Francis remained so ignorant of his friend’s feelings, or else he might have been inclined to be doubly jealous.

“You’re very kind, George,” she thanked him demurely. Though she took care never to encourage his attentions, she had never been discomfited by them. He was never too forward—indeed, she wasn’t entirely sure he realised the obviousness with which he displayed his affections; George was a very private man but, in this, he rather wore his heart on his sleeve. In many ways, it made him rather agreeable company—particularly as an attentive listener. She had always been rather fond of him in her own way, even prickly and awkward and aloof as he could sometimes be, and now, when she didn’t think she could bear to see Francis or Ross, he was a welcome change. “Nevertheless, I think some praise must go to Mistress Demelza. She was in very fine voice this evening.”

She had no idea why she had brought up Demelza when her very purpose of coming here had been to forget about the whole situation. But then, it would have seemed ungracious not to acknowledge her new cousin’s skill, no matter how it made her feel.

“I suppose she was.” George tilted his head in polite agreement, but there was no real interest in Demelza or her singing in his voice. At that, Elizabeth felt a strange measure of relief, though why, she could not possibly have said. “Though it was perhaps a little intimate for mixed company. But then, that is often the way with soulmates.”

Elizabeth blinked.

“You believe them to be soulmates?” she asked. From what she knew of George’s opinion of Ross, she would have expected him to subscribe to the other school of thought concerning the gossip surrounding his and Demelza’s marriage.

“It is not a matter of believing, unless Francis has been telling lies,” George replied. “Though that I somehow doubt. He never could keep a straight face to save his life. Or, more pertinently, his dignity.”

Despite the lie—or rather, the unspoken truth—that was surrounding her own marriage, Elizabeth allowed herself a small laugh. From what she had heard of his schooldays, Francis’ antics would not have left him a great deal of dignity to cling to had each of them been discovered, and she told him as much with a slight smile.

“But what has Francis to do with the matter?,” she added, for the brief flicker of amusement had done little to quell her confusion. “Has he said something about it?”

“Well, he mentioned to me that he had seen…” George trailed off, a little frown marring his brow. “Forgive me, but has he not told you?”

It was Elizabeth’s turn to frown.

“Told me what?” she asked.

George had the grace to look a little awkward.

“About Ross’ soulmark,” he said, slightly bashful. “Like I said, he mentioned in passing that he had seen it.”

Ross had a soulmark. A soulmark which bore the name of his scullery maid turned wife. It was what she had half hoped, half dreaded, what she had known to be true the moment the pair had stepped through the door, but hearing it confirmed, no matter how prepared she had thought herself for the news, hit her squarely and unexpectedly. She barely knew what to think. And Francis. Why had he thought to tell his friend of the fact before he told his wife?

“How does Francis know?,” she asked instead—after all, she knew exactly why he had chosen not to tell her of his discovery, deep down. “Did Ross show him?”

George shrugged elegantly.

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “It was only mentioned briefly in the course of the—ah—conversation.” From the way he spoke, Elizabeth suspected that the main subject of the conversation had been one not meant for her ears. “By the sounds of it, he simply happened to notice it.”

“Notice it?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. If it were anywhere it might be conventionally ‘noticed’, surely she would have also spotted it that evening. So where…?

“Well, to be fair, I suspect, come summer, the entire population of Sawle will have noticed it as well,” George replied drily. “Ross does rather have a habit of parading about the clifftops half-clothed by all accounts.”

There was a slight note of irritation in his voice that he could never quite conceal whilst on the subject of Ross. Elizabeth did not know what had happened between the two men to make them dislike one another so thoroughly—indeed, she had thought Francis had been exaggerating when he had described their mutual loathing, before she had seen the pair interact. The barely contained enmity between Ross and George, however, was not what was on her mind. What she was thinking of, once again, was the way Ross had looked at Demelza, and the way Demelza had looked at Ross, how intimate and private it had been, and George saying how it was often the way with soulmates, calm and knowing, as if the fact of the matter couldn’t possibly be questioned.

