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marrowdaughter · 2 months

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“When biologists claim that “sex is binary,” they mean something straightforward: there are only two sexes. This statement is true because an individual’s sex is defined by the type of gamete (sperm or ova) their primary reproductive organs (i.e., gonads) are organized, through development, to produce. Males have primary reproductive organs organized around the production of sperm; females, ova. Because there is no third gamete type, there are only two sexes that a person can be. Sex is therefore binary.

It is important to note here that the binary nature of sex is compatible with sex ambiguity because ambiguity with respect to sex is not itself a third sex. However, many gender activists falsely assert that the “sex binary” must mean something like “every human who has ever existed and will ever exist can be unambiguously categorized as either male or female.” Given this, they contend that providing examples of people with ambiguous sexual anatomy (i.e., “intersex” conditions) not only disproves the sex binary but also demonstrates that biological sex is a meaningless and even oppressive categorization scheme. (We will leave aside for now the fact that many of these same activists do recognize an alternative version of “biological sex” in the form of gender-identity bio-essentialism, or the theory that a person’s subjective self-conception of male or female is rooted in the brain itself.)

The chain of reasoning goes something like this. Sex is not binary because intersex people exist. Their existence demonstrates that biological sex is a spectrum. Since sex is a spectrum, that means no line can be perfectly drawn separating males from females. If no single line can be drawn, then anywhere someone chooses to draw one is totally arbitrary and subjective. If it’s totally arbitrary and subjective, then that means the categories male and female are also arbitrary and subjective “social constructs” with no firm root in biological reality. If that’s the case, why are we categorizing people in law according to these arbitrary labels instead of letting people simply label themselves? To do otherwise is to oppress people based on a biological falsehood.

This is just how the argument is made, and it is made with stunning success. Children in K-12 are regularly taught these days that sex and gender exist on a spectrum. Parts of the scientific establishment and the medical profession have also embraced this idea.

Perhaps nobody is more well-known for relying on the existence of intersex conditions to supposedly disprove the sex binary than the historian of science Alice Dreger. In her book, Hermaphrodites and the Medical Invention of Sex, Dreger refers to intersex individuals as “hermaphrodites,” and says: “Hermaphroditism causes a great deal of confusion, more than one might at first appreciate, because—as we will see again and again—the discovery of a ‘hermaphroditic’ body raises doubts not just about the particular body in question, but about all bodies. The questioned body forces us to ask what exactly it is—if anything—that makes the rest of us unquestionable.”

Those without a firm background in biological science may read such passages and feel something akin to having an epiphany, but Dreger is peddling pseudoscience. This desire to extrapolate a small blur at a boundary to the entire picture is rooted in the postmodern impulse to “queer,” and thereby eliminate, natural categories. In the queer-theory worldview, categories are themselves oppressive, and human liberation requires the “troubling” of categories (to borrow Judith Butler’s term), including those of sex. Yet Dreger’s account does not accurately describe biological reality. The existence of “questionable” cases with respect to sex classification does not automatically cast a degree of doubt onto everyone’s sex. For most people, their sex is obvious.

Besides, our society is not currently experiencing a sudden dramatic surge in people stricken with ambiguous genitalia; we are experiencing a surge in people who are unambiguously one sex claiming to “identify” as the opposite sex, or neither sex.

Another false depiction of the sex binary is that it refers to sex chromosomes, with males always being XY and females always XX. Activists purport to debunk this misrepresentation of the sex binary by pointing to sex-chromosome aneuploidies—instances where an individual may have missing or extra X or Y chromosomes, such as in those with Klinefelter (XXY) and Turner (X0) syndrome, among others. How could sex be binary and based on sex chromosomes, they argue, if there are more combinations beyond XX and XY? They may also highlight examples of XX males and females with Y chromosomes as proof that chromosomes do not determine an individual’s sex.

There are several major issues with this line of reasoning. The first is that the vast majority of people with sex-chromosome aneuploidies are not intersex; their primary sex organs and anatomy are unquestionably either male or female. Other compositions than the typical XX and XY arrangement do not represent additional sexes beyond male and female, but instead represent chromosomal variation within each of the two sexes. A person with Klinefelter syndrome (XXY), for example, isn’t a new sex in the same way that a person with Down syndrome (who has three instead of two copies of chromosome 21) isn’t a new species.

Second, the notion that XX males and females with a Y chromosome debunk the claim that sex is determined by chromosomes erroneously conflates how sex is determined with how sex is defined for an individual. “Sex determination” is a technical term in developmental biology referring to the process by which certain genes trigger and regulate sex development. Mammals, which include humans, have evolved what’s called “chromosomal sex determination,” meaning that certain genes residing on chromosomes guide the development of males and females in utero. The Y chromosome is considered “sex determining” because it usually harbors a gene called SRY that triggers male development, and in its absence a female typically develops. But in very rare instances an SRY gene can find its way onto an X chromosome, resulting in a male with XX chromosomes.

This process stands in contrast to sex-determining mechanisms in other organisms that do not rely on chromosomes, such as “temperature-dependent sex determination” that occurs in many reptiles, where the temperature at which an egg is incubated triggers male and female development. In the alligator A. mississippiensis, for instance, higher incubation temperatures (>34°C) produce males, while lower temperatures (<30°C) produce females.

In both chromosomal and temperature-dependent sex determination systems, though an individual’s sex is mechanistically determined in different ways, it is always defined the same way—by the type of gamete his or her primary reproductive organs is organized around producing. This should be obvious, as it would have been impossible ever to have discovered these different sex-determining mechanisms without first knowing what males and females are apart from sex chromosomes and incubation temperatures.

These efforts by activists serve a single purpose—to portray sex as so incomprehensibly complex and multivariable that our traditional practice of classifying people as simply either male or female is grossly outdated and should be completely abandoned in favor of “gender identity.” This entails that males would not be barred from female sports, prisons, or any other space previously segregated according to our supposedly antiquated notions of “biological sex,” so long as they “identify” as female, whatever that means.

But while sex development is a complex process, it does not follow that the outcomes are equally complex. Dreger’s claim that the existence of edge cases “raises doubts not just about the particular body in question, but about all bodies” is not true. A person’s sex is almost always completely unambiguous and recorded correctly at birth.

While it may be necessary to outline reasonable policies and laws for hard cases, we need not pretend we’re all hard cases. Failing to reject Dreger’s rhetorical sleight-of-hand prevents us from calling a spade a spade.”

Article published on August 4th, 2024. Emphasis is my own.

#articles and studies #gender ideology #sex segregation #radical feminism #radical feminists please interact #radical feminists please touch #what are everyone’s thoughts and feelings on this article/substack #i just found it today and it looks promising #but also it’s written by a man so i’m feeling a bit cautious

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thesparklingwriter · 11 months

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taking fate into one's own hands

04—acquaintance

Word count: 1.3k

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You look at him carefully. Perhaps this whole act he’s putting on is an attempt to be more personable. But it’s in your best interests to, at the very least, get along with the man you’ve been promised to. When it comes to loveless marriages to bind nations, divorce isn’t an option. There’s no going back.

“Alright, I’ll eat dinner with you.” You say quietly, and the sides of Morax’s lips quirk upwards. You’re convinced for a second that you made it up somehow, for even when he’d spoken to you as a dignitary, he hadn’t smiled once.

“I hope your room is to your liking,” He says, as you follow behind him. “If there’s anything that it is lacking, please do let me or one of the help know.”

You glance at him, convinced that he can’t be in earnest. He’d been so stoic when you first met him, and even once he’d come clean in regards to his identity, his emotions towards you had seemed to be nothing more than detached amusement.

“Everything is alright, thank you.” you say, bowing your head in gratitude to the man who places your food on your table. You hadn’t considered the change in cuisine and you steel your expression as well as you can, in order to not show your hesitation to eat the unfamiliar food. The butler pours you each a drink, a glistening pale wine, and bows as he excuses himself quietly. Besides your plate, there are golden chopsticks, and then a fork by its side, its dark silver tone standing out against the rest of the tableware. Is it some kind of test?

You glance worriedly between the two, as Morax’s unruffled gaze settles on you.

“You seem troubled. If I may, might I request that you speak freely?”

You glance down at the cutlery again and back up at him, shaking your head softly.

“Nothing troubles me.” you whisper, picking up the two chopsticks as confidently as you can, arranging them in your hands as subtly as you can. You haven’t seen anyone eat with chopsticks for a long time, and suddenly realise you should have waited for him to start so you could copy his technique.

You attempt to pretend to take a sip of your drink or look at the spices on the table to delay your eating, but Morax simply watches you with an even gaze as you quietly panic.

“Is the food not to your taste?” he asks you, finally looking away from you to pick up a fork. “I find that sometimes chopsticks make eating take longer than necessary. I used your arrival as a reason to justify getting some new cutlery.”

You blink at him. “Pardon me if I speak out of turn, but I had always believed you were a firm believer in traditions.” you refuse to relinquish your chopsticks, too embarrassed to admit that using them was a front to try and impress him. You hadn't realised you were acting in a way that might win his favour—and the thought of it surprises you.

Morax’s eyebrows quirk slightly at your implied question, carefully trying to craft an answer that wouldn’t make you question your presence in the palace too much. Perhaps the reaction you’ve had towards him so far is out of fear that you’re not Liyuean enough from him and his people. It wouldn’t be an absurd thought, but if the situation in your home nation remains as rocky as it is now, he wouldn’t want you to return. He certainly want to be the reason you go back, either.

“Ah,” he says quietly, chewing his food. “That is a common misconception. Perhaps when it comes to certain meetings and negotiations, it is true that I remain true to the conditions that have always been stipulated by ancient Liyuean law. However, I myself, think there isn’t much to be learned by holding steadfastly onto tradition in day to day life.”

You gape at him. “So I’m not to be hated by every member of Liyue for not hailing from here?”

Morax sighs. “I cannot speak for my people. I sometimes find they can be stubborn and they often do not like change.”

“You are not filling me with confidence.” You reply drily. Morax fixes you with an even stare, wanting to make sure you listen to his next words.

“I do not seek to deceive you.” he replies evenly. “As of right now, our arrangement is unofficial. Thus you have every right to choose how you wish to proceed. If you cannot bear to stay here with me for a moment longer, you may go home at any point.”

“But what would come of my kingdom, or of me?”

“That would be subject to negotiation. But in situations like that, Liyuean law isn’t particularly favourable for foreigners.”

The word foreigner hits you in your chest. Of course, you didn’t expect to be treated as if you were from here, but to be categorised as something else entirely? It stings, regardless of how you feel about the situation with Morax.

“Your food,” he prompts quietly. Even though you’re almost certain that he isn't going to smite you for using the fork instead of the chopsticks, you refuse to put them down, instead choosing to use them with varying degrees of success.

He watches you carefully, before silently switching to his own chopsticks, quietly pleased with the way you snatch looks at him to copy his form. Slowly, but surely, he’s beginning to understand the way your mind works.

“Have you any interest in looking around Liyue? I’m sure a tour could be organised, if that’s what you wish.” he says to you, once you’ve finished. The food is good, almost as good as the food was at home before things began to go south.

You want to say no, and to stay within the confines of your new room for as long as you can manage, but the lack of clothing is beginning to worry you. When you don’t immediately reply, Morax tries again.

“Have you everything you need?” He says. “If you aren’t interested in looking around the harbour’s stalls as of now, you can always request what you need from the help, and I’m sure they’d be happy to oblige. The choice is yours.”

You take a bite of your food, and try not to cringe at the sudden spice you taste, trying to calmly take a sip of your wine.

