What I loved about Beauty and the Beast (live action)
I’ve now seen this movie twice, and feel like I can adequately list everything I loved about it.
(I tried to keep things in order, but it’s all from memory. So if things aren’t in the right order or quotes aren’t perfect, I apologize.)
- The prince’s eye makeup
- Not having the prince be an 11 year old when he’s cursed
- Shadow usage
- Belle’s preciously sweet singing voice
- Mr. Potts can’t remember what he lost
- Père Robert
- “athletically inclined”
- Gaston not knowing what ‘je ne sais quois’ means when he lives in France
- Gaston’s horse kicking mud at the sisters
- Gaston talking to a mirror
- Gaston stealing flowers
- Just Gaston in general
- “Busy?” “No.”
- Kevin Kline
- Belle knowing exactly what her father needs
- “Dignity?” “It’s outrageously attractive, isn’t it?”
- Belle’s washing machine
- Maurice and his conversations with his horse
- Cogsworth and Lumiere arguing over who Maurice complimented
- Maurice seeing Chip and then calmly running the fuck away (relatable)
- LeFou paying people off so they’ll sing for Gaston
- The note Gaston hits when he sings ‘barge’
- Gaston lifting two people onto his shoulders
- Stomping on tables
- “I’ve been told I’m clingy, but I don’t get it.”
- “Forever can spare a minute.”
- Belle smashing Lumiere with a stool and him complimenting her strength
- The 'only wing’
- Belle immediately planning to escape
- Beast’s facial expressions
- Belle saying hello to a hairbrush
- Belle crawling out of the dress Garderobe put her in
- Cadenza playing through the 'dental pain’
- Lumiere trying to stay in the spotlight
- The guillotine in the background when Lumiere says 'this is France’
- Lumiere being a dramatic little shit
- Mrs. Potts and her saucy wink
- Belle escaping through a doggy door
- Beast growling at the wolves
- Explanation for why all the household was cursed
- The castle falling apart more and more every time a petal drops
- LeFou booping Gaston’s nose
- “Some of them are in Greek.”
- Belle’s excited giggling at the library
- Belle and the Beast having actual conversations that help you believe they’re falling in love
- Snowball fight
- Beast secretly reading romantic stories
- Belle and Beast relating about being lonely outsiders
- Belle’s mother’s backstory
- The gold leaf floating onto Belle’s dress
- Belle admitting she can’t be happy if she isn’t free (take that Stockholm syndrome)
- In case you missed that last one: EVER. MORE.
- Beast climbing higher and higher to keep watching Belle as she leaves
- Gaston’s believable development from vain jerk to truly evil
- “There’s a beast running wild, there’s no question. But I fear the wrong monster’s released.”
- Belle and her dad making an awesome team
- Belle ditching her impractical dress
- Chip chucking saucers at people
- Gaston abandoning LeFou because 'it’s hero time’
- “The fat lady is singing!”
- Stanley looking fabulous in his dress
- Gaston using a gun because he’s a coward
- “I am not a beast.”
- The coat stand catching Chip
- Everyone turning inanimate and breaking my fucking heart
- Close ups of Beast’s beautiful human hands and feet
- Beast’s eyes
- Garderobe and Cadenza
- Plumette coming out of the feathers like the angel she is
- Mr. Potts finding what he lost
- Belle’s celebration dress
- Belle asking Beast to grow a beard
- Beast’s growl (not appropriate for children)
- Beautiful end credits
Request: I was wondering if you could write a Gaston x reader where everyone always thought that he was single in the village but in secret he already had a wife ? And the day they discover it ? Thank you very much ! - @httpslouisoh
You had been dating Gaston for a year before you agreed to marry him. It’s not like he didn’t ask sooner because he did you just weren’t ready to get married.
You have been married for four weeks today and the only one that knew was Lefou. Not because you were trying to hide the fact that you were married because you weren’t. The topic just never really came up. And to be honest you thought everyone knew.
They should have realized that you were together because you wore a ring and you were always with Gaston. No Gaston didn’t wear a ring but only because he wasn’t that kind of person and you respected that.