“Yes,” she said, before she quite realised how abruptly the words came into the conversation. “Yes, I suppose it is that way with soulmates.”

It was half an admission of what she and Francis were very much not—after all, what experience had she of the way the bond manifested itself? George was shrewd enough to spot the implication, but she doubted he would need to. Francis did rather have a habit of telling him anything and everything, up to and including things which he would better have kept to himself.

“Indeed” George said, looking at her askance in slight bemusement, and Elizabeth felt a sudden urge to turn the conversation away from the slightly odd moment. She searched about in vain for a new topic.

“Were your parents soulmates?” she settled on. It was not an entirely polite thing to ask of a general acquaintance, but considering he was the godfather of her child, she felt that asking George could not be considered too unseemly. Nevertheless, the look he sent her was distinctly surprised.

“As a matter of fact, they were” he replied with a frown, though he did not expand upon the admission. He looked a little uncomfortable, she thought. She didn’t know much about Nicholas and Mary Warleggan, beyond what she had seen of their portraits at Cardew, and the ages their son had been when they had, respectively, died. His father had survived his mother by less than a decade, she remembered hearing. Perhaps it had been a broken heart as much as anything else that had served to have him join her in the grave.

“My parents never bore each other’s names,” she said, attempting once more to steer the conversation away from an unpleasant topic—if her thoughts on the matter had been grim, she was sure that George’s would be doubly so, and she’d no wish to upset him. “I don’t think either of them had a mark at all. My mother certainly doesn’t.”

They had been singularly ill-suited, her mother and her father, with his kind heart and her shrewish nature. Indeed, she could not help but feel that it been her mother’s constant sniping which had sent him to his grave in the end. Though she said none of this, some of it must have shown upon her face, for George sent her a look which had a decidedly sympathetic quality to it.

“I imagine that is quite common,” he said, with one of those brisk little nods of his. “It must happen that way often, especially if one places status and breeding above affection in a marriage.”

Elizabeth couldn’t help but recognise the truth in his words, but something about them made her turn to face him fully, a frown on her face. It occurred to her as she gazed at him that he may well find himself in just such a marriage one day. He’d no need to marry into money, but for status, well that was another thing altogether. Perhaps, some time in the future, he might marry some well-bred girl with a name and connexions, but whether she would love and respect him… Considering his seemingly endless uphill struggle in gaining the acknowledgement and respect of his peers, she worried not.

“Do you think you might ever marry your soulmate?” she asked, him, before she could quite consider whether it was wise. He looked at her oddly, his vivid blue gaze searching, almost wary. There was something there in his eyes, something loaded and full of a meaning that she could not quite put her finger on. Eventually, he spoke.

“No,” he said. “No, I daresay I shan’t.”

END OF YEAR WIP MEME

[oetravia]

Ross/Demelza fairy/faerie AU.

Oooh, I love this concept! (Also, fair warning, I’m probably mixing loads of different lore here, and I’m sorry, but it is what it is!). I’m also going with a softer more flower fairies vibe...

BOTH ARE FAE

- Demelza is from the Seelie Court, Ross is Unseelie nobility.

- Ross has a tail, Demelza has wings. They have had many heated debates as to which is better.

- Demelza is very good at encouraging plants to grow, and they have a very large, very vibrant garden. Demelza likes to keep Ross away as his Byronic nature tends to upset the flowers.

- George Warleggan’s penchant for iron decal is often blamed on Ross. Demelza refuses to get involved, but white and yellow tulips have been known to grow on his land with surprising regularity. He rips them up every time.

- They've been working on a telepathic connection for almost two hundred years; currently they can only read each other’s emotions and not their thoughts.

ONE (DEMELZA, OF COURSE) IS FAE

- Ross was a very vocal non-believer. Whenever Verity would mention leaving offerings out to appease the Fair Folk, or asking for Fae help in having a child, Ross would scoff derisively. Little did he know there was a fairy living in the foxgloves that flowered year round at the bottom of his garden.

- Demelza is very protective of her wings, and usually glamours them. The first time she showed them to Ross, he tried to touch them and she bit him. Her teeth are very sharp.