“Let me finish my dinner before I make that decision,” you say quietly, and Morax simply nods, his eyes narrowing at you slightly. You don’t notice, almost entirely focused on trying to finish the rest of your food without falling apart.

Compared to where you come from, Liyue is loud. Even when you’re deep in the mountains as you are now, the birds and crickets and bugs are louder than they ever were at home, and it makes for a somewhat settling feeling.

“Whilst we’re on the topic of shopping,” You say quietly, ashamed in advance of the words you’re about to say. “It’s not a secret that my nation wasn’t the most prosperous, my existence here is evidence of that—”

“You are here as a guest. Nothing is expected of you in a monetary or emotional aspect unless you are able and willing to provide. Do not worry about things that are unnecessary.”

Your naivety manifests itself in the raucous beating of your chest in response to his words, and you find yourself utterly embarrassed by how easily swayed you are by a basic display of human decency and respected boundaries.

“Alright,” you say quietly. His words have removed him from the centre of your decision and it’s only yourself to consider now. But perhaps that makes the decision harder.

(didn't have enough character left to write what reader says like i usually do sorry lol)

notes: i'm afraid that doing the polls like this will nerf this series even more but its less work for me so :3

i like to pretend that i don't really care about notes and stuff on my posts but for this series specifically the lack of engagement is gagging me lol i've tried so much to get it more out there but ahhh

taglist: @ainescribe @tartigglez

#genshin x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #zhongli fan fiction #genshin fanfiction #choose your own path #[🧡]—taking fate into one’s own hands #zhongli fan fic #genshin fluff #genshin impact #zhongli fanfic #fanfiction #zhongli royalty au #royalty au #genshin polls #polls

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mads-nixon · 10 months

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100th Bomber Boys: Major Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal: Pt. 1

Ahead of the show's release, I bought Donald Miller's book and am reading it! Here is a little bit about Major Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal (played by Nate Mann) from the prologue of Masters of the Air (pg. 13-14)!

Lt. Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal had not trained with the Hundredth's original crews. He and his crew had been assigned to the group that August from a replacement pool in England, to fill in for men lost on the Regens-burg raid. "When I arrived, the group was not well organized," Rosenthal recalled. "They were a rowdy outfit, filled with characters. Chick Harding was a wonderful guy, but he didn't enforce tight discipline on the ground orin the air." Rosenthal didn't fly a mission for thirty days. "No one came around to check me out and approve me for combat duty. Finally, my squadron commander, John Egan, had me fly a practice formation. I flew to the right of his plane. I had done a lot of formation flying in training and I was frustrated; I desperately wanted to get into the war. I put the wing of my plane right up against Egan's, and wherever he went, I went. When we landed, Egan told me he wanted me to be his wing man." Rosenthal had gone to Brooklyn College, not far from his Flatbush home. An outstanding athlete, he had been captain of the football and baseball teams, and later was inducted into the college's athletic hall of fame. After graduating summa cum laude from Brooklyn Law School, he went to work for a leading Manhattan law firm. He was just getting started in his new job when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. The next morning he joined the Army Air Corps. He was twenty-six years old, with broad shoulders, sharply cut features, and dark curly hair. A big-city boy who loved hot jazz, he walked, incongruously, with the shambling gait of a farmer, his toes turned inward and there wasn't an ounce of New York cynicism in him. He was shy and easily embarrassed, but he burned with determination. "I had read Mein Kampf in college and had seen the newsreels of the big Nazi rallies in Nuremberg, with Hitler riding in an open car and the crowds cheering wildly. It was the faces in the crowd that struck me, the looks of adoration. It wasn't just Hitler. The entire nation had gone mad; it had to be stopped. "I'm a Jew, but it wasn't just that. Hitler was a menace to decent people everywhere. I was also tremendously proud of the English. They stood alone against the Nazis during the Battle of Britain and the Blitz. I read the papers avidly for war news and listened to Edward R. Murrow's live radio broadcasts of the bombing of London. I couldn't wait to get over there. "When I finally arrived, I thought I was at the center of the world, the place where the democracies were gathering to defeat the Nazis. I was right where I wanted to be." Rosie Rosenthal didn't share these thoughts with his crewmates, simple guys who distrusted what they called deep thinking. They never learned what was inside him, what made him fly and fight with blazing resolve. Later in the war, when he became one of the most decorated and famous fliers in the Eighth, word spread around Thorpe Abbotts that his family was in a German concentration camp. But when someone asked him directly, he said "that was a lot of hooey." His family-mother, sister, brother-in-law, and niece (his father had recently died) were all back in Brooklyn. "I have no personal reasons. Everything I've done or hope to do is strictly because I hate persecution... A human being has to look out for other human beings or else there's no civilization."

Rosie was part of the 'Bloody 100th' Bombardment Group of the 13th Combat Wing, of the 'Mighty Eighth' Air Force with John 'Bucky' Egan and Gale 'Buck' Cleven (played by Callum Turner and Austin Butler) His plane was called Rosie's Riveters, and him and his crew were an integral part of the bombardment group.

On October 8th, 1943, the 100th went on a bombing run to Bremen, Germany, and Buck Cleven was shot down. Two days later, Egan and the rest of the 100th went on a supposedly "easy" mission to Münster, accompanied by P-47 Thunderbolts almost all the way to the target. Rosenthal and his crew were not flying their beloved Rosie's Riveters due to damage from their two previous missions in Bremen and Marienburg. Instead, they flew Royal Flush.

Rosie's crew was worried about flying a brand new plane, and became incredibly nervous. Bringing them together under one of the wings, he calmed the boys down and lifted their spirits. This mission proved disastrous, and Royal Flush was the only one in the 100th to make it back to Thorpe Abbotts (the 100th's air-base in East Anglia).

Needless to say, I love Rosie already!! I've read up to chapter 6, and I feel like my brain is going to explode with all the information I've taken in :3

lmk if y'all want more posts like this one or would like to be tagged in them!!

#thank you for coming to my TED Talk #this is for everyone who doesn't have access to the book but wants more info on the guys!!!#can you tell i'm a history major??#masters of the air book excerpts #hbo war #bloody hundredth #100 bombardment group #major john egan #donald miller #major robert rosie rosenthal #masters of the air #major gale cleven

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lilithism1848 · 1 year

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Atrocities US committed against NATIVE AMERICANS

In 2016, the US army corp of engineers approved a Energy Transfer Partners’ proposal to build an oil pipeline near the Standing Rock Indian Reservation, sparking the Dakota Access Pipeline Protests, evoking a brutal response from North Dakota police aided by the National Guard, private security firms, and other law enforcement agencies from surrounding states. The Standing Rock Sioux tribe believes that the pipeline would put the Missouri River, the water source for the reservation, at risk, pointing out two recent spills, a 2010 pipeline spill into the Kalamazoo River in Michigan, which cost over billion to clean up with significant contamination remaining, and a 2015 Bakken crude oil spill into the Yellowstone River in Montana. Police repression has included dogs attacking protesters, spraying water cannons on protesters in sub-freezing temperatures, >700 arrests of Native Americans and ~200 injuries, a highly militarized police force using armored personnel carriers, concussion grenades, mace, Tasers, batons, rubber bullets, and tear gas. In November 2017, the keystone XL pipeline burst, spilling 210,000 gallons of oil in Amherst, South Dakota.

In 1975, FBI agents attacked AIM activists on the Pine Ridge Reservation, in the ‘Pine Ridge Shootout’. Two FBI agents, and an AIM activist were killed. In two separate trials, the U.S. prosecuted participants in the firefight for the deaths of the agents. AIM members Robert Robideau and Dino Butler were acquitted after asserting that they had acted in self–defense. Leonard Peltier was extradited from Canada and tried separately because of the delay. He was convicted on two counts of first–degree murder for the deaths of the FBI agents and sentenced to two consecutive terms of life in prison, after a trial which is still contentious. He remains in prison.

In 1973, 200 Oglala Lakota and AIM activists occupied the town of Wounded Knee, South Dakota, on the Pine Ridge Reservation, called the Wounded knee incident. They were protesting the reservation’s corrupt US-backed tribal chairman, Dick Wilson, who controlled a private militia, called Guardians of the Oglala Nation (GOONs), funded by the government. FBI, US marshals, and other law enforcement cordoned off the area and attacked the activists with armored vehicles, automatic rifles, machine guns, grenade launchers, and gas shells, resulting in two killed and 13 wounded. Ray Robinson, a civil rights activist who joined the protesters, disappeared during the events and is believed to have been murdered. As food supplies became short, three planes dropped 1,200 pounds of food, but as people scrambled to gather it up, a government helicopter appeared overhead and fired down on them while groundfire came from all sides. After the siege ended in a truce, 120 occupiers were arrested. Wilson stayed in office and in 1974 was re-elected amid charges of intimidation, voter fraud, and other abuses. The rate of violence climbed on the reservation as conflict opened between political factions in the following three years; residents accused Wilson’s private militia of much of it.

In Nov. 1969, a group of 89 Native Americans occupied Alcatraz Island for 15 months, to gauge the US’s commitment to the Treaty of Fort Laramie (1868), which stated that all abandoned federal land must be returned to native people. Eventually the government cut off all electrical power and all telephone service to the island. In June, a fire of disputed origin destroyed numerous buildings on the island. Left without power, fresh water, and in the face of diminishing public support and sympathy, the number of occupiers began to dwindle. On June 11, 1971, a large force of government officers removed the remaining 15 people from the island.

From its creation in 1968, The American Indian Movement (AIM) has been a target of repression from law enforcement agencies, and surveillance as one of the FBI’s COINTELPRO targets. This includes the wounded knee incident and the pine ridge shootout.

In 1942 the federal government took privately held Pine Ridge Indian Reservation land owned by tribal members in order to establish the Badlands Bombing Range of 341,725 acres, evicting 125 families. Among the families evicted was that of Pat Cuny, an Oglala Sioux. He fought in World War II in the Battle of the Bulge after surviving torpedoing of his transport in the English Channel. Dewey Beard, a Miniconjou Sioux survivor of the Wounded Knee Massacre, who supported himself by raising horses on his 908-acre allotment received in 1907 was also evicted. The small federal payments were insufficient to enable such persons to buy new properties. In 1955 the 97-year-old Beard testified of earlier mistreatment at Congressional hearings about this project. He said, for “fifty years I have been kicked around. Today there is a hard winter coming. …I might starve to death.”

In 1890, US soldiers killed 150-300 people (including 65 women and 24 children) at Wounded Knee (19-26 people, including two women and eleven children.) on the Lakota Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in the U.S. state of South Dakota. Twenty-five soldiers also died, and 39 were wounded (6 of the wounded later died). At least twenty soldiers were awarded the Medal of Honor. The event was driven by local racism towards the practice of Ghost Dancing, which whites found distasteful, and the Native Americans arming up in response to repeated broken treaties, stolen land, and their bison-herds being hunted to near extinction by the whites.

In 1887, the Dawes Act, and Curtis Act, resulted in the loss of 90 million acres of native-alloted land, and the abolition of many native governments. During the ensuing decades, the Five Civilized Tribes lost 90 million acres of former communal lands, which were sold to non-Natives. In addition, many individuals, unfamiliar with land ownership, became the target of speculators and criminals, were stuck with allotments that were too small for profitable farming, and lost their household lands. Tribe members also suffered from the breakdown of the social structure of the tribes.

Starting in the 1870s, The US army, aided by settlers and private hunters, began a widespread policy of slaughtering bufallo and bison, in order to destroy many tribe’s primary food source, and to starve Native Americans into submission. By 1900, they succeeded; the bufallo population dropped from more than 30 million, to a few hundred. The country’s highest generals, politicians, and presidents including Ulysses S. Grant, saw the destruction of buffalo as solution to the country’s “Indian Problem.” By destroying the food supply of the plains natives, they could more easily move them onto reservations.

