#outland ballroom

[mathildearts]

Chilumi ballroom ✨️

The outfits are inspired by Claire and Jamie in Paris from Outlander !!

[dayabot]

oh to be at a get dusted party circa 2019 being plied with alcohol by messy drunk skank daya who smells like weed and beer and tells you not to be such a babyyyy come on drink more—

[ms-march]

John Grey solo series WHEN

[inglorionamy-ammy]

Of Home and Haven (Ch5/6)

Chapter snippet:

Gale, the sweet husband he is, has tried everything to cheer you up. From an enchanted musical box sent to your workplace at Aurora’s that turned the shift into a night of ballroom dancing through the aisles, to a quiet evening stargazing on a conjured four-poster bed at the outskirts of Waterdeep, Gale’s seemingly endless ideas have been admirable.

The aftermath of a departure, musings on grief and love, and one step towards the finale.

Summary: A tender tale between an outlander barbarian and a scholarly wizard, navigating life, love, and belonging (aka. What "being together" means for them) in Waterdeep and beyond.

Pairing: Half-orc Barbarian F!Tav X Gale Mature

Word count: 3.2k

@senualothbrok: As always, my first reader and beta.

AO3 link: Here

Chapter Four: Here

[This chapter's illustration hides at the end ;)]

Two tenday have passed.

Since Da’s departure, you can’t shake off a lingering sense of…stillness, as if time itself is on halt, stuck heavily on your skin. You are slumped on the couch opposite Gale’s working desk, sluggish, fingers idly playing with the necklace Ma gave you.

Gale, the sweet husband he is, has tried everything to cheer you up. From an enchanted musical box sent to your workplace at Aurora’s that turned the shift into a night of ballroom dancing through the aisles, to a quiet evening stargazing on a conjured four-poster bed at the outskirts of Waterdeep, Gale’s seemingly endless ideas have been admirable. Nevertheless, two days ago, you decided to hold both of his hands and solemnly asked him to work on his teaching duties first. Somehow, him trying so hard to please you, almost as if to fit himself into the void that your father has left, makes you feel…apologetic.

Logically, you know that you shouldn’t feel such emptiness — Your father did specify that you should not grieve him, and there truly is nothing to grieve. Anyone would agree that he lived a life worth celebrating, be it by half-orc or human standards. You trust that, as a great warrior, he is now probably a terrifying sight out there on the battlefield, terrorizing whoever he chooses to fight.

But something must be done — You swear to yourself as you catch Gale’s worried glance across the room the third time, brows deeply set but refraining from commenting. He is supposed to be head-deep in grading his apprentices’ reports, stacked up tall on his desk since he took leave for the wedding. You know your mood is certainly affecting his efficiency in catching up.

With a heavy sigh you tear your fingers away from the golden necklace between your collar bones — which has become part of your daily wardrobe along with your marriage earring — and push yourself off the sofa, commanding Gale’s full attention.

“I’m heading to Ma’s place,” you explain, deciding action is the only way to set things going again.

“Oh. Allow me—” He sets down his quill immediately, but you still his hand with your own and set a kiss on the top of his head.

“You stay and work,” another kiss as you attempt to smother his disappointment, “we will come back for dinner. And I will take this,” you slip the previously unused teleportation scroll from his drawer into your pack and add, “thank you.”

He stares at you. A moment later, he huffs, resigned.

Before you can turn to leave the room, however, he catches your wrist deftly. You tilt your head. The deep breath he takes suggests a lengthy speech, so you try your best to settle your heart to listen, pushing away the tickling impatience, the bubbling annoyance.

“…Ta’V,” surprisingly, he only utters, “please send my regards to your mother, alright?” He squeezes you lightly.

You lift his hand to your lips for a kiss, pressing a smile into his skin.

----

The teleportation scroll takes you straight into a lazy afternoon in the misty forest, right in the middle of your father’s old training ground.

The humanoid shape nearby startles you, until you realize it is just your Da’s training dummy, built and rebuilt so many times that it carries the scars and marks of a true warrior. Something stirs in you, but you push it down before it can take hold of you. Similarly, you avoid the upraised bit of land where your Da grappled you just tendays ago, or that nick on the tree where he first taught you how to use a crossbow. Instead, you opt to close your eyes.

You let yourself drift in the sound of the churning water wheel for a moment, punctuated by an occasional soft metal clinging sound. Eventually, you follow the latter and find your mother, harvesting the last of her home-grown herbs in the garden.

“Gale sends his regards.”

She pauses. “Did he?” she asks, her voice airy. “A sweet boy he is.” She does not turn towards you, only resumes her task.

“I should be able to move the last batch to Waterdeep today.” You glance past the windows of the hut, assessing the interior that is largely empty now.

For the last few days you have been assisting your mother to move, newly freed from your duty at Aurora’s. The conversation with your father at the city gate was the push you needed to finally resign, much to the annoyance of the manager. Perhaps you will find something more suitable for you in the city later. Polite society or not, you have decided to come to terms with your inclination towards physical labour over intellectual ones, even if they seem to be less valued in the social circle you find yourself in. And who’s to say that fighting isn’t intellectual? Your mind definitely feels more alive in combat than standing between aisles. You have scheduled a meeting with Jina’s cousin, a city guard, who is well placed to pull some strings for the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Maybe you can even land yourself a consultant post if you are lucky.

