bakerstreet | Regency AU

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[meme] au

Regency AU

Regency AU

Whether your character was dropped through a portal or just has always been here, welcome to Regency Era England, the height of fashion, social decorum, and questions of marriageability. Or, well, nearly Regency Era England. In this version, no one’s going to think anything odd of your character being of another species (unless you want them to), and no one civilised would possibly object to marriages between persons of the same sex (unless you want them to).

But all of the delightful propriety and social manoeuvering, and the utmost importance of making a good marriage match, well, that’s all perfectly intact. Welcome to (mostly) Regency England.

Character roles:
1. Heir to a Fortune - You have 20,000 pounds a year (incredible!) and perhaps even a title. Whoever marries you will net a fortune, and a life of luxury.
2. A Notable Army Career - You’ve distinguished yourself with honour in His Majesty’s Royal Army (or was it Her Majesty’s All-Female Fighting Dragoons?). Now that you’ve retired, for whatever reason, you’ve been honoured with a title and a very pleasant estate in the country. All you need now is an eligible companion for your new life.
3. The American Heir - Your family has money, but you’re hoping to net the one thing that money can’t buy—a title. Surely there’s some impoverished and attractive young noble who would be delighted to remedy that.
4. Winning Personality - You haven’t got money to speak of, nor a title, but your family has four daughters (or sons) to be married off, and you’re the eldest. Your family can fund you for one year to make your Debut in society, so you’d better make it count.
5. The Courtesan - They may have been edged out of polite society in the social reforms of the Victorian Era, but in the regency, courtesans like Harriette Wilson and Julia Johnstone were scandalously popular. Perhaps your virtue was lost or the prospect of being a powerful noble’s lover was too tempting—either way, now you’re a member of the Demimonde of London, and all of London is fascinated and delighted by your weekly scandals and spectacular balls.
6. The Bohemian - You are an actor, an artist, a model, a singer, anything you please, and your talent is enough to get you mentioned—perhaps lauded!—in society.
7. The Governess/Tutor - You’re well-born and well-educated, but you inherited little to nothing and find yourself reduced to making a living on the fringes of polite society. Specifically, working as a tutor or governess (or perhaps as a valet, chaperone, or lady’s maid, depending on how far you’ve fallen) to members of your own class who find themselves better-monied than you.
8. Upstairs Downstairs - The unseen and unsung heroes of the glittering society, you are not one of the Quality, but they cannot live without you. Perhaps it’s to be an affair with your master or mistress? Risky. Safer to conduct a romance—and find marriage—with a member of your own class.
9. Not One of the Blessed Few - You’re a working class English citizen, in London or the country. The world of high society doesn’t notice you at all, unless it’s to splash you with their passing carriage. A farmer, a labourer, or perhaps a prostitute, but your lack of high birth doesn’t make you any less worthy of life and love.
10. Wildcard

Situations
A. A London Ball - Every Wednesday at Almack’s club, there’s dancing that lasts late into the evening. No entry after 11, not even to royalty, and the guest list is the most exclusive in London. But somehow you’ve secured a token of admittance, whether you’re Cinderella for an evening or whether you attend every week.
B. A Private Party - Not your usual stomping ground, perhaps, but you know the host, and you heard that there would be some interesting figures making an appearance.
C. A Garden Party - It’s so pleasant to escape London in the summer, isn’t it? The heat, the stench… But it’s very lovely here, and the gardens of the estate have been strung with Chinese lanterns. It’s the party of the season, at least in regards to the society of Herefordshire.
D. The Gothic Manor - In classic gothic romance fashion, you’ve been shipped away to the countryside as the ward or fiance of a gloomy gothic mansion. Your host is very attractive, and just your type, but what sort of secrets are they hiding in the attic?
E. New to the Neighbourhood - You’ve just moved into a lovely provincial estate, at least for the summer, and you’ve heard the most interesting things about your neighbours. Time to pay them a social visit! Or perhaps they’ll be visiting you.
F. Zombies - It is a truth universally acknowledged, after all, that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains.
G. Choose Your Own Regency Adventure

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[A high-ranking officer in the army who worked his way up from nothing. Especially interested in Gothic Manor / New to the Neighbourhood, zombies, or various country, army, or fighting monsters shenanigans.]

[He'd be from the Kingdom of Bavaria in the period, fresh from fighting as a cavalryman in the Napoleonic Wars.]

Edited 2020-06-06 19:04 (UTC)

[She'd be fantastic for 4,5,7.]