Starting in 1830-50, The Trail of Tears was a series of forced removals of Native American nations, including Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek, Seminole, Cherokee people and the African freedmen and slaves who lived among them, from their ancestral homelands in the Southeastern United States to an area west of the Mississippi River that had been designated as Native Territory. The forced relocations were carried out by various government authorities following the passage of the Indian Removal Act in 1830. “Marshaled by guards, hustled by agents, harried by contractors,they were being herded on the way to an unknown and unwelcome destination like a flock of sick sheep.” They went on ox wagons, on horses, on foot, then to be ferried across the MississippiRiver. The army was supposed to organize their trek, but it turned over its job to private contractors who charged the government as much as possible, gave the Indians as little as possible. The Cherokee removal in 1838 (the last forced removal east of the Mississippi) was brought on by the discovery of gold near Dahlonega, Georgia in 1828, resulting in the Georgia Gold Rush. Approximately 2,000-6,000 of the 16,543 relocated Cherokee perished along the way.

In 1848, the California Genocide is a term used to describe the drastic decrease in Native American population in California. The population decreased from ~300,000 in 1769, to 16,000 in 1900.

The Second Seminole War, also known as the Florida War, was a conflict from 1835 to 1842 in Florida between various groups of Native Americans collectively known as Seminoles and the United States, part of a series of conflicts called the Seminole Wars. The Second Seminole War, often referred to as the Seminole War, is regarded as “the longest and most costly of the Indian conflicts of the United States.” ~3000 seminoles were killed, and 4000 were deported to Indian territory elsewhere.

In 1832, the Black Hawk War, was a brief 1832 conflict between the United States and Native Americans led by Black Hawk, a Sauk leader, in Illinois. The war gave impetus to the US policy of Indian removal, in which Native American tribes were pressured to sell their lands and move west of the Mississippi River and stay there. Over 500 Native Americans were killed in the conflict.

In 1832, the Chickasaw Indians were forced by the US to sell their country in 1832 and move to Indian Territory (Oklahoma) during the era of Indian Removal in the 1830s.

In 1813, the Creek War, was a war between the US, lead by the then notorious indian-hunter Andrew Jackson, and the Creek nation, residing primarily in Alabama. Over 1,500 creeks were killed. The war effectively ended with the Treaty of Fort Jackson, where General Andrew Jackson insisted that the Creek confederacy cede more than 21 million acres of land from southern Georgia and central Alabama. These lands were taken from allied Creek as well as Red Sticks. In 1814, Andrew Jackson became famous for his role in the Battle of Horseshoe Bend, where his side killed more than 800 Creeks. Under Jackson, and the man he chose to succeed him, Martin Van Buren, 70,000 Indians east of the Mississippi were forced westward.

The Red Sticks, a faction of Muscogee Creek people in the American Southeast, led a resistance movement against European-American encroachment and assimilation; tensions culminated in the outbreak of the Creek War in 1813.

From 1785-96, the Northwest Indian War was a war between the US and a confederation of numerous Native American tribes, with support from the British, for control of the Northwest Territory. President George Washington directed the United States Army to enforce U.S. sovereignty over the territory. Over 1,000 Native Americans were killed in the bloody conflict.

In the 1800s, Indian removal was a policy of the United States government whereby Native Americans were forcibly removed from their ancestral homelands in the eastern United States to lands west of the Mississippi River, thereafter known as Indian Territory. That policy has been characterized by some scholars as part of a long-term genocide of Native Americans.

The Texan-Indian Wars were a series of 19th-century conflicts between settlers in Texas and the Southern Plains Indians. Its hard to approximate the number of deaths from the conflicts, but the Indian population in Texas decreased from 20,000 to 8,000 by 1875.

The Indian Wars is a name given to the collection of over 40 conflicts and wars between Native Americans and US settlers. The US census bureau reports that they have cost the lives of about 19,000 white men, women and children, including those killed in individual combats, and the lives of about 30,000 Indians. The actual number of killed and wounded Indians must be very much higher than the number given… Fifty percent additional would be a safe estimate.

From 1500-1900s, European and later US colonists and authorities displaced and committed genocide on the Native American Population. Ward Churchill characterizes the reduction of the North American Indian population from an estimated 12 million in 1500 to barely 237,000 in 1900 as a “vast genocide.. the most sustained on record.

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edenityy · 4 months

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( chapter one ! )

"It is time to get up, My Lady."

The curtains to the once-dark room are drawn open, hitting her face and causing her to shift in discomfort. Lifting a hand to her eyes, the teen sits up in her bed and gives the butler an annoyed look, the man's blonde hair sticking out through her tired and hazy view of the world.

"Thomas? Why are you here this morning? Where is Anna?" Leah reluctantly tears the plush blanket from her legs, eyeing her butler with a look of displeasure that he is the one to wake her.

"I am afraid Anna is busy with something this morning, I am here in her stead," Thomas bows apologetically, knowing how much the girl seems to dislike him, "Will you be skipping breakfast again, My Lady?"

A silent nod is the only response the butler gets from Leah, disregarding the cart to instead walk towards the teen's closet and pick out her outfit for the day. Pulling out a gentle blue dress adorned with ribbons and lace, Thomas sets it on the bed before fetching the accessories to match.

"I shall dress you, My Lady."

Scoffing, Leah crosses her arms and turns her head away, sticking up her nose with a dissatisfied noise.

"I am too old for that now! A man that is not my husband shouldn't see me in such a way!"

"I apologize, My Lady. I will blindfold myself and do it that way."

Thomas is quick to pull a blindfold out of his pocket, seemingly carrying it the entire time which causes the teen to look in dismay.

"Why do you just happen to be carrying a blindfold on you?!"

"That isn't important, My Lady. Now let's get you dressed."

Sighing with a kick of her feet, Leah stands from the bed and strips herself of her nightgown as Thomas blindfolds himself, covering his sharp blue eyes. How is he supposed to see what he's doing like that? However he'll manage, it isn't important to her as she settles the corset over her torso and turns around to allow the butler to tie it. As much as she dislikes Thomas, he does know just how tight she likes her corset to be.

Seating herself on the edge of her bed, the noble lady lets her butler slip her dress on, removing the blindfold to kneel and place her shoes on her feet.

"Today's agenda only consists of your visit to Lord Phantomhive's manor."

A nod and a hum come from Leah in response, standing from her bed and waltzing over to her mirror. The Barrett girl places her accessories on, wrapping the choker around her neck and putting her earrings on as she allows Thomas to simultaneously brush her hair and put it up. Leah has always strived to look good, perhaps a bit obsessed with her looks, and visiting Ciel certainly never helps. Nothing ever stops her from going above and beyond.

Now ready for the day, Leah bids Thomas goodbye before setting off down the hall in an excited manner. Visiting her betrothed is always something she enjoys, even if he never seems to be all that happy. Bumping into a firm back, the girl nearly stumbles back onto her bottom before she's grabbed by the arm.

"You shouldn't run indoors, Leah. It's bad manners."

Leah looks up at the sound of her older brother, Daniel's, voice, and a frown makes its way onto her face. When the girl gets overly excited or happy, she often forgets how to properly act and embarrasses herself or acts out of line.

"Sorry.." Leah mutters, looking down at the ground to avoid her brother's gaze as he towers over her, "But it isn't a crime to run in my own home."

Daniel doesn't seem to hear the second part of her sentence, just chuckling to himself before continuing down the hall to the manor's library. Waiting until her brother is out of view, Leah is quick to pick up her running again, giggling as she sees a maid standing outside the door. A clear signal that a carriage is ready to take her to Ciel's manor.

"Say hello to my future son-in-law for me!" Her father calls from the stairs, looking down at his daughter with a gushing smile. Beside the man is his wife, Vivienne bidding her daughter a silent goodbye with a small smile attached to her lips, giggling at her husband's behavior.

An unimpressed smile sits on Leah's face, swallowing her secondhand embarrassment and nodding to her father's wish. You'd think Ciel was HIS betrothed with how he acts about him.. Shaking her head one last time, Leah makes her way out the door and helps herself into the carriage, cheerfully kicking her feet once it sets off to the Phantomhive Manor.

— ౨ৎ —

Leah claps giddily as the carriage arrives at the Phantomhive Manor, horses slowly pulling it to a gentle stop. Swinging the door open, the girl helps herself out and speed walks up the steps and to the door, lifting her delicate hand to knock. Within just a few moments, the large double doors open and Sebastian is smiling down at her.

"Lady Leah? What a surprise! What brings you here today?" Sebastian wears a surprised look, eyes wider than usual as he looks down at the noblewoman standing before him.

"I came to visit Ciel, of course! Did you not get the letter I sent yesterday?" Leah's voice trails off in confusion, a pout beginning to form on her lips at the thought of her letter not being delivered.

"Oh. Your letter! How could I forget? Welcome back, M'lady."

Sebastian lies through his teeth to not upset the girl, though surely it would be better to have been honest. Now she will intrude on Ciel and his dinner later, and getting her to leave will be a chore.

"Is Ciel in his study?"

"Yes, as he always is, M'lady.."

Saying a quick thank you, Leah forces herself not to run through the halls, instead walking briskly towards the stoic boys' study. Humming a happy tune to herself, she lets a smile work its way onto her face the closer she gets to the door.

— ౨ৎ —

In the nearly three years since the teens had gotten engaged, Leah changed immensely. She had matured both physically and mentally, 'blooming' as her mother would say. The girl's shyness had died down, still there but quite dormant compared to before, replacing itself with a more blissful tone.

Ciel had certainly spoken too soon when he thought she wouldn't annoy him, though Leah isn't nearly as bad as Elizabeth, she still has her moments where she leaves Ciel mentally exhausted after a visit. Putting both girls together is like a tornado to the boy, somewhat glad that Leah isn't particularly fond of Elizabeth's personality.

Not that Leah was mean, though. Elizabeth would often agitate her, striking her nerves and draining her social battery beyond repair. As annoyed as she could get with the whiney girl, she could never bring herself to be rude to her, Elizabeth was never mean-spirited after all. Taking on the role of the girl's friend, Leah would spend time with Elizabeth — often reluctantly — to be nice and keep the girl satisfied. She does have her moments where she likes Elizabeth, even if some would say it may be awkward to be friends with your betrothed's past fiancé.

— ౨ৎ —

Knocking quietly on the door to Ciel's study, the young woman smiles to herself when she hears his soft 'Come in' from the other side. Opening the door, Leah bounds into the room with the dress of her skirt following in tow.

"Hello, Ciel!"

"Leah? What are you doing here?!"

Pausing in front of his desk, Leah stares blankly at her betrothed and takes in his startled tone. There's a wave of silence that follows, creeping its way through the air before it gets cut.

"I came to visit you! It's been two months since we've seen each other! I told you in my letter that I would be visiting today. Oh, and my father says hello." Leah nods along to her words, clasping her hands together as she looks down at Ciel's seated form.

"Letter? What letter?" Ciel's brows furrow as he tries to recall if he received any letter from Leah, face unchanging when he can't think of anything.

"You did get my letter, right? Sebastian says you did!" Tilting her head in confusion, yet another pout begins to form on Leah's face, leaning her hands onto the desk.

Ciel starts to slowly shake his head but stops in his tracks when he sees a face peering in through the door, dragging his eyes away from his fiancés's face and onto Sebastian. Squinting his eyes, he stares incredulously and his thoughts jumble as he tries to make sense of what the butler is signaling before focusing back on Leah.