You are not the only one who seeks change. Your mother has long understood that with Da gone, it’s unrealistic to live in the misty woods alone, without assistance with hunting, farming, and guarding the place. After some consideration, she declined Gale’s offer of setting up magical wards for her safety and decided to use Da’s saved treasures from the basement to buy a small place in Waterdeep recommended by Morena. It has no garden, but you know Tara and Gale are secretly planning to set up a magical greenhouse for her in the tower you share. Needless to say, it’s also an excuse for Tara and the two mothers to visit you two more often.

Everything is planned and being executed accordingly. But somehow, the stillness lingers. You stare at Ma’s back, who when kneeling amidst the plants, seems uncharacteristically hefty. You don’t know what else you can do.

Then suddenly, you remember her language, the poem. With a deep breath, you recite,

White sheep, white sheep,

On a blue hill,

She pauses. When she slowly turns towards you, the sun at her back masks her face in a deep shadow, her expression unreadable. You continue,

When the wind stops,

You all stand still.

When the wind blows,

You walk away slow.

White sheep, white sheep,

Where do you go?

Your voice cracks as the last word falls out of your mouth. A sudden loneliness floods your heart, leaving you helpless.

“I don’t know what to do, Ma,” you quietly confess, hoping that she will understand. For the first time, you are the one who watches the sheep go.

She finally stands up, and you feel more than see her soft gaze. “Oh, Ta’V,” she whispers. “Will you come with me?”

You follow her into the hut, scanning the last of the artifacts and tomes, now packed in chests, shrouded in shadows. She runs her fingers over them as if mesmerized by the patterns etched on the lid, before sitting down on it. You choose a sturdy one to follow.

Her gaze falls upon you, feather-light, all-seeing.

“Oh, my girl, you have truly grown so much.” She sets her palm gently on your knee. “Do you remember when you were just a little girl, how hard it was to sit you still just for the time to sing a verse? And yet there you are, reciting the song I taught you on your sixth birthday.”

She chuckles, full of nostalgia. You know she has drifted back to that hot summer night, cradling her half-orc daughter in her lap, counting the stars as you began to fall asleep. But now you are wide awake, and you sense her words turning solemn, thoughtful.

“I could tell from the looks you gave me. You thought I gave up a lot to be here, leaving civilization, nobility, whatever past life there was, to stay with your Da, with you.”

Her tone commands attention.

“But my girl, nothing is further from the truth. He was the one who suspended his desires for glory and warfare to be domesticated with a frail, disgraced noblewoman like me, living only a fraction of his old life in the training ground, until you came along. It will always be my honour to have spent a life with him and with you, my wild, wild love.”

She holds your gaze. “So I say thank you. I thank him for the time he devoted to me. For the prime years that he spent not for bloodshed but to build us a home and shelter us within it. And as he needed to leave, I celebrate the fact that even though his time is up, he will always remain the light of my life, a part of my soul.”

You are captivated by how the warm afternoon sunrays shower her, tears unmistakably shimmering on her face that she makes no attempt to wipe away. She wears them with dignity, almost regally, as she holds her head up high and welcomes the waves of grief as the price she pays for love.

You suddenly know what you must do. You stand up and stroll, revisiting every corner of your childhood home and allow the memories to wash over you. You walk past the kitchen counter, where your father taught you how to prepare a beholder tentacle for roasting, your Ma tutting disapprovingly but soon adopting it as her favorite meal. You walk past the bathroom, where you hid and cried after you lost a fight with your father, blocking your worried parents outside the locked door. You walk past the empty bookshelves, which were once full of books, and remember how your mother would hum as she chose one to be your bedtime story, even though you were already half asleep. Suddenly, the stillness, while still lingering, seems easier to bear.

With gratitude, you extend your hand to Ma. “Let’s finish this. Gale will be cooking tonight.”

At that, she breaks into a smile, matching your own.

Later that evening, Gale opens the door and is greeted by two women with red, puffy eyes, his own widening in concern. But before it can turn into full-fledged panic you crush his train of thoughts with a squeezing hug.

“Thank you,” you whisper in his ear, where the sapphire earring is glimmering.

“Of course, but what for?” He pulls back with a frown and a smile, equally confused and amused.

“For sharing your life with me.”

And that is why as nighttime approaches and Morena and Tara arrive, they are greeted by three people with red, puffy eyes. Even in tears, each of you feels so joyful, so tranquil, so deeply in love.

----

Another two months have passed.

You are used to Gale losing himself deep in thoughts after receiving messages delivered by his apprentices. Even though he complains about the cohort a lot, he is at heart a devoted teacher who spends night after night thinking of ways to improve his tuition.

But the letter today has sent him into a frenzy, so much so that you have to physically stop him from pacing around the room. You hold him by his shoulders, eyes soft but insistent, demanding him to come back to you. Eventually, he looks up and meets your gaze.

