#james blamey
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Ok. I'll write the meta. (tw bullying, victim blaming)
The two largest moments in HP (the werewolf prank, SWM) which are sympathetic to Snape aren't really that well handled.
The werewolf prank doesn't really have that much impact on the plot. Harry pretty much never thinks about this. For the most part it mainly describes why Snape hates Sirius and Remus so much. And it's so victim-blamey too, with Sirius and Remus demonizing Snape. Plus, it's focused on Remus and Sirius too.
SWM was also really really really badly done. Worse maybe than the prank. Harry's POV just shuts off entirely DURING THE SCENE (I've had people get confused so I'm clarifying. During the scene. Not after). No mention of how Harry feels when the bullying starts, or his disgust and disbelief when he sees Sirius and James start bullying Snape. No conflict when he sees that hey the people he loves weren't really that great. No feelings when he sees the person he hates being hurt by the people he loves. ETC.
(SWM is so hard to write meta on for this reason).
And the aftermath isn't really that great either. It's okay for a while, but then it's neatly tied up by Remus and Sirius saying 'oh he liked dark arts, he wasn't that great, James changed THE END' Harry is satisfied with that. And then Harry pretty much never thinks about it again (with like one exception I think). Even when Snape sabotages his potion, even when he's around Remus and Sirius. Even in the aftermath where Snape reveals he was Harry's much adored Half Blood Prince and goes on about the history of 'levicorpus.'
I get that Harry has valid reason to hate Snape but at the same time I'd think finding out your role models did pretty awful stuff and sitting in class with your parent's victim (who hates you due to that bullying) would cause the issue to be more prominent in Harry's mind, especially since he's a victim of bullying himself and canonically is very adverse to people who remind him of Dudley, his own bully.
Wow, that last paragraph hit me in the chest lol
I love that you brought up Harry’s aftermath of Remus and Sirius’ dismissal.
Although Harry did call some bullshit when recalling that Remus had told him that he was made a prefect specifically to tone James and Sirius down but in the memory he stood and watched, and how it only happened because Sirius announced his boredom (which made me happy that he recognized those things), it was disappointing that he let it go so quickly
I think JK wrote it like that because she didn’t intend on him being viewed in a sympathetic manner. That’s why she skipped over it with Harry. It’s from his POV but she’s the writer. If she doesn’t care then she’ll write him to forget about it or ignore it after a couple of scenes, which, like you said, is contradicting to his character considering his feelings towards bullies.
She lacks sympathy and brain cells, and she doesn’t have a great attitude when it comes to Snape. The most she did was clear up the “he’s a villain” crap, so it’s not a surprise, but even though she wrote it that way, I think the situations alone is enough to sympathize for ppl who are naturally sympathetic.
The people in the fandom who don’t sympathize with these incidents just lack sympathy in general. The situations are pretty clear: attempted murder, purposely seeking someone out with malicious intent, torture (choking with soap is equivalent to water boarding which is torture), forcefully stripping someone in public (a minor at that). I don’t see what’s so hard to grasp for some people.
I also think a general misconception is that sympathy = liking the character which is completely not true. You can recognize and address indecency without loving the victim. It’s an excuse.
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Twilight Clownery—Part One
You know it was time. For it is this series above all that brings all the clowns the yard, and if there is one thing I do so love to eat, it’s clownery. Feat. Movie Twilight getting more love than Book Twilight, human character simping, and my Bella Hate Dumb tag is finally born. Spoilers, I guess
You mean those same movies that had Edward follow her into the forest, drag her violently by the elbow, screaming “AS IF YOU CAN OUTRUN ME” and overall behave like an emotionally constipated jerk (randomly leaving mid-conversation, slamming on the school bus door) with zero sense of humor?
Stewart is solid gold if not right for the part, Pattinson much less so, Billy Burke a joy, but the rest? Solid B-cast all over them. Even so, the scripts for those movies were god-awful, so it’s no surprise even okay actors struggled.
Human Character Simping
There is this very weird tendency of the fandom to glorify the human characters, and I for one cannot relate. I have a suspicion it’s the movies’ doing—the actors for the human characters are much better written than the vampire ones.
But! The human characters’ mediocrity (bar Angela and Ben) is very well described. In Twilight alone Jessica is judgmental and small-minded—“they all, like, live together” thinks Esme being unable to have children is a failing (!!), and is clearly only friends with Bella because Mike is interested. Apart from that, though? She is just basic (and where the hell did you even get pervert???). Lauren is the only one who gets the bitchiness descriptor.
For her part Bella makes a good (and successful) effort at pairing Mike and Jessica together, simply because she knows Jessica is interested in him. In later books she is not as good a friend to her but that was because 1) she was literally depressed and 2) she was preparing to become a vampire.
Bella Hate Dumb
Bella disregards the feelings of others so much she decides to move to a place she hated just to set her mother free to travel with her boytoy husband. Bella disregards the feelings of others so much that she could not tell Mike directly that she wasn’t interested in him because it would hurt his feelings.
Because it’s Bella’s fault that James wanted to kill her and that Victoria wanted to avenge James through her. It’s Bella’s fault that the Quileutes are werewolves to begin with, despite the fact that Sam had already transformed before her arrival and the rest would have followed suit purely because of the Cullens’ presence. And of course It’s Bella’s fault that Irina saw her and Renesmee, just minding their own business.
What the hell is this victim-blamey insanity? It’s horrific, unhinged, pathological…and so, so delicious. Clown OP created a whole-ass chart! A chart!!!! Was clownery ever this tasty?
Bella thinks/Bella has no thoughts. Chef kiss. This rightfully belongs to the Clownery Hall of Fame. Muah.
This
Because everything about this 4-book romance series with vampires, werewolves, people trying to kill Bella, people trying to kill Edward and his family, people being against Bella being a vampire, people keen on Bella becoming a vampire or else, and Bella literally dying to birth her half-vampire nudger just screams “actually super easy, barely an inconvenience.”
#twilight#twilight renaissance#twilight clown takes#twilight clownery#bella hate dumb#it has begun#om nom nom#honestly that whole bella thinks/bella has no thoughts clownery pretty much sums it up#depending on the clown it's either bella has the worst personality or no personality
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I think the way you worded the Spotify situation was a bit victim-blamey 💀 in your post, you made it sound like ARMYs response to the Spotify fiasco was justified—it certainly wasn’t—and completely glossed over the disgusting behavior from ARMYs. I think this fandom has a big problem with trying to force BTS into this role of victim when that hasn’t been the case for years, and ARMYs really need to give it up. BTS aren’t underdogs anymore, they don’t need protection. The fandom as a whole looks bad when they respond this way to petty shit and, in a way, it makes BTS look bad, especially when they go on talk shows (James Corden, for example) and almost commend ARMYs’ protective, bullying response. Idk, this whole Lisa/SPOTIFY/Jungkook situation has left me with a bad taste in my mouth; it’s difficult to reconcile the image BTS has worked to portray with the behavior of a large portion of the fandom.
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Lol Anon,
I mean, I was just writing off the cuff responses without going into detail…
You sent this just off the back of my latest post and it’s very easy to respond to so here you go:
I see your comment as just another extension of stan Twitter rhetoric from chronically-online siloed environments where people forget this is not just about BTS vs. Blackpink. I hope you realize you’re thinking exactly like the factions of the fandom you’re calling out when you frame it this way. Because why is gross negligence and incompetence from the music establishment towards artists being framed as “victimhood” to begin with? Why introduce charged moral language into a situation of clear corporate exploitation of a system that is opaque and ripe for manipulation, impacting artists from Mitski to BTS to Taylor Swift to Omalay. I find it interesting that in a situation where there was no excuse for a supposed numerical mistake to happen not once but twice in less than 24 hours, your impulse is to blame the fandom’s response, more concerned with how it looks, than the fact that Spotify manages a broken system on which millions of artists’ livelihoods depend.
If you want me to sit here and talk about ARMYs dragging Lisa and Blinks dragging Jungkook, the nasty spirit and behaviour towards the artists from everyone involved and how that’s disgusting and wrong etc, sure I can do that, but (1) why should I waste my time on it when every other blogger and/or pundit is already doing just that? You’re better off going to another blog for that content because I’m doing better things with my time here. And (2) why bother with that when the situation implies something significantly more serious? Because if Spotify cannot accurately count streams for something “fun” like Wrapped, what happens for more impactful things like Royalties?