"Ah, now I remember. I apologize, seems it slipped my mind with my work and such. How long do you plan on staying?" Ciel exhales through his nose in disappointment, realizing he'll have to spend some of his day keeping up with a lie. He can only hope she doesn't ask him anything about the contents of the letter.

"Trying to get rid of me already?," Leah smiles teasingly, admiring the face of her betrothed, "I'll be staying for dinner and leave shortly after!"

"I'm having a guest over for dinner. I hope you don't mind sitting in on business chatter."

"Oh, I don't mind! I'm here to spend time with you after all, it won't be much different than when you are just being unresponsive."

A deadpan look flashes upon the face of the earl, choosing to ignore her comment on his unresponsiveness.

"I'm afraid I don't know what to do to keep you entertained, I was planning on doing my work, I'm quite busy as you know."

Pursing her lips, the young lady puts her finger to her chin in thought and taps her heel against the floor. Ciel owns many board games but that doesn't seem to interest her before settling on an idea,

"We can play cards! I've been practicing just for you, I know how much you enjoy it!" Leaning forward, Leah claps joyfully with a wide smile spreads itself across her face. She had picked up many things that Ciel liked or enjoyed, wanting to find ways to bond with him and get him out of his shell.

"Practicing.. for me?" Ciel's words come out slow, stunned as he takes in the words of the girl standing across from him.

"Practicing, yes! In my free time away from my lessons I make my brother play with me," Nodding to herself, the noblewoman recalls the amount of effort it took to get the idea of how cards work into her brain, "Thankfully my brother tolerates me, I'm afraid if he didn't love me as much as he does, he would have killed me by now.."

An understanding hum leaves the sixteen-year-old, moving his head in acknowledgment and leaning his elbow onto the armrest of the chair.

"Your lessons, how are they going?"

"I'm so glad you asked, they are going swimmingly! I've finished most of my language courses, nearly done with dancing, and I am faring well with poetry though I can't say I enjoy it. What is the news of yours?"

Leah can't deny how happy she gets when Ciel asks about her, always excited to share new information with the boy and talk his ear off. Ciel isn't much of a talker so typically the conversation is left to be carried by her, so giving her an easy topic idea is always a help, and it makes her feel like her betrothed cares about her daily activities.

"Fencing is alright I suppose.. I can't say the same for dancing."

"Yes, you do have two left feet."

"WHAT?!"

Covering her mouth to avoid letting a giggle slip, Leah bites down on her lip and forces a closed-eye smile. Ciel has never been good with dancing, even he can admit it, yet whenever she calls him out about it he still tries to act as if no one has said it to him before.

"At the last ball we attended together you kept stepping on my toes! I had bruises on them for a week.." Looking down, the young girl sees flashes of her repeatedly saying 'Ouch!' and examining her feet when she arrived home, purple taking over her once pale skin. For someone as light as Ciel, you wouldn't think it would hurt so much if he stepped on your feet.

"Ug- I-," Ciel stammers for an explanation, a flush covering his cheeks in embarrassment when hearing his betrothed's words, "I'm not that bad!"

"If telling yourself that helps you sleep at night.."

There's a twitch in Ciel's eyes, taking a deep breath to distract from the fact that he was just inadvertently insulted. The Phantomhive forces the edges of his mouth to move themselves up, reaching into his desk to pull out a box of cards. Releasing the cards from their confinement, Ciel waves his hand as a signal for Leah to sit in the seat across from him, getting a delighted squeal in return.

— ౨ৎ —

An hour passes of the two talking and enjoying their game of cards, and Ciel has beaten Leah three times in a row. Despite all of her practice, Ciel is much more skilled than her and always seems to have a trick up his sleeve. Perhaps I should practice more? Losing doesn't upset the teenager, though it does discourage her from feeling like learning paid off. After all, she's always been much more book-smart than game-smart.

"You're too good at this, Ciel..," Leah sulks in her seat and stares down at the cards in her hand, "How do you always have the right cards?"

"Luck, I supp—," Before a prideful smirk could settle itself onto Ciel's face, the Earl is cut off by the sound of an explosion in the distance.

Turning around in her chair, Leah gives an incredulous look towards the door of her fiancé's study. Such a noise would strike alert in anybody, especially one as sudden as the pair have just heard.

"Oh my, what was that noise?" Leah glances back at Ciel, furrowing her brows at the deafening silence that now fills the room.

"I'm sure it is nothing to worry about," Ciel starts, trying to dismiss the girl's worry, "It is probably that no good chef of mine partaking in his usual shenanigans."

The ghost of a scowl can be seen on Ciel's face if you stare hard enough, the thought of his incompetent servants is one he prefers to not welcome into his mind.

"Bardroy? Is this a normal occurrence? Perhaps we should check on him to be sure he is alright!" Leah exclaims, a daunting feeling haunting her previously chipper mood.

"No need, I am sure Sebastian is on top of it," Placing a spade on the table, Ciel shows a lack of interest in the matter at hand, "You shouldn't worry yourself with what the help is doing."

Staring down at the set of cards in her hand, the Lady huffs to herself before reaching her hands down to take another card from the pile.

"I suppose so.."

— ౨ৎ —

Down in the servant's quarters of the Phantomhive Manor, smoke fills the kitchen, and coughing echos from all directions. With damaged hair and covered in ash, Bardroy smiles cheekily at the butler who appears far from impressed.

"All three of you have made a mess as usual. How did this happen?" Sebastian's voice is filled with nothing more than disappointment, having just seen the disaster Finnian and Mey-rin have caused themselves.

"There was a lot of meat to be cooked for dinner, and it was going to take a long time," A disgruntled pause rips itself through the chef's sentence, "I used me flamethrower.."

A sigh of irritation escapes Sebastian, trying to recollect his thoughts in such disarray. Despite this being such a common occurrence, it never makes it easier to accept the behavior.

"Must you all do this when we have the Lady Barrett and Sir Damian as guests this evening?" The servants huddle together and shudder at Sebastian's serious demeanor, ready for what feels like the hundredth scolding.

There is a prolonged silence as Sebastian creates a separate plan in his head, wondering how he can fix such mistakes this time. Glancing over toward Tanaka, a lightbulb practically lights up above his head.

"Everyone. Listen closely and do exactly as I say, understand? We must be quick about this. We might save this night yet," Moving around the counter, Sebastian prepares to set up what is needed, "And Bardroy, please lock away your flamethrower when the Lady is visiting. She has expressed a heavy distaste for loud and sudden noises. I'm sure you've startled her."

A look of guilt is sewn onto the chef's face, scratching the back of his head as he tries to form an indirect apology. Before any words can leave his mouth, Sebastian quickly ushers the servants to start working, cutting their 'fun' short.

— ౨ৎ —

Upon the arrival of Sir Damian, the young couple move themselves to the drawing room in preparation to entertain the guest. A board game Leah has never seen before is sprawled across the table the teens are sitting by, observing the odd nature of the game. 'Body is burnt by raging flames..? What kind of game is this?'

"Buona sera, Ciel! Are you well?"

The silence of the room is quickly filled by a powerful voice, that of Sir Damian making his entrance to the drawing room. Standing from her once seated position, Leah plasters a smile on her face to do her best at being welcoming. After all, this is a chance to show off her skill of entertaining guests, yet another thing to ensure that she is a perfect future wife for the Earl beside her.

"You came, Damian." Ciel's voice is rather unenthusiastic, the blank eyes of his unchanging.

The faintest bow comes from the young lady, enough out of respect but not enough to show she is of higher status, trying to be most hospitable despite the man being more Ciel's guest than hers.

"Ah, who is this fine lady?" Sir Damian approaches the two, arms outstretched in an attempt to hug the Earl, "A sight for sore eyes!"

With a flushed face, Leah clears her throat as her fiancé unwillingly takes the affection from the Italian. The shy personality of the girl may have relieved itself, but it never entirely left and she has always struggled with meeting new people.

"Leah Barrett, daughter of Marquess Barrett," Leah places a hand to her chest as she introduces herself, "Ciel's betrothed."

"Ciel never told me he is engaged! Why hide such a thing? The bride-to-be is certainly something worth flaunting." Sir Damian smirks to himself, nodding to the girl.

An unimpressed look is quick to be hidden on Leah's face, not appreciating being spoken of as nothing more than a pretty face, though making no objections to his words. In such a high-class society, even in the lower classes, women aren't held in much regard, something the girl has always despised.

"Perhaps I should go for a walk in the garden? I have never been one for board games." Leah forces a smile on her face, hoping to get out of the situation now that the factory manager has run his mouth.

"Stay." Ciel voices from his now seated position, staring up at his fiancé with a knowing look.

Pursing her lips, Leah gives Sir Damian one last forced smile before shuffling to seat herself once more. 'I should have left when Ciel mentioned a dinner guest..' Setting her hands in her lap, the girl examines the game board as she had been earlier, still off put by the horrific nature of the game.

Seating himself as well, Damian settles before taking a glance between the two youths.

"Are we to talk business with the Lady in the room? We wouldn't want to bore her!" Damian lets out a hearty laugh, finding his nonexistent joke funny.

"I don't mind, talk away." Leah takes her turn first, spinning the dice, moving five spaces, and leading her game piece to a safe spot.

"I see. Well, the progress we've been making with the East Indian Factory is quite astonishing. We already have the makings of a top-notch staff." Italian accent cutting through the air, Damian spits his lies before he is cut short by Ciel.

"Bewitched by the eyes of the dead. What terrible luck. It appears I lose a turn." The young earl's words are met with a faint chuckle, Sir Damian wanting to continue their discussion.

Leah sits idly, waiting for her turn and paying little mind to the two men who discuss business before her. She has seen her fair share of meetings between businessmen, courtesy of spying on her father, and this one has a lack of interest in her.

"Right now is the perfect time. We should begin expanding the company and building a strong labor force, it would-" Sir Damian is cut short once again by Ciel.

"Go on. It's your turn." Pressing his back against the chair, Ciel folds his hands together and keeps with his reserved manner.

Damian lets out a crisp breath of air when he is interrupted, holding back a look of irritation. The Italian man is not here to talk about the game, which Ciel and Leah are much more focused on.

"Oh, yes. I just spin this then," Spinning the dice, Sir Damian lands five like Leah had before him.

"Okay there, five spaces. Now, what I wanted to ask you. Perhaps you could contribute another twelve thousand pounds to support our expansion? I believe it will be quite a profitable venture for you, my Lord, and I would consider it an honor to help expand the Funtom Company.."

Twirling the dice in her manicured hand, Leah chews on her bottom lip and observes the two men seated beside her. Picking up her game piece, she moves it three spaces, 'burnt at the stake'. A low hum escapes her, only able to assume that's certainly not good.

"Lose a leg in the enchanted forest. And it's your turn again. I lost a turn, remember?" Damian is stunned for a few short moments when Ciel speaks, finding trouble focusing on the game.

"Oh, I see," Sir Damian leans forward in his chair, spinning the dice before it lands on its side. "Right, I move six."

"You don't. That's three." Ciel is quick to enforce the rules of the game.

"What exactly is the point of this game?" Leah mumbles under her breath, brows furrowed as she tries to figure out what the end goal is meant to be.

"What? But.."

"You lost a leg, if you recall. Now you only move half the number of spaces."

A nod comes from the quiet girl, her brain consuming the information as it is spoken.

"Yes, that would make sense.." Placing her chin on her hand, Leah pays little mind to Sir Damian who begins to chuckle at the board game's nature.

"Oh my, haha. This is a gruesome board game, isn't it? Is there no way for me to restore my leg, then?" The Italian appears amused, though Leah can't help but feel he's overcompensating.