“Ta’V, my love, there’s something I have to tell you.” He starts cautiously, and you briefly wonder whether you will have to stomp Blackstaff. “Do you recall that day, almost a year ago now, when you told, or rather, wrote to me, expressing that you want to be a part of the Blackstaff Academy?”

Uncharacteristically, in his anxiety he still waits for you to answer, rather than just leaving a pause before continuing his speech.

So you consider. Ah, the day you were denied entry. Since then, you still haven’t had a chance to visit the campus, busy working at Aurora’s, preparing for the wedding, and now training the city guards and occasionally helping the Harper network. Not that you would ever admit that when the patrolling leads you close to the Academy gate, you still feel a slight hint of embarrassment. You slowly nod that yes, you remember, although now you think of it, it was more a desperate cry for a home, for belonging.

“Well,” he clears his throat, “I wonder if you…uh, still feel the same?”

As your eyes widen in shock, he quickly continues, “it’s not confirmed yet! What I received is an invitation to an…interview. You see, after your surprising request, I did spend some time forming a plan, supported by ample research, of course, and came up with a rather convincing proposal for the school board.”

Looking at his proud face, you realize that this was what he had been doing all along when you were out at Aurora’s, and Tara complained he was not getting enough sleep.

“By analyzing your leadership and battle prowess during our shared adventure, as well as the mercenary stories from your past as anecdotal evidence, I argue that a skilled martial fighter like yourself could in fact both pose great danger or be of great assistance to magic users. It would be immensely beneficial if the Academy could prepare the students, often overly confident with their own arcane skills, to embrace a more multi-disciplinary worldview.”

You frown. While you are more used to his monologues these days, this is still a lot to take in.

“But I don’t know magic,” you drawl with hesitation.

“Oh, but you do!” he exclaims. The once arrogant wizard now eager and genuine, his hands gesturing as if to disperse the nervous air that surrounds the both of you. “You know how to fight it.”

----

A tenday before the interview, Gale is forbidden to have any contact with you until the test is over. After a long, passionate kiss that leads to a very enjoyable session before the well-lit fireplace — which might or might not have coaxed the tiniest hint of tears from not only him but you as well — he reluctantly lets you pack and move to the designated dormitory in the Academy. You know that it is guarded against any attempts to communicate with him or anyone who might leak the details of the interview.

Gale protests this. You have to remind him that it is only a tenday, not an eternal separation. But from the clinging force of his embrace by the door of your new room, you are not entirely sure he understands this. As the door closes, the reality sets in. After being among friends for so long, once again you are in solitude.

You spend your days preparing for the test. The term “interview” does not do justice to the fact that it is going to be a battle against a mysterious magic user at a gigantic elliptical amphitheatre, the center of the Blackstaff Tower. Looking out your window, you can see students walking around with increasing joyful chatters, and you know that their semester is drawing to a close. The day of your fight, which will be open to all, is right before the Midwinter holidays. You expect a full house of audiences looking for entertainment as their own exams and deadlines are over.

Stilling your heart, you decide to sharpen your chosen weapons and count the potion flasks you have. You are allowed to choose your own equipment with one exception—scrolls. External spell assistance is forbidden. You will have to resolve to mostly physical means to counter the magical attacks, so you draw on your past experiences against powerful magic users.

Will your opponent be like Lorroakan, a small man with a huge ego who summoned four distinct elementals to fight alongside him? Will they be like the hag, who fought nastily and specialized in cruel mind control? Will they be like Gale, your beloved strategist who always gains the best position with misty steps and invisibility, and blasts powerful lightning attacks when the enemies least expect it? You fight them mentally, over and over again, alone.

The night before the interview you have a nightmare. In your traitorous mind, Gale of Waterdeep glares at you with estranged contempt as you both stand on top of Blackstaff Tower. You shout as his fingers dance, and suddenly you are pushed off the surface, falling down, down, down back onto your mattress. You jostle awake. Gasping desperately for air, you realize it is the first time you remember a dream. This damned place surely is doing something to your nerves.

Still, you are now awake, three hours before the battle as planned. It’s time.

----

The arena is humming.

Standing behind the gate with two guards, you can already hear the audience’s excitement inside. Your opponent is behind the gate opposite to yours. You two will greet each other from opposite sides of the massive field when the fight starts. With any spellcasters, closing the distance is the key to defeating them.

Suddenly you are reminded of how Shadowheart took on the trials of Shar. She must have felt as restless as you are, eager to prove herself. But back then she believed she was blessed by her Goddess, destined to pass, and you are under no such illusion. In fact, you are quite certain that save for Gale and whoever he convinces to come with him, the whole crowd is rooting for your defeat. A non-magic user, a half-orc barbarian, who dares to venture into the heart of the most esteemed arcane institution.

But isn’t that what you have been facing since the very beginning? Neither fully an orc nor a human, for the longest time you wandered the wild, fought day and night, to forget the rejection, the fear that settled people threw at you. You are used to being excluded, suspected, and ridiculed. The thought ignites a rage inside you, fueling your body but clouding your mind.