Because in all the noise, perhaps you didn’t notice in Spotify’s vague apology that their statement did not mention the specific artists affected by their ‘numerical’ mistake. If it indeed was down to tags, BTS certainly aren’t the only artists affected. I already saw changes to my playlists following Spotify’s statement, to smaller African artists I support. Imagine if ARMYs didn’t have the knowledge to develop systems to accurately track these stats, they’d have no tools to point out the error and that’s if they’d notice it anyway.
If you’re looking for who to blame for your victimhood narrative, if there’s one at all, I fail to see how Spotify’s ignorance and lack of responsibility is not the root of it.
As to your wider comment of ARMYs always seeing BTS as underdogs and how that’s wrong, that’s yet another k-pop narrative that is stupidly reductive. In my opinion. The music establishment has survived with tactics that are nakedly exploitative because not enough people can look beyond fanwars in their stan environments to look at what is actually happening in the real world.
- Taylor Swift is a white American woman who with all her privilege still had a real battle with the music establishment to own her music.
- There’s a class action lawsuit from music fans in Canada, including ARMYs, against Ticketmaster’s exploitative practices.
- Taylor’s fandom as well as ARMYs are responding to the US Senate to investigate Ticketmaster and Live Nation for the sorts of ‘numerical errors’ that blatantly abuse the system.
- Bad Bunny’s fandom has been dragging Jeremy Erlich all over Facebook and Twitter for weeks now for the way that platform deleted concert showings in favour of Drake.
- Just as when the VMAs this year also had their ‘numerical mistake’ curiously also in favour of Blackpink, and just as with Shawols two months ago responding to a music magazine’s insensitive mention of Jonghyun’s suicide, what I saw yesterday was ARMYs writing thought out responses with verifiable facts and figures asking Spotify to correct their mistake. They spammed Twitter, email, and Spotify support channels.
All these are just very recent examples of artists and fans from everywhere rightfully responding to an establishment that has no excuse.
I hope by now you realize how silly and reductive it is to apply the mention of underdogs towards artists, anywhere, relative to the current music establishment. This is obviously more than that, it’s more nuanced than that, and the balance of power firmly rests with the establishment.
Much like my post about k-pop stans thinking wanting success in the largest music market in the world is driven by ‘xenophobia’, I think you’re applying the ‘BTS are not underdogs’ narrative in a situation that frankly simply does not call for it. There’s bigger fish to fry but if you’re stuck on fanwars and ARMY shooters acting a fool on Twitter, Blinks staying true to form and doing the same, I certainly agree with you Anon, but I’ve been into k-pop for a decade - I’ve seen 1st and 2nd generation k-pop stans physically assault people getting out of the subway on behalf of their oppas, I’ve seen them partner with real life Nazis to get people killed, so I guess I have a slightly different perspective on what makes a fandom look bad enough for me to comment.
#bts#kpop#kpop discourse#BTS and Spotify#army fandom#bts fandom#fandom behavior#bts army#taylor swift
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Silly nonsense to hint at Peter's betrayal without making him absolutely the worst friend
Essentially I wanted to play it so that rather it being a case of the marauders fault for 'leaving peter out' or him being 'evil' (like homophobic for example) because 1. Sounds victim blamey like "well maybe James should've been nicer than maybe he wouldn't've died" and 2. The marauders wouldn't be friends with a bigot.
So I decided to play it that Peter is a calculated coward where he essentially weighs out the pros and cons of decisions to see what he 'gains' from it (like he gains nothing from telling people about Remus being a werewolf or jegulus) but he gains something with telling Voldemort the secret (his life being spared)
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“Sarah met the man she knew as James Bell in her Twitter DMs, where he showed up one day in 2018 asking if she had an Amazon wishlist. ‘All the Twitter honeys have one,’ he wrote.” (from this article)
So, like... I don’t want to ask this in a victim-blamey way; the harasser here is clearly responsible for his harassing behavior.
But I am curious at this point.
Is this kind of thing normal to women who are broadly considered attractive or desirable? Do men who are actually okay interact with you like this?
Because if somebody does this to me? Shows up in my DM’s sounding like this? There is no way he’s not a scammer or a liar.
None. Absolutely none.
None of these women are responsible for their harassment!
And I am baffled at the idea of responding positively to a DM like this.
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ROLLS-ROYCE – Boat Tail from Edward Paginton on Vimeo.
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1ST AD: JONATHAN SIDWELL
EDITOR: MEGAN THORNE [THE QUARRY]
POST PRODUCTION: RASCAL
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SCORE: BENSON HERBERT [TRAIT SOUND]
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CREATIVE: NATALIE VOSLOO
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LIGHTING TECHNICIAN: ALEX GIBBONS
LIGHTING TECH: KAI BLAMEY
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LOCATION MANAGER: MARK ROLFE
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WARDROBE SYLIST: JOSEPH CRANE
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MAKE UP ARTIST: POPPY FRANCE
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OBONGJAYAR. 'NEVER CHANGE' from DUNCAN LOUDON on Vimeo.
Dir/edit: Duncan.
DOP: Krzysztof Trojnar
costume: Desiree Laidler
Production Design: Bon Walsh
Producer: Tarquin Glass
Production Company:somesuchandco
Exec Producer: Saskia Whinney
Production Manager: Maddy Perkins
Production Assistant: Hayley West
Hair & Make Up: Elin Gittins
Focus Puller: Mark Gee
Loader: drumz of the south
Key Grip: Ben Freeman
Gaffer: Alex Edyvean
Spark: Kai Blamey
1st AD: Sam Smith
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Costume Asst: Amelia Batchelar
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PA: Marina Zolke PA: Alexander Salem PA: Annabel Sexton PA: Imogen Smith PA: Laure Iffenecker
Equipment: direct digital hq Manager: Theo Lalic
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Happy Father’s Day!
#poldark#perioddramaedit#weloveperioddrama#perioddramasource#poldarkedit#ross poldark#julia poldark#jeremy poldark#clowance poldark#francis poldark#geoffrey charles poldark#george warleggan#valentine warleggan#ursula warleggan#dwight enys#sarah enys#drake carne#loveday carne#andrew blamey#james blamey#ray penvenen#caroline penvenen#(NOT EVERY DAD IS THE BIOLOGICAL FATHER)#look at all the SOFT!#mine#my edit#mypoldark#my gifs
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Les trois Français - Ch. 4, 5 & 6
A crime/mystery AU
1793. After returning from the Americas to find only disappointment and heartbreak in Cornwall, Ross Poldark fled the place he once called home. Several years later, he leads a disordered, secretive life as one of London’s infamous Bow Street Runners, losing himself in the city’s murky alleyways and dark criminal workings.
His Aunt Agatha’s declining health finally convinces him to go back to Trenwith, the Poldark family home. There, he finds his cousin Francis, the county’s chief magistrate, embroiled in the perplexing case of the murders of three French emigres. Unable to resist the lure of a mystery, Ross must confront local politics, long-neglected friends, old enemies and lost loves in order to find the truth.
- A clue to the identity of a killer, an unexpected reunion and a surprise visitor complicate the case.
~
Chapter 4
“How long have the dead Frenchmen been here?” There was an abrupt silence at the breakfast table, and Ross realised that he had spoken the question aloud unprompted. After Francis explained the case to him the day of his arrival, Ross had sworn up and down that he did not want to get involved, that he was only here to see his family. Francis looked unconvinced but apparently accepted it. However, in the intervening two days, Ross had found himself turning the issue over in his mind, leading to Agatha snapping at him more than once for not paying attention to her.
“Come all the way back here just to ignore me!”
Now, he had given himself away and the triumphant smirk Francis failed to hide behind his tea cup was highly irritating. He had been away for over ten years, and somehow his cousin could still read him like a book.
“Changed your mind, cousin?” Ross said nothing, annoyed at having given in. Francis chuckled. “Very well. de Vayssiére arrived in ’91 – he landed at Falmouth. du Pas came to London sometime in the ‘80s, but came down here last year to see if he could find more work – as I’m sure you know, London is overrun with medical men, both genuine and otherwise. d’Aubigné arrived shortly after, also from London.”