"I'm afraid once something is truly lost, sir, that one can never get it back again," Ciel leans across the table, snatching Damian’s piece out of his hand. "Your body is burnt by raging flames."

A quiet gasp escapes Sir Damian before he glances down at the board, eyes closing themselves into a smaller shape when he notes what part of the board his piece is sat upon. Burnt at the stake.

"Well, I don't suppose that is entirely true! I once lost my favorite stuffed animal, and couldn't find it for weeks before it was finally found and returned to me! I had almost lost all hope that I would never see Lord Ducky again.." Replacing the once cold atmosphere at Ciel's previous statement, Leah tries to uplift the feeling in the room with a ridiculous story from her childhood.

Staring at his fiancé with an incredulous look, Ciel can't find it in him to form a comment on her speaking of a toy after something with such a serious undertone. However, a loud laugh is quick to interrupt his train of thought and drive his gaze away from the more innocent girl, listening to Sir Damian make noise across from him.

— ౨ৎ —

In the kitchen, Bardroy cuts off the burnt piece of the meat with a cleaver, a content Finnian watching from the other side of the counter with a smile on his face.

"How is it going?" Sebastian walks into the doorway, observing the chef as he goes about his appointed job.

"I'm doin' it like you said to," Bard turns around, holding up the meat with the cut side to show the butler, "Is this really want you want?"

"Yes, that looks excellent." Sebastian praises, head turning to his left at the sound of a yell.

"Sebastian! Found 'em!" Meyrin comes running down the hallway, happily exclaiming with a high pile of boxes stacked in her hands. "Aah!"

The clumsy maid's happiness is quick to fall short though, tripping over her own feet and sending the boxes and herself flying into the air. Effortlessly catching the boxes with his feet and hands, Sebastian stares down at Meyrin who collides with his chest.

"Oh, honestly. How many times have I told you not to run inside the manor, Meyrin?" Sebastian gently scolds, observing the bright red face that looks up to meet his. "And again with the loud noises. Now what if I hadn't caught this and you startled the Lady Barrett?"

Squealing in embarrassment, Meyrin hastily retracts herself from Sebastian, scrambling back at having caught herself in such a manner.

"I'm so sorry, sir! My glasses cracked and I can't see a thing!" Meyrin apologizes loudly, face still flushed as she keeps a few feet distance between the butler and herself.

Kicking the last box up from his foot, the demon butler graciously catches it on the pile of the rest.

"These are the last items we needed for dinner." A smile sits upon Sebastian's face, turning his attention to Bardroy and Finnian who now watch the the doorway.

"Splendid work, everyone. And now I believe you can leave the rest of it to me and relax for a bit. But I need you to do well, very well, during dinner tonight." The closed-eyed smile continues to paint Sebastian's face, trying to get his point across to the usually incompetent servants.

"He said it twice.." Bard mumbles.

"Ooh, that's serious," Finnian responds, keeping his eyes on the butler from his spot safe in the doorway of the kitchen.

— ౨ৎ —

Back in the drawing room, Ciel and his two guests have continued their conversations and game. The three are then interrupted by Sebastian opening the door, allowing himself in.

"Pardon the interruption, but dinner is served." The demon butler announces, the previous smile on his face gone.

"Oh, dining out in that exquisite stone garden? Shall we go, my Lord?" Sir Damian begins to rise from his chair before halting his movements at Ciel's voice.

"Very well, we'll finish the game later," Ciel states, not bothering to glance up at the Italian.

"Oh, is there any real need to finish it? It's obvious I'm going to lose." Sir Damian puts a fake smile on his face, one that Leah can easily detect. She knows those looks from anywhere, the same ones she gives to Thomas when he is getting on her nerves.

"I'm not in the habit of abandoning games halfway through." Rising from his seat, Ciel takes a few steps forward.

"How childish." Sir Damian fails to conceal his voice to a quieter tone, finger to his eyebrow with a light glare towards the young Earl.

Facing his head around, Ciel looks at the Italian from the corner of his eye when he hears the words leave his mouth clear as day. Both Leah and her betrothed watch as Damian stumbles over his words, trying to excuse himself.

"Oh I, I mean that sometimes it takes a child's eyes to see what's really important. It's a true gift. Maybe that's what's made the Phantomhives the nation's foremost toy makers. If certainly impresses me!" Sir Damian follows suit in rising from his seat, the glare from Sebastian going unnoticed by him.

Stomach faintly grumbling, Leah glances around in embarrassment to make sure no one hears. Skipping breakfast, and now lunch has certainly taken its toll on her. Feeling hungry and exhausted, she wants to wait no longer.

"Please do wait to continue your business chatter at the dining table, I am feeling rather famished and would prefer to not be kept up in here much longer." Leah moves around the table, hand placed on her forehead theatrically. If there's one thing she's good at, it's getting out of conversations. That and being dramatic.

— ౨ৎ —

Lights circle the perimeter of a platform placed above raked sand, a long dining table sat square in the middle, with two chairs on the end and one in the middle. The group of three sit quietly and listen as Sebastian explains dinner, taken aback when they see it.

"On tonight's menu is a dish of finely sliced raw beef donburi courtesy of our chef Bardroy," Sebastian speaks, having the dishes placed in front of the dinner guests as they stare down with confused faces.

"A pile of raw beef. And this is dinner?" Sir Damian holds a shocked expression on his face, eyes wide open at such a foreign concept to him.

"Yes, but surely you have heard of it? This, good sir, is a traditional Japanese delicacy, a dish offered as a sign of gratitude to someone who has accomplished important work. That, sir, is the wonder of donburi!" Sebastian goes on a long spiel about the food, sending Damian into a winded state.

Staring from her side of the table, Leah glances at her bowl with an uneasy look. She didn't expect something so out of her usual comfort zone, a picky eater at heart that will be thoroughly disappointed if she doesn't enjoy the food.

"Is he always like this?" Leah turns her attention to Ciel, acknowledging the behavior from Sebastian that she finds rather unusual compared to the normal quiet she sees from the butler.

"No. This is just Sebastian doing more than he needs to." Ciel gives his butler an unimpressed look but doesn't comment any further, letting the demon speak for him.

"This is a token from our master, to show his thanks for all your hard work on the company's behalf. He wanted you to know that it's much appreciated." Returning to his normal self, Sebastian watches as Damian sinks into his seat with a bemused look.

On the sidelines, the servants admire from a bush amongst the garden, wearing headbands adorned with leaves in an attempt to blend in.

"Now that's our Sebastian for you!" Finnian's eyes sparkle at the sight.

"He saved the day." Baldroy's voice is lower than it typically is, a couple of inches behind Finnian.

"Ho ho ho.." Tanaka comments, a cup of steaming green tea sits in his hand.

"Excellent, what an inspired idea! The legendary Phantomhive hospitality in action!" Sir Damian exclaims, arms outstretched as Ciel and Leah already begin eating their meal.

Standing off to the side, Sebastian has Meyrin with a cart of wine, hand outstretched to her.

"The vintage we are pouring tonight was specially selected to compliment the flavor of soy sauce. Meyrin." A low hum leaves Sebastian when he notices the maid isn't moving, "Now Meyrin."

Leah watches from her seat at the table, carefully placing the meat in her mouth and chewing slowly to try and become used to the texture. The girl's head tilts when she notices that Meyrin's face turns a stark red, Sebastian leaning down to her ear, hand barely covering his moving lips.

"Why are you just standing there? Pour the man a glass of wine." Sebastian urges, brows furrowed at the maid's antics.

As Meyrin approaches the table with shaking hands, wine bottle clasped tightly between them, the servants in the bush watch the nervous woman's behavior with mumbled comments.

"Sebastian is watching me. I can't take it. Don't look at me that way!" Leaning her hands down, Meyrin miscalculates where the glass is due to the crack in her lenses, now spilling wine all over the tablecloth.

In the bush, the rest of the servants watch in horror at the scene.

"Meyrin, stop it! Can't you see you're spilling the wine?" Finnian's voice however is not loud enough to be heard.

Dining with a content aura surrounding her, Leah doesn't even notice the chaos beginning to form around her. When the tablecloth is ripped from under everyone's plates, she can't help but gasp at the clattering sounds of the dishes.

"Oh my!"

"Oh? Where did the tablecloth go?"

Finnian and Baldroy are quick to rush to the scene, grabbing Meyrin on both sides of her arms and starting to drag the dizzy maid out of sight.

"A speck of dirt, most unsightly. I had the cloth removed so it wouldn't distract us. Think nothing of it." Ciel speaks with a light smirk on his face, holding a piece of raw meat in between his chopsticks before swiftly taking a bite.

'That pair are so strange.' Leah thinks to herself, awkwardly continuing to eat her dinner and trying to not acknowledge the now missing cloth.

"Please accept my apologies, sir. Do continue. Enjoy the meal at your leisure." Sebastian bows from beside Ciel's chair.

"Oh, Oh my! Lord Phantomhive, once again you have truly impressed me. What an able butler you've acquired." Sir Damian chuckles when he observes the butler clad in black not far behind his master.

"Pay him no mind. He merely acts as befits one of my servants." Ciel smirks, proud though knowing he did none of the work.

"My master is quite correct about that. Naturally, you see, I am simply one hell of a butler." Glancing up at Damian, there's a strange look to Sebastian that Leah can't place her finger on.

Shifting his head with a begrudging 'humph.', Ciel puts his attention back onto his dinner and fiancé who has been oddly quiet the whole time. However, when he looks her way, a faint smile works its way onto his face when he sees her immersed in her food, resulting in her silent nature.

— ౨ৎ —

Returning to the drawing-room, the trio find themselves back in their original seats, staring at the untouched board game. With a glance out the window, Leah knows her time at the Phantomhive Manor is soon coming to an end, a puff to her cheeks at the thought.

"That was a thoroughly enjoyable dinner, my lord. Now then, about the contract.." Damian is quick to want to get back to discussing business, barely seated himself, and wants to go home soon.

"Before we discuss that, we must finish the game." Ciel sits down himself, keeping his gaze on Leah who flattens out her dress skirts in her chair.

"Ah, yes of course. I do have a pressing appointment, perhaps another ti-" Sir Damian is interrupted by Ciel once again.

"Children can be very demanding about their games. Surely you wouldn't want me or my betrothed to get upset." A sly smirk settles itself on Ciel's face, staring down the Italian across from him.

"No, no of course not. Perhaps you would permit me to use your telephone?"

The two teens watch the man walk out the door, catching a glimpse of Sebastian also allowing himself in. A comfortable silence sits over the engaged pair as they are served tea, though with their sips they don't appear all that delighted.

"What is this? It smells terribly weak." Ciel stares down at his cup with an unpleased expression.

"Out of consideration for our guest, I brought some Italian tea."

"Italian?"

Watching the butler and his master speak over the matters in which the tea is from, Leah quietly excuses herself to the restroom. Pushing the door to the drawing room back open, she does her best to recall the layout of the manor, though not without a struggle on her end.

The only sound Leah can hear is that of her shoes, pressing against the floor with each step she takes. Amid her maze-like troubles, she's completely unaware of what is truly happening in the manor tonight.

— ౨ৎ —

After her not-so-brief trip to the restroom, the noblewoman starts her way back to the drawing room. It had taken it an estimated ten minutes just to find the room, now it will take her another ten to find her way back.

'How embarrassing.. I can't find my way around my future manor. What kind of lady am I?!'

Going through numerous halls and multiple rooms, Leah wanders aimlessly without a staff in sight. A nearly permanent pout is etched onto her face, walking around with her dress skirts in tail.