- Demelza dated a Piskie once. Ross is still trying to find out the details.

- She considered the Mermaid of Zennor a dear friend, but mermaids as a whole annoy her (she’s heard too many giggling about how handsome her husband is). 

- Each of their children has inherited some fae traits/skills. 

Thank you for the ask!

[hms-tardimpala]

Tag 9 people you’d like to get to know better

Thank you @nijinskys for tagging me! And Merry Christmas if it isn't over where you are 🎄

3 ships: Three isn't many, so I'll shine some light on ships I seldom mention (everybody knows I'm a Destiel shipper, let's move on).

Edmund Reid/Homer Jackson, Ripper Street. This is a great show and every character is dear to my heart. Dr. Jackson has the style and casualness necessary to loosen up that stuck-up Detective 😏

Ross Poldark/George Warleggan, Poldark. I like the canon pairings but I love hatesex and toxic relationships in fics, so...

Jack Aubrey/Stephen Maturin, The Aubrey-Maturin series. One of the greatest book series of all time (and I say that sincerely) blessed us with one of the most beautiful ships in fandom history, and nobody knows about it! Well, everybody who's read the books knows. This is a beautiful relationship and I aspire to share that much love, affection and care with someone someday. Seriously, give these books a shot. Or the movie, at least.

First ever ship: McDanno, Hawaii Five-0. I started watching this show in 2011, when I was 12. I didn't know what fandoms or ships were, I barely knew I was queer, and I didn't put words on what these characters and their relationship made me feel. Then I went through queerbaiting with SPN and I was paranoid. Were they really..., or was I just seeing what I wanted to? But now, 11 years later, I can come back to it as an adult and say that Steve McGarrett and Danny Williams are desperately gay for each other, and I can write about it.

Last song: 85, Andy Grammer. I need me some good vibes and repetitive fast beats.

Last movie: I think it was Soldier's Girl? The past weeks are a blur.

Currently reading: Fanfics, mostly! I don't have the energy for books at this time and paused The Traitor Baru Cormorant weeks ago (I'm sorry, Minnie). But it's all good because I'm discovering the fic landscape I'm now posting in and that's a good thing to do.

Currently watching: The tenth and last season of Hawaii Five-0 (slowly, painfully, joyfully, shaking my head at its awful politics) and a lot of video essays and Call Me Kevin playthroughs to help me sleep.

Currently consuming: nothing, I'm spending the morning in bed and I can't be bothered to go to the kitchen.

Currently craving: my family

Tagging: @septemberskye @somfte @lichfucker @allyougotisrain (if you've been tagged/have done this already, I apologize, I haven't been keeping up well with tumblr these past days, and of course, no pressure)

Happy end of the year to you all 💙

[spicychickencows]

Caffeine Challenge 30

I have had a horrible day at work, which is true of most days this time of year, and I logged onto tumblr with only ten minutes before the challenge begun. Which means that this is one of the most ruly improvised stories I have written in a long time.

It’s about a curse.

***

Between the trees out here, where the sky goes golden on a sunset, he is standing. Waiting. He thinks he know the place, that he’s got it right. Surely this time he knows where she’ll be. It’s a cold night. The light bouncing off the trees until it’s properly golden. Until he can here the rustling of the leaves. The breaking of twigs. Snapping branches. Breathing.

Her breathing. He assumes. He doesn’t know her so well as to pick out what distinguishes her breathing from anyone else. Oh god does he? Is he that obsessive? No. He’s not. Definitely. Probably. Hopefully. No, no of course not.

It’s is her though. He can see her now, hunched over slightly, dragging a plastic sack along the forest floor. He picks up the shovel she must have left behind and decides to hide behind a tree. This is likely a bad idea so he changes his mind and stands out in the open.

‘Strop trying to be him,’ she says letting the sack drop to the ground, ‘You’ll never be him.’

‘I’m no… I’m not trying to be anyone. I want to help.’

‘No you don’t.’ As she faces him she wipes blood from her mouth with the back of a white lace glove. ‘You want me to stop. I can see it.’