[Heir to a fortune. For gen or shipping, GRAND TOUR SHENANIGANS or other adventures, especially with Gusu Trio boys. For shipping would love arranged marriage or courtship options, would also love to AU that homophobia doesn't exist for m/m ships.

[Interested in this boy?]

[Sure! I've never done anything with a mxy before but I'm up for anything.]

[He could be a courtesan? Since he is a shamed noble son and this would be his way of trying to make a living?]

[Oh, I like that! Sounds good.]

[Painting his face has become a daily routine; Mo Xuanyu learned the art from a successful courtesan - much to his father's disgust. But what else could he do when he was thrown from the Jin family? He had to make a living or he would be forced to return to a household where he was beaten daily.

The brush slides smoothly over his lips - the finishing touches to his most important look to date. Flowers are tucked into his hair and he has perfumed himself in scents he knows the young Lord of Nie likes. Later, at the party, he approaches said Lord - Huaisang is his name - and bows lowly, showing his obeisance.]

Might I speak with you in private, noble lord?

[Huaisang loves parties. This one is somewhat forgettable, but Huaisang's still glad to be here, socializing cheerfully with his peers. He's dressed in a silvery changshan with minimal ornamentation--exquisite but understated, easy to look past the young man wearing it, easy to dismiss him as just a dandy.

He glances over in surprise at the beauty bowing to him, a male courtesan exquisitely arrayed. Everything about his appearance appeals to Huaisang, to a degree that Huaisang suspects is crafted. Even the bird pattern on the young man's outer garment is perfect to catch Huaisang's attention.]

Oh! [Huaisang flutters his fan and looks around shyly, blushing with nervousness to be approached by a courtesan.] All right. Of course. Um. [Huaisang sucks on his lower lip, all timid uncertainty, expecting his new acquaintance to suggest a location.

He's extremely curious about who has gone to the effort of crafting this courtesan to his taste, and why.]

[Mo Xuanyu has done his homework, making private inquiries with Huaisang's friends before he ever dared to approach the young lord. He has learned how to read expressions too and he smiles when he senses approval. Yet Huaisang's companions had been right - Mo Xuanyu will need to go slowly and be gentle with this patron.

Rising from the graceful bow, he immediately takes the lead, motioning to a quiet, private room that isn't far from the party. The location will hopefully put Huaisang at ease. If he needs help, it will be readily available. Not that Mo Xuanyu plans to hurt him. He has quite the opposite in mind.]

My name is Mo Xuanyu, my lord. [He speaks as they walk, brushing against the other man's arm intimately.] I only wish to entertain you - in the way of your choosing.

Aren't you sweet! And so very pretty. [Huaisang reaches out, caressing a fingertip along that veil of beads and enjoying how it sways and clatters.] I am Nie Huaisang of Qinghe.

[As the heir to the sect and a known dandy, he's used to people approaching him and trying to win his affection. Huaisang isn't sure if there's anything more at play than that, a desire to secure his affection because of his wealth and influence. Either way, he knows his role to play.] You look exquisite tonight. How is it that I haven't seen you before?

You are too kind. [He blushes under the paint on his cheeks; so far he had chosen the right lord to approach. Nie Huaisang was said to be gentler and maybe he could understand Mo Xuanyu's delicate position. Especially if said courtesan made it worth his time.

Smiling behind his veil, the beads swaying merrily at the slightest touch, he guides Huaisang into the room he had reserved for them. He closes the doors behind them and walks to the fireplace, pleased that the flames are bright and warm.]

I was...am...one of the forgotten sons of Jin. [His red lips twist unhappily, but he is quick to hide his gloom.] I take my new occupation very seriously.

[Huaisang watches the courtesan with earnest interest as they enter the room, never looking away even as the courtesan turns toward the fire.] Oh, I see.

[He thinks he knows this situation. People who get a taste of comfort and position never stop seeking it, and Jin Guangshan left behind dozens of offspring who all crave the wealth that their half-sibling Zixuan enjoys. Mo Xuanyu must be one of the smarter ones, if he has the sense to realize that concubine to a sect heir might be as close as he can ever get.]

I'm sure you'll quickly become very popular in your new occupation, if that's what you desire.

[Mo Xuanyu moves back to the young noble's side, the air around him pleasantly perfumed. His answer is breathed against the shell of Huaisang's ear and there is no mistaking how one of his hands travels, seductively, down the other man's chest.]

I desire you, young lord. I want to bring you pleasure. What becomes of me in the morning or tomorrow is of no concern.