Before long, she finds herself back in the hallway leading to the drawing room, though not feeling relieved as it all looks the same to her. Glancing inside numerous rooms, her ears twitch at the sound of a scream she can just barely make out, eyes widening and almost jumping out of her skin.

"What was that?!" Leah exclaims, flailing her arms around as she searches the rooms faster.

Finally coming across the drawing room, she holds herself back from slamming the door open and examines Ciel from her spot in the doorway.

"I heard a scream! Are you alright?" The worried fiancé asks, getting closer to the boy to inspect him.

Ciel sits up in his seat at the sudden intrusion, surprised to see Leah bursting through the door. He had almost forgotten she was here, she was taking so long in the restroom that it was almost as if she disappeared for a moment.

"I am quite alright. That scream wasn't me." Ciel reassures Leah, nodding along to his words.

A quiet breath of relief leaves the girl, shoulders dropping from their previously tense position. The worry she had just felt struck her like lightning, if her hair could stand up on its own, it would be doing so.

"That is good.." Leah smiles softly, brushing a stray piece of hair past her face, "Well, I suppose I should just bid my goodbye now. My parents will want me home soon."

"You aren't going to stay for dessert?" Ciel asks, tilting his head with an expectant look. Despite not wanting her there earlier, he appears slightly reluctant to let her go just yet.

Pausing in her spot, Leah taps the side of her face with one of her delicate fingers, thinking to herself. It wouldn't hurt to stay an extra half hour, would it?

"I suppose I can.. I don't have much to do tomorrow anyway. I'm sure my father will understand," Leah swiftly moves to return to her previous seat, "He does adore you, after all."

Letting out a held-back snort, Ciel smirks to himself at his fiancé's words, allowing her to finish up her remaining moves on the board game.

"Is Sir Damian not joining us for dessert?"

#ciel phantomhive #fanfic #black butler x reader #female oc #oc #black butler #sebastian michaelis #elizabeth midford

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miryum · 2 years

Text

The Beer and Tea (Newt x Reader)

Requested by @the-bibliophile-public-library

Summary: Teresa and Thomas, and Y/n are siblings and live in aristocratic neighbourhood within a Victorian Home at the beginning of the century, Thomas invited his best friend from a law practice in London to meet Teresa, who he believed his best friend would fancy and foster a romantic relationship with, since she is an exemplar of a courteous, fashionable Victorian Woman. However, Newt lays eyes on Ellie, the youngest of the siblings, a vocal, independent woman who is going to put her parents to their deathbeds.

Warnings: Soft swearing, OOC sometimes, Minho is misogynistic at one point… 😬 some modern language, the author taking everything from Downton Abbey, period- appropriate misogyny, servants, disobedient child, courtship, a little misunderstanding, matchmaker Teresa if you squint, frustrating mum and dad, fluffy ending. I think that’s it…

“Thomas,” Lord L/n drawled from the end of the table. “Have you heard from your friend yet? The one from London? He works at a law firm, correct?” The older man’s eyes slid to his eldest daughter, Teresa.

“Yes,” Thomas nodded. “He’s coming up in three days, I believe. He said he’s excited to meet my sisters.”

“Why don’t you write back and say I’m eager to meet him as well.” Teresa said kindly.

“Yes, and while you’re at it,” Y/n butted in, pulling out a hair pin that was pinching into her skull and letting it clatter to the table. “Can you see if he can bring up some of that fantastic tea? Or that Toad in the Hole dish from that one pub? Oh my lord, that was delicious last time we were there! Oh! What about their beer?!” Thomas snickered quietly.

The siblings’ mother gaped at her youngest. “Have I taught you nothing?!” The woman hissed loudly.

“What?” Y/n shrugged. “It’s not like anyone’s here. It’s just Gally, Chuck, Clint, and Jeff.” She indicated their butlers.

“That is no way for a lady to behave!” Lady L/n scolded. Y/n rolled her eyes, used to this speech. “Why can’t you take after your sister?” Teresa puffed up proudly, now under the scrutiny of their mother.

“Yes, why don’t I?” Y/n pulled her lips into a thin smile. “And in the meantime, pigs can learn how to fly!” She falsely giggled, keeping up the charade. “Face it, mum,” Y/n’s voice dropped back to its normal octave and she slumped in her seat. “You already got one perfect daughter. Why’d you have to try for another? Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she pushed back her chair and grabbed her empty plate, “I’m going to head down to the kitchens.”

“No!” Lady L/n called after her. “You’re not excused!”

“What?” Y/n yelled loudly. “Can’t hear you! Sorry!” The girl trooped down to the kitchens, Chuck following after her, trying hard to keep a straight face.

“I’m so sorry, mother.” Teresa apologised for her sister.

“Oh, dearest, it’s not your fault.” Lady L/n reached over to squeeze her daughter's hand. “Y/n simply gets… loud sometimes.” Her tired and frustrated expression said it all.

“Do try to keep her in line when Lord Newton comes.” Lord L/n warned, talking to his son.

Thomas smirked. “I’ll try my absolute hardest.”

“You always provide entertainment, Lady Y/n,” Chuck commented, following her down the stairs to the kitchens.

“Shut up.” Y/n groaned, shoving her fingers through her hair, disrupting the rest of the updo. “And it's just Y/n. I’ve told you that a thousand times.” Y/n threw the door open to the kitchen, alarming the rest of the servants.

“Lady Y/n,” Sonya stood abruptly.

“Oh, sit down.” Y/n waved her away.

“My lady, what are you doing here?” Frypan took a pause from making dessert.

“Frypan,” Y/n pouted comically. “I thought you knew of our tradition by now. Whenever there’s a family dinner, I say something hilarious and my family ridicules me for it. Then I come down here, have some sweets, gossip, then go to bed. Frypan, I thought you knew me better.”

“I expected you to come down later.” Fry went back to stirring batter. “I knew you were to come down and ‘gossip’ with us, Lady Y/n, but I thought you would last a little longer with your family.”

“Wow.” Y/n swung up to sit on a stool. “Harsh words from the cook.”

“True words from the cook.” Fry corrected.

“Are you excited for Lord Newton to come?” Sonya asked Y/n, sitting down on the stool next to her.

“If he’s anything like her other suitors, then no.” Y/n grabbed a pitcher of lemonade and poured herself a glass.

“Let me-” Harriet sighed as Y/n stared her down, her cup of lemonade slowly spilling over. “Nevermind.” The head housekeeper huffed.

“I’ll get it.” Sonya started looking for a towel to wipe up Y/n’s mess.

“I can get it!” Y/n jumped up, grabbed a towel, and soaked up her spilled lemonade.

“Lady Y/n,” Sonya knew it was a lost cause.

“Just let her clean it up.” Brenda said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“All done!” Y/n looked proudly at her work. She then sat down and enjoyed her drink.

Clint then came down the stairs, ushering to Chuck, “Come on, boy! Help us clean up.” Chuck and Clint hurried off upstairs.

The kitchen lapsed into silence. The L/n’s were fortunate enough to live in a comfortable, spacious house and neighbourhood. With the title of lordship that Y/n’s father possessed, they had the money to employ a head housekeeper, Harriet, two ladies maids, Sonya and Brenda, a butler, Gally, three footmen, Chuck, Clint, and Jeff, a valet, Zart, a cook, Frypan, and a chauffeur, Winston. While not the largest staff, Lord L/n was cautious and specific about who he employed. Interviewing each employee carefully, he only let the most trusted into his house.

Lately, Lord L/n had been looking for a husband for his eldest daughter, Teresa, to marry off to. While there had already been a couple of suitors, the most recent being Lord Aris and Count Alby, Lady L/n hadn’t approved of them, saying although of their impressive wealth, they were too reckless for her daughter.

Lord L/n expected his son, Thomas, to take over his law firm and had been training him in the skill ever since he was young.

Although both parents had high expectations for their oldest and second- oldest, they had few for their youngest. While Lord L/n had readily accepted that Y/n was most likely going to lead a life as an old maid, Lady L/n had yet to give up. Pushing her youngest to behave the proper way that all young ladies should, she constantly pointed to Teresa to show Y/n all of what she was doing wrong.

Y/n frequently ignored her mum. It was a quality she had practised and perfected early on.

“Are you hoping for a suitor soon?” Harriet asked hesitantly.

“Lord, no.” Y/n said immediately. “I don’t want a man who expects me to be a perfect little wife. I can’t do what my mum does. It’s just too… boring.” She looked down at her lemonade and muttered, “God, I wish this was alcohol.”

“What if you found someone who let you do what you want?” Sonya asked. “Who loved you no matter what?”

“Well,” Y/n snorted. “That’s the dream. But it’ll never happen. None of the nobles were raised like that and dad sure as hell won’t let me marry beneath me.” The servants went quiet. Y/n, quickly realising her mistake, said, “oh, I’m so sorry! It just slipped out. I’m sorry!” She leaned over and hugged Sonya. “Trust me, I would marry any of you hotties in a heartbeat.” The tense air subsided, Frypan letting out a loud laugh. Sonya, Brenda, Winston, and Zart joined in, Harriet even letting out a chuckle.

“It’s quite alright, my Lady,” Sonya reassured. “You could never say something that offends us.”

“I’m hoping that you’re saying that as friends and not as an obligated employee.” Y/n mumbled.

“As friends,” Sonya calmly said, running a hand over her Lady’s hair. “Now, let’s get you to bed.”

Y/n shifted uncomfortably in her dress, wanting to itch her leg. But she didn’t. Her mother was watching.

Today was the day that Lord Newton was to arrive. Lord and Lady L/n stood in front, Thomas and Teresa next. Y/n stood awkwardly in the back, hoping Thomas and Teresa’s shadow was big enough to hide her. Next were the servants, Gally and Harriet leading the pack. Y/n wanted desperately to disappear into the background with Sonya, Brenda, and the rest of them.

Soon, an automobile rattled up, making Chuck gape, “He’s got an automobile, too!”

“Shush, Chuck,” Gally reminded.

Lord Newton’s chauffeur jumped down and quickly opened the door. Lord Newton stepped out and nodded to his chauffeur. He was dressed in a three- piece suit and holding an ornate, obsidian cane. His cufflinks shone nicely and his shoes shined to perfection. His blond hair was fluffed up, although it didn’t seem like he had put too much effort into it. His brown eyes twinkled kindly and his smile was the purest Y/n had ever seen from a nobleman.

“At least he’s cute,” Y/n whispered not- so- quietly. Newton let out a light chuckle, indicating he had heard her.

“Lord L/n,” Newton bowed to the older man.

“Lord Newton,” Y/n’s father bowed at the head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you as well.” Newton stepped to Lady L/n and kissed her knuckles. “Lady L/n.”

“Lord Newton,” Lady L/n smiled brightly. “I’ve heard so many good things about you. I’m pleased to have you visit us at our home.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Y/n inwardly groaned at the pleasantries. It seemed as if whenever someone came to visit, the word “pleasant” was all that her parents knew.

“Thomas!” Newton moved onto his friend and Thomas enthusiastically shook his hand.

“Newt!” Thomas used a nickname that made Y/n like the visitor more. “Welcome! Glad to see you again. It’s even too long.”

“Couldn’t agree more!” Newt grinned. “We must talk about things happening at the firm. I would love to get your input.”

“Of course.”

“Lady Teresa,” Newt’s zeal was replaced with properness and admiration. Not adoration, but he still respected her and wished to cultivate a relationship. He kissed her hand. Newt then stopped in front of Y/n. “And you must be Lady Y/n.” Newt beamed.

“My reputation precedes me.” Y/n smirked as he lowered his lips to her knuckles.