‘No. Look.’ He starts digging. ‘I’ll even help.’

‘You just want to be out of here quicker. You can do that. Go now if you want.’

‘No. No. I’ll help.’

She smiles with pointed teeth. ‘Fine.’ She watches him dig. He is a fast digger. Good muscles. Wide shoulders, and, yes, a little red on his back, he’s used to labouring in the fields. He must be local. How quaint. ‘Have you dug a grave before?’ she says.

‘One.’

Now that’s interesting. That is not the answer she expected at all. ‘Who for?’

‘My father. He died when were traveling here. He was killed.’

The golden light of the sun dims and is, in turn, replaced by the blue grey glow of the moon. It does not penetrate quite so far into the woods. The trees keep the moon away. It is dimmer now. It is more like… Like home, she thinks. She smiles and bathes in it. She undoes the little white cloak thing, she doesn’t know what’s it’s called, it isn’t quite a cape, and lets it drop to the floor. She likes to feel the darkness and the cold on her skin. Bare arms.

The grave is finished.

‘I won’t stop,’ she says, ‘You helping doesn’t change anything. I suppose it’s up to you. Are you a part of it now? Will you be here again tomorrow?’

He moves to one end of the plastic sack. ‘Can you help me move it.’ Not a question.

‘Sure.’ She helps move it. Letting it drop into the grave.

He whispers something but she doesn’t hear.

She doesn’t ask what.

‘Who were they?’ He says.

She narrows her eyes and takes in his face. It has lost all the emotion and the concern it had earlier. He has never stayed this long before. Or if he has it wasn’t a night she was working. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Not all that much. Do you now who they were?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who were they?’

‘There name was James Warleggan. Did you know him.’ Not a question. She doesn’t care and he doesn’t answer. She starts filling the grave back in. When the sack is covered, but the grave is far from full, she snaps a branch of a nearby tree and drops it into the pit. She continued to shovel the ground back into place.

How many graves are there in this forest? Nobody asks anymore. She couldn’t really say. She knows she is not the first to take up the duty. To take up the work that must be done. She knows the graves out here belong to more than just the people of the local town. Travelers disappear here. She has disappeared many of them herself. It is horrible work but it must be done.

The trees keep the moon away.

‘How long has it been you?’ he says.

‘Long enough.’

What killed his father? She doesn’t ask. But still I will tell you. His father was killed by a beast. A gnarling monstrosity of human and wolf. What should have been one or the other but instead was both. It wasn’t clear which it had been to begin with, and which it was becoming. But he killed it, when it killed his father, he killed it. And didn’t honour it with a grave. He left it to rot.

‘Who did it before you?’

She doesn’t answer. It was her mother who did it before her. And her grandmother before that. It was her grandmother who had first understood. Who had first heard the trees. The trees keep the moon at bay. The entire town is surrounded by the trees. They sprout up between the houses, you can’t move for them.

Silver wood trees. They aren’t normal trees. They need a special fertiliser. The trees aren’t picky. The gardeners must be. It’s the only way to live with themselves.

‘What did James Warleggan do?’

‘Hmm?’

‘To deserve...’ he gestures to the slight raise of the dirt where James Warllegan is now buried.

‘Oh.’ She laughs, because if she doesn’t she will cry. Or is weep more appropriate? If she doesn’t laugh  she will break down and end it all right here. Maybe that would be enough, she thinks, maybe the trees are picky and we just haven’t given them enough. How much blood is there on my hands? Would it be enough? ‘He was terrible,’ she says, ‘Little Hettie Jacobsen would run back to her father if ever she saw James Warllegan in the street. She would run and hide. She was twelve.’ Angry now. The words are venom. ‘She was twelve and if she so much as heard him whistling as he walked she would run away, from her friends, from the her fun, she would run away from him. That is what he did.’

‘Okay.’