[The ornaments in his hair make a soft, musical sound as he tilts his head.]

This is a party, is it not?

[Love her character - could do her as 3, his family pressuring him into marriage. But maybe actually bond over vanquishing of evil?]

[ sure! maybe an arranged marriage type sitch where they don’t know each other very well before they find out they each have a secret of fighting baddies? it could work with the zombie prompt (or some kind of demon/supernatural thing) for added hilarity. ]

[Sold! Plus that way you can shoehorn in parts of her canon. :) Who starts?]

[ care to start us? I can tag in when I’m back at my laptop. ]

He hated every minute of the journey, or nearly such. America was so vastly different, and the sea voyage was not to his liking. He was not at home on the seas. The weeks of rough seas hardly helped his opinion, either. But his parents had insisted, and his father was not getting any better.

It had not been what he expected, when he returned from the defeat of Napoleon. He had fought the French with great gusto in the early stages of the war. It was what was expected, wasn't it? The Von Hammer family had ridden to Bavaria's defense, and the Holy Roman Empire, in victory or defeat since - it was said - the time of Charlemagne. Then Bavaria had switched sides, and he had been...well. He remembered every minute of the retreat from Russia, and then the switching of sides.

He was, at least, fully recovered from the saber wound he had received at Hanau. But he was not the same man, not the same jolly, arrogant youth who had galloped off as a Cuirassier. He was somber and and reflective, and could only with difficulty be persuaded to wear his medals. And now he was expected to journey across the world and woo some American woman in order to restore the family fortunes.

He could not have been more poorly suited for the task.

She knows what she's destined to do, but the more time that passes, the more reluctant she is to just accept her fate — but as the next Earp heir in line, Wynonna's officially run out of other available options in terms of securing her family's safety. In order to fully claim her inheritance and all that that entails, she's intended to marry, to secure a title of her own, and in order to do that she's been committed to a man she's never even met. Of course, she'd made her feelings of annoyance about the situation beyond clear, but with her father long since dead and her mother hospitalized for essentially the entirety of her youth the conditions of their trust cannot be manipulated or changed in any way.

In the end, she doesn't consent for herself but for another's sake; Waverly's status as merely her half-sister means that her future husband is under no obligation to provide for her as a member of the family, but Wynonna is hopeful she'll be able to convince her betrothed that caring for her sister is worth the meager funds that will be spared for her education and future. However, that will require her being on her best behavior — something that her reputation across the small town of Purgatory has already indicated she has difficulty with.

She's retreated to her room by the time her sister knocks on her door with word of a carriage arriving at the homestead, and after a brief cursory glance at herself in the mirror and a futile attempt to brush back wayward strands of dark hair, she squares her shoulders and makes her way down to the front porch to greet the man multiple parties are hopeful she will marry.

The irony that she is about to lay eyes on him for the first time isn't lost on her whatsoever.

Destiny was a word much bandied about in Castle Von Hammer. So were lofty phrases such as preserving the line, honouring his ancestors, and fulfilling his duty as a future Baron. That last was not too long in the offing - his father was old, and his health was beginning to fail him. The long nights had seen father and son talk about what had passed, and the father lamenting that his end would be a lingering one instead of a glorious one on the battlefield.

Having seen the fall of the Grand Armee from Moscow all the way back to Germanic territory, Hans himself had bitter thoughts about the word 'glory.' He doubted all of it now, and knew he shouldn't. But Bavaria had served against, with, and then against the French in succession - but the ideas that inspired the French were harder to defeat than exiling the French Emperor.

But what he doubted most of all was his own suitability as a husband. He was, supposedly, to be firm and parsimonious - and perhaps he could have been, once. But the arrogance required had been long since stripped away by war. He still woke to the nightmares, now and again, of the Cossacks thundering through the snow, hacking down stragglers...

He distracted himself by looking out the window as they pulled into what, for the lack of a better word, was supposedly a normal Wyoming town. One thing he did understand was why people came to the vast United States. It was beautiful on the grandest scale, and it seemed to never end. He looked upwards as a falcon or a hawk flew overhead - oh, to be able to fly such vast, perfect skies...

He leaned back as the carriage entered the homestead in what was very aptly named Purgatory. He sighed as it came to a stop, cursing quietly but in a prolific, soldier-like manner in his native German. When it came to a halt, he stepped down, and at least he could look the part, though he refused to wear the ridiculous hat anymore.

