#mmmuses missing moments

[prairiechzhead]

Poldark S3 Was A Huge Disappointment For Me and It All Boils Down To One Root Cause.

I had originally begun a draft of this post that devolved into everything that I cannot stand about how the show chose to move the character of Demelza into a different direction. That part of the post got really, really, really, really long.

Instead of sharing that really, really, really, really long post, I decided to write a new one. It’s also Sunday and the final episode of season 3 hasn’t aired yet as I begin this, but I need to write because for the past 10 weeks, I’ve been doing homework on Sunday mornings. I have no homework to type up because the summer term is finished. I find myself at a loss, so I began this post.

But I digress. You’ll find that I’m really good at that.

This is a really, really, really, really long post about the one reason why Season 3 was a disappointment to me. I’ve been able to distill my disappointment down to one root cause.

If you listen to the @poldarkpodcast​, you know that I regularly submit my opinions on the episodes that just aired. You probably also know that I’m not fond of the direction in which they took Demelza this season.

Actually “not fond” is putting it mildly.

I HATE what they did to her character. I hate, hate, hate it! The Powers That Be decided that Demelza wasn’t “strong” enough or “feisty” enough in the novels, so they had to make her more modern to appeal to modern audiences.

However, in doing so, they basically took a shit all over Winston Graham’s work and a character that was based on his own wife. They’ve taken the product of someone who is a very gifted storyteller and dumbed it down so much, I start to feel stabby.  

I’m glad he’s not alive to see this.

Feisty Demelza does not work in the Hugh/Demelza storyline. She doesn’t fit. She doesn’t belong there because Demelza’s inner conflict can’t exist with Show!Demelza as she has been written. An integral part of this story, Hugh Armitage’s basically taking advantage of Demelza’s kindness and turning it around on her through subtle manipulation, is missing. It cannot exist with Modern, Feisty Show!Demelza because of the trope that Modern, Feisty women can’t be manipulated. Internal conflicts only make one indecisive, and Modern, Feisty women, such as Show!Demelza can’t be indecisive.

As @mmmuses​ pointed out in an episode of the Poldark Podcast, when TPTB changed up Demelza, they neglected to change the other characters, too, particularly Ross. The two characters are foils for each other. In changing her, but not having him change in line with her change, the equilibrium is gone. 

Show!Ross is pretty much the same as in the novels, with a few exceptions. In Black Moon and Four Swans, Book!Ross has matured and grown from the events in the previous novel. In the show, Show!Ross has grown and learned from what happened in season 2. However, when, in E1, he doesn’t want to talk about Elizabeth, even though Demelza is poking at him to do so, I don’t see this as him pretending that a problem doesn’t exist. I see it as him avoiding creating more problems because Demelza will inevitably take whatever he says the wrong way and not give him a chance to explain what he means. Demelza on the show has a very bad habit of doing this. In this episode, I see his reluctance to talk as Ross trying to avoid an argument. Granted, he doesn’t handle this in the best way because he’s not a good communicator. 

Unlike her book counterpart, Show!Demelza seems to have regressed into a bratty teenager. Book!Ross describes Book!Demelza as “his conscience.”

Then there are all the inconsistencies in how her character is portrayed. The biggest and most egregious example of this for me (and this should not come as a surprise to you) is when, in Episode 7, she goes after Ross, who has just learned that his aunt Agatha died, is walking on the beach, trying to sort through his emotions, and then begins to tear him a new one about his decision to decline the offer of running for MP, because he “didn’t ask for her opinion”.

This scene STILL sticks in my craw because it is so out of character for Demelza to do this. Demelza is a kind and selfless person. She puts others before herself. Book!Demelza, when struggling with her attraction to Hugh, even puts the struggle into terms of her not wanting to see someone else suffer (this would be her tendency towards kindness) with her deep love for Ross and honoring her marriage vows. Book!Demelza and Show!Demelza from S1 and 2 would not do go to Ross and start screaming at him. Her first reaction would be to go to him and console him.  Her opinion on this MP issue can wait because her husband needs her more.

If this out-of-character behavior wasn’t bad enough, there is a sub-section of the fandom who defend her behavior in that scene.

First of all, you don’t rip into someone who just learned that one of their few remaining relatives has died. You don’t do that. Period.

Second, why does Ross need her opinion on not running for MP? Now if he decided to run for MP without consulting her opinion, she has a case, because that would involve upheaval in their lives that would affect her, their children, the mine, and all the other day-to-day things that happen at Nampara.  But for someone who has been very vocal in the past about her wish for Ross to be at home more, it makes zero sense for her to be upset with him for turning down something that would require him to be away from home for months at a time.

The writers also have Show!Demelza gift her brothers the use of a storage barn on Nampara land to use as a Methodist meeting house. (In the books, it was Ross who gifted them a building of some sort. Which one specifically escapes me at the moment.) But the thing is, Show!Demelza did this out of spite and behind his back because she was pissed off at Ross for being in France longer than he said he would be. He had good reason to: he was waiting for his contact to give him a list of the prisoners at Quimper and then he would know where Dwight Enys, a friend of the family, was.

It’s not like he decided to stay in Roscoff because he wanted to go out and party or anything like that. Her reaction was out of proportion to the event that supposedly triggered it. That is not the sign of an emotionally mature and strong person.

Strong people don’t do things out of spite. Weak people act out of spite. Immature people act out of spite. Perhaps if Show!Demelza had done this without being motivated to do so by her anger at Ross, it would come across more as an act performed by a strong person because a decision had to be made and there was no one around to make it except her. The writers want us to believe this, but I’m not buying it. Her anger and spite is clear when she makes the decision to gift the building to her brothers. 

Because of the inconsistency in her characterization, the struggle that Book!Demelza went through in Four Swans over her attraction to Hugh Armitage is not there. I don’t sympathize with Show!Demelza. I’m not even sure if she is struggling emotionally, because given her past, inconsistent behavior on the show and how TPTB decided to not have Ross and Demelza fully reconcile, they have set up the climax of this storyline and Demelza’s motivation as to get revenge or to do it out of spite.