Then you remember this is no longer the case. You have found your home, your haven, in the arms of the most ridiculously loving man in the world, your very own talented wizard. If you fail, he will no doubt be disappointed, but he will also be fussing over you, taking care of you, together with Tara and Morena and your mother. Perhaps the next day you will be back at the city guard camp, training, feasting, and laughing with them about your little adventure in the prestigious college. You are thankful, for the people you have found, the life you now live.

So you take a deep breath. If a show is what they want, it is what you will provide. You will be the threat that they deserve. That Gale deserves, after spending so many sleepless nights defending your name against his people.

“You can start,” the guard instructs, but you stop him from opening the gate. Instead, you ROAR. Your presence is now amplified, echoed, inescapable.

The arena goes silent.

It is now that you push open the gate, letting its squeaky hinges scream, savoring every second. As you step forward, you intentionally drag the Nyrulna on the dusty soil, stirring up a misty veil to wrap yourself in. You know what they see — A silhouette, an almost seven-foot-tall barbarian, with a great trident as tall as herself shining in the sunlight. Tense, ready to parry.

This time, big rocks are not against the rules.

Chapter 6 (ending)

Hey readers, long time no see! I can't believe it has been a month. For this chapter to make sense I highly recommend rereading the previous chapters for callbacks, Ta'V's growth as a person, and as someone in a network of relationships! (I am truly like a proud mom here hehe) <3

Next chapter - finale.

As always, love to hear your feedback!

[devilsrecreation]

Listening to “Ballroom Blitz” by Sweet and now I’m imagining the Pridelanders and Outlanders in a dance off

Omg imagine if instead of an actual fight scene in Battle for the Pridelands it’s a dance battle

Bc dancing animals that’s why

[regaliasonata]

Finished thinking of all the episodes for the season 3 fic and starting to outline in my head.

Just got back to writing ep 2.

Episode 1: The Outlanders (Finished)

Episode 2: Lovers Lane

Episode 3: Paradise Lost

Episode 4: Lucidious

Episode 5: Caspersharp

Episode 6: Quadrageddon

Episode 7: Reaptide Part 1

Episode 8: Reaptide Part 2

Episode 9: Ballroom Blitz

Episode 10: Self/fleS

Episode 11: Homecoming

Episode 12: Adagium

Episode 13: Terminus

Episode 14: Finis

Episode 15: Insomnia Part 1

Episode 16: Insomnia Part 2

I might make Insomnia just one long episode but who knows 😎🤷🏾‍♂️

[subtle-catharsis]

Forever in love with drag 😍

[vox-anglosphere]

Wilton House, near Salisbury, has hosted many a classic film crew

[lawitch]

TONIGHT!!! Springfield, MO treat your moms to something special 👩‍👩‍👦🍻 Altar Fest 3 at Outland Ballroom w/ Holy Wave, Mr. Elevator, Al Lover + more more more Doors at 8, we play at 9:45! RSVP: http://facebook.com/events/180354559147145

[shadsmidnightthoughts]

GENSHIN SAGAU

TW/CW: M A J O R CHARACTER DEATH. LOTS OF DEATH. GORE. THE TRAVELLERS NAMES (Aether/Lumine) NOT PROOFREAD. I CANT SPELL FOR SHIT IM SORRY.

Title: this dream...

Characters: Venti, Zhongli, Ei, ALL vision holders currently in the game (3.0), lumine, abyss!Aether, unknown god, dainsleif, golden blood!God!reader,

Readers POV

This is it. We are finally in the ruins of k'ahanriah, the truely divineless nation. We were running. Running up so many stairs. Running down so many corridors. Just to get to that damned bloodbath ballroom. One last staircase. The abyss heralds we thought we had lost came barging into the stairwell from any entrance they could. We were stuck fine. Venti, the traveller dainsleif and I starting fighting, trying to clear out space for at least Lumine and Paimon to get through. After what seemed like twenty minutes of us protecting one another from attack apron attack we were there. In the ballroom. It was empty except for a singular gold and red throne with none other then the abyss prince himself, Aether lounged on the magnificent throne.

Lumine ran forward as the tell-tale red and black diamond opened in front of the door, trapping us in there with the prince. "Well.. I didn't think you would make it here but.. I guess I should have never doubted Lumine." The goddess said as she stepped out of the portal, dragging fleets of vision weilders (<-mispelt I think, sorry) out along with her. "Let them go. They have nothing to do with this." Lumine said to the goddess. "Fine. But first.." she held her hand out causing each and every vision holder to float twenty feet above the floor, seemingly by their necks even though nothing was there. With a flick of her wrist, we watched each ones neck contort with inhuman speed 180°. It happened sickeningly slowly. First bennett, then diluc, then amber, then Xinyan, then Xiangling, thoma, yoimia, yanfei and then poor, sweet innocent Klee. I felt as if I was going to be sick right then and there. Seeing their lifeless bodies just floating there.

Next it was the poor Anemo users. Xiao, heizou, kazuha, sayu, Sucrose, jean. The goddess was grinning as if this was some sick joke. "You ever thought you could save them outlander? That is truely laughable." The electro users were on the chopping block next. Razor. Ei. Keqing, Beidou, Lisa, Kuki, yae, fishl and sara. "I must say imposter, you grew fond of these low lives? They were just stepping stones in your path." It spoke. I heard a bow draw. All eyes were on me. Im crying.