“Both from London?”
“I thought the same thing, but there’s no evidence they met in the capital, or knew each other before lodging at Killewarren. They’re from different parts of France, and I can see no other connection.”
“There must be one.”
“Not necessarily. If they were killed by different people, as your friend Dr Enys says.” Ross ignored the stab of guilt the mention of Dwight Enys brought. As a young medic, Dwight had treated Ross in the battlefield hospital in Virginia, turning a potentially disfiguring head wound into a neat scar beside his left eye. They had become good friends thereafter, travelling home to England together before Ross made his first terrible visit to Cornwall.
They were eventually reunited in London – when Ross finally made it there. Dwight had patched him up – and sobered him up. The doctor’s decision to return to his native county after completing his medical studies had come dangerously close to tempting Ross to return also. They promised to keep in touch, but like everyone else Dwight had had to contend with sporadic, abrupt replies. Bar Verity, he was the only one to persist in writing. Ross knew he should visit Dwight – should really have done so already – but the self-recrimination that his reunions with his family had brought was quite enough to be going on with.
“Must we discuss this at breakfast?” Verity’s complaint butted into his thoughts, and Francis tutted.
“Very well, sister, we shall take our discussion elsewhere, since we have a call to pay.” It took a moment for that to register with Ross.
“We do?”
“Yes.”
~
“This is Nampara land, is it not?” Ross frowned as their horses crested the small hillock. They had ridden east from Trenwith, towards the sea. His memories of his childhood home seemed so far back in time as to be shrouded in mists, but he was sure that he recalled running along these paths with Francis as a boy.
“Yes, it is. We are to visit one of your tenants.”
“Tenants? I have tenants?”
“Well, some income had to be generated for the estate while you were gone. Uncle Joshua left it in my father’s care until you returned, so I had to take it on after his death. I look forward to handing all the papers over to you!” Ross grimaced, reminded of yet another thing he had neglected while burrowing himself into the chaos and filth of London.
They approached a clifftop cottage, a rough-hewn but attractive building that he remembered little of. A gaggle of dirty peasant-children scampered towards them as they tied up their horses. Francis fished in his coat and distributed a few coins into eager little hands. A moment later, the cottage door opened and a thin, sallow-looking woman emerged. Her clothes were worn and much-mended, hair piled under a grubby cap. Clutching a small package, she made to gather the urchins before coming to a startled stop when she noticed Ross and Francis.
“Oh, sirs – I –“ With a jerky bob, she rushed away, the little ones scampering behind her.
“Do you know that woman?” Ross asked, watching her disappear along the cliff-top.
“Not particularly. I believe her husband is a miner – Drabble, I think?” What business would that woman have with his mysterious tenant, Ross wondered? Who were they coming to see? Francis offered an immediate answer by promptly knocking on the cottage’s oaken door. It opened to reveal a young woman, her face brightening as she saw who called upon her.
“Fr – Oh.” She halted her enthusiastic greeting as she caught sight of Ross. “Sir.”
“D - Miss Carne, this is my cousin, Captain Ross Poldark, lately arrived from London.” She sketched an unpolished but neat curtsey, light catching on her vivid red hair.
“Cap’n. Mr Francis has spoken of ye, Sir.” Her accent was a working-woman’s, but not quite.
“Is that so? I quite thought he had forgotten all about me!” Ross made the jest, although he was somewhat bewildered. Why had Francis brought him to see this girl? His cousin had made out as if they were to meet someone who could help with their solving of the murders. What could some serving-wench – albeit a seemingly well-kept one – possibly have to do with three aristocratic Frenchmen?
“Cousin Ross means to help me seek out the truth about our unfortunate French guests. I believe you can offer us some aid?”
“Of course, sir. Please…” She stepped aside, and Ross followed Francis inside, still none the wiser as to what they could hope to achieve by coming here. They should be talking to the other French, and checking the woods where d’Aubigné was found, not wasting time!
“Ross? Miss Carne asked if you would like some tea?”
“Oh, er, yes, thank you.” He could at least affect some semblance of manners, not that politeness and decorum had been in the greatest of need these last few years.
“So, what do you have, D – Miss Carne?” Ross came to two simultaneous realisations – this young woman was some sort of informant, and that that was the second time his cousin had almost addressed her by what Ross assumed was her Christian name; and she had made the same mistake in return.
“I’m afraid I cannot help ye with the French doctor, or M. d’Aubigne -” her French pronunciation was surprisingly good “ – but the first man, de Vayssiere, was killed by a navy man.”
“A naval man?”
“Aye, a fight over a card game. John Bligh saw it – ‘is wife told me.”
“Why did Mr Bligh not report it?” She had gone to the stove to tend to her kettle, and Ross saw her brow crease at his question.
“He ‘as ‘is own ‘istory with the law. Like as not constables would ‘ave arrested ‘im for it. Whether they thought he did it or no.” Ross could not exactly argue with that – he had seen plenty of that sort of behaviour from so-called lawmen in his time.
“Would Mr Bligh speak with me? If you assured him that I did not wish to arrest him?” Francis accepted the steaming cup from her hand, and she pursed her lips thoughtfully as she passed another to Ross.
“P’raps.”
“Does he know the naval man? Or can he describe him?”
“Can’t say. But ‘e did tell his wife he saw whole thing clear.”
“And how do you know Mrs Bligh?” Ross took a sip of his tea and balked. “Ugh – what is this?”
“It’s nettle.”
“Miss Carne tends to the health of our district, along with Dr Enys.”
Ross finally took a proper look around the parlour-kitchen of the little cottage – his bemusement at their visit had made him remiss – taking in the haphazard mixture of jars and bottles on the shelves, pots of flowers on the windowsill. This woman was obviously some sort of herbalist - that explained how she obtained her information; her clients would likely share local scandal and rumour, and be more inclined to speak to her than to a magistrate or a constable. An astute choice of informant on his cousin’s part; Ross was impressed.
In an attempt to be somewhat polite, Ross forced himself to finish the awful tea – which Francis seemed to quite enjoy – and drifted out of the conversation, which moved onto some other apparently routine matters of Francis’ business, and Miss Carne’s, although he did hear her agree to see if Mrs Bligh could persuade her husband to give a statement.
As with every other piece of information so far collected, this one simply added to the pile of questions, assuming that Miss Carne’s information was correct, of course. Who was this Naval officer? Did he kill the others, too? Why?
Actually ‘why’ might be fairly easy – a serving sailor could certainly come up with plenty of reasons to hate the French. But killing in the heat of battle was not the same as cold-blooded murder.
Chapter 5
“You insisted on coming, so you could at least try not to look utterly miserable about it.” At Francis’ admonishment, Ross attempted to school his features into something like a pleasant expression, and Francis chuckled. They were in the great hall at Killewarren, attending Caroline Enys’ soirée. Francis had to admit that he was a touch surprised when he learned that the party had not been cancelled, considering the recent fate of her houseguest.
“We considered calling it off, but thought perhaps it might buoy the mood of the district a little. And if there is some madman hunting the French, show him we are not to be cowed.” Dwight had confided when he visited Agatha a few days ago. Francis certainly appreciated this, and admired it. Of course, as Ross had immediately pointed out, the occasion offered other advantages. All of the French emigres were invited, along with many other important figures in the district. It was an excellent opportunity for observation.
They could certainly do with more information. Demelza had – as she ever did – turned out to be entirely reliable. She had also managed to persuade John Bligh to speak to Francis privately, confirming what his wife had related and managing to give a decent description of the naval officer. William Henshawe, the only useful man Francis had managed to recruit as a constable, had by means of some discreet enquiries, and one or two palms crossed with silver, ascertained the likely identity of this officer as one Second Lieutenant Robert Havering. Said Havering had, three days after stabbing M. de Vayssiere, departed the country on HMS Surprise, and therefore could not have killed the other two Frenchmen.
One down, two to go.