Again, emotionally mature, strong people DO NOT do things out of spite or to get even.

The characterization on the show then becomes problematic in scenes that are played out as they are in the novels. The best example is in episode 8 when Demelza makes the “I wish I could be two people” speech. In the novels, it comes off as her being honest and conflicted and it is set up to be confessional. On TV, it just comes off as her informing Ross that she’s probably going to make the Beast with Two Backs with Armitage and that if he doesn’t like it, too bad. In the same scene, she also tells Ross that he’s the one she belongs with. The scene is also blocked in a way where the two of them are sitting across from each other, which gives it a confrontational feel. It also makes Ross’s honesty about beginning to doubt his wife’s feelings for him even more painful to watch. Modern, Feisty Show!Demelza tells him to “be patient. As I was patient with you.” She’s referring to the aftermath of Ross’s Very Bad Thing with Elizabeth in season 2.

Which brings me to another point about Show!Demelza’s characterization in S3. TPTB have basically ignored what Show!Demelza did and said in S2. She wasn’t patient with Ross. She was angry, and rightfully so. She was ready to leave him because he couldn’t seem to make up his mind on who he really wanted. She was fed up waiting for him to get his head out of his ass. Ross can be thick sometimes, particularly when it comes to emotions. Ross is an emotionally stunted man who has difficulty expressing his emotions, AND expressing them in a way where he is not putting his foot in his mouth and making things worse. He certainly did plenty of that in S2 after his transgression.

But the main difference between him asking her to be patient and her asking him to be patient is that when Ross asked this of Demelza, the deed had already been done. When Demelza asks this of Ross, the deed has yet to come.

But now, when the shoe is on the other foot, she expects Ross to sit back and wait for her to get her head out of her ass and figure things out. Except this doesn’t work because Demelza is better at expressing her feelings than Ross is, MOST of the time. When she does not, she goes full passive-aggressive, which just makes things worse. Then there are times when she loses her temper and reacts to things that Ross says or does and she doesn’t give him a chance to explain further or clear up any confusion. This seems to happen when he says something in the most asinine and garbled way possible. As a result, Ross becomes reluctant to share things with her because he doesn’t want to anger her or hurt her.

Which brings me back to Episode 1 and the appearance that he’s pretending there is no problem in regards to Elizabeth.

This couple has very atrocious communication skills. The future therapist in me wants to sit both down and work with them on this.

So between what S2Show!Demelza did and the platitudes she threw in Ross’s face after Ross’s indiscretion now contradicts what S3Show!Demelza is about to do with Lord Byron aka Hugh Armitage. In this regard, Show!Demelza comes off as a hypocrite and Show!Ross now has some moral high ground. Making pronouncements works better if you make them after you did something wrong because you can always frame them as you messed up, but you learned from your mistakes. He messed up and he knows that what he did was wrong. He knows that he inflicted pain on her in the worst way possible. He regretted what he did almost immediately. She was hurt by what he did to her, but here she is, about to inflict the same pain on him. This is what gives Ross that bit of moral high ground. He learned. She has not.

One of the arguments that defenders of this Hugh/Demelza storyline in the show fall back on is this notion that Show!Demelza is being neglected by her husband. This is a line that’s been put forth by TPTB in the press. Having watched this show, I’m still waiting to see evidence of such neglect.

Ross was neglectful of her in S2. When it was pointed out to him that he had no clue that everything Demelza was doing to make sure there was food while they were going through a period of impoverishment, he tried to make up for it and as a result, we got that Stocking Scene. He also learned that she was starting to doubt his feelings for her, too. He showed her that he still loved her by the events in the stocking scene.

The one thing he doesn’t do in that moment and in that scene is brush off her concerns. In S3, when Demelza asks him to be patient after he confesses he’s begun to doubt her feelings for him, it comes across as if she’s brushing him off.

However, in S3, the couple are seen regularly sitting together and talking. Or they’re taking walks, hand in hand, I should add. Sometimes, the walks are just the two of them. Other times, their children are along. They work together in the garden. They are intimate.

So I am a tad confused as to where this argument that Show!Demelza is being neglected comes from.

TPTB have set up this tryst with Hugh Armitage based on non-existent evidence that her husband is not paying attention to her. Riiiiight.

I’m from the old school in that if you’re going to make a claim, it is your responsibility to back up that claim with evidence. Maybe the people in the back don’t require supporting evidence of this so-called neglect, but the people in the front do and I’m one of those people sitting up front. 

Spousal neglect is one of the reasons why my first marriage fell apart. This neglect had ZERO to do with—

Again how exactly is Demelza being neglected? Dammit, I can’t even finish that sentence now.

The kind of emotional neglect that can destroy a marriage includes not standing by and supporting a spouse when that spouse is going through something very difficult. In my case, I had just been formally diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder that I’d been living with undiagnosed for half my life (I was 29 when I received my diagnosis) and my ex refused to support me because I’d decided to start taking anti-depressants and he “didn’t believe in taking pills for such a thing”.

THAT is neglect. His refusal to stick by me was one of the reasons that man is now my ex-husband. The man I am married to now (I refuse to call him my current husband because that suggests that there might be a future husband, which there will never be) has taken the time to learn about my depression and my anxiety. He goes with me to therapist appointments when I ask him to go. When I had a nervous breakdown four years ago and was contemplating suicide, I voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric hospital. That man was there during visiting hours every single day. When I am going through an episode of depression or anxiety, he is the one who urges me to get up and do something. Anything. He may not always do the right thing, but that’s not the point. He is standing beside me and he is there when I need him. And that is why we’ve been together for almost 18 years and married for 15.

And after writing all of that, I’m still having trouble finding exactly in what way Ross is neglecting her during S3. Saying stupid things or insensitive things in the heat of the moment is not neglect. That’s just being a horse’s ass. At least he’s talking to you, Demelza. 