New edition ! Recipes from Nanny Ogg’s Cookbook are marked with a *, all the others are creations from talented fans (shout out to @fantasyfeasts, for providing most of these, and @sewuniversebacktogether for attempting to make troll food). Discworld themed food for everyone !
So I found out that there were not many Khal Drogo x Reader fics so i decided to write my own. There will be two parts :D This is for @book-boys-are-my-guilty-pleasure for goodluck with her exams and just because we both love him XD
Warnings : Long
It was nerve-wrecking to wait for the Dothraki. Daenerys was being sold off as a bride to the Dothraki, if they were statisfied with how she looked. “How long is it going to take untill those savages are here.” Viserys hissed out annoyed. You couldn’t quite understand why he had done such a thing to wed her off for a army but you couldn’t change his mind. “They will be here soon mi’lord.” You answered to him. Your eyes still on Daenerys. The sound of horses coming closer was the thing that made you really awake, that this wasn’t just a dream of sorts.
Adrenaline rushes through your body, your mind worrying about your misstres. She was visibly nervous and scared but had no chance. This all seemed like it was when you were sold to the Targaryen house.
The leader of the savages was the one who had the longest hair and looked at Daenerys, inspecting how she looked and opened his mouth. “Vos” He growled out. His eyes were making eye contact with Viserys before he looked at you. The heart in your chest beating faster than before. “Shafka” The air hitched in your neck as you reconized the word. ‘You.’ Viserys turned around and looked at you with disgrace but smirked. “Seems he wants you, so go with him.” He said annoyed.
April 9, 1917 - Battles of Arras and Vimy Ridge Begin
Pictured - Canadian machine-gunners dig into shell-holes at Vimy Ridge.
On April 9, Easter Monday, British forces begin a month-long attack on the Hindenburg line, designed to coordinate with a French offensive launched by Robert Nivelle. For five days the Royal Flying Corps had patrolled the skies, taking hideous losses to reconnaissance German trenches and clear German scouts out of the air. Seventy-five British pilots had died in less than a week.
A five day bombardment lifted in the morning, and then a number of underground mines exploded, signalling British and Canadian troops to head over the top. Their initial assaults went well: on the right flank, the Third Army pierced the Hindenburg Line 3 miles inwards at Neuville Vitasse, capturing a German gun park and over 5,600 German prisoners. On the left flank, the German defences at Fampoux fell, and British troops achieved an advance of 3.5 miles, the greatest advance in one day on the Western Front since November 1914.
The Canadians also fought spectacularly, beginning a battle that remains etched in Canadian history as symbolic of transition from a mere dominion to a truly independent nation (although a large portion of Canadian soldiers were British-born). The CEF’s 1st and 2nd divisions went 4,000 yards beyond their main objective, securing the towns of Thélus and Farbus. The 3rd Division was halted by concentrated German gunfire, but the 4th Division captured Hill 145, the highest point on the dominating Vimy Ridge.
Vimy had been fought over many times before, but so far in the war no Allied force, neither French nor British, had been able to conquer it. Canada’s conquest is one of the greatest single-day achievements in the history of the war, but at a dear price: over 11,000 Canadians would be dead before the end of the week as they attempted to build on their first-day success.
By nightfall even the third German trenchline was in British hands. Part of the reason for success came from the employment of a “creeping barrage,” a sophisticated artillery tactic where the shellfire “crept” in front of the infantry, who advanced behind, taking advantage as the guns stunned the defenders and destroyed their defenses. The man in charge of the artillery was Brigade Major Alan Brooke, who in World War II would be the Chief of the Imperial General Staff.
The German third line, however, was massively fortified and held off the repeated assaults from the attackers. British and Canadian Tommies threw themselves against the German line again and again, but to no avail. The tanks that had been meant to protect the infantrymen had broken down or gotten stuck in the mud. Horse-drawn guns pulled up to blast the Germans from close range also could not traverse the sludgy terrain. By nightfall the attackers gave up until the next day, trying to sleep through an unexpected snowfall.
