#regency?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Building off the Steve v Thor convo I was having with myself... any particular AU?

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Shall We Dance?

“The King and I” is an incredibly problematic musical for a slew of reasons, but as a small child I always loved the way Deborah Kerr’s dress moved in the Shall We Dance sequence. So I’m going hard here, for nostalgia’s sake.

Not exactly what the prompt asked for but close...

---

Jaskier’s fingers drifted over his empty dance card once again, his heart fluttering sadly in his chest. Of course it’s empty, he thought ruefully. Nobody knows you, yet. 

He leaned back against the wall, his hands folded in his lap and his eyes downcast. Tears pricked at the corners and threatened to blur his vision when he saw them: two black shoes, right in front of his own. He let his gaze wander upwards.

Two sturdy legs clad in familiar black trousers led to a wide waist and a black cummerbund. An iron-grey waistcoat of embroidered damask was covered by a jacket with tails, both working to hide a broad chest and two hefty arms. The almost-familiar stranger had lovely honey-hazel eyes and startlingly white hair that had been combed back into the latest fashion. 

“Oh... hello. Taking a break from the dancing?” Jaskier smiled shyly. He made room next to him on the slim padded bench against the wall, in case the man wanted a seat.

“No,” the stranger shook his head. “I- Actually, I-”

Jaskier waited, blushing and silent, for the man to find his tongue and continue. He looked up again when the stranger gave a loud and frustrated sigh. “I know we’ve only just been introduced by his Lordship, your father the Viscount, but I was wondering if you’d like a partner for this next waltz?”

“You don’t have to do this, Your Grace,” Jaskier smiled sadly. He finally recognized the mystery guest as one of his father’s invitees; Duke Geralt de Riv of the House of Kaer Morhen. “You can dance with one of my sisters. I understand that my presence here was allowed out of politeness, Your Grace.”

“I want to dance with you,” the young Duke insisted, holding out his hand. “And you can call me Geralt.”

---

Jaskier was breathless, glad that Geralt’s arm was still strong and firm against his lower back to help him stay standing. “You’ve practiced more than I!” the Duke laughed, swirling Jaskier through the air as easily as if he were a lady.

“I have very little else to do except study and compose,” the Viscount giggled, settling back onto his feet. The Duke escorted Jaskier quietly from the room and out onto one of the many spacious balconies surrounding the ballroom. 

“When the stars have left the sky for the evening,” the Duke began, quiet and rumbling, “Will we be parting ways as well?”

“I suppose that all depends on you, Your Grace,” Jaskier smiled up through his lashes. “You’d have to make arrangements with my father if you wish to see me again.”

“We’ll need a chaperone,” Geralt agreed understandingly. The true meaning behind the words hit Jaskier somewhere funny and he blushed furiously. A chaperone? Those were for courting couples...

“Y...Your Grace?”

“Call me Geralt, please,” the young Duke pled, eyes searching Jaskier’s. “I had wondered if you... Well, when our parents introduced us I had rather hoped you would...”

Jaskier waited patiently but the Duke appeared to be out of words.

“I like you too,” the younger man whispered. Like it was a secret for just the two of them. “You’re an excellent dancer, you’re wittier than any of my cousins or friends, and your commentary on my mother’s dancing will have me in peals of laughter for weeks to come. I would be honored to accept a suit, Geralt, if that’s what you wish to speak with Father about.”

The Duke released a long, happy sigh and pulled Jaskier as close to his side as propriety allowed. “I shall write in the morning.”

The stars twinkled above them and the sounds of another waltz filtered through the open balcony door. Jaskier let his head fall against the Duke’s strong shoulder, a quiet smile gracing his face. 

[welliguessimin]

I'm going to bite you (malicious) if you say 1800s style without specifying which decade

[systemic-chaos]

i don’t really have the words to describe how i want to dress in fashion terms, but i want to dress like the most fucked up english professor you’ve ever met. Or a gravedigger. Or a fucked up sickly victorian boy in adult clothes. i dunno if that falls into a fashion aesthetic though

[crazzycookies]

Jacinter Pride and Prejudice Style 

Original: 

[kellysomeday]

A new thesis 'idea' came to me while doing dishes. Something something Regency Era England something something Looking up articles to figure it out. At least I know primary source documents will be in English, one adjunct professor will be hella pleased, and I'll have a lot of read. At this point, its like whatever.