The book version of Demelza, the one that TPTB decided wasn’t strong enough is actually a stronger person that the so-called Modern, Feisty Demelza. We, as a culture, have a serious problem with how we define strength and weakness in a person, particularly when it comes to emotions. Strong people, emotionally mature people are usually the quiet ones who take time to contemplate. Emotionally immature and weak people are the ones who throw tantrums and act out of spite. However, because we are conditioned to believe that strength is demonstrated by action, we view the person who has the outbursts and reacts based on their emotions as the strong ones. The person who takes the time to contemplate what they are doing is the weaker person, according to society.

It’s actually the other way around. It takes a tremendous amount of strength to make yourself take that step backwards, take those deep breaths, and not react viscerally.

TPTB have it backwards. Book!Demelza is the strong one. Season3Show!Demelza is the weaker character.

I’m sorry that the people in the back can’t wrap their heads around this, but that’s not my problem and those of us in the front should not be made to suffer for other people’s ignorance.

And this is why S3 is such a disappointment to me. 

As it is about 2 hours and 45 minutes until the show airs, I’m posting this anyway, because unfortunately, I doubt that there is enough that will happen in one last episode to redeem this season for me. 

[poldarkmmmuses]

The Night Before, part 2 -- Poldark s2.01 fic COMPLETE

Gifset by @poldarked-fangirl originally created for @chrisnarouz. Thank you for letting me use it here!

Thank you for the lovely response to part one of this piece! Here’s a preview of part two of a two part fic based on a scene from Poldark S2.01. Again, I won’t post this on Ao3 until it has been beta’ed. Your likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Demelza tidied the parlour for the third time, unable to stand still and quiet. Ross had been gone most of the day, having muttered something about business to attend to. He’d been a man of action ever since returning from Bodmin that awful night less than a week hence. She’d never been as glad to see him as she had that night, walking through their bedchamber door into a room far too quiet to be borne alone. She’d clung to him, still weak from her illness, from unimaginable grief and worry.

He’d been so solid and strong, in body and words, doing his best to assure her that the charges were preposterous and there was nothing to fear. She did, though. If George Warleggan were involved, she had every right to fear. 

A week had passed, and they were one night away from his departure for Bodmin Gaol. And she wanted him home. The scent of the rabbit stew she’d made special for him drifted from the kitchen, and the sour cherry pie she’d made for pudding cooled on the sideboard. All of the things she knew he loved, right down to the brandy they’d saved from the last stash Jud had brought from Wheal Grace. What he hadn’t consumed, she thought sadly, that day he and Prudie had been thrown off Nampara. 

Jud and Prudie, and then… A haze of grey seemed to envelop Demelza whenever the loss of Julia boiled up from the cauldron of despair she’d done her best to keep sealed since he came home from Bodmin. Not that he’d minded when it had grown impossible to keep at bay and she’d had to weep against his broad chest, rely upon him to keep her standing. It was present with her, always, revealing itself most often when she stood idle, remembering. As she was doing now. The silence of the house began to engulf her, “Enough, now,” she said aloud, setting her dust rag onto the settee. Her eyes settled on the spinet, the smooth wood gleaming from the polishing she’d given it earlier in the day and she smiled. If there was anything that would ease her heart and mind now it was music.

She sat and rifled through the sheets of music she’d collected since starting her goal for learning the instrument. She’d caught on to the note values and staffs, the clefs and the timing signatures very quickly and was now playing more complicated pieces of music by composers such as Bach and Mozart. She chose one she’d been working on before she’d fallen ill and began. It was a mournful piece, made even moreso as she was still only learning it. But as time passed, she’d gained enough confidence in her abilities to try it at its assigned time signature. 

As she played, she would glance out the parlour window from time to time, hoping to see a glimpse of Ross on Darkie so she could greet him in the yard. Leave it to him to sneak around the back way. “Who’s this fine lady,” his voice rumbled from the doorway. Her stomach jumped a little, turning to see him looking as handsome as ever, his hat in his hands. “And what has she done with my wife?”

“Judas,” she grinned, barely refraining from snorting with laughter. Fine lady indeed. They’d bantered a bit, an air of flirtation simmering between them. She had to force herself from betraying her thoughts when he’d said she’d have suitors lined up for her hand once he was gone. The prospect of a world without Ross Vennor Poldark was enough to make her stomach lurch. But she played the game, murmuring a coy response then raising her eyes to his. He smiled, a bit sadly. She kissed the back of his hand, glad not to be looking at him for a few seconds, tasting his skin. It made her yearn for him. She knew he still thought she was too fragile, too weak from her illness to turn to her. She knew better.

She stood, laced her fingers with his and led the way to the stairs.

“Demelza,” he whispered, fingers tightening in hers. “We don’t hav—” 

“Ross.” She turned, kissing him to stop his words. She cupped his face in her hands, drawing it up to hers to deepen their embrace. His body trembled hard against hers, his arms circling her waist to draw her close. She broke their kiss, her forehead pressed against his. “I am strong enough. All I want this night is to be with you, as we once were. Grant me that, won’t you?”

He nodded.

They helped one another undress in silence, taking moments to press kisses to the patches of skin exposed until they stood naked, their bodies dappled in candlelight. They nuzzled one another, exchanging soft, nibbling kisses as they danced across the floor towards their bed. She was suddenly reminded that she’d never had that dance with him at the Warleggan ball, but decided she was enjoying this intimate loure in the privacy of their bedchamber all the more because of it. His eyes, changeable with his moods, were near black and stared into hers.  His thighs brushed hers as his hands stroked the length of her waist to her buttocks, his fingertips running along its cleft. Liquid heat welled within her, leaving her women’s flesh slick. Her pulse beat heavily between her legs and her nipples tightened, brushing against his chest hair. 

She’d missed touching him, and missed his caress along her body as well. Her hands drifted to caress some of the places she favoured to touch: the sensitive hairs along the nape of his neck, his collarbone, his cheek and chest. She’d been timid to touch him after they first married, as if she was still disbelieving the fact she was wed to this man, a man she’d loved longer than she’d realized. She had to touch him now, to remember everything she could about this man who’d saved her, had raised her up from poverty and made her his wife. 