Among the dead that day was English poet R.E. Vernede. A 41-year old Londoner, he had refused a desk job after being wounded at the Somme in 1916 and returned to the front. In his poem “A Listening Post,” he had expressed his confidence in the rightness of the Allied cause:
-A guy that will text me in the morning and at night
-someone to settle me down
-someone to laugh with
-someone to miss me
-someone who will love my horse as much as I do
-someone who wants to own a nice piece of land, with a farm house, a couple barns, a dog, some horses and maybe some cows
-someone who would fight for me
-someone who won’t let go
-someone who cares
-someone who understands
I love your work and how you make everything so amazing. I was wondering if you could do a fic about clexa getting walked in on while doing, well, each other. Thank you in advance for the brilliant work you do.
The rain hung around for a week. It slopped up the yards, filled the river until its shore was engorged and rushing at breakneck speeds to the lakes and oceans, streaming down the mountain in older and new creeks that filled footpaths. The branches that were weakest succumbed to the constant weight of the drizzle while the thick soupy mud of the ground clung to all parts of tires and boots and pants.
Our cats don’t live past six. We don’t see them die. The forest takes them. We’ve heard your cats live longer? Do you not have forests?
The heads have been taken from the chickens. We know what this means. We know what waits in the woods. There’s no fence deep enough, or tall enough. All we can do is hope it’s had it’s fill.
In the winter the trees cry. If you’re out at night, and it’s so cold you feel your lungs freeze under your skin, the trees will cry for you too.
You don’t know winter roads. They don’t know you. Or your white car. You’re not from here. I don’t care what your license plate says. That’s a white car. You’re not from here.
I see your boots. They shine. They’re meant for horses, not mud. I know you are a liar.
Winter is silent. You forget the world make sound. Winter is long.
In spring you realize something has been living under the road. When you step on the dirt, it feels hollow, like the side of a dead animal. It’s going to eat your Mercedes.
The mud is two feet deep. Don’t try to make it home. You won’t.
In the spring we bleed the trees. The blood is sweet, and flows better when it freezes at night. There are many celebrations.
We don’t lock our doors here. I don’t know how to lock the doors here. I have never seen a key.
The sun finally shines in May. The snow is finally gone. Everyone smiles. Everyone. We can’t stop. We can feel the sun again.
In the summer, clouds sleep on the roads.
It’s very beautiful here, we know. You’ve stopped your car. You don’t even realize it, we know. You’re in the middle of the road. You don’t realize it is a road anymore. Not a real road. The beauty is all there is for you now. You step out of your car. You can’t remember where you came from or where you were going. “Out-of-staters,” we mutter as we resist pounding the horn.
In the fall, the trees catch fire. Those we bled burn the brightest.
Just barely made it, but here’s my contribution toward day six! Not super heavy on the shipping, so sorry about that. I’ll try to make up for it tomorrow with Broken Hearts.
“Oh! Fuck, sorry– ”
Jon represses a sigh and kneels down to help the undergrad
gather her books. They’re history texts, mostly. They both reach for The War of the Dawn at the same time,
and their hands touch. “Sorry,” they mutter as one, eager to be done with it,
to finish with the demands of politeness and go about their business as they
were before. All she has to do is take the last book, and they are both free.
He makes the mistake of looking up at the sound of her
voice. It’s not so much a conscious choice as it is instinctual, a response to
something familiar, even though he’s never seen her before in his life. It is a
mistake though. She is looking at him, too, and he barely registers that her
eyes are a startling shade of pale blue, before–
He is standing in the
middle of a frozen fairyworld. The rose-hued light of the dawn catches on the
glossy ice and makes everything sparkle. His breath is stolen, and he can’t be
sure if the cold or the beauty is what takes it away. There are black tents
visible through the frosted foliage. He sees shapes, movement, and tries to
move forward, but–
He is kissing a woman.
A redhead, but a different one, her eyes are darker, her teeth more crooked. She
is naked and so is he, as he trails his way down her neck, her breasts, her
stomach, until he buries his head in the apex of her legs. She moans his name,
and her fingers are tangled in his hair, but the pain is somehow as sweet as
He is looking around
for… something. It is cold again, and dark. There was something, or maybe
someone, that he was supposed to find… to meet… but all he sees is a piece of
wood nailed to a post. ‘Traitor.’ He turns around only to stumble backward at
the first bite of steel. The knife is followed by another, and another, and
another. They all say the same thing. “For the Watch.” He searches their eyes
for regret, for compassion, but all he sees is stony determination as he falls to
He is alive. His eyes
shoot open and he gasps for air that he should not be breathing. His heart
pounds painfully, as though it had to be hammered into beating again. A
ghost-white wolf watches him, and people flood back into the room, but all he
can do is struggle against the hands that suddenly grasp at him. He searches
for the gaps in his memory, but all there is darkness, nothing, a gaping
He is hugging a woman.