“Yes, indeed. In fact, I, uh, have a gift for you.” Newt looked down at his feet quickly before glancing up. “I must say I was surprised at your request but understand it fully. Your brother,” he gestured to Thomas, “informed me that you enjoy a London pub- specifically a certain dish. I brought the ingredients for Toad in a Hole, so unfortunately your cook will have to prepare it, but I also brought a gallon of our finest beer and tea. I can say that our tastes are very similar.” His lips quirked up.

Y/n’s mouth dropped open. Newt looked worried as if he had misread Thomas’s letter and now disrespected a proper, fine young lady. Instead, Y/n let out a squeal. “Oh, thank you, thank you! Thomas, I can’t believe you actually told him! I’ll have Frypan get on that right away and we can have a feast tonight! Thank you! I’m going to hug you now.”

“Oh. O-Okay.” Newt’s face erupted into bright red colours. Y/n flung her arms around him and squeezed tightly. Slowly, Newt hugged her back.

Y/n then gasped and broke the hug. “Your chauffeur can’t lift that all by himself. Clint? Jeff? Could you go help the man?” Clint and Jeff nodded and broke the line, walking over to Newt’s chauffeur. “And Brenda? Could you please go down to Frypan and inform him of the change in the menu? If he protests, because I’m sure he will- he’s Frypan, tell him I’m deeply sorry but I’ve gone too long without this fabulous beer. And if he protests some more, tell him to try some and then he’ll understand.” Brenda nodded, barely concealing a smile, and rushed down to the kitchens. “Thank you.” Y/n said sincerely to Newt, a hand still on his shoulder.

“It isn’t a big deal,” Newt shook his head.

“But it is. You’ve made a girl very very happy.” Y/n clutched his hand. “And probably very hungover tomorrow morning.” Newt let out a bubbling laugh then pressed his lips together as if he was surprised at his outburst. “You have a nice laugh,” Y/n said, making the poor boy blush even more.

“Lord Newton,” Y/n’s father took the boy from Y/n’s grip and steered him into the house. “How was your trip?”

Once they were out of earshot, Lady L/n turned to the girl. “Y/n!” She cried, “why were you smothering the boy?! Leave him be! He’s here for your sister; don’t force his attention on you.”

“I’m simply happy, mum.” Y/n countered. “Is that a crime?”

“As you should be.” Thomas said under his breath. “That beer is good.”

“Told you!” Y/n cried after her mum and Teresa as they sashayed inside.

Y/n grumbled some choice words as Thomas came up to her and hooked an arm around her shoulders. “Buck up, buttercup,” he reassured his sister. “They’ll come around.”

“No, they won’t. I’ll always be the black sheep of the family.” Y/n crossed her arms.

Thomas jokingly pinched her cheek. “It seems like you and Newt got along splendidly.”

“Shut up. He’s here for primp- and- preen Teresa. Don’t get my hopes up about a cute blond.”

“So you admit he’s cute?”

“Obviously. It’s whether or not he can hold his alcohol that matters.”

Thomas laughed. “And I can vouch that he’s a good guy. Last time I visited he had a meeting with a woman about promoting her status at the bank. He’s very courteous and sees women as absolute equals.”

“So like dad?” Y/n said dryly.

Thomas sighed heavily. “Just get inside.”

Dinner was the best one Y/n had had in a while- even with Frypan’s fantastic cooking. Y/n groaned, eating bite after bite. Teresa purses her lips, muttering, “Don’t eat like a pig. A lady must watch what she eats.”

Y/n snorted and replied, “Uh, yeah. You go do that. I’m gonna be over here actually enjoying my food.”

Newt tried to disguise his laugh as a cough, smiling widely at Y/n.

“Newt,” Y/n started, ignoring all forms of chivalry and addressing him by a nickname. “You’re a lawyer, right? Tell me about the last big case you had.”

“Um, well,” Newt looked startled from being put on the spot by the youngest sibling. Shyly, he said, “I helped a woman get out of an abusive relationship. The husband was beating and cheating on her and we finally had a breakthrough when we convinced a prostitute to testify against him.”

Lady L/n looked taken aback, not used to this conversation at her dinner table. Teresa looked disturbed and Lord L/n frustrated. However, Thomas and Y/n looked intrigued.

“So you were the prosecutor?” Y/n asked.

“Yes, I was!” Newt seemed delightfully surprised that Y/n knew of the term. “A friend of mine was actually hired for the defence. It was quite awkward- debunking a close mate of yours, but he didn’t seem mad.”

“Fascinating.” Y/n muttered. “And have you dealt with any murder cases?”

Lady L/n gasped. “Y/n! We do not speak of such a thing! Especially during dinner.” Y/n frowned and looked down at her plate. “I don’t want you ever speaking of that again. How do such thoughts even come to your head?”

Y/n didn’t answer, instead taking a swig of beer. Thomas caught Newt gazing at his youngest sister, a small smile on the visitor’s lips. Thomas then glanced over to Teresa who was gnawing her lip between her teeth. He turned to his father and whispered, “Father, may I talk to you later, along with Newton?”

“Certainly.” Lord L/n nodded. “In fact, I was going to have him for cigars after dinner.”

“Wonderful. But how about after the ladies have gone to bed?”

Lord L/n puzzled. “May I ask why all the secrecy?”

“No, you may not.” Thomas said coyly, earning a chuckle from his father.

“Alright then.”

Y/n knocked on Newt’s door. Her foot tapped nervously. This was completely out of character for her. Usually, when suitors of Teresa came, Y/n made a point of staying as far away as possible.

“Come in,” Newt called through the door. He blushed heavily when he saw the nightgown- clad girl hurry through. “Um, I’m sorry,” he stuttered out, “you’re a lovely girl, but I only just met you. Have I been sending the wrong-”

“What?!” Y/n said loudly. She hurriedly dropped her volume. “God, no. That’s not what- oh, really?! Ew. That’s what you thought-” she buried her head in her hands. “No, no. I’m just here to ask you a question.”

“Oh.” Newt coughed loudly. “I am so sorry for assuming-”

“We don’t need to talk about it anymore.” Y/n cut him off. “Though I’m glad you think I’m a lovely girl.” She let out a light chuckle. Newt ran a hand through his hair.

“What was your question?” Newt sat down in a plush chair. Y/n hopped up onto his bed. Newt blinked twice.

“I want to know if you’ve ever been involved in a murder case.” Y/n stated clearly, still pissed at her mother from before.

“Yeah, I was, actually. Sorry I didn’t answer you during dinner, but there was the murder of a policeman back in December of 1900. Barnet Abrahamns was charged for it. I was on the prosecution team.”

“Really? I read about that!” Y/n’s eyes grew wide. “Can you tell me about it?”

“Sure.” Newt went on to discuss the details of the case. Y/n listened intently, asking questions at all the right parts. At one point, she brought up an inconsistency in Abrahamns’s story, something that Newt hadn’t caught. He paused and whispered, “yes,” before writing something down. “You’re absolutely correct.” He stared at Y/n, stunned, yet a grin growing. “I’ll have to bring this to the attention of my mates. I would like to pick your mind for the case I’m working on now.” Y/n beamed.

After forty minutes or so, Newt's storytelling was interrupted by a knock. Y/n whispered a curse as the door creaked open. Clint poked his head in and reeled back at the sight of Y/n on the bed.

“Hello Clint!” Y/n chirped, voice wavering slightly, the only indication of anxiety.

“Uh,” Clint remembered his place and straightened. “Lord L/n is requesting your presence downstairs in the drawing room, Lord Newton.”

“At this time? Alright, let me fetch my evening wear.” Newt sat up in his chair.

“Oh, no,” Clint said, “he wishes you no discomfort. Come as you are.”

Newt hummed, yet nodded. He stood, looking tired and in discomfort, just wanting to go to sleep. Slowly, he moved over to his cane, his limp seeming more prominent. Y/n’s brows pinched and she rushed over to help him. “Thank you, love.” Newt mumbled as she gave him his cane.

“I’m going to go.” Y/n said, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Newt replied, “It was nice talking to you. I appreciated your insight and questions.”

“I enjoyed your company as well.” Y/n dropped into a short curtsy, formalities flooding her head now that Clint was there. Quickly exiting, whispering a, “pardon me,” to Clint, Y/n left.

Newt gazed after her. “Lord Newton?” Clint interrupted his thoughts.

“She has a brilliant mind, does she not?” Newt muttered, almost to himself.

“Yes, she makes an effort to come up with solutions to problems we have downstairs.”

“She participates with you?” Newt asked. “She goes downstairs and talks on a regular basis?”

“Yes,” Clint said slowly, unsure if he should be sharing this information. “She frequently visits. Just yesterday she was downstairs talking away as our cook was working. She calls us her friends. Even as we’re working, she follows us around, asking about our days. She wants our advice on certain things, such as her relationships.”

“Relationships?” Newt pressed the footman.

“I’m not entirely sure I should be telling you about this,” Clint gulped.

“I won’t utter a word,” Newt promised, feeling as if he was back in boarding school, asking about a girl he crushed on.

“Her relationships with the Lady.” Clint clarified, “They don’t see eye to eye on things. Lady Y/n has always been… more outspoken than her mother and sister. They constantly try to correct her errors, but she waves them off. It’s nice to work for someone who speaks up for you and cares about your life.”

“Yes, I can imagine,” Newt said. “But she’s currently not being courted?”

“No,” Clint shook his head. “Her mother hasn’t made any effort to find her a suitor. Though I dare say Y/n prefers it like that. No one would be able to handle her… opinions and eccentricities.”

“Eccentricities?” Newt chuckled, “No, they’re not eccentricities. They’re her thoughts and beliefs. They’re her voice and they deserve to be spoken.”

“You’re the first who’s ever thought that,” Clint said. “But I don’t want to keep Lord L/n waiting.”

“Of course,” Newt nodded. “Silly me.” He headed out the door.

“However,” Clint whispered as he was walking by, “Lady Y/n commonly visits the library if she’s not with us.”

“Thank you for the information.” Newt glanced at the footman. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Newt was slow to walk down the stairway, but once he made it to the drawing room, he found Lord L/n and Thomas sitting there, each enjoying a cigar.

“Lord L/n,” Newt dropped into a bow.

“Lord Newton,” Lord L/n stood and bowed as well.

“You wanted to speak with me, sir?” Newt sat next to Thomas.

“Yes.” Lord L/n said, “Concerning my daughter.”

“Lady Y/n?” Newt seemed puzzled.

“No…” Lord L/n paused. “My daughter, Teresa.” Thomas shot his father a telling glance. “I’m sure Thomas wrote to you about our desire to have Teresa marry soon. She’s had suitors in the past, but my wife shoos them away as they’re not good enough for our daughter. However, I’ve heard excellent things about you.” Newt swallowed. Lord L/n continued, “You’re a partner in a law firm, an admirable profession with a good, steady income. You come from a nice family and title. My wife and I have discussed and we would be accepting if you were to court our daughter.” The older man spoke very frankly.

“And have you talked to Teresa about her wishes?” Newt asked.

“She’s shown an interest in you, yes.” Lord L/n cleverly evaded the question.

“But what I brought up to father,” Thomas butted in, “is your immediate friendship with Y/n. You two seemed to get along splendidly. As we know, Y/n is a bit different in nature, and a friendship such as yours seems to come along once in a lifetime. I brought up the potential of a courtship to her.”

“I’m sorry,” Newt shook his head. “But I’ve only met the ladies today.”

“That’s precisely why we’re wondering if you would like to extend your stay.” Lord L/n said, leaving little room for argument.

Newt stared at the man. “I accept your offer,” he said slowly.

“Wonderful,” Lord L/n clasped his hands. “I’m sorry for bothering you so late at night, but I didn’t want any prying ears.”