He laid her on the bed, settling atop her with a rumbling purr. She sighed between kisses as he parted her thighs with his body, the heat of his his erection nestled against and between the lips of her sex. His head streaked down to nip along her throat. She arched her neck to grant him easier access, her toes curling at his mouth’s assault on her skin. She moved her hips against his, rocking him back and forth against the swollen head of her bud, making him growl. “My love,” he murmured against her ear. His hand streaked down to cup her breast, tweaking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger before sliding down to take it in his mouth. Her fingers slid against his scalp, bringing him closer. The tug and pull of his mouth was delicious, yet it also remind her of…

“Ross,” she whispered, touching his cheek to capture his attention. He raised his eyes as her tears fell, tears so unwanted in that moment. 

“What is it, Demelza?” he asked, moving up to gather her close.

“Julia,” she rasped. She felt him tense against her, his eyes widening as he registered what had happened. “You couldn’t have known, I didn’t realize it until…”

“Oh God,” he said, clutching her tight. He brushed a kiss on her lips. “I’m so sorry, love.”

She shook her head, swiping the back of her hand across her cheeks. “Ross, please,” she implored him, her hands tight on his shoulders, “I need you. We need each other tonight. Please.” She pulled him back down atop her, kissing his throat, the rasping edge of his jawline before drawing his head down to hers. She kissed him with everything she had within her for him: her love, desire, friendship, sorrow, and fear.

“Demelza.” He thrust within her, her body stretching to accommodate him after so long a time apart and she sighed with pleasure, wrapping her legs around his waist. They ebbed and flowed together, settling into a rhythm familiar to them both. His guttural sighs and murmurs, deep and dark, filled with nearly incomprehensible words dragged her deeper into their joining, until her senses narrowed into what was happening in the moment: the texture of the tip of his nose as it nuzzled against her neck and ear; the stroke of his mouth and tongue as they moved along the column of her throat; and the scent of his hair, pipe smoke and the sea. 

And the rhythmic strokes of him, deep within her. Her breath quickened as her body trembled with spiking need. She answered his need stroke for stroke with a desire that equaled his. Her hands streaked down his back, nails sinking into the flesh of his buttocks. He groaned, his mouth finding the flesh near her collarbone, tongue and teeth marking her. 

“Ross,” she moaned, gasping from the thrill of it. She was close, so very close and she circled her hips against him, urging him on. He growled again, his hand tightening on her hip, intensifying his movements until she tumbled into oblivion. She tightened around him, gasping sobs against his throat. He froze atop her, his muscles quivering as he reached his peak. She felt the pulse of his release within her as he relaxed, his body’s weight pressing her into the bed clothes. 

“I love you, Demelza,” he whispered, breathless in her ear. 

She smiled against his neck. “I love you, too, Ross,” she murmured in his ear. She tasted the sweat on his skin, felt it under her palms as she stroked his back, caressing the muscles she’d admired for so many years. He had to come back to her, simply had to. She willed herself to believe he would soon be back, once again in her arms, to help her pick up the pieces of their shattered life.

[mmmuses]

My Wife, a missing moment fic by mmmuses, part 2

Happy Poldark Day, folks! Still working on this one, and will have one more part to complete. Should have that to you by next Sunday.

From Poldark 3.03, continued from here. Story request and gif by @poldarked-fangirl

~*~*~*~*

He reached for the laces of her bodice, sliding the ribbons free, reminding him of the first dress he ever helped her out of, so many years ago. He grinned, which earned him a gentle poke in his side. “What are you thinking of, Ross?”

“Oh, I imagine you can guess,” he chuckled, drawing the ribbons free and spreading her jacket open, revealing the lovely brocade stomacher beneath. He was happy she’d still found one of the purchases they’d made at Mistress Trelask’s before he’d left for France useful. “I believe, once the child has come and you’re ready for another jaunt into town, I should like to find some blue-green silk for a new party gown for you.” His grin broadened as her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. He slipped the pins on the stomacher free, running the tip of his index finger along the edge of her neckline, the skin of her breasts erupting in gooseflesh. He nuzzled his nose against hers. “I’ve a need to see you in that colour once again.”

She nipped his bottom lip when he drew back from the urgent kiss she’d pressed upon him. “Twill be several months before then--” He kissed her, sharp and quick, before levelling her a glance. “I would be most pleased to do so, my lover.”

Ross reached for the open lapels of her jacket when a sound from down the hall brought him short. “Our Jeremy?” he asked.

“Yes, Ross." Her eyes softened, taking a little of the sting away from her disappointed sigh. Tonight is the first night he’ll be in his room for the last few weeks, so I thought we might have some troubles.”

Ross covered her hands as she drew the fabric closed. “You’ve had him here with you whilst I’ve been away?” he asked softly.

She nodded, her eyes dark and warm. "Jeremy looks just like you when you are asleep." She drew her jacket closed. “I should go to him, just to settle him down.”

"Let me, Demelza," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "As much as I should enjoy helping you from your garments, I dare say I might have a chance to finish the task when I return?"

"Oh yes," she sighed, kissing his jaw, the tip of her tongue running against the stubble before her teeth gave him a nip. "I'll be waiting," she whispered against his skin.

Ross couldn't restrain a groan from leaving his lips. "Temptress." She laughed throatily, nudging him towards the door with a gentle shove.

He adjusted his breeches as he moved down the hall towards Jeremy's room, shifting his focus towards his son. It had been Prudie's voice that had separated Ross and Demelza from their embrace in the yard, his annoyance turning to joy when he saw the lad peering around the maid's skirts. Jeremy had grown during his absence, or was that just his imagination? It had been hard to tell, since the boy had been shy around his father at supper, peeking and peering around his mother to watch him. His son's wariness had eased when they'd all relaxed by the fire, their bellies full and the day's excitement mellowed into contentment. Ross had been telling Demelza of his escape from the French when he'd caught Jeremy's dark eyes observing him with a trembling curiosity it made Ross bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Eventually, the boy had made his way from Demelza's side to Ross's, his little body leaning against his father's as they sat on the settle until he'd nodded off, his head in Ross's lap. Now, as Ross opened the door, he hoped the lad would not object to his father being the one to tend to him.