Zhongli, albedo, itto, gorou, Noelle, Ninguang. All dead.

The fear in Chongyun's eyes as he watched his best friend's lifeless body fell to the floor nearly made me choke. Barbara, kokomi, ayato, childe, mona, yelan.

"Dont worry. You will be with your friend... now" she flicked her wrist and everyone left dropped to the floor. It was like a car crash. You wanted to look away but you couldn't. Most had split their head on the white, pristine marble that was the ballroom floor. Watching their blood and brains leave them through their skulls and watch the light drain from all of their eyes was torture. Some got the air sucked out of their lungs, their lungs then being crushed and punctured by their very own ribs beneath the goddesses feet.

The bow string snapped into place.

I didn't feel it at first. The three arrows sticking out of my back. For a moment, I felt nothing. Then all the pain hit me at once while I realized I had fallen forward. I hit my head. I saw liquid. But not blood. Gold? No. Im seeing things. Im dizzy.. my eyes are so heavy. The room is spinning. Is someone yelling? Are they yelling under water? I will miss my friends. Please let this have been a nightmere. I don't want this dream to end yet..

[dayabot]

What's ur fav part of the podcast, mine is daya sipping from that gigantic water bottle

i wanna suck on her like she sucks on that water b- i mean my favorite part is either when she says faggot or when she mentions glee (show choir queer *bullies her*) or when she talks about the outland ballroom and the dive bar in the basement and also every time she picks up that water bottle and does this

[mercurygray]

'A face in the dark' and 'total eclipse', in the Outlander American or WW1 AU for Billie and Ron xx Juno

Another old one - we're really cleaning the inbox here today!

It wasn't the assembly room in Wilmington, that was for certain.

The gathering of the clans at Fraser's Ridge had a more rustic air than the gathering of families that took place in ballrooms and meeting houses in town - but Billie couldn't help feeling a little more at home here than she did at the Spring assembly, where everyone wanted to speak with her father because he was rich and ask her mother about when she was getting married. Things like that mattered in their world - but not here. Here Mr. Fraser was law and lord, because he'd given people land and they trusted him, and because his wife was a great healer. It seemed...more honest, somehow, and she liked it for that. The dancing was freer and the whiskey flowed quicker and people were more likely to tell you what they really thought of you, without artifice or guile.

Suddenly a face loomed out of the dark, doffing his hat to greet her. "Miss Mitchell."

It was Captain Speirs, one of Fraser's officers, resplendent in his jacket with its braid and blue facings. There were plenty of Scots from the old country among the militia's officers and men, but Speirs was younger, a lad whose father had been one of the men at Ardsmuir and who'd grown tall among the firs and ridges of the Carolina mountains. If ever there was a man for whom the word 'canny' had been written, the word went, Ronald Speirs was it. "You are not dancing."

Billie wrapped her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders. "How good of you to notice."

"Now that is either because you claim to have no skill at it, which I very much doubt - or that no one has asked, which I also cannot believe."

"You have a very high opinion of me, Captain. There are a great many pretty girls here tonight." She nodded towards Brianna Fraser and her friends on the other side of the fire, their hair loose and all of them laughing.

Speirs didn't take the bait. "Or is it that you've turned everyone down who's asked?"

Billie felt herself flush with annoyance and stood up just so she could look him in the eye. "Would you like to dance, Captain Speirs?"

If the move surprised him, he didn't show it - his smile (or what little there was of it) was just as enigmatic as ever. "Is that wise?" he asked, almost sly. "Considering my...reputation. And yours."

His reputation - ah, that word. For indeed he had one, and she'd do well to remember it, whispered as it was - that he'd been married, and his wife had left him. That he'd killed men in cold blood. That there was a witch's spell on him, or his family - if you believed in those things. Or was the danger that he was a Scot, and she was English and town-born and bred to better things? She'd taken a risk, coming here tonight to see Doris and Bill and Ed and Joe, but that didn't seem to matter, just now, not when he was smiling at her like that.

"As you seem to know me so well, Captain, I think you'd remember I'm not especially well known for being wise," Billie shot back, holding out her hand. "So?"

His smile seemed to flicker in the firelight, and he placed his hand in hers with practiced grace. "How could I refuse?"

She could feel people's eyes move with them as they moved to join the figure, the silent judgemental chorus of Miss Mitchell, what would your mother say?

But my mother isn't here, she thought proudly to herself. And I'm free to scandalize whomever I like.

[shadows-of-1832]

15, 17, 18 for Enjolras in the Outlander AU

From this ask.

15. How much have they travelled? Do they have any places they would like to visit? How wide is “their world?” Enjolras hasn't traveled much, unless you would consider reading of life in other countries a form of travel. A few instances, he considered traveling to Scotland to see if some of his mother's traditions/beliefs still existed on its original soil, but trying to make his way on his own after the 1832 rebellion prevented that, more concerned in seeing his mother and his nephew safe than depend on the family's funds to take such a trip.