Of course, even discounting de Vayssiere from the equation did not put them much further forward. At Ross’ insistence, they had returned to the woods where d’Aubigné’s body had been found. It was raining on the night of the man’s death, and the woods were a common shortcut for locals and estate staff alike, so what he hoped to find Francis hadn’t known. He hadn’t visited the site himself, but sent two constables to look it over. He’d found himself cursing his useless men once again when Ross alighted upon still evident bloodstains on the fallen leaves.
“Here, look at these footprints.” The marks his cousin pointed at were somewhat blurred by later traffic, but Francis could see that they were deeper than the others surrounding them, and lacked a heel print.
“Someone was running.”
“Two men. You see, these are formal shoes. These here are larger – heavy boots; and they cross the others in some places.”
“So if the first lot are d’Aubigné, then he was pursued by his killer.”
“It would appear so.” With Francis in tow, Ross had followed the trails back to a clearing. This seemed to be where the pursuit began, as the deeper prints disappeared, and were obscured by a great many others, the clearing being the crossing point between three commonly used footpaths. Despite a thorough search, they found only one other thing in the clearing, a rope tied around a tree trunk, the trailing end peculiarly severed.
“It looks new. But does it have anything to do with the murder or not?” Ross had mused, examining the frayed end. They had no idea.
Now, they hoped something useful might be gained by examining the dead men’s countrymen. Subtly, of course.
“Ah! The famous Captain Poldark. How delighted I am to meet you at last!” Caroline approached, resplendent in a pristine white gown under a turquoise robe. She looked much more like her usual self than a few days earlier, and Francis admired her outward strength.
“Ross, my friend Mrs Caroline Enys, you know her husband, I believe.” Dwight had followed her.
“Hello, old friend. I am glad to see you looking well.”
“Considering Dwight mended your face, it seems to me you have been a most neglectful correspondent!” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ross shift awkwardly from foot to foot and hoped his cousin would not take Caroline’s words the wrong way. She loved to tease, always without malice, but Ross did not know her as he did.
“Yes, Mrs Enys, I believe I have. I shall beg your husband’s forgiveness forthwith.” It seemed Ross had taken her admonishment in the spirit it was intended, and whatever slight tension there may have been had vanished. Until, that is, the voice of a servant announced the party’s newest arrivals.
“Mr and Mrs George Warleggan!”
Oh no.
~
“You can make a report to the Admiralty, but whether they will take action is another matter.”
“Bligh agreed to speak to me, but I do not think he would agree to appear in court, so I could offer little evidence against the Lieutenant.”
“Well,” George took a thoughtful sip of his wine. “Considering the current conditions at sea, I doubt you could inflict more severe punishment upon him. The Surprise heads for the Southern Americas- dangerous waters, and not merely because of the French.”
“How do you know that?” Francis frowned. He had never known George to be especially interested in military matters, and besides, surely the movements of His Majesty’s fleet were secret?
“Oh, the Admiralty has agreed to share certain information with shipping companies, so far as is necessary to safeguard what trade we are able to conduct. I trust, of course, your own discretion.”
“Oh. Of course.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I must find Elizabeth. See how much money she has lost us at cards.”
“You mean how much she has enriched you, surely?!” Elizabeth’s skill at cards was significant, and more than a few ladies and gentlemen of the district had emptied their coin purses for her over the years, although she would rarely accept more than a guinea or two.
“Well,” George replied, amused, “there is always a first time for everything.”
Francis spent the next short while mingling, exchanging general chat with the other guests. It would not do to question anyone too closely, for fear of offending them. Besides, his French was not really up to anything more than small talk. Ross’ was better, so he eventually set off in search of his cousin, catching his voice through a doorway.
“Oh. Good evening.” The odd note in Ross’ voice didn’t register with Francis until he heard the replying voice, at which he darted back out of sight.
“Good evening, Ross.” It was Elizabeth. Francis did not know what to do. He had no especial desire to eavesdrop on what would undoubtedly be a difficult moment. However, he also wondered if it might not be best to stay close by so he could strategically interrupt if necessary. Awkwardly, he lingered as Elizabeth continued. “You look well.”
“As do you Mrs Warleggan.” Francis winced at the slight sneer in Ross’ voice, but Elizabeth either did not notice or elected to ignore it. He suspected the latter – Elizabeth was far from imperceptive.
“I am glad to see you back.”
“Are you?”
“Of course. Why should I not be? I know how your family have missed you. And considering I once believed you dead…”
“You did not seem to mourn me for long.”
“Oh, Ross! Must we do this? After all these years?” Silence. That was something about Ross which had not changed evidently. His sullen stubbornness had always annoyed Francis, and apparently it irritated Elizabeth also, considering her tone as she continued. “I was devastated when I was told you had been killed. But I was barely nineteen years old. What would you have had me do? Spend the rest of my life in mourning? A life of spinsterhood and bitterness? Perhaps you think it wrong of me, but I could not live without love.”
“And you found it with a man you knew I disliked.”
“Forgive me, Ross, but your feelings about him were never mine.”
“Hm. Evidently.”
“Oh, Ross, can we not be friends now? Could we not have been then? So many years have passed. Surely you have not spent them in anger and resentment?” Francis would not be at all surprised if that was exactly what Ross had done. “Besides, we were both so very young when you proposed to me. I was just a girl, and you barely a man. Did you have any real notion of love? I do not believe I did.”
“Hmph.” That was probably as close to an acknowledgement that she was right that Elizabeth would get, and Francis decided now was the appropriate moment. Affecting a casual air, he stepped around the door way.
“Ah, Ross! Elizabeth! Here you are!”
Chapter 6
Ross took a deep breath as he broke the surface of the water, shaking his head to clear his eyes. Pushing wet hair back off his face, he swam further out with a slow stroke. There was still a chill to the water this time of year, but it only added to the sense of refreshment Ross felt. How he had loved sea-bathing as a young man – running down to the beach on bright early mornings to plunge into the clear, cool water. Smooth, wet sand under his feet, fresh salty air in his lungs. The London bath houses he frequented were pleasant enough in their own way but nothing compared to this.
Back here, he realised just how used he had become to the city and its filth and stink. The fresh air of Cornwall was almost overwhelming, along with the open spaces, not to mention the quiet. He sat up at night in his room at Trenwith listening to…nothing. Nothing but the occasional hoot of an owl, and the rustle of the wind through the trees. It was never peaceful in the city – drunks shouting and brawling, prostitutes and pedlars hawking their wares, carts and carriages rattling back and forth at all hours.
He stopped and floated gently on the water for a while. The weather had improved and the sky was clear, a few whisps of cloud drifting gently by. Tiny waves lapped around him as two seagulls wheeled overhead, looking for fish no doubt. His environment may be tranquil, but Ross’ mind was not.
Pretence to indifference had long since been abandoned regarding the murdered Frenchmen. The case had ensnared him and it would not let him go until he had resolved it to his satisfaction. Like a hound at the scent, Blackstone often said, not entirely inaccurately, so much as Ross did not like to admit it. The thought of his colleague, as well as London, niggled him. He had sent a message back to Bow Street , claiming that family matters detained him in Cornwall for longer than he had envisaged. This was not entirely a lie – Agatha’s illness was not improving, and as much as they did not truly wish to acknowledge it, all in the family knew she was fading – but being home had raised some complicated emotions in him.
Seeing Elizabeth had redoubled that. He felt frozen to the spot as she walked down that hallway toward him, radiant in her white gown and golden robe; no longer the girl he remembered, but a beautiful, assured woman. She glowed with health and happiness – her wide, gentle smile and soft, warm eyes had not changed. It was obvious she did not lie when she said she was pleased to see him, but he could tell her feelings for him were not the same as they once were.
As if he had not been a fool to expect them to be. It pained him, but she was right about them. His misery and heartbreak at what he had chosen to regard as her betrayal had consumed him for a long time, but in truth he had not thought of her quite so much for many years. Disappointment and grief had simply been excuses for his shiftless life, something he knew had been slowly dawning on him for a while.
Thinking of Elizabeth brought him back to the case again. After Francis chanced upon them – although Ross suspected not entirely by accident – Ross had taken the opportunity to ask Elizabeth what she knew of the French emigres. Her French had always been excellent, and he had been right to assume that she had therefore spoken with many of them.