Ross was able to lock onto Jeremy's eyes the instant he entered the room, the light from the eight-hour candle Demelza had used reflected in his tears. "Son?" Ross asked, striding across the room to sit on the edge of the cot. Jeremy scrambled into his father's lap, his arms clamped around his neck. "What's this?" Ross said, stroking his hand down the boy's back.

"Miss Mama," he sobbed.

"I know, 'tis a big thing to ask you, to be in here all by your lonesome," Ross murmured, breathing in the boy's scent, his throat catching by how much he'd missed this. "What if I were to let Garrick stay with you tonight?" He smiled at the jolt of pleasure that raced through him, brought about merely by his son's gasp of delight.

"Oh, yes, Papa! Please?" Jeremy sat back, wiping his cheeks with the backs of his hands.

"Alright, then." Ross pressed a kiss on his son's temple. "Just this once." He shifted Jeremy back under his blankets and went to fetch the dog. Whilst Ross had long since lost the battle to keep the dog outside, he had been able to insist the beast remain downstairs in the kitchen. True to form, when Ross reached the room, the scent of yeast from tomorrow's bread spreading its sweet, homey tang through the air, he found Garrick, sitting at attention amidst his blankets. "I require your services, mongrel," he said, hands on his hips, humour removing the edge from his phrasing. "Care to accompany me to Master Jeremy's room?" The dog gave a quiet 'woof' and padded his way to Ross's side.

Moments later, Ross pushed open the door to his son's room, his heart warmed by the delight that spread its way across Jeremy's face as Garrick bounded across the room and into his cot. "Now, I've your promise that you will not stay up all night at play, son?" Ross asked.

"Yes, Papa, I promise," the boy squeaked, closing his eyes as the dog did his best to lick Jeremy's face clean. "Thank you, Papa." He held Garrick at bay and offered his lips for a kiss.

His heart too full to speak, Ross leant down to press his own against them. "Goodnight, lad."

[mmmuses]

The Garden, a Poldark missing moment fic by mmmuses

Inspired by The Black Moon, Poldark episode 3.02 and the gifset created by @margaeryqueen. Thanks to @xxsparksxx for the quick read through!

[mmmuses]

Relief, Sweet Relief by mmmuses. 

A drabble of first impressions as a journey comes to a long, awaited end for Ross and Demelza. From S3.03. Stills provided by @princessofpoldark

Coming soon.

[mmmuses]

osmarinamo reblogged your post:My Wife, a missing moment fic by mmmuses, part 2

Heart bursting! Delightful! Mmmm, Papa Ross…Is there a part III by any chance?

Daddy!Ross is my head canon soooooo much.... and yes, part three to be shared next Sunday. Demelza’s POV. You know how much I love writing the female gaze. *coughs*

[mmmuses]

archiveofourown.org

Not to Be Rid of Me - mmmuse - Poldark (TV 2015) [Archive of Our Own]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

By Organization for Transformative Works

gifset by @panoramamelodrama​ -- thank you for letting me borrow it!

Fandom: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Demelza Carne/Ross Poldark Characters: Ross Poldark, Demelza Carne Series: Part 6 of Moments from Poldark

Summary:

Demelza doubts Ross's love for her. He gives her an unexpected gift. Inspired by Poldark 2.06, a story told in a series of six drabbles.

[mmmuses]

Not to Be Rid of Me, pt. 5

A story in 100-word drabbles. Inspired from Poldark 2.06

Pt. 1 here Pt. 2 here Pt. 3 here Pt. 4 here

The baritone rasp of his words, dark and luxuriant, gripped her aching heart. Was it possible? Had she been wrong to doubt? His eyes, half closed and heavy with desire; breath searing across lips moistened by his. She’d done that.

Hands gripped her waist, their fingers flexing against her stays, eager to find her laces. Strong thumbs traced a line down the center of her abdomen, brushing low…flesh ripening with need.  “So I am not to be rid of you, my love.” His tongue touched her upper lip as they fit their mouths together. Smoke, cider and Ross. Always Ross.

[mmmuses]

Not to Be Rid of Me, pt 4

A story in 100-word drabbles. Inspired from Poldark 2.06

Pt. 1 here Pt. 2 here Pt. 3 here

He raised his eyes to hers, languid and gleaming. She was beautiful in her way, Demelza, so very desirable in the candlelight. Hands slipping along the skin of her upper thighs, chilled under his palms. He suffered a moment of guilt, the hem of her skirt a bit frayed. He pushed them higher, the warm, spicy scent of her blossoming in the air between them. Nibbling kisses to start, growing with hunger and need each passing second. Her hand at his nape sent gooseflesh down his spine. Noses nuzzling. “So, you are not to be rid of me, my love.”

[mmmuses]

Not to Be Rid of Me, pt. 3

A story in 100-word drabbles. Inspired from Poldark 2.06

Pt. 1 here Pt. 2 here

She’d thought to confront him after he failed to turn at her touch three night’s before, when her fear of losing him had reached its zenith. His lack of attention Christmas Day had forced her hand. She’d sit helpless no more. 

Accompanying him to Truro, where they’d received such blessed news. His pleasure at disappointing George nearly vibrated through him all the way home. Now, his hands slipped the other stocking along her left leg. He was rigid against the foot she’d nestled against his genitals. Steel and satin, desired so greatly. 

Her thighs parted at his hands’ insistence.

Author’s note: I know... they didn’t make it to the second stocking, but I need that symmetry in my life. 