If it was only herself she had to think of, Wynonna wouldn't have even entertained the idea of letting herself be offered in marriage to a complete stranger — a soldier, apparently, one who had been spending most of his time overseas fighting, and she can only imagine what he must look like, perhaps hardened from battle, or horribly scarred after suffering a terrible injury. She has no expectations about his appearance because she has been given nothing to go on, apart from the bare facts about his life and his service.

It strikes her as odd, suddenly, that the longer she stands in wait, watching the faint dot of the carriage begin to take shape the closer it moves toward the house, staring down at the inevitable, that she actually begins to feel something like nervousness — or perhaps it's closer to dread, an emotion she knows all too well at this juncture. Her first instinct is to wrap her arms around herself, feeling suddenly rather confined in the boning of her corset — suddenly she longs for nothing more than to make a mad dash for it, fleeing toward the rear of the property and then towards the very edge of the territory the Earp family owns, letting her hair fall free of its pins to blow loose behind her.

But she stays, not merely for her own sake but for the sake of the sister she must protect, and the next time she glances up the carriage is rolling to a stop in front of the porch. There is no ceremony, no household to come and meet him — which must look improper at the very least, but at the moment she is not exactly concerned about appearances, not when he steps down from the carriage in full decorated splendor and she finds herself forgetting her words for a moment.

The only immediately visible scar the war had left on him was one on his left cheek. He did not share the idea, becoming fashionable amongst the Prussians, that hideous dueling scars were somehow fashionable. He had earned his, at Bar-sur-Aube.

He wore others. The bayonet wound to the thigh, for instance - the limp was gone, but it still ached, in the cold. Despite it, he had been among the 4,000 who marched out of Russia from 33,000. There was the one on his left arm, where a musketball had cut the flesh but not embedded, at Austerlitz.
They were how he wore his battles - not medals.

But when he first saw her, his breath caught, just for a moment. He had been told, by boisterous men in the local drinking hole, that all American women were weathered by the sun and blasted by the wind. Moreover, the daughters of Bavarian nobility were a placid, docile lot. They were tightly, rigidly controlled in bearing. This one, there was a word for, one he struggled to find.

She was, obviously, beautiful - but not in the doll-like way he had been brought up to expect, and had always found off-putting, especially after the war. Hers was not the face he could imagine tittering at him, fawning about how brave he must have been when he knew it wasn't about bravery at all, but survival.

There was an energy to how she held herself, too. She looked a moment away from bursting into activity. What activity he couldn't fathom - but she was a burning torch compared to delicately tapered candles.

Audacious, that was the word. She looked audacious.

[Military Career or Heir to a Fortune. M/M for shipping.]

[ England is very different than the fledgling country of America. The fashions are similar, as are some of the accents, but there is a marked difference between the streets of New York and those of London. Steve hasn't seen much of London, to be sure. He's on loan from the United States - along with a small cadre of soldiers - for the purpose of aiding England against the machinations of Bonaparte Napoleon. It's not what he thought to be doing at this stage in his life. But orders are orders, even ones sending him to the shores of a former enemy nation.

Of course, right now he's in the garden of a respectable estate somewhere Southeast of London, in the county of Devonshire. He's the guest of a colonel who's taken a liking to him, and who very sternly insisted that Steve get some fresh air away from the studied politeness of the British Army regulars. Granted, there are one or two milling around, but the blue of his uniform stands apart and makes him very easy to identify. A servant wanders by, pausing to offer one of the drinks on his tray. Steve almost refuses, but catches a glimpse of the party's host from the corner of an eye, heading toward him with a rather resolute expression. He takes the drink out of self defense. The older gentleman arrives what feels like barely a moment later, bracing one hand against the soldier's shoulders. ]

Captain Rogers, may I have the pleasure of introducing my cousin, Miss Dashwood. [ Steve blinks over the rim of his glass at the slender brunette just behind Sir Middleton. ] Miss Dashwood, may I have the pleasure of introducing Captain Rogers. He's an associate of our dear Colonel Brandon. [ Only then there are shrieks of laughter from somewhere behind them, and Middleton excuses himself to go find out what the fuss is, leaving the two of them alone. Or as alone as two guests at a lavish hunting and garden party could be. Unsure if Miss Dashwood is one of the assembled nobles, Steve opts for the cautious route and bows. ]

Miss Dashwood. [ Oh, he's American. Something John Middleton forgot to mention. ]

[ You'd think that solitude would make one's heartache easier to bear, easier to overcome. It had been a disappointment to Elinor when the man she'd fallen in love with had chosen to follow the path his family had laid ahead for him instead of choosing to find happiness with her.