“I have not been out much lately,” she had explained – and he had to admit it was still something of a blow to learn that she had five children; he had once upon a time dreamed of what his children with her might look like, although it was rather more that it emphasised once again how long he had been gone.
Dr du Pas had attended on her once or twice during her pregnancy, and she could account for no reason why anyone should wish him ill. M d’Aubigné she had not known especially well, but again had no notion as to a motive for his murder.
“He was a little…grand. Rather pompous, which I imagine came from his time with the royal retinue. I think he rather considered most other people beneath him. “ She pursed her lips in disapproval. “He also spoke very often and very openly of his hatred for the revolutionaries and the French republic. They have their sympathisers in this country, of course, but none that d’Aubigné would have been much in company with.”
Ross was impressed with her frankness, and her thoughtfulness. She had been a great help, too, in speaking to the other emigres. His own French was not bad – better than Francis’ – but Elizabeth’s was flawless.
Not that the other foreigners had actually offered much information – the usual mix of gossip, wild speculation and self-interest which generally greeted any crime, particularly those committed amongst the gentry. Many were genuine in their desire to help, but knew very little. Several had been patients of du Pas, and most knew de Vayssiere as a gambler and womaniser, but both seemed to have been generally well-liked. Elizabeth was also not alone in her assessment of d’Aubigné.
Having encountered quite a few in London, Ross had found French aristocrats rather like English ones – religion and dislike of English food, fashions and customs aside, of course. Those resident in Cornwall were no different – the snobby, gossipy Madame de Voyer; pretty young Comtesse de la Chatre, who was clearly and understandably very upset about the whole matter; the foppish macaroni M. de Dreux and his sycophantic associate M. Leféron; a wine-soaked priest, Pére Cornet. A M. de Cygne, who had arrived from London only a few weeks previously and therefore knew nothing at all, bothered Ross for some reason. He suspected it was because the man’s rather bulldog-like countenance and gruff manner reminded him of his late Uncle Charles.
Back on the sand at last, he dried himself roughly, pondering the facts. It seemed de Vayssiere’s death was simply a coincidence – a fatal scuffle, like the dozens which happened every night in the city. Ross had examined the unofficial statement taken by Francis from the man Bligh and could find no issue with it. But as he and Francis had discussed over a night cap, identifying de Vayssiere’s killer did not actually help much. There were still two others to find, and not much with which to find them.
~
He was greeted by an enthusiastic Verity upon his return to Trenwith after a leisurely ride along the cliffs. She ushered him into the sitting room to find a tall, handsome young man in naval uniform.
“Ross, this is my step-son, Lieutenant James Blamey. James, my cousin Ross.”
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Sir. Step-mama has spoken of you often.” He regarded Verity with obvious affection and it truly pleased Ross to see it. He had been genuinely delighted to learn that Verity had married and had a family of her own, although reading between the lines of her letters had told him it had not been quite straightforward. She had come to Trenwith alone, leaving her family in Falmouth, and he was sure she must be missing them.
“James came to surprise me!” Verity beamed.
“My superiors charged me with a letter to Truro, and were kind enough to allow me a detour.”
He had even been given permission to stay overnight, which struck Ross as unusually generous, but then again he was not a Naval man. Perhaps they were more indulgent masters. James had obviously visited Trenwith before, greeting his step-uncle with fondness when Francis returned from a morning at Grambler. Even Agatha seemed to like the boy, having been helped from her rooms into her chair by the fire in honour of his visit. He let her win several games of cards in a row, delighting the old woman.
Francis retreated to his study to take care of some estate paperwork and so Ross spent an idle afternoon of chat, tea and cards with his relatives, which frankly made him rather discomfited. He was truly happy to see Verity and Agatha so animated, but the pleasant scene was one of many, many things which filled him with guilt over his years of neglect of his family. Furthermore, he had never been at ease with such lack of activity, especially when there were killers to be caught! He would much rather be doing something, but he could not actually think of what to do. With James visiting, he would not get time alone with Francis after dinner. He had been hoping to ask if Francis or his constables had any other informants they could consult.
Agatha dined in her rooms, and Verity excused herself to sit with her before bed shortly after. The two Poldark men were therefore left alone with young James. Ross expected an at least pleasant evening of chat and port, but realised that he might be wrong when he watched how carefully James made sure his step-mother was definitely gone.
“Gentlemen, I must confess that I have not been truthful with you. Nor with my dear step-mama, much to my grief.” He sat in the chair opposite Francis, expression very serious. “I was in fact sent here by my senior officers to speak especially with you both. They considered me best placed for the task, considering my family connection.”
“Forgive me, but you say the Admiralty wishes you to speak with us?” Ross asked.
“Yes. About the matter you are both interested in. The unfortunate Dr du Pas and M. d’Aubigné. We know you have been looking into their deaths, as is your right as Magistrate, of course, Uncle, and only natural considering your occupation, Captain.” It did not surprise Ross that James knew he was a Bow Street man. Even if the fact had not managed to make its way into the news-sheets, the Admiralty were generally well-informed, in his experience.
“And what of it?” Francis asked, frowning over the rim of his port glass.
“We would like to politely ask you to stop.”
“Stop?”
“Yes. You see, you could well jeopardise some very important work of our own…which I am not at liberty to disclose.” He hurried to anticipate their natural question. Ross frowned, but Francis beat him to his objection.
“Now, see here, James. If your superiors believe that our ‘family connection’ means I will be quite happy for you to just walk in here and tell me how to conduct my business they have got another think coming. It merely means that whatever objections I have will be rather more polite than otherwise!” James looked utterly taken aback by this response, and Ross was torn between amusement and feeling something quite similar.
“But, Uncle – “
“Don’t ‘But, Uncle –‘ me, young man. I don’t answer to your admirals and commodores, no matter what they might like to think. I act under the same authority as they do – the King’s, and for the same purpose, the security of this Realm. They may fancy their work is of greater import than mine, but if the country is to be overrun with thieves and murderers, what is the point in fighting a war for it?” Ross was once again struck by the change in his cousin – from the nervous, highly-strung young man he remembered, to this confidant, self-assured figure who could have a naval lieutenant squirming in his chair. “So, if your masters want to convince me to stop my investigation into these heinous crimes, they had better be prepared to offer a damn good reason for it.”
“I – “
“Oh, come now, James. You know he is not going to let you wriggle off the hook. And, if your senior officers are as well informed about me as you seem to wish to indicate, they should know full well I’m not to be easily commanded.” Indeed, Ross thought wryly, the Admiralty would not need to look hard to discover that.
“Oh, very well.” James sighed. “We were warned this would not be easy. The fact of the matter is, there is a French spy operating in this district. Reporting upon the movement of ships at port, as well as our civil defences, amongst other things.”
“You have proof of this?” Francis demanded. Ross saw his cousin’s grip on his empty glass tighten. He could understand Francis’ agitation – the idea that an enemy agent operated here without his knowledge had to be a disturbing one.
“Yes. There are things I cannot disclose – on pain of court-martial! – but British agents abroad intercepted messages to the French command containing secret information. One of our people was able to insert themselves into the line of communication, making sure accurate information was not passed on, but allowing us to trace back to the source. However, something of a wall was hit after we found how the messages were taken across the channel.”
“In short, you do not know the identity of the spy.” Ross raised his eyebrows at the young man, who looked abashed.
“No. We believe there is also an intermediary we have not identified. Our agent in the district believes that his group is close to finding them – and we have no reason to doubt that – but we fear that your investigation may cause the spies to flee before they can be apprehended.”
“….Which is why you ask us to cease and desist.”
“Yes. Please.” It was a rather pathetic plea after all that, but James had evidently not been expecting the resistance his uncle was prepared to put up. Francis sighed.
“Very well.” James’ relief was palpable.
“Oh, thank you, Uncle. The Admiralty will be most appreciative of your co-operation. Now, er, perhaps I should retire. I did have a long ride this morning, and I have another tomorrow.”
“James…” Francis called him back as he was about to depart. “Please do not consider any of this personal.”
“I do not, Uncle. I wish that I had not had to bring such things into the family. Good night.” With a sketch of a bow, the young man withdrew. The two Poldark cousins sat in silence for a moment. No doubt, Ross thought, Francis was doing as he was, and absorbing what had just happened. Eventually, Ross voiced his most immediate thought.