[mmmuses]

Not to Be Rid of Me, pt 2

A story in 100-word drabbles. Inspired from Poldark 2.06

Pt. 1 here

She doubted his longing for her. It was no one’s fault but his own, so focused on the mine…finances…the failure he’d brought upon his house, and taking her for granted.

He’d pictured his wife’s slender, ivory legs in the stockings the moment he saw them, the blue ribbon reminding him of that satin dress from a lifetime ago. The delicate arch of her foot pressed against his groin as he ran his hand down her leg, the fabric soft against his palm. He leaned forward to tie the ribbon, her toe rubbing against his cock. 

Whisper soft. He needed more.

[mmmuses]

Not to Be Rid of Me

A story in 100-word drabbles. Inspired from Poldark 2.06

Dizzy. From the moment he’d taken the stockings from her hand, heated fingers brushing hers. From the moment he’d knelt before her, subservient, supplicating, his eyes black as they fixed on hers. 

Panting. The slow creep of the stockings along her leg, his knuckles stroking her calf, as he smoothed the soft fabric against her upper thigh had made the air move shakily through her lips.

Yearning. She yearned to feel his fingers, so deliberate and delicate in his actions as he tied the ribbon garter, moving along her spine, her ribs, the sudden slickness mere inches from his touch.

To be continued.....

[mmmuses]

Winter’s Chill by mmmuse

Ross’s pushed open the door to their bedchamber, pausing as the sound of pouring water reached his ears. “What’s this?” he said with surprise.

“Good evening, Ross,” Demelza said warmly as she set down the empty pail near the foot of the tin bathtub. “I thought you might like a soak.” The fire in the hearth did much to take the chill from his bones after a day underground and a frosty ride home. Light flickered in the wall sconces and on the table near the bed. The smile on her face forced him to conceal the instantaneous concern that always set the corners of his mouth these days, his worry over the state of their finances profound. They are rushlights of her own making, he chided himself, extremely economical and much easier to make than candles. If there was anyone capable of economizing their household expenditures it was his wife.

He touched her arm, brushing a kiss on her cheek. “That sounds like a grand idea, Demelza, thank you.” He shrugged out of his coat, glancing at their son’s cot. “Where is Jeremy?”

“Asleep in the guest room with Jinny and Kate,” Demelza murmured, hanging his coat on the back of the armchair. “It was too cold for them to walk home tonight.” 

His wife’s blue-green eyes flickering up to meet his, a becoming blush rising to her cheeks. Ross swallowed, his fingers pausing as he worked the buttons on his cuffs. He’d spent so many hours away from Nampara, working at Wheal Grace or at Trenwith to plan with Francis and Henshawe, that the raising of the boy had been more or less left to Demelza’s devices, and he suffered no end of guilt for it. His son’s infancy had been fraught with more trials than Julia’s had been, and whenever Jeremy had fallen ill or fractious, Ross had feared the worse. 

Coward, a voice hissed in the back of his mind. It was right: he was a coward on many occasions, leaving the worry and much of the parenting to fall upon Demelza. In doing so, she was often too tired or less-than-desirous of Ross’s attentions late into the night. Now that the boy was over a year old, Ross had found himself a measure more comfortable in engaging with the lad, but those early months of distance had made the bonding more formal than it had been with Julia.

Always the constant comparisons. How long would these go on? And now, to have a quiet evening in the company of his wife after so many months? Ross’s thumb moved up the buttons of his waistcoat with more than a little haste.

“How did it go today?” He started at the sound of Demelza’s voice behind him, her warm fingers gently tugging at the neck of his waistcoat. He relaxed his arms, allowing her to slip the garment free from his shoulders.

Curiosity or accusation, he wondered to himself. Most likely the former, but the fact that the latter always grated on his conscious was growing tiresome. The truth was Demelza had clearly demonstrated her ability to run a household – as shabby as it was – gracefully and without complaint. For the most part, he reminded himself. If she had a complaint it was his continued partnership with Trencrom and the tub carriers. As for that, there was nothing that could be done at the present. It was the only money they’d had to rely upon, until they were able to strike copper, and most of that was being plowed back into the mine.

He knew her concern was centred on his safety and liberty, more than the philosophy. Would Elizabeth have been able to manage as well? The thought had sprung up in his mind, unbidden and unwanted. Similar thoughts had begun to snake through his broodings, ever since the Penvenen’s dinner party, when she’d engaged him in that damnable conversation. Why had she found it necessary to pose questions meant only to reopen a case long since closed? Had he initiated it that night over a year and a half ago after the harvest party at Trenwith? Too much brandy and candlelight. Too much strife and worry at home. God, what a mess he’d made.

“Ross?” 

Her voice drew him from his thoughts, and he raised his hand to cup her cheek. “Some of the samples look promising, but we won’t know for certain until we blast tomorrow.” He smoothed the furrow in her brow with his thumb and was rewarded with a smile. He kissed her, tasting the port she must have had with supper. “Help me with my boots?”

Ten minutes later he sank into the water with a hiss and a groan. “How many cauldrons of water did you boil for this tonight?” he yelped. “Are you attempting to cook me for stew?”

She laughed, dipping the sponge into the tub with nary a wince. “I wasn’t sure when you would be arriving home, so I figured it would be sitting for a while.” She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “Shall I get some water from outside?”

“No, no,” he grunted, settling himself gingerly on the bottom of the tub. Despite the initial shock, he had to admit it heated him to the bone. He settled back and sighed with pleasure as she squeezed a sponge full of water over his head. “That’s bliss, my dear,” he said, flexing his toes against the foot of the tub before sliding under the surface. The water sluiced over his hair as he resurfaced. He ran his hands over his hair, slicking back the long black curls out of his face and leaned back. “How was your day?”

“Jeremy and I had an adventure down on the beach this afternoon,” she said, running a sponge across his chest. He purred as her nails lightly grazed his nipple. He looked at her through his lashes and was certain she was trying to hide a knowing smirk. “We came upon some seals sunning themselves on the sand.”

Ross smiled, a memory tickling the edge of his consciousness. “What did the lad do?”