This time, it is the same redhead; he is sure of it, though he cannot see her
eyes with her face buried in his shoulder. They cling to each other as if to
never be ripped apart. He was leaving, had been leaving, he nearly missed her,
but he didn’t. He is overcome by the relief of it all, that she is alive, that
they are together, that they are no longer alone, that–
He is drawing a sword.
Before him, a thousand horses trample through the mud with hooves that could
crack a man’s skull. His blade is nothing before the charge. He takes a deep
breath, knowing that he is about to die for the second time, and readies his
stance in the face of the inevitable–
He is heading a table
in a hall of people. A girl is speaking, a young girl, no older than twelve.
Suddenly, they are rising to their feet, drawing their swords and laying them
down. The shout spreads through the room; it echoes around the walls. “The King
in the North!” The redhead sits beside him, and he looks to her. She gives him
a small smile, and he rises to his feet. “The White Wolf!” they call him–
He is kneeling before
a silver-haired queen. Something looms behind her, something vaster than
mammoths, something that radiates fire-like heat, but his eyes are fixed on her
expression as he rises. He is talking, telling stories of the Others, of the
dead rising again from the snow and of inhuman eyes the color of ice–
He is flying on the
back of a dragon. This one is white, and a lesser behemoth than the other, but
the flames it breathes are just as hot. Blood gushes from his side as they wing
their way South, away from the army of wights, the horde that now holds faces
he had come to know–
He is lying in bed.
The redhead’s voice is sharp, and so are her eyes, even as they are glossy with
tears. He thinks deliriously that she looks more like a queen than the silver
to him. His side is burning, and she presses something against it that makes it
burn hotter, as he thrashes and cries out in pain. But her lips, when she
presses them to his forehead, are cool and soft–
He is drawing a sword
yet again. Only this time, it is the last time, as he faces an enemy worse than
cavalry. Behind him, the living stand in a barrier of flesh where there once
loomed a wall of ice. Before him, the dead spread as far as the eye can see.
There are few horses, but the true danger comes not from the beasts, but from
those who ride them. Three dragons circle overhead, one of fire and two of ice.
The sky is lightening as the sun begins to crawl back into the sky–
Jon gasps and jerks his hand away. Beside him, the redhead pants
loudly. Her eyes are wide and horrified, as if she has seen what he has, or
worse. She jumps to her feet, leaving the book between them, and walks away.
Her steps quicken the farther she gets until she disappears from view
Jon swallows convulsively. His heart is racing; his mind is
trying to beat it. He stares down at the abandoned textbook. It flipped open at
some point, maybe when they recoiled from each other, and the page is embossed
with a glossy picture. Beneath it, a tiny caption reads: The King and Queen in
He leaves the book too – someone else will find it and pick
it up, maybe even return it to the undergrad, who knows – and spends the rest
of the day doing his best to put the incident out of his mind. Some kind of
strange hallucination, he decides. Maybe his roommate baked pot into the
The picture was an artist’s interpretation, after all, not a
photograph. Besides, Jon tells himself, it didn’t really look like them anyway.
By the time he goes to sleep that night, he almost believes
A/N: I am so hungry for more reader inserts with this fucker, but I don’t see any. Sad face. I made a poor attempt at making a reader insert. If you like it feel free to write a request. Excuse me if my grammar/spelling is incorrect. English is not my mother language.
(S/R/N) Something that rhymes with your name.
The reader is a female and no body type or skin color is implied. She is going to be a medium height 5′6/ 5′7. Feel free to ignore it if it does not imply to you.
Warnings; usage of weed and swearing.
Word count; 1,305
Mornings. Jesus fucking Christ, did you hate mornings. You slowly got up from your bed, stretching up from the weird position you were sleeping in, you looked at your clock in the shape of a robot that just woke you up.