“You are going to just give up the search for these murderers?” Francis turned in his chair to look at incredulously.
“What on Earth do you take me for?”
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#poldark#ross poldark#francis poldark#elizabeth warleggan#verity poldark#verity blamey#agatha poldark#aunt agatha#demelza poldark#dwight enys#caroline penvenen#james blamey#les trois francais#au#fic#f: au#m: fic
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Verity Appreciation Week
Day Seven - Free Choice: Verity + in-laws and step-children
#poldark#perioddramaedit#verity appreciation week#ruby bentall#verity poldark#elizabeth chynoweth#demelza carne#james blamey#esther blamey#*mypol
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It’s so infuriating that Ironwood losing his other arm is “losing his humanity” to the crew. Ableism aside, what is more human or humane than sacrificing oneself for the common good? We know that Ironwood was sensitive about his prostheses (covering them until his heel turn). HE saw it with that ableist view, but he still did it. Aside from pain, the willingness to sacrifice a part of his body and self image to save his people is incredible. It should have been the opposite of “losing” humanity
A lot of RWBY fans and the show itself truly seems like they just don’t want to admit that anything Ironwood did was ever good, and yet they still insist that he was a nuanced character.
“This character is ruthless and now that the chips are down, his ‘ends justify the means’ mentality really took over and - coupled with obvious exhaustion, mental trauma, and impossible no-win situations - drove him to commit cruel acts. But at the same time, he’s still, at heart, a selfless person, willing to sacrifice his own comfort and his reputation, and willing to go through severe pain and lose his arm to try and save millions upon millions of lives.” That sounds at least somewhat valid and believable.
I might still take issue with the characterization (Ironwood’s fall went from zero to a hundred and was done jerkily, with not enough set up, as well as that aforementioned mental trauma getting no sympathy) but it’s so annoying to have characters like Winter insist he sacrificed nothing, and to have the writers and the FNDM act like James losing his arm was a sign of his villainy. And you see this with the FNDM in literally everything about James. Fans look back on canon and try and twist literally anything into something bad, and I truly believe part of why they do that is because it doesn’t line up.
And honestly, some of the reasons people have in considering James losing his arm are just dumb. For instance, people are still saying the “It didn’t have to do with getting injured, James losing his humanity along with his arm was tied up in his impulsivity. If he’d just waited, he could’ve been healed!” And that’s so dumb. A. They don’t know about whether or not he could’ve been healed, because auras are so badly used, B. They don’t know this is what the creators meant at all, this is the way they interpreted what they said so they could feel less icky about worshiping them, and C. James didn’t have a script of the show he could read through to realize Salem wasn’t quite there yet, would wait a bit and send in the Hound before attacking, and would conveniently land her dumb whale on farmlands rather than directly in the city to make Ruby’s choices less destructive in a way that took her no effort for no good reason. For all Ironwood (or our heroes) knew, Salem would begin waging war directly against civilians within the next thirty minutes. Also D. Kinda victim blamey if you ask me. “Ironwood wouldn’t have lost his arm if he hadn’t tried to make himself as ready for the attack that would likely result in the deaths of millions and millions of people as he could,” is such a lousy take.
Ironwood wouldn’t have lost his arm if it wasn’t for Watts, who actually trapped and hurt James in the first place. Ironwood wouldn’t have lost his arm if it wasn’t for Salem, coming to attack them directly because she’s literally the most evil person. Ironwood wouldn’t have lost his arm if it wasn’t for Jacques, knowingly and willingly letting murderer’s run rampant because it makes his already incredibly cushy life that much cushier. People need to stop pretending like James sacrificing when the forces of Satan were more or less conspiring directly against him was an ‘act of villainy’ or him ‘losing his humanity.’
Like you said, it’s not only ableist, it’s also just plain stupid. There’s very little that’s more heroic than being willing to sacrifice yourself for the greater good.
#rwde#anti rwby#rwby hate#rwby bashing#anti crwby#anti fndm#pro Ironwood#ironwood defense#pro james ironwood#james ironwood defense#if you don't like it block the tags please and thank you
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I was tagged by @tallmadgeandtea to do my top 5 female characters and so uhm...I love to overshare so let go! These are in no specific order so yeah!
1. Sophie Beckett (Bridgerton)
So she has NOT yet been cast yet but I’ll use the popular fan cast of Lily James as her FC for now! She is my sweet queen who deserves the world and gets the bisexual hot mess that is Benedict Bridgerton instead. I adore her with my whole heart and “ An Offer From a Gentleman” supremacy.
2. Catherine the Great (The Great)
(This should go without speaking by Adrienne Fairfax my one true love) anyways I love this character actually so much and Elle NEVER fails to disappoint, this series deserves so much love! Catherine is my sweet intelligent emotionally snarky and sly bitch and I love her so much. *insert John mulaney quote here*
3. Verity Poldark Blamey (Poldark)
Your honor she’s never done anything wrong in her life ever. That’s it that’s all I have. Also that quilted travel outfit really won me over a LOT great job costume department. She is just so nice and homely and the only poldark woman with rights in this world.
4. Amy March (Little Women)
I feel like this goes without saying.... but yeah if you can’t tell I love me some blondes. I would argue that Amy is probably the character I’m the most like and I just think there’s so much more to her than what is seen and that it should explored more often. I love her aesthetic and she literally ends up marrying the man who set my standards and type for all men ever so...
5. Marie Antoinette (2006) or Leia Organa
So these two are tied because they are both equally impactful icons in my life especially as far as things like fashion go, mostly because I like to pull a lot from both of them so they have to share. They’re both amazing I literally cry over Leia all the time and I definitely think it’s between her or Amy march that I’m tied between for most like as far as fictional characters go.
I tag @anahiranz and @critical-endangered! No pressure to do it and any of you can feel free to do it if I didn’t tag you, I will still be happy to read it!!
#I’m a Libra so I’m allowed tk be indecisive#this was not meant to have so many blondes I’m getting concerned#anyways yeah#i love oversharing#clair rambles
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A ramble:
There was a sale of PD James books on Amazon recently so I bought a few. One of them (written only 20 years ago) drove me NUTS for many reasons, foremost of which was the insistent excusing of a priest who had served a term for paedophilia with no justification given. The author went out of her way to make it seem as if he was the real victim because everyone 'doubted there was any real abuse' while only presenting a picture where that.... wasn't the case at all. It all seemed very victim blamey and I hated it. And then there were the bleatings of a white police woman whingeing that the Macpherson Report (which raised the issue of institutional racism of the Metropolitan Police) was racist to 'good' white people :/ And we the readers were supposed to sympathize with this shit. My jaw was on the floor.
I would be interested to know if these points have made me angry if I had read the books 20 years ago? I sure hope so but... I don't know for sure.
The other books are mostly just annoying me because the author only seems capable of imagining a fantasy world where ordinary people live in apartments overlooking the River Thames and/or have several live-in staff. Hahahahahaha. And she seems incapable of having her characters use language suitable to anyone born after she was, in 1920. Having characters born in the 1970s or later speak as if they were born in the feckin royal family 50 years earlier (or as if they are servants serving that royal family) is just fucking lazy. The one thing she doesn't sound out of date on is representation and normalization of gay relationships.
Ruth Rendell is guilty of the old language issue too. It is so bizarre that these two doyens of British crime fiction in recent decades write in language that sounds so inauthentic and out of date to me, and I ain't young.
Even Eric Ambler's books from the 1930s sound more up to date in terms of the way people speak.....
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A Wish Fulfilled
A/N: I’m sorry if this is full of errors, I am far too exhausted to keep my eyes open for another second longer 😅 I also have a (very long, very angsty, very lovely) fic which is almost complete and that I will be adding to The Enys Chronicles tomorrow, stayed tuned! 💗 For now, I hope you enjoy this wee drabble, friends! xo
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The November rain pattered off the window of Dwight Enys’ study, whispering its wintery secrets. The frosty afternoon and incessant rainfall, however, was no match for the loving warmth of the room itself.
“Dear little Isabella is very sweet, is she not?” Caroline rhetorically asked her husband, carefully studying his concentrated features as he examined his appointment diary at his desk.