“He squealed loud enough to startle the beasts, then chased them down into the surf!” she laughed. Ross cocked his head to get a better look at her. “’Tis true!” she squeaked, squeezing another spongeful of water over his head. “I barely caught him before he ran into the sea.”

“Fitting, since he was almost born in it,” Ross teased. She gave him a splash for his troubles. “I remember when Francis and I surprised a herd of seals on the beach when we were children.”

“How old were you?” Demelza asked, the sponge set adrift in the tub. 

“We were, perhaps nine.” Her fingers rubbed his temples, making him groan. “I shall give you fifty years to stop that, my love.” She pressed a kiss to his temple before she resumed her massage. “We’d been at Nampara, harassing the chickens when my mother came outside and ordered us off to play until tea.” He paused, picturing his mother’s lovely smile and thick black hair as she shooed them out of the courtyard that afternoon. He and Francis had raced down to the beach, where they would collect seashells and play along the surf’s edge. “The day had been hot and I’d wanted to go swimming, but Francis hadn’t learned how to. We were running along the beach when we heard this tremendous noise, only to discover a bull seal and several cows not more than twenty feet from us.” He glanced up to see the look of sheer delight sparkling in Demelza’s eyes. “Well, we turned and ran back from whence we came, hearts thundering in our ears.” 

They laughed together for a moment. “It has been good...very good spending time with Francis at the Penvenen’s,” Ross said. “I’m still impressed with how he handled Tom’s case the other day.”

Demelza ran the sponge down his chest, and his body warmed, despite the heat of the water, and his mind wandered towards more intimate thoughts. “I can’t but admire Francis,” she said with a sigh.

That shook him from his reverie. “What?”

“Well, he’s not as handsome as some nor as daring, but he has a wisdom,” she mused aloud, squeezing water over his head and making him smile despite the tickle of jealousy that teased around his neck. “He does value his own skin he’ll maybe live longer on that account

Ross frowned, glancing up at his wife. “Do I not have wisdom?”

“Can you tell if a man be a traitor to his friends or not?” she asked, arching her russet brows at him.

He barely kept himself from pouting like a toddler. “Perhaps you should have married my cousin,” he said flippantly.

“He’s a good man,” she said simply. “He has things that you lack.” She squeezed another great quantity of water over his head and he laughed. “But you have things that he lacks,” she continued, a smile in her voice. “Put the two of you together and that’d make a complete man.” Her fingertips caressed the nape of his neck.  Her comments were eerily close to a conversation he’d had with Verity at Julia’s christening, where they’d discussed Demelza and Elizabeth’s qualities, and he found he didn’t like it at all. 

“Do I leave such a lot to be desired?” he asked brusquely, sitting up and reaching to draw her face down towards his. He gave her a short, biting kiss that gentled under the warm caress of her tongue. Her breath was sweet as he arched his back, his damp fingers threading through the hair behind her ear as the kiss deepened. 

“Yes, Ross,” she smiled against his mouth. Her voice was husky, like satin on his skin, as she nuzzled his cheek with her nose. “A lot to be desired.” She met his mouth with hers, taking the lead as her right hand held his head still against the rim of the tub. The tip of her left index finger toyed with the dark curls of his chest hair at the hollow of his throat.

He purred.

Image by @poldark-things 

So... shall we stop there? Or continue?

[mmmuses]

Winter’s Chill -- sneak peek at mmmuse’s missing moment

credit to @poldark-things for the use of the image

Ross’s pushed open the door to their bedchamber, pausing as the sound of pouring water reached his still-ringing ears. “What’s this?” he said with surprise.

“Good evening, Ross,” Demelza said warmly as she set down the empty pail near the foot of the tin bathtub. “I thought you might like a soak after today’s blasting.” The fire in the hearth did much to take the chill from his bones after a day underground and a frosty ride home. Candlelight flickered in the wall sconces and on the table near the bed. The smile on her face forced him to conceal the instantaneous concern that always set the corners of his mouth these days, his worry over the state of their finances profound. They are candles of her own making, he thought to himself. If there was anyone capable of economizing their household expenditures it was his wife.

He touched her arm, brushing a kiss on her cheek. “That sounds like a grand idea, Demelza, thank you.” He shrugged out of his coat, glancing at their son’s cot. “Where is Jeremy?”

“Asleep in the guest room with Jinny and Kate,” Demelza murmured, hanging his coat on the back of the armchair. “It was too cold for them to walk home tonight.” 

His wife’s blue-green eyes flickered up to meet his, a becoming blush rising to her cheeks. Ross swallowed, his fingers pausing as he worked the buttons on his cuffs. He’d spent so many hours away from Nampara, working at Wheal Grace or at Trenwith to plan with Francis and Henshawe, that the raising of the boy had been more or less left to Demelza’s devices, and he suffered no end of guilt for it. His son’s infancy had been fraught with more trials than Julia’s had been, and whenever Jeremy had fallen ill or fractious Ross had feared the worse. 

Coward, a voice hissed in the back of his mind. It was right: he was a coward on many occasions, leaving the worry and much of the parenting to fall upon Demelza. In doing so, she was often too tired or less-than-desirous of Ross’s attentions late into the night. Now that the boy was over a year old, Ross had found himself a measure more comfortable in engaging with the lad, but those early months of distance had made the bonding more formal than it had been with Julia.

Always the constant comparisons. How long would these go on? And now, to have a quiet evening in the company of his wife after so many months? Ross’s thumb moved down to unfasten the buttons of his waistcoat with more than a little haste. 

[mmmuses]

Fandom: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Demelza Carne/Ross Poldark Characters: Ross Poldark, Demelza Carne, Dwight Enys Additional Tags: Grief/Mourning, Childbirth, Angst and Hurt/Comfort Series: Part 4 of Moments from Poldark

Summary: As Demelza labours to give birth to their second child, Ross reflects on the past and how it continues to haunt him. Can he dare to risk his heart again? Inspired by episode 2.04 of Poldark.