Fucking clock, man. Fuck it so hard. Staring at you with its drawn, black, soulless eyes. Probably mocking you for not getting enough sleep.
‘Well fuck you too’
Your motion Got me rollercoastin’ I want all in your ocean Man look it when I goes in
You had an ‘early’ class, 3 pm, with Michelle Grant. Ms. Grant.
She teaches mathematics and science. You considered her a great science teacher. She was smart. Always eager to help you with something you couldn’t understand. Which was mostly everything. Ms. Grant was a nice and smart teacher.
The first thing of your morning routine was to brush your teeth, which you already went to do.
In the bathroom
Victoria Chase, Taylor Christensen and Courtney Wagner were mildly chatting. The trio was considered bitchy and evil, especially Victoria Chase. She was a queen bitch. Victoria had the typical Aryan features. White skin, blonde hair and blue eyes. She was pretty, but her attitude was a big problem. She was talented in photography and had a great taste in fashion, however her ‘safety mechanism’ would always kick in and try to hurt other because of her insecurities. They were keeping her down. That was a big downer.
I have no friends But if you had seen where we came You would know that we’re just makin’ a name Just off Dex and we straight to a plane Man, I’m insane This ain’t a game
She never really bothered you, as she could sense that you were a strong person who would never leave their horse in the mud. Metaphorically.
The second part of your routine was to choose an outfit. A flirty, black, cropped top. A cream, floral print mini skirt. Last, but not least, vintage, brown, leather Dr Martens shoes.
The last part of the morning routine was the make up. It was really simple, not that much too. Foundation to give a balanced color to your face, eyeliner to compliment your eyes, eyebrow pencil just to make your brows pop a bit. Lipstick depended on the outfit. Today felt more like a pink tinted lip-gloss.
You went out of the girls dormitory into the school. There wasn’t much to do really, but class was going to start in two hours and you did not want to be late.
Talking to friends was not an option to you. Sure, you talked to people, always friendly, but you never considered them as friends.
Half of you jokers don’t hear what I’m sayin But this is real, I’m feelin pain All of the things, I don’t say them in vain Great as a dane, you in my domain
Yelling and heavy footsteps could be heard echoing around the halls. No one but Nathan Prescott, a.k.a the rich bitch, was causing these psycho outbursts. He sure as hell was a fucked up kid, you knew that. He was mean, insensitive, rude and a hot-head.
Daddy issues. You thought. It may have been as a joke. He always trash talked about his dad. Everyone knew Sean Prescott was an asshole. Literally the whole Arcadia Bay hated the Prescotts.
No one really saw Nathan relaxed or happy. Always on the edge, nervous, angry. Unusual was when he would laugh. He did not do that often.
He was one of the people you would talk to, in a more special way. Nathan was your ‘weed buddy’. It started out when you first came to Blackwell, a few weeks after your arrival. You would see him having his rich bitch tantrums.
I can be Batman and you could be Bane Fast as a train, sharp as a brain I am a poet, I do not explain These are my feelings, I don’t entertain
One day he sat outside the building, hidden, sitting on a bench surrounded by bushes, getting baked.
You were not a big stoner but the week had been hard on you. Blazing was a less dangerous way to relief the stress. Nathan had a joint, you were craving it, telling the principal about this would not have made Nathan happy, so he had to share.
‘Can I have some?’ He looked up at you, a bit startled.
‘Um, no? Get lost.’ Ouch. That was rude.
‘You wouldn’t like anyone to know you are smoking grass on the school campus, would you’ What a great manipulator. Always try and get what you want kids.
‘You sound fucking annoying trying to buy me off and stuff. Good that I am cool at the moment, but you’re killing my vibe.’ He waved his hands around irritatingly.
‘Busted or share? Sharing is caring. Help a stoner out.’
‘I visibly don’t care. I would rather keep my reputation clean though’ But are you sure it’s ‘clean’. Because no one in this city had found you clean or pure, Nathan.
Keepin it plane, my take, it look like I’m me You don’t know what I attain When I drop flame I knew I can’t get the game All of these jokers are lame
You and Nathan had the special sign meaning it was time to get fucked. Not literally, of course. Nobody enjoyed when he let out his bitch fits. He was solid ten feet away from you when you gave him the hand sign. He saw it and hurried to go outside, you followed slowly and non-suspiciously.