17. Can they sing? What kinds of songs do they know? He can sing, his voice a soft baritenor. Aside from songs from a few operas that he barely manages the lyrics from, he knows some French and Scottish lullabies he heard growing up, as well as a couple Scottish folk songs from his mother that were passed on from her parents. He also picked up on a few songs from more modern times from hearing Eponine sing them.

18. Can they dance? Do they prefer folk dances or more formal ballroom dancing? He can dance, but would prefer not to. Though he does prefer ballroom dancing, he was taught by his mother a few Scottish dances such as the Highland fling and a form of sword dance, as well as the Breton region's gavotte from his paternal grandmother.

[arkannis]

A follow-up question to the proposal ask

How do you think the wedding between Arcann and the Outlander looks? Are they only implementing some Zakuulan traditions or are they going all the way?

(I am asking for science purposes)

hi bestie. im not putting this under keep reading. all of u are subject to my headcanons I mean, personally thinking that this would depend on your own Outlander’s tastes? I can only speak for Monty and Arcann right now I guess. I think if the Outlander wouldn’t mind, Arcann would be really honored to show them what an actual Zakuulan wedding is like. Arcann is born and raised Zakuulan! In my headcanon, Monty becomes a follower of the Old Ways, so he’d be more integrated into Zakuulan culture, and would absolutely not mind doing a Zakuulan wedding.  Our issue is that we don’t know much about Zakuulan wedding traditions, BUT guessing from The Dragon’s Maw and the culture of Zakuul in general, weddings probably last a week straight (I don’t remember who said this headcanon), they probably are super flashy and materialistic, and it’s less about the wedding between two people and more about the parties themselves. just zakuulan things. On the other hand, I’d love to explore/know what an Old Way-based wedding would be like. Like, vows based on the Old Gods or something. Traditions based on ancient Zakuulan wedding traditions. The possibilities! They’d be less flashy, me thinks. Buuuut, maybe in general, Arcann would probably try to have a small, private wedding with the Outlander and the members of the Alliance. He probably has had enough of the massive celebrations that he’s experienced as an Emperor. I mean, I’m pretty sure Zakuulans would use his birthday as an excuse to party for a freaking month straight. I don’t think Arcann seems like the party type anyway.  BUUUUUUUUUUT in my headcanon Monty and Arcann have a formal Zakuulan wedding on Zakuul, with the Alliance members invited (rather than having the wedding on Odessen, maybe).  YOU KNOW WHAT HAS TO BE CANON? SENYA SINGING FOR THEM AT THE WEDDING!! She’s canonically a singer, and she composes her own ballads. She’d probably compose a love ballad for Outlander and Arcann.... omg im going to scream  Oh!! And remember Indo Zal, Vaylin’s party organizer? I think if you took the LS route with him, he’d be SOOO up for organizing the wedding...!! Arcann would probably tell him to like, chill with the decorations or something (that credit bill is cursed) WAIT WAIT THERE HAS TO BE BALLROOM DANCING AT THE WEDDING I DONT CARE WHAT ANYONE SAYS!!!!!!! THE FORCE WILLS IT SO!!! I can definitely talk more about Zakuulan weddings, and don’t even get me started on what they would wear....and I don’t remember who said it but Arcann’s vows would be probably written so well...ok I think I am getting off topic

[mryddinwilt]

A Bridgerton Rant

Not that I needed encouragement to rant but @constantvigilante here we go... 

First lets talk background as I think it matters for how I experienced Bridgerton. I read extensively in the Regency Romance genre. Like at least 20 books a year if not more. I have read and not particularly enjoyed 2 1/2 Bridgerton novels. I am a huge Jane Austen fan. I am writing my own Regency romance series and have done a lot of research into the time period. I also adore historic dramas of any time period. 

I should be the target audience for this series. 

Except I’m not. 

Bridgerton is not a show for Regency aficionados, Janeites, or costume drama fans. It is a show specifically designed NOT to be a “regular” period drama. A show that from it’s costumes, to it’s characters, and story telling, is actively trying to break the mold. 

But I LIKE the mold! 

I desperately want more shows and series like the 1995 P&P or North and South or even Downton Abbey (which for all its soapiness is still a show grounded in a historical period). Instead I get Bridgerton. 

Bridgerton with it’s hyper-saturated colors, it’s ridiculous dialogue, it’s vague historic period, and general fantasy feeling. Bridgerton, which feels so far from the Regency period that it might as well be a spin-off of Reign. The worst thing is that since Bridgerton is successful it will encourage copycats and diminish the chance of having good period dramas in the future. I just googled “Best Period Dramas” and Bridgerton was top of the list. Ugh. 

To be fair this problem does not start with Bridgerton. It’s just part of a larger trend in the costume drama genre. I’m just grumpier about it because it’s Regency romance. This year gave us two Jane Austen adaptations in Sanditon and Emma. and both had elements of the issues that plague Bridgerton though neither at the same scale. 

So what did I not like? Buckle up buttercup here we go.