Your comments and feedback are greatly appreciated. Many thanks to @vickysnest and @rainpuddle13 for their help with this fic -- I greatly appreciate it!

[mmmuses]

The Waiting, part 1

Poldark spoilers 2.04 -- unbetaed. Final draft to be posted in Moments from Poldark, by mmmuse

He paced. There wasn’t much else for him to do but pace, since he’d managed to get Demelza back to Nampara. Pace and listen to her muffled moans and cries from above.

The day had begun on such a high note, with excitement filling his veins when he’d left Pasco’s bank. The fat sum of six hundred pounds lined the coffers of his account for the first time in years. The sale of the shares in Leisure had caused him a moment of regret as he considered everything that had gone into resurrecting it from dereliction. This had faded as he walked into the Red Lion, eager to meet Francis to finalize their new partnership. He’d run into George Warleggan instead, confirming news that he’d have been happier never knowing.

Francis. Ross had never wanted to acknowledge the fact the timing Carnmore’s destruction was far too convenient to the break the Poldark cousins had suffered following Verity’s elopement. And when his cousin had attempted to clear his conscious earlier that week, Ross had insisted he should not, that they leave the words unsaid. To have it confirmed from the person whom Ross despised more than anyone else living or dead…well, it simply could not be borne.

Ross ran his hand along his right brow, the skin and bone tender from the blow he’d received from George’s walking stick. The fight had been intense, more than he’d thought the pompous sop capable of handling. In the end, however, Ross had thrown the man the length of the bar, sending him head first into a table with a satisfying crunch. But as he’d limped away from the pub, curses and promises of banishment ringing in his ears, he was heartsick from knowing. Could he trust Francis in this latest endeavor? And how had George found out about the venture so quickly, before they’d had the chance to set the wheels in motion. He’d brooded over the question his entire ride home and had hoped for a quiet evening, sharing the news of the day with his wife.

That, as they say, was not to be.

Ross had been furious when he discovered she’d gone back out in the boat. Damn her for taking such risks! He’d sworn and muttered under his breath the entire walk down to the cove, the aches and pains from the fight with George all but forgotten as he reached the beach grass and looked out into the sea. There she was, well over fifty feet from shore, wicked surf kicking up with the wind’s coaxing. Didn’t she know how he worried for her when she was carrying? Hadn’t she complained about his overprotectiveness when Julia was on her way? 

He lost his breath for a moment. Julia, a name both blessed and cursed for the bittersweet memories he had for his girl. He’d asked Demelza if she could bear to have another child grow into their hearts, only to lose it again. Despite all of his efforts to evade it, this child she sheltered in her womb had already wheedled his way into a heart Ross had declared broken.

Seeing her now, risking everything for what? Food for the table she should not need to get because of you, a guilty voice whispered. His footsteps halted, temper stretched to breaking. Until she screamed. It was a sound that ran through him like a knife from throat to balls. He ran into the surf, mindless of everything save reaching her in time. Her cries nearly caused his knees to buckle with fear as he hauled her out of the boat., 

His heart pounded in his chest. “You are the most stubborn… pigheaded—”

“—Oh, I am?” she spat, teeth bared with rage.

“Where would you be if I hadn’t come along?” Ross bellowed over the crash of the surf, his hands gripping the side of the boat for dear life. 

“Where would YOU be if I hadn’t come along?” she countered, wincing against her pains. “Drinkin and brawlin’ and dodgin’ the noose!”

He hauled the boat close. “Let’s examine my failings at a more convenient time, shall we?” He reached for her waist. “Come on!” 

Her hands slid around his neck and he was glad to see she came willingly. “Ah, Judas!” she moaned.

Ross strode towards the beach. “Stop wriggling!” he commanded, coming close to dropping her. Temper outstripped fear as they all but torn into one another on the beach, hurling insults and invectives back and forth, each of them filled with righteous fury at the other. 

“You’re hateful! Ah!” she sobbed and it nearly tore his heart out.

“You’re infuriating!” Please God, please help me.

Tears glistened in her sea-green eyes. “I could crown you!”

A part of him wished to laugh, for there was his fiery girl, the one true love of his life. “By all means,” he conceded, all the while his panic for her safety caused him to doubt his ability to carry her home. “Once you’ve delivered our child.” 

The climb to Nampara had been difficult. He prayed the entire way, for strength, for patience, for mercy. For the protection of the woman held so tightly in his arms, her face contorted with agony, with fear. Her contractions seemed to have come one after the other, stacked like so much cordwood, by the time he’d kicked in the door. Soaking wet, their teeth chattering with cold, the warmth of the hearth enveloped them like the softest of quilts.

“Demelza,” Ross rasped, eyes drawn to her hand, fine-boned but strong, work-reddened, clamped around the swell of her belly until her knuckles grew white with the strain. Prudie was there in a thrice, cooing then castigating Demelza in the same breath. “Make ready the room, Prudie.” He glanced about, needing more hands, more arms and legs to do everything that needed doing. “Where is Jinny?”

“We figured ‘tis best to fetch Dr Enys, Mister Ross,” Prudie said, leading the way to the room. “She left same time as you, sir.”

“Good…good,” Ross muttered, then brushed Demelza’s forehead with his lips. “Dwight will be here soon, my love.”

“I want Mrs Zacky, Ross!” Demelza wailed. 

Ross felt the corner of his mouth twitch as they entered the bedchamber. He laid her on the coverlet, not caring about the water and sand they brought to it, kneeling next to the bed. Then Jinny flew in, Dwight on her heels. 

“Have your waters broken, Demelza?” Dwight asked, pressing his hand to her forehead. 

“I think so, I don’t know,” she wailed. Prudy’s fingers scrabbled at the string tying her mistress’s bodice. “Ross!”

He was by her side in an instant, gathering her hand in his. “Yes, love?” he murmured, paling at the force of her grip.

“I’m s-sorry,” she whispered before another pain seized her.

“Go, Ross,” Dwight ordered, his eyes kind but firm. “Leave us now.”