The Enyses had returned from a visit to Nampara barely an hour ago. Caroline and Demelza had hoped to have a civilised cream tea with their husbands and catch up on each other’s news as they had barely seen each other all month with Ross’ tasks taking him all over Britain - and Dwight and Caroline themselves had been in London for over a fortnight. The ladies’ plan was foiled the moment the Enyses walked into the house, as Clowance and Jeremy immediately dragged their uncle Dwight into the game they were playing with their father and youngest sibling. Ross had devised a new game of hide-and-seek, one which involved a chase, whomever managed to find and hold baby Bella before the seeker caught them was the winner. And so the ladies had sipped their tea alone at the table, raised voices exchanging pleasantries, their teacups hiding their smiles as they fought to maintain their put-out pretences.
Dr Enys’ features softened as he thought of the newest member of the Poldark family, whom he had assisted into this world two months ago. “She is lovely,” agreed Dwight, his tone soft; there was something about babies that was so inexplicably comforting to him - perhaps it was their enchanting innocence. And with large blue eyes like her mother and wisps of dark brown curls like her father, Isabella-Rose was most definitely enchanting.
“Just think, Dr Enys, the next child you deliver could be your own,” Caroline hinted, smothering a smile from the armchair Dwight had installed for her in his study.
The doctor let out a soft chuckle as he continued to write in his diary. “God willing, my love,” he murmured, glancing at her before taking a piece of parchment and beginning a letter of correspondence to Dr Pinel, with whom Dwight had worked closely during and after his time in France these past few months.
Caroline hummed, now grinning mischievously from behind her book. She discarded the novel, schooled her grin and stood up, moving to casually rest against Dwight’s mahogany desk, her hands clasped against the edge of the table as she stood next to him. Caroline pointedly stared at the doctor, a small smile on her face as she placed her hand on his shoulder. Dwight’s eyes met her own and he returned her tender smile, his hand momentarily resting on top of his wife’s.
Caroline huffed quietly as he resumed writing; how could one so intelligent be so stupid when it came to picking up hints? “Well, pray check your diary and see that you be free for such an occasion around May.”
“May?” Dwight repeated absently with a small chuckle, his quill still scratching the parchment as he noted down possible treatments of psychosis. “But it is already November-“ A dawning realisation stole the end of his sentence and ruined his neat script as his hand slackened in surprise.
Satisfied that the news had sunk in, Caroline smiled smugly: smug that she had managed to hide her condition from him and surprise him. But most of all, Caroline was smug that she - that they both - had not allowed life’s greatest hardship to snatch away any future happiness.
Dwight rose from his seat and stood opposite his wife, simply running his eyes over her, his gaze clinical and disbelieving, hopeful and uncertain.
Caroline pulled anxiously on her fingers; it was not often cool, calm and collected Dr Enys was rendered speechless. “My love?” she asked, her eyes searching his. “Are you alright?”
“Alright?” Dwight softly repeated. He laughed and shook his head; never had there been such an understatement. “My darling, I am so ecstatic I am quite afraid to move for fear this is all a dream.” Even in the muted winter light, Caroline could see that his eyes were filled with tears.
Caroline then felt her own eyes prick with tears, a surge of relief and happiness filling her being. “Fear not,” she murmured, carefully taking her entranced husband’s hand and pressing it carefully against her abdomen; a small, but readily detectable, curve was present.
A beaming smile stretched across Dwight’s face; it was truly no dream, it was a wish no longer.
Caroline closed her eyes in anticipation of a kiss but instead felt her body jolt forwards and upwards as Dwight lifted her from her waist and spun her around like a madman. “Dwight!” she gasped, shrieking and laughing as the room spun around her, her feet brushing the curtains, bookshelves flying past her gaze.
Grinning like a fool, Dwight put her down and stumbled, dizzy from the action but more so from Caroline’s news. Just as he was about to lean in and kiss her, the doctor within him bubbled to the surface and drowned out the expectant father. It had taken them a long while to come to expect, and it was certainly not for want of trying. “You must have at least one strengthening tonics a day,” Dr Enys ordered, his mind whirring as he thought of the ingredients he would need, “It will be good for both you and the child.” The child! A child! Their child!
Caroline rolled her eyes gently; they both knew she would be drinking no tonics unless Dwight poured them into her slackened mouth while she slept. “Dwight.”
Dr Enys held up a finger. “My love, I’m afraid I must insist.” He leaned over the ruined piece of parchment on his desk and dipped a quill in ink. “Have you any sickness? I can prescribe something depending on its severity. Are you feeling alright now?” He glanced at her; she didn’t look pale. She looked beautiful and happy and radiant.
“Dwight.”
“Of course some exercise every day is important,” Dwight continued. “Not too much, though,” he warned, now very much babbling. “A walk around the gardens shall do fine. We can walk together after some supper,” he offered as he continued scribbling things on a piece of parchment, his brain going a mile a minute. “Hmm,” Dwight then said, turning and narrowing his eyes at the bleak day. “But only if the rain stops, lest you catch a chill.” He felt a gentle hand on his back.
“Dwight.” Caroline was smiling now.
“May, you say, my love?” Dwight double-checked, unable to prevent another smile forming on his handsome features. “Well, if you wish to return to London then we must go soon because you will not be in suitable condition for such a long journey come March or February,” he told her, continuing to scribble on a piece of parchment, his hand trembling with excitement. “Oh, and-”
“Dwight!” yelled Caroline, flicking his bicep and grinning with impatience.
Dwight’s head snapped around to look at her, his blue eyes were round in surprise. “What?”
“Dr Enys, I wonder, could you be persuaded to stop worrying for long enough to give your wife a well-earned kiss?” Caroline asked, her tone teasing and flirtatious.
With a slightly guilty smile, Dr Enys dropped his utensil and straightened his spine before quickly closing the distance between them. He smiled softly as he brushed his hand against the barely detectable swell of her abdomen. “I think that can be arranged,” he purred as he placed his hands on either side of her face and kissing her deeply.
Caroline’s arms went about his neck as she deepened the kiss, not a single beam of light passing between them as they embraced.
Dwight paused thoughtfully as he broke their kiss; he wondered if anyone else knew. Did Demelza know, or suspect? Did Ross know? Well, they would know within the hour, he would ride there and share the news himself, it simply could not wait. He must also write to the Blameys, Sam and Rosina, Kitty and little James, his only living aunt, George, Caroline’s aunt...
Caroline’s mouth swished from side to side to contain her smile and imprison a laugh at her husband’s predictability. “Good Lord, Dr Enys, I can practically hear the quill on the paper already. At the risk of not being clear, you may not write to every single acquaintance that pops into your head to inform them of our news. We shall tell the Poldarks and the Carnes at dinner on Sunday over some of Demelza’s delicious pie and any other bodies who happen to hear of our news may do so then, but only once our dearest friends are aware,” she warned without heat, wagging her index finger at him.
Dwight barked out a laugh, which echoed throughout the study and floated down the long corridor. “Must you always read my mind?” he wondered, smiling, as he tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
Placing both her hands on his shoulders, Caroline pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I suppose it is the consequence of our abiding love for each other, or something to that effect,” she teased, though her eyes were soft and shining.
Dwight smiled softly and kissed her again. And again. “Or something to that effect,” he murmured against her lips.
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Demelza Elizabeth and Verity for the character meme?
Hi, thanks for the ask! :D
Demelza
>How I feel about this character: Demelza used to be my favourite character back in s1 before I started getting obsessed with George and Elizabeth. Nowadays I’m fairly ambivalent about her. I do still like her to an extent, but I don’t root for her as much as I used to.
>All the people I ship romantically with this character: I’m not much of an active shipper when it comes to Demelza, but she generally ends up with Ross, Hugh or Francis in my fics depending what they are.
>My non-romantic OTP for this character: Verity, Dwight.
>My unpopular opinion about this character: I sometimes feel like Demelza can be a bit unnecessarily unkind to other characters on occasions, like on a couple of occasions to Elizabeth and once to Margaret back in s2, but it’s usually presented in a way where we’re expected to cheer her on for it, and it’s just a minor thing that irks me a bit about the way it’s framed.