Back when you and Nathan began smoking together, you would always try to find a new place to get baked. A more secretive place, like the underground stairs behind the school. No one ever wen there, besides the security authorities.
Lost in space and I see your face on Mars No trace but I find you in them stars I’ll chase you til this planet falls Lil mama got bar, lil mama got bars
He was already there waiting for you. A blunt stuck between his teeth eagerly waiting to be lighted.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, lasses and lads, _____ (S/R/N) is here to fuck up the twats!’ He changed his mood pretty quickly. From sad to happy. Human behavior.
‘Pass it, bro!’ You reached out for the blunt, his fingers slightly brushed on to yours. Something in you kind of sparked. You never felt like that around him. The thought of him- thinking about him makes you feel weird. You never thought about him. Never. A contact like that couldn’t have possibly awakened something in you, right?
You stare into my eyes, I know you hear my cries ‘Cause you look at the sky You wanna fly? I got the kite I got the kite for you to fly
You tried to ignore whatever thought that was going in your head, lightning up the green cigarette.
He was staring at you though. No emotions shown on his face, he was calm and he didn’t even took a drag to already be high. You felt a bit uneasy.
‘Dude, what’s wrong? You’re looking at me weirdly.’ As you said that he immediately turned his head facing the street.
‘No, jeez, pass me the blunt.’ A grumpy douche again. He sounded kind of embarrassed as he tugged at the blunt.
‘No need to be a dick, though. So how is it going? School and private life.’
‘Everything’s shit, why do you think I exploded back there? Because I’m doing well? Bitch, please!’
‘Bitch, seriously, wazzup?’ He sure as hell was not doing well, it was already obvious.
‘Can we just chill, maybe listen to music. I don’t wanna talk.’ Nathan and you were on a Jaden and Willow Smith kind of wave recently. You would listen to them as you got high.
You stare into my eyes, I know you hear my cries ‘Cause you look at the sky You wanna fly? I got the kite I got the kite for you to fly
Here you were. Sitting on the stairs blazing and chilling.
Suddenly you felt something soft and warm touch your hand. Oh fuck, oh no. You were brave enough to look at him when unexpectedly, a soft pair of lips were on your chapped ones. It really took you by surprise but you eventually gave in.
I gave you kisses on yo neck And chilled after my curfew I treat you with respect And girl I never would hurt you
Nathan sure was a big deal, but damn was he a good kisser. Both of you were groping and grabbing at each other as you hopped on his lap. The kiss was not soft at all. It was a hungry, rough and sloppy one.
Soon enough you broke apart. Your hands were gently by either side of his face as you stared at him. A saliva connected your lips. Nathan looked like he expected you to react in a negative way or something, but you just…
‘Dude, you fucking suck!’ You smiled as you shoved him to the side.
‘You ain’t that great either, _____.’ For a long time in forever he smiled. A genuine smile.
Outlander, the Starz adaptation of Diana Gabaldon’s bestselling novels, is about to come alive in the pages of its own adaptation of sorts. In The Making of Outlander, a deep dive out Oct. 18 into the series’ first two seasons, author Tara Bennett — with an assist from Gabaldon herself, who writes the introduction — takes readers through the writing and filming of every episode, offers never-before-seen images, and delivers exclusive interviews with the cast and crew.
Below, EW has five exclusive behind-the-scenes shots from the book, as well as insight from executive producer Maril Davis, who says the book is “a love letter to the cast and crew” that gives fans an intimate look into the production of the epic, sweeping love story between Jamie (Sam Heughan) and Claire (Caitriona Balfe). “Most fans do want to know how the sausage is made, they’re interested in the filmmaking process,” Davis says. “People don’t really understand the steps we take.” She walks EW through some of the steps for the five shots below.
This sunny shot comes from the pilot, which saw Claire go through the stones and journey into the past. Though the giant stones of Craigh na Dun were constructed out of foam with hard coating to help preserve the ground, the rest of the scene didn’t require special effects — which Davis says everyone took as a positive sign. “I have such a fabulous memory of this specific scene,” Davis says. “It was so ethereal up there. We didn’t use the wind machine, because every time she went to go do [the scene], the wind picked up. It was so weird for everyone there that day.”