General Ahistorical-ness- The series tries to center itself in a specific time period, they even give us the year 1813, and then proceed to ignore the time period. No mentions of Napoleon, a guy that at the very least the Prince would care about since Bonaparte is killing all his countrymen while he dances with Daphne. We get Queen Charlotte but no Prince Regent (the guy the period is named for) or any of the other royals. No mention of the War of 1812 or the Peninsular War. No mention of anything that would ground it in a place or time. Compare this to something like Poldark or Outlander where the characters are actively engaged in the world they live in. Bridgerton doesn’t exist in the Regency world, it just put on the trappings of it.

Ungrounded/Fantasy (except when it’s not)- I do think that the ungrounded nature of the story is on purpose.  We are meant to be swept away into this fantasy land of pretty dresses, hot dukes, pop-music ballrooms, and consequence free sex (for the guys at least) Even the weather gives us a vague “summer” feeling (never mind that the London season took place in the Winter and into Spring and that by summer everyone was out of the capital because it was hot and stinky). I have argued before that the literary Regency romance genere is way more fantasy than reality and this aspect is in the books. So I guess I shouldn’t knock it for this. EXCEPT they had to go and add the pregnant debutante subplot.

The books don’t have a subplot about a girl needing to marry fast because she is pregnant because lbh it’s too real for a light romance read with a fake dating plot. By adding it the show just highlights the bizarre fantasy of the Bridgerton world. Maria (is that her name?) is literally shown the “poor people” to encourage her to get married fast. If we are going to be in fantasy lets live in the fantasy. Like the cartoonish element and the half-hearted commitment to a time period it creates a dissonance for me.

Costumes- A ton of work and effort was put into the costumes and they are in many way beautiful. But they are also just pure aesthetic. Bright colors (very bright), overblown trim, not a bonnet in sight (I cannot say how much this annoys me). This was not a case of not knowing the period but a stylistic choice. They kept a Regency silhouette but actively used colors, fabrics, and the like that had not even been invented by 1813. Contrast this with Emma. where they gave us a very bright aesthetic while also being highly accurate to the time period (like ridiculously accurate costumes). 

Dances and music- Literally it’s Reign all over again. From the type of random couple dancing to the use of pop music covers by a string quartet. Bonus we get an outdoor ball at Vauxhall... guess the actual building with the ballroom was full.. smh. The choices are deliberate. They don’t want it to feel like a Regency ball room. Too which I ask “Then what is the point of the historical setting?” 

Proprieties- They ignore all the rules of the time. Except when they need them to move the plot forward. For example Simon and Daph have to marry because the scandal of them being caught in the garden. But they were alone in several other scenes in circumstances that, at the time, would have caused the same scandal. There are lots of other instances but I imagine they are the kinds of little things that only someone obsessed with the genre notices. Also no bonnets or hats of any kind...shocking!  Cartoonish- I found the whole thing to be a caricature of the time. The costumes, over saturated colors, and bad CGI of buildings contributed to this. But there were also scenes like “ the gentleman callers” that showed massive rooms just filled with guys holding presents as a means to telegraph “this girl is popular”. Because subtlety is dead in this version of a “period drama”. This could have worked if they were going for an over the top “Importance of Being Earnest” (with Firth and Everett) vibe. But the acting and script were played straight so it was dissonant. I felt like they wanted me to really believe that this was how things worked back then.   All Regency girls are prudes- I know this is an artifact from the original novels but I feel the show plays it up by having Eloise be like “but how is a baby made” and making it a plot point that girls are left in the dark. Eloise’s mother had her babies at home and she would likely have seen farm animals. Plus girls then would be told exactly how and why to guard their virtue and would have experienced other women being pregnant. 

Look I get that most people think that sex education was minimal back then but the truth is that they had erotic novels, drawings, sex manuals, and the upper class were more sexually liberated than is generally thought. Anthony sleeping with an opera singer is accurate. But it would be equally accurate for Lady Bridgerton to have a guy she met up with on the regular just for sex. The upper class weren’t prudes. Like there was a trend for awhile where the women would wear white gowns and get them damp so they were practically translucent. They did this at dinner parties. The Georgians (the Regency occurs at the end of the Georgian period) were not the Victorians. 

Okay that’s probably enough. I only got halfway through episode 4 so there are likely other things I could quibble with (and I am well aware that some of this is quibbling). I am glad that other people like the show. I’m happy they are happy. But I really hope that the next Regency related media I see is not more of the same. So help me if the new Persuasion starts being marketed as “edgy” or a “reimagining” I just might cry. 

[walkinginland]

Grievances Raised

I’m starting a new series of wee Outlander one-shots, each based on or inspired by a Hozier song. They will be an unconnected mix of canon divergent, missing moments, and aus. They will sometimes be a pretty direct translation of the song (as is the case for this one), and they’ll sometimes be more loosely inspired, by either the tone of the song or perhaps just a line or two. I'm not sure when or how quickly I'll be posting them, but I don't think they'll take me too long. :)

This first one is inspired by the song “Dinner and Diatribes”. Hope you enjoy!

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“Are you holding up alright, darling?”

Claire murmured to her husband next to her, her tone quiet enough to escape the notice of the other doctors and staff seated at their table.