>One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: I wish that she and Elizabeth could have stayed friends, since I liked their relationship back in s1, though I get why it fell apart. I think I would have liked for her to have heard Elizabeth’s side of the story when it comes to 2x08 as well, rather than just Ross’.
Elizabeth
>How I feel about this character: Elizabeth is my favourite Poldark character alongside George (surprise surprise ha).
>All the people I ship romantically with this character: George (obviously :P), Francis.
>My non-romantic OTP for this character: Caroline (I wish they had had the chance to actually be proper friends in canon), Verity.
>My unpopular opinion about this character: Honestly, I get the impression that liking her at all is an unpopular opinion. I think she gets a lot of hate tossed her way, and a lot of uncomplimentary comparisons to Demelza - which to be fair, is true of the canon narrative, especially in s2 - which I don’t think is really fair to her since they’re both two very different characters.
>One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: That she had lived a long and happy life with her husband and children. :/
Verity
>How I feel about this character: Overall, I like her a lot, but I was less than impressed with a certain remark made in her last scene of s4 (I’m sure you can all guess which one I mean). Other than that though, I think she’s very sweet and lovely.
>All the people I ship romantically with this character: Blamey.
>My non-romantic OTP for this character: Demelza, Elizabeth, her stepchildren.
>My unpopular opinion about this character: In some ways, I feel like some of her later appearances were a tiny bit gratuitous. I don’t think Debbie really knew what to do with her after that one episode of s3 so it feels a bit like she just stuck her in wherever in some ways.
>One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: I wish we’d got to see more of her with her stepchildren, since all those scenes - especially with James - were lovely.
Send me a character
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2018
same shit, different year.
Rap:
My RAOTY is 03 Greedo - God Level i guess, then
70th Street Carlos - youtubes & 777
BlocBoy JB - Simi
Blueface - Famous Cryp & Two Coccy
Chief Keef - Ottopsy, Mansion Musik & Back From The Dead 3
City Girls - PERIOD & Girl Code
Co Cash - Foolhardy
Daboii - Neva Lookin Back
Drego & Beno - Sorry for the Get Off
Earl Sweatshirt - Some Rap Songs
G Herbo - Swervo
Goonew - Goonrich Urkel
Gunna - Drip Season 3
JPEGMAFIA - Veteran
Kevin Gates - Luca Brasi 3
Kodak Black - HeartBreak Kodak & Dying To Live
Lil Dude & Goonew - Homicide Boyz
Lil Durk - Signed To The Streets 3
NBA YoungBoy - Until Death Call My Name
Playboi Carti - Die Lit
Saba - Care For Me
Sada Baby - youtubes
Smino - Noir
SOB X RBE - GANGIN II
Trouble - Edgewood
ZMONEY - Chiraq Mogul
HM :
1TakeJay x Rucci - The Winning Team
21 Savage - I Am > I Was
Bandhunta Izzy - Code Blue
BbyMutha - Muthaz Day 3
Black Fortune - Ossh Rock
Busdriver - Electricity Is On Our Side
Chris Crack - Being Woke Ain't Fun
Fmb Dz - The Gift 2
Hermit and the Recluse - Orpheus vs the Sirens
Husalah - H
Jayo Sama - Out On Bond
Jean Grae & Quelle Chris - Everything's Fine
Key Glock - Glockoma & Glock Bond
Koran Streets - Late 20’s
Lil Tre - Unexpected
LUCKI - DAYS B4 II
Maxo Kream - Punken
Meek Mill - Championships
MIKE - War in my Pen
Migos - Culture II
Payroll Giovanni - Big Bossin vol. 2
Rico Nasty - Nasty
Roc Marciano - RR2꞉ The Bitter Dose & Behold A Dark Horse
SahBabii - Squidtastic
Saweetie - High Maintenance
SD - Pay Attention
Sheck Wes - MUDBOY
Shy Glizzy - Fully Loaded
$ilkMoney - I hate My Life…
Starlito & Trapperman Dale - Trapstar
Tierra Whack - Whack World
Trippie Redd - A Love Letter To You 3
YG - Stay Dangerous
YNW Melly - I Am You
Young Nudy - SlimeBall 3
Vince Staples - FM!
R’n’B:
Jacquees - 4275
Mariah Carey - Caution
Ravyn Lenae - Crush
Tamia - Passion Like Fire
Brent Faiyaz - Lost
Digital Beats:
RP Boo - I'll Tell You What!
Byrell The Great - Chopped Cheese
Iglooghost - Clear Tamei & Steel Mogu
Martyn Bootyspoon - Silk Eternity
EQ Why - East 37Th Street & Footwork Tracks Vol.2
Proc Fiskal - Insula
Sinjin Hawke & Zora Jones - Vicious Circles
Sabiwa - Sabiwa
P. Adrix - Álbum Desconhecido
Crystallmess - Mere Noises
Stun Pool - STUN POOL
Various - Príncipe Mixtape (2018 Special Edition)
Contemporary Music:
Vanessa Rossetto & Matthew Revert - Everyone Needs A Plan
Lucio Capece & Marc Baron - My Trust in You
Graham Lambkin - No Better No Worse Vol 2
Lee Fraser - Cor Unvers
Thomas Ankersmit - Homage To Dick Raaijmakers
Christopher Fox - Topophony
Alistair MacDonald - Cabinets de curiosité
Arek Gulbenkoglu - A gift like a hollow vessel
Cassandra Miller - Just So & O Zomer
Etelin - Hui Terra
eRikm - Mistpouffers
Francisco Meirino - The Ruins
Kate Carr - I Ended Out Moving To Brixton
Monty Adkins & Paulina Sundin - Beyond Pythagoras
MP Hopkins - Aeroplanes & Puddles
Peter Blamey - Five Fertile Exchanges
Jamie Drouin & Lance Austin Olsen - Moon Watcher
Savvas Metaxas - Wetlands
Clara de Asís - Without
John Tilbury & Keith Rowe - Sissel
Masayuki Imanishi - Worn Tape
Graham Lambkin & Áine O'Dwyer - Green Ways
Hong Chulki & Will Guthrie - Mosquitoes and Crabs
Eli Keszler - Stadium
Simon Whetham - Open and Closed Circles
Exael - Collex
Matthew Atkins - Cryptic System
linda catlin smith - wanderer
Tonus - Intermediate Obscurities I+IV & Texture Point
Jörg Widmann - Drittes Labyrinth / Polyphone Schatten
Mathias Delplanque - Témoins
Pascal Battus, Anne-F Jacques & Tim Olive - Trois Conseillers
Data Dump:
Aclds - ['b7nb95c
Aclds - {Qa.-br.e
Aclds - 3øºEg-x-8xd
Aclds - Fuadain Liesmas Appendages
Dalglish - I'[]nf]c_T_
Scald - (Kyjch Uyr[st
Autechre - NTS Sessions
Post-Techno / Ante-House:
2814 - Pillar New Sun
Clouds - Heavy The Eclipse
De Leon - De Leon
Diptera - Antenna
DJ David Goblin - Ork Music
Dolo Percussion - Dolo 3
Facechain - Accensor
Galcher Lustwerk - 200% GALCHER
Hieroglyphic Being - The Red Notes
How Du - Landing
Kolorit - Workshop XXI
Loidis - A Parade, in the Place I Sit, the Floating World (& All Its Pleasures)
THUGWIDOW - DESIGNER VOID
Topdown Dialectic - Topdown Dialectic
Young Paint - Young Paint
Zuli - Trigger Finger
Robert Mallet-Stevens Music:
Nico Niquo - Timeless
Organ Tapes - Into One Name
Foodman - Moriyama & Aru Otoko No Densetsu
Aqueduct Ensemble - Improvisations on an Apricot
Motoko & Myers - Basis Key
Lolina - The Smoke
James Ferraro - Four Pieces For Mirai
Jon Hassell - Listening To Pictures
Gossiwor - Lighthouse
Oneohtrix Point Never - Age Of
New Old:
Carl Stone - Electronic Music from the Eighties and Nineties
Iannis Xenakis - Persepolis
Luc Ferrari - L’Escalier Des Aveugles
Pablo's Eye - Spring Break
Christian Zanési - Grand Bruit ⧸ Stop! l'horizon
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