“It was just like a meant-to-be moment,” she adds. “We had really beautiful weather, which is unusual for Scotland, so I think we were all tricked into thinking that [the rest of filming would be easy]… There’s just a look of pure joy on Caitriona’s face there. It was a magical setup for what would become a really magical shoot.” Then again, noteverything was picture perfect. “We had a really difficult time finding the blue flowers that Diana had described in the books,” she recalls.
Season 2 brought the Frasers to France. For a visit to Versailles, Claire donned a memorable, cleavage-baring red dress — and shared an intimate moment with Jamie before heading out. The shot shows just a bit of the crew surrounding them in the bottom left corner, which Davis says is a common sight for the Balfe and Heughan, especially in their closest scenes. “It’s like Jamie, Claire, and 20 other people,” she laughs. “From the start, [Caitriona and Sam] had this amazing relationship. They get along so well. If they didn’t, we’d be in trouble.”
Aside from getting the costumes right for the world-traveling second season, Davis remembers the production focusing on two key sets: Master Raymond’s (Dominique Pinon) apothecary and the king’s Star Chamber, which was only featured in one, grisly sequence. “It’s one thing to see the pictures, but when you walk on set it’s like being there,” she says. “It helps the actors. They walk on and part of their job is done. They have to act, but they’re not distracted.”
Blue ponchos are ubiquitous on the Outlander set. “The Scottish weather and landscape is rough. It rains all the time, we have to work in the mud and the dirt,” she says. “The mountain of umbrellas and ponchos we have is just kind of a constant… It’s become second nature [to see extras like this].”
Davis remembers a first-season scene that had been so muddy, “people were slipping down the hill.” “It’s always a logistical nightmare,” she says of outdoor shoots far from civilization. “It’s difficult to bring our big production footprint and lay things out. I’m sure that’s why everyone has great memories of the bathroom situation at all these locations.”
This shot comes during the episode in which Claire flashes back to her time in World War II, experiencing PTSD on top of her grief over losing Faith and abandoning her life in Paris. “When we were breaking this episode, [writer] Matthew B. Roberts realized that Claire didn’t have a lot to do during those chapters,” Davis explains. “Matt came up with the idea of the PTSD moment, because we felt like she never talks about her experience in war that much, and it seemed likely that at that point, she would be dealing with the effect of being in war.” Focusing on Claire’s difficult headspace, though, did ironically give them some levity. “It gave us a fun little moment where we could show the origin for the line, ‘Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,’ which she says a lot,” Davis says. “That was a fun Easter egg moment for fans.”
Davis also shared another piece of humorous trivia from the episode: The scene in which Dougal MacKenzie (Graham McTavish) leads a mock Highland charge — a surprise tactic used on the battlefield — in order to pull the rug out from under Jamie, was originally imagined not as shirtless, but as pants-less. Because of a costume issue, they had to ditch the idea, and even toyed with having the men go completely clothing-free. “I think we were like, ‘should we do it naked?’” she recalls. “All the guys were up to it, but it was true to the time that the Highland charge was just guys coming in with long shirts on because the plaid wrappings would sometimes get in the way of fighting.”
Shooting battles is never easy, and for the Battle of Prestonpans, production had to also deal with — yes, again — uncooperative Scottish weather. “The true battle happened in quite a bit of fog, and we wanted to recapture that, but we discovered very quickly that with the wind, we couldn’t capture the fog with a smoke machine,” Davis says. Instead, the team constructed a marquee tent, filled it with smoke, and then filmed the entire battle inside. “It was a pretty ingenious idea that saved us in the end, but I mean, it got pretty disgusting with the blood and horses and mud and everything.”
Luckily, no one got injured in the process — Davis says only Romann Berrux, who played Fergus, got harmlessly knocked over accidentally in a shot they wound up keeping — and doing the episode only prepped the crew for their next big challenge: the Battle of Culloden, in season 3. “The Battle of Culloden was by far the biggest set piece we’ve ever done, but we’re so thrilled with how it’s turning out,” Davis says. “This season is very challenging. We’re showing parallel storylines with Jamie and Claire, and you’re looking at multiple time jumps within those parallel lines.”