‘I would kill him a thousand times. I would slit his throat, and burn him. I would pluck out his eyes. I would pull out his insides. If he sprung back to life this very moment it would be a blessing because I could kill him again.’ She stops. Panting. Breathing more heavily than she was before. It is like a redness has come down around her. Are the trees laughing? Or just rustling in the wind. Is there even wind tonight? It doesn’t feel windy, but then, at ground level the trees would break the wind, only at the tops would they need to move to it.

‘What about me?’

‘What about you? Why do you matter?’

‘Do you ever want to break the curse? Instead of just feed it?’

‘You can’t break curses.’ She feels at her wrists. Presses her fingers under the lace of her gloves. Only love can break a curse. She knows that. But she doesn’t believe in love. Not anymore.

He does believe in love. He just doesn’t understand it. ‘Can I kiss you?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Just once. Just gently. I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.’

‘You think I love you?’ No. That isn’t it. ‘You think you love me?’ She laughs. It’s ridiculous. But not like he’s the first. ‘Or are you cursed too?’

‘We all are aren’t we?’ He steps closer to her.

She steps further away.

‘Sorry. I won’t kiss you. There must be some other way.’

‘You think I haven’t tried.’

‘And you think the same of me. Did you know that Adil Bhatt has a library in his house. He inherited it, from a witch. That’s what he says at least.’

‘I did. None of it works.’

‘No. I didn’t suppose it did.’

‘What about Old Mrs Hatch? She was here the year the rats came. Older than she looks. She have anything?’

‘Old Mrs Hatch hasn’t been any use to anyone for years. Too busy looking after that little fae girl they gave her.’

‘Her cats a dick as well.’

‘It seemed alright to me.’

‘It’s a dick.’

‘Fine. I’ll believe you.’ He smiles. ‘Shall we try kissing anyway?’

‘Neither of us loves the other. And you don’t look entirely clean.’

He doesn’t. He can admit that. He hasn’t been sleeping well of late. He stays awake all night. Rarely washes. He hasn’t shaved for a couple of weeks and he’s never been able to grow a proper beard anyway. There’s dirt under his nails; but that’s a more recent development. ‘You aren’t looking so great yourself.’  Almost everything above is true of her as well.  ‘When did you last wash that dress?’

It’s never been washed. She sighs. ‘Tradition I’m afraid.’ She picks at the scruffs of leaf that have wedged themselves into the lacier parts of the dress. ‘How do you know Old Mrs’ Hatch’s daughter is a fae?’

‘Why else have a horseshoe above the door.’ Not a question. But then, why else? Even the blacksmith doesn’t bother with a horseshoe above his door. Though he’d probably insist that was because he was a blacksmith, not a farrier. He was like that. Why did Mrs Hatch have the horseshoe above the door? It couldn’t be because it worked. Cold Iron, for faeries, a gold coin for the horseman when comes knocking. No. If it worked, than Little Ava Hatch wouldn’t be able to enter her own home. But it had to be doing something.

‘Why does she have the horseshoe?’

‘You’re getting it now. Because it works.’

‘But it doesn’t. The fae just think it does. So they stay away.’

He smiles. But not for long. He trips backwards over a root which hadn’t been there a moment ago. The next voice has a similar quality as his but is not his. It is a voice from the trees themselves. ‘You must,’ it says, ‘continue to feed us. We keep the moon at bay. Keep the beasts from the door.’

And she realises. It all clicks. How did his father die? She didn’t ask but she knows now. Of course. Of course it was. She looks at the mound where James Warllegan is buried. She would have killed him anyway, she would’ve loved to. The redness comes back down and notices that it isn’t her. It isn’t her at all. But she would’ve killed him anyway. She would have. She’s sure of it. So absolutely sure.

How did mother die? She falls to the ground as the voice from the trees says. ‘We will find another.’

It works because we believe it will work.

It takes all her effort. As painful as it all is she pulls herself across the floor, roots and twigs, and lows branches scratching at her trying to keep her still. He’s still breathing. She pulls up close to his face. And presses her lips to his cheek.

[harry-leroy]

gif request meme: @forcebros asked poldark + favorite George/Elizabeth scene 

Kiss scene in 3x03