The hospital benefit dinner was being held in a hotel ballroom and had been going on for hours. Most of the important speeches and networking had come to an end and the evening was reaching the point where people were drinking, chatting with friends they had not seen in a while, or slipping away for home or their room upstairs.

Jamie shook his head slightly as he answered. “Aye, I’m alright, mo chridhe. Just zoning out a bit.”

Claire grimaced in sympathy. While she loved her work and most of the people she worked with, those they were seated with this evening weren’t the most inspiring conversationalists. Jamie could carry on a pleasant conversation with a brick wall, but even he was struggling at this point several hours in.

“It’s getting late; do you want to head up to the room? I’ve talked to all the people I should, there’s no need for us to stick around any longer. Besides…”

She looked around for a moment, and seeing that their tablemates weren’t paying the least attention, leaned over to whisper in his ear, her grin only growing wider as she saw his reaction; surprise melting into wicked excitement.

“So it’s like that, is it Mrs. Fraser?”

“Aye. It is, Mr. Fraser.”

She didn’t even wait for a real response from Jamie before turning to the table and politely wishing everyone a good night and rising to go. They managed to keep their faces straight and their hands to themselves until they were out of the ballroom and into the hotel hallway, but the instant they were out of sight Claire snatched Jamie’s hand with a smirk and led her husband out of the room and to the elevators, stifling a laugh as he stumbled over his own feet in his eagerness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Good Christ, Sassenach.”

Claire chuckled, a little breathlessly, as she fumbled with the first clasp by her hip. “Repeatable, was it?”

She was met with only silence from the other side of the bed, followed by a deep, shuddering sigh.

“Christ.”

Claire’s chuckle turned into a full-on laugh as she undid the second clasp and dropped the whole contraption of leather and silicon onto the floor beside the bed. Rolling back over and scooting closer to her still breathless husband, her laughter faded into periodic amused snorts.

“I’ll remind you darling, that it was your idea after all. You have no one to blame but yourself.” She poked him in the chest as she nestled comfortably into his side.

Jamie still hadn’t opened his eyes all the way, but now he pried one open to glance down at his smirking, teasing wife.

“Oh aye, blame this on me, ye wee minx. You, a walking temptation, and yer poor husband, caught in yer wiles.”

“Well I do believe the phrase “harder, Claire” may have slipped from your mouth a time or two. I don’t think there was any tempting involved, I was just doing as you said.”

“And ye didna enjoy a minute of it, I suppose.” He cocked a brow before shifting his shoulders and rolling onto his side to pull Claire tighter against him.

“I didn’t say that at all. I enjoyed it very much, thank you.” She snuggled against his chest, hands running up and down his sides and around to the small of his back. “Although that leather did pinch a bit; we might have to look into getting a different harness at some point. Maybe one of the fabric ones would be better.” Her hands slipped lower, eliciting a soft groan that turned into a sigh, “Or we could check out that shop on – “

“Claire.”

Jamie’s eyes were closed again.

“Hmm?”

“Yer thinking too much. How can ye have so many thoughts at a time like this?”

She snorted, snuggling closer as she brought her hands back up to run down his chest. “A time like this? What kind of time is it, exactly?”

He was interrupted in the middle of what Claire usually referred to as his Scottish grunt when someone knocked at their door.

Claire nudged him as she turned to get up. “I guess I’m going to be the one to get that?”

“Mmphm.” He rolled slowly over onto his stomach, his next words coming muffled from the depths of the soft hotel pillow. “You guess right.”

Claire grabbed Jamie’s dress shirt from the tangled pile of clothes in the middle of the room, wrapping it around her body to make herself just barely decent as she crossed to open the door to find a blushing, clearly embarrassed young hotel staff member.

From his sprawled position on the bed, Jamie couldn’t completely hear whatever exchange took place through the cracked hotel room door. He caught only bits and pieces of the conversation.

“…. bother you…. noise complaints…. would you mind…?”

“Yes of course…. apologize…. happen again…”

“…. Sorry again…. good night!”

Claire clicked the door closed, shed Jamie’s shirt and tossed it back on the floor, and crawled back into bed with her husband, propping herself up on an elbow beside him.

She poked Jamie in the side, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh.

“You sir, have gotten us in trouble. The front desk received not one, but several sound complaints about ‘disruptive noises’ coming from our room. And before you blame me, you always say my noises are wee and I don’t think wee noises would have earned us any complaints.”

He raised his head up from his nest of pillows, eyebrow cocked in mock offense, “Oh aye? And how am I to blame for that? It’s no’ my fault if yer the one making me sound like a dyin’ cow.”

A fair bit of scuffling, giggling, teasing, and rolling about followed this statement, resulting in Claire pinned to the bed, both of them breathless, exhausted, and so happy they couldn’t control the giant grins on their faces.

“Well,” Jamie sighed, “I suppose it’s good we’ll be moving out of the apartment soon. Wouldn’t want the neighbors complaining to the landlord. Because aye, Sassenach,” he fingered the marks that the harness had left on her thighs and hips as he leaned in to kiss her, whispering against her mouth, “to answer your question. It’s repeatable.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! This is on AO3 as well, right here.