Of course, she cannot fault him for it, really. Elinor's good nature would not allow herself to dislike him for it, especially given her own loyalty to her family. It both helped and hurt to see her sister so happily settled with her own Colonel Brandon, even if only fueled the pitied whispers of their neighbors, if life worked the way they said, she'd become a spinster and die alone in that small cottage by the sea (the one that belonged to her now that her mother and sister had moved into the house with the Colonel and Marianne)...

Still, she attends the parties and gatherings she is invited to, despite nursing a healing heart and the wish to be alone. And she feels her seemingly infinite patience poked at when she hears her cousin call after her, wishing to make some introduction.

However, to her surprise, the man he introduces her to is... handsome. Breathtakingly so. And she feels so plain in comparison even as he bows, the action almost forcing her to quirk her lips as it is wholly unnecessary but she will not embarrassment upon their first meeting.

So she returns the bow with a curtesy of her own even as she catches perhaps the chance of an accent that is not of this place.] Captain. [ She offers him a warm smile.]

Colonel Brandon is married to my sister-- [ She helpfully adds, to give him a better understanding of how all these people are related to one another.]

[He's probably a Bohemian, but I could also play him as a Heir who has no idea what he's going to do with his life. He just wants to write poetry!]

[Obviously he's the Heir to a Ridiculous Fortune, probably highly sought after for marriage! He's only got eyes for one person though, it seems...]

[Tohru is Not One of the Blessed Few - her mother passed away and she has not a cent to her name, so she's making a living as a laborer. It's a tough living, especially for a young woman, and it's frequently suggested that she should marry to escape this life, but she believes she should appreciate everything she has - perhaps she's been invited by surprise to a party above her station, or taken in by nobles? ~~Please no prostitute/courtesan prompts for her, thank you!~~]

Edited 2020-06-07 00:44 (UTC)

[As though mentally he wasn't living in the Regency/Victorian era the whole series already. He's definitely the noble army career (possibly discharged). Open to any prompt.]

[There is no option for weird busybody old relative, but Regency novels are replete with weird busybody old relatives.]

[ Definitely a Downstairs or Not One Of The Blessed Few, here for hanging with his peers, being involved in shenanigans, or serving the elite. ]

[ Definitely an heiress, potentially wandering mad in a gothic manor or around the grounds. She slips from her servants so easily... ]

[ Who's ready for the /worse/ Tutor? m/m only for shipping please! ]

[Lady Cassandra de Rolo is certainly heir to a fortune, although her family's past is shrouded in a bit of mystery. Her inheritance is more than enough to make up for it, however.]

As the third son of the Earl of Cassilis, Archie isn't particularly meant to make a fuss. He's meant to not bring shame upon the family and eventually do something to bring honor to their name-- Some distinguished career in the East India Company, perhaps, or maybe even the priesthood.

He certainly isn't meant to be catching at his dearest friend's arm as they take a turn around the room and murmur mischievously to her, "I'm told they've got a garden maze. Want to sneak out to see it?"

[ooc: Let's discuss options!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Regency AU

Griffith | Berserk

Hans Von Hammer | DC Comics | OTA

Adele Blanc-Sec | Adventures of Adele Blanc-Sec | OTA

Ysanne Isard | Star Wars: Legends | OTA

Nie Huaisang | The Untamed

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kara danvers (zor-el) | dctv

Sherlock Holmes || Sherlock BBC

(syfy's) wynonna earp

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Here we go. Will vague up the location for you to play with as needed.

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sorry for the delay!

I'm just happy this gets to carry on! Just freshened up his icons, too. :P

snow white | the wolf among us

Abel | Starfighter

elinor dashwood - sense and sensibility

2/C

<333

emma woodhouse - emma

jaskier | 63 witcher

Wirt | Over the Garden Wall | OTA

James Potter | Harry Potter | OTA

Tohru Honda | Fruits Basket | OTA!

Treize Khushrenada | Gundam Wing | ota

Iroh | ATLA | OTA

Jim Hawkins || Treasure Planet || OTA

O-Ichi | Sengoku Basara | OTA

Xue Yang | Mo Dao Zu Shi | OTA

sansa stark | asoiaf/got | ota

sophie hatter | howl's moving castle

Cassandra de Rolo | Critical Role

C for kiddo hijinks

Nico Acosta | OC | M/F

Evie Montgomery | OC | OTA