Newt said, “I understand.” He quickly exited only to be greeted by the sight of Y/n on the other side of the door. Y/n’s face was stoic and showed no emotion. “Lady Y/n,” he hesitantly started.

“Ah, yes,” Y/n chuckled dryly. “Choose between one of his daughters. Come visit our estate just to choose which daughter to marry. Come and see the lovely firstborn daughter- the epitome of all perfection and come to laugh at the lastborn. The one ‘different in nature’. The one who drinks beer and finds interest in murder cases. Doesn’t matter what the girls want. Just choose one to court.” She turned away. “I kick myself for thinking you were different. Like you actually wanted to hear my thoughts. Idiotic.”

“Y/n-” Newt started after her.

“That’s Lady Y/n to you.” Y/n whipped around, glaring harshly at him. “Goodnight.”

“I want to talk to you!” Newt exclaimed. “Please!”

“Goodnight.” Y/n reiterated.

The next week went by agonisingly slow for Y/n. She busied herself by reading up on court cases in the library and forcing Frypan to let her help in the kitchen. She was hardly seen at dinner, claiming the flu. She didn’t need to see Newt choose Teresa. Y/n would tug on the relief of trousers and take a walk in the garden, free from any social classes.

Her freedom could only last so long, however, when Sonya came knocking on her door one day when Y/n was lounging on her bed, reading a book. “Lady Y/n?” She said, “I’ve been told to inform you that a friend of Lord Thomas and Lord Newton is coming to visit. A one Lord Minho.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/n drew out her words, “but isn’t one egotistical, pretentious visitor enough for one household?”

“I think you should give Lord Newton another chance.” Sonya chose her words carefully as she sat delicately next to Y/n, “He’s come downstairs to the kitchens a couple times to compliment Frypan’s cooking. And to look for you. I’ve seen him in the library asking Jeff which books you like to read the most. He’s a very courteous guest, giving his chauffeur time off to play cards with us.”

“Don’t butter him up,” Y/n waved her away. “He’s just like the rest of them.”

Sonya was silent for a moment before bursting out, “Clint told me about your interaction!”

“What?”

“You were in Lord Newton’s room after dark! Clint said- he said that you two were talking. And then, after you left, Lord Newton asked about you and your suitors.” Sonya clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Clint told you?!” Y/n’s mouth fell open. “I told him not to! And what suitors was Newt asking about?”

“That’s just it,” Sonya leaned forward with her bit of gossip, “he asked about your kindness towards us and corrected Clint’s choice of words. Lord Newton said that your ideas and beliefs are important and need to be heard.”

“He said that?”

“Yes!” Sonya nodded enthusiastically. “He doesn’t think you’re just another to be courted. He doesn’t believe you to be below him. Lord Newton wants to talk to you and discuss important matters with you. He’s fascinated by you! And Chuck told me that he adored your dinner conversation.”

“The one where I was drinking beer and talking about murder?” Y/n was sceptical.

“Yes!” Sonya looked delighted. “He likes you! Chuck said his eyes were practically hearts! Go and talk to him, please. If not for your sake, then for my sake.” Sonya paused for a moment before saying, “We want to see you happy.”

“And I thank you for your concern.” Y/n’s smile was tired and soft. “But all of this is simply hearsay.”

“I’m sorry?” Sonya furrowed her brows. “Hearsay?”

“It’s a court objection that means you heard it from someone else,” Y/n explained. “You weren’t actually there and don’t know what was truly discussed.”

“Then ask Chuck and Clint and they’ll tell you!” Sonya urged.

“But matters of the heart are more difficult than matters of the court. Lord Newton might’ve meant something completely different and Clint and Chuck simply took it the wrong way.”

Sonya’s eyes lit up. “So you admit you have feelings for him!”

“When did I ever say that?”

“You said ‘matters of the heart’. That means you care about him.” Sonya was triumphant.

Y/n protested, “I’ve only known the man for a couple days! It’s insane to think that one could have feelings for another within the span of a few hours.”

“Then let it be more hours! Go find Lord Newton and talk to him! Unravel your feelings and figure out how you actually feel about him.”

“But why is Lord Minho visiting?” Y/n asked, smoothly changing subjects.

Sonya sighed. “I overheard the Lord and Lady discussing how perhaps a second suitor for Teresa would urge her to make a decision faster.” Sonya glanced around hesitantly.

“Sonya, what aren’t you telling me?”

After a minute, Sonya confided. “The one that Teresa doesn’t pick, they hope to marry to you.”

Y/n flopped back onto her bed, groaning. “Why do they always have to meddle in my life?! They’re just so… frustrating!” She struggled for words, her anger making it difficult to get a full sentence out.

“They’re doing what they know,” Sonya tried to reason with her. “Your mother and father were engaged by the time they were your age.”

“Oh, shush.” Y/n threw a pillow at the lady maid. Sonya squealed and quickly threw it back.

Y/n playfully stuck her tongue out as Somya muttered, “This is not proper.”

“Screw properness.” Y/n replied. “I’m in damn trousers, for goodness sake! If mother saw me now.” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Someone knocked on the door. Y/n’s eyes grew wide and she stage- whispered, “I’ve called the Devil to us!” Sonya held back a giggle as she quickly stood. Y/n stayed laying on the bed and called out, “Come in.”

Not to any surprise of Sonya, Lord Newton was the one to enter the room. Y/n grumbled, “This day keeps getting better and better.” Newt stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Y/n, with a false tone, wondered aloud, “And to what do we owe this pleasure?”

“Lady Teresa sent me to inform you that Lord Minho has arrived early and is currently fifteen minutes out.” Newt said formally.

Sonya’s eyes grew frantically large. “Oh Lord,” she murmured. “My Lady! We must get you dressed!”

Y/n ignored her and stared inquisitively at Newt. “I’m sorry, Lady Teresa sent you to talk to me?”

“That’s correct.”

“Why would my perfect sister send you, a Lord, to tell me this?” Y/n questioned. “Why would she want us alone?”

“I haven’t a clue,” Newt admitted. “Although, we're not alone.” He indicated Sonya who was currently rifling through Y/n’s closet for a dress.

“Teresa doesn’t know that,” Y/n pointed out.

“Your footman, Jeff, was in the room with us.” Newt told her. “I don’t know why she didn’t send him.”

Y/n hummed, glaring at the Lord. “Fine.” She called over to Sonya, “but I am not wearing a dress.”

“Aren’t you wearing one right now?” Newt cut his question off as Y/n stood, revealing her trousers.

“Never seen a lady in pants before?” Y/n chuckled at his stunned face.

“I have not,” Newt quickly recovered, smirking. “Though I must say, I haven’t seen a lady so beautiful as yourself in them.”

Y/n chuckled, saying, “Nice save.”

“Lady Y/n,” Sonya interrupted. “The Lord and Lady will be upset with you if you’re not downstairs in five minutes and in a dress.”

“I’m sorry, Sonya, but when have I ever cared about my parents' judgments? Why would today be any different?” Y/n leaned closer to Sonya. “And please have Jeff confirm Lord Newton’s story.” Sonya nodded.

Y/n started out the door before Newt called out, “May I escort the lady downstairs?”

Y/n turned and after careful consideration and a glance to Sonya (who was nodding eagerly), cautiously agreed. Grinning, Newt offered his arm to Y/n, who took it.

“What’s Lord Minho like?” Y/n asking, grasping for conversation.

Newt laughed before saying, “The first thing I’ll say is that he’s very fashionable. He takes clothing and hair in high regard.”

Y/n hissed a breath in. “Then we’re going to have some problems.” She looked down at her clothes.

“Minho is a fun lad to be out with,” Newt continued, chuckling at Y/n’s comment. “He’s pretty sarcastic but always makes you laugh. Though, I will warn you, he leans towards your fathers beliefs rather than mine.”

Y/n frowned. “Hm. I’m not sure I like that. He may have to be taken down a peg or two.”

“I would love to see you try.”

“Oh, you’ll see it.” Y/n promised, “You’ll see it.”

Sitting in the drawing room, Y/n was staring down Lord Minho. Dinner had come and gone, Newt sitting next to Y/n. Whenever Minho said something misogynistic, Newt would glance over at Y/n and smile reassuringly. Y/n had held in her retorts for the majority of dinner, much to the relief and surprise of her parents. When dinner had ended, Newt had given Y/n’s hand a squeeze. Y/n had glanced over at him suspiciously, not used to this type of physical touch, before whispering, “I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

“You’re doing wonderfully, love,” Newt had responded quietly.

Now, Teresa sat next to Y/n and Newt next to Thomas and Minho. Lord and Lady L/n sat comfortably and the footmen stood around the room.

“Lord Minho,” Teresa started, “you work with Lord Newton at the law firm, correct? Did you help him with his most recent case?”

“The woman trying to get out of her marriage?” Minho asked.

“Precisely,” Teresa said.

“Yes, I was the defence for the poor man.” Minho took a swig of his brandy and Y/n took this time to butt in.

“The poor man?” Y/n asked. “You pity the husband?”

“Why yes,” Minho confirmed. “The wife was completely out of line. She wasn’t good enough for him so he did what was needed. Women need to be reserved and shouldn’t voice their opinion. It’s unbecoming.” He shivered dramaturgically.

Newt immediately looked at Y/n. As did Thomas. And Teresa. And Gally, Chuck, Jeff, and Clint. She was pinching her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

“Dear sister,” Thomas inquired, “what’s the matter? Is your headache coming back on?”

“No, brother,” Y/n sighed heavily. “It’s my ears. I seem to be getting an infection from Lord Minho’s senile and simpleton opinions.”

Chuck coughed loudly, poorly disguising a laugh. Teresa slapped a hand over her mouth to cover her smile. Minho’s mouth fell open and his face turned red, flustered. Lady L/n gasped dramatically.

Newt melted. He grinned widely and gazed at her lovingly. He’d never met someone who told his friends off for being stupid. He’d never met a girl who wasn’t afraid of voicing her opinions and what others thought of her. He’d never met someone who challenged him or saw things he didn’t see. He’d never met a girl who wore trousers! And yet, he’d never felt the way he did when he was looking at Lady Y/n. Was this affection that he was feeling? Was it love? All Newt knew is that he desperately wanted to court her.

“Lord and Lady L/n,” Newt abruptly spoke, standing to face the nobles. “I was wondering if you would give me the absolute gift of being able to court your daughter, Lady Y/n.”

Lady L/n’s eyes grew wide. “Are you sure?” She asked. “Not Lady Teresa? You didn’t misspeak?”

“I’m positive I didn’t misspeak,” Newt confirmed. “I would like to court Lady Y/n.”

“Lord Newton,” Lord L/n said, a slight smirk on his lips, “I give you the permission to court my daughter.”

Newt turned to Y/n, ecstatic, only to see her shocked. “Really?” The girl asked quietly.

“Yes,” Newt said. “You really need to stop doubting yourself, love. You’re a remarkable woman and deserve to be treated so. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel as if I treated you like an object and I hope you’ll forgive me for any misunderstanding. Do you accept my invitation to court you and-”

Y/n cut him off with a hug. “Does this mean I get more beer and tea in the future?”

Newt laughed loudly. “Darling, I’ll buy you the entire restaurant if you want.”

Later that night, Brenda unwillingly gave Sonya a dollar and Lord L/n gave Thomas ten.

A year later, Y/n forced Newt to get down on his limp leg in order to propose. “You need to be on one knee,” Y/n explained to him, rather stubbornly.

Newt snorted from his position down on one knee. “And as I’ve already said, I would do anything for you, love.”

Needless to say, Y/n said yes.

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