#servants of the British and Americans | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bonefall · 5 months ago

Note

Not sure if this is the place to ask or if I should go to Bonebabble, but ooh, Dungeon Meshi mention! I love what you said about low-empathy and apathy, I think I’ll use that in ny own characters.

I wanted to ask why you think Shuro is autistic. I’ve seen a lot of people say it so there must be a reason why, but I don’t think it’s really obvious to me? Like with Laios, autism/neurodivergence is so integral to his story, so it’s deeply obvious. I love the way he’s written! But we don’t see a lot of Shuro, so I’d like to hear more of why people see the tism in him.

@bonebabbles is the better place to send these in the future but it's chill! The vibe right now's loose since we're all coming down from the heaviness of Mooncourse lmao

Honestly, I feel a little 'tism in a lot of the cast of Dungeon Meshi. As a very autistic writer myself, it kind of has a vibe like it was written by someone who's autistic and so it gets peppered into all of her characters. It's something I notice a lot in my own art, too.

But like, when it comes to Toshiro... I can't stop thinking about him. He makes me want to chew the furniture. With every passing day I become less normal about him.

glossary because I had a lot of thoughts about Toshiro Dungeon Meshi i guess. Oh my god this got long

He reminds me of some people I know

His culture clash is very relatable to me in an autistic way

He has a rigid commitment to his values and morals

Miscellaneous Autism Moments

THE LAIOS FIGHT

in conclusion

He reminds me of some people I know

He reminds me of certain autistic men I've met from affluent families. The type who both is taught to repress and mask their own traits, yet also not to be incredibly mindful of the emotions of other people. Because of their status, they don't have to learn how to work out interpersonal conflict because the majority of the people around them are servants or family. People who would never go away if they didn't like you.

So, his vassals have to learn to talk to him and how to carry out his orders. Not the other way around. As a result, Toshiro has a bit of unearned confidence about his leadership abilities and communication skills. NOT in a way that is smug, DO NOT misunderstand me; just in a way that overestimates his own judgement. Maybe he has encyclopedic knowledge for talking to other nobles offscreen, but when it came to his own team, he was ignoring a lot of the good advice they gave him about taking breaks.

Yes, Toshiro is from a high-context culture-- but his communication issues are bad with everyone.

ESPECIALLY his vassals, people he calls family, from the same exact culture as him. They're worried about him, most of them are desperate for acknowledgement, they'd do anything for him, and he doesn't address this until AFTER his brawl with Laios!

His culture clash is very relatable to me in an autistic way

Toshiro knew he was going somewhere that was going to be a melting pot of mostly western cultures. He knew the manners were going to be different, and he came alone, not in a group where he was only interacting with his own people.

Yet he NEVER adjusted his own social behavior.

I'm American and my partner is British. When I first went, I had no idea why they were offering me so much tea. I thought I was being polite by following them into the kitchen, thinking they wanted to move the conversation over there. My partner quickly fixed this by explaining that when someone offers you tea, they're taking a short pause in the lull of a conversation to be a good host.

I am autistic. What someone else might have just figured out through getting an awkward look, I had to be told directly. There are a lot of little things like that.

Toshiro feels like what would happen if the opposite was happening, an autistic person from a high-context culture coming to a low-context culture. He can't properly express discomfort. It's not JUST Laios, King of Autism, that he's having issues talking to. Neither Marcille nor Chilchuck know that "Shuro" is a mispronunciation, and they had no clue that he disliked Laios THIS much.

I even think it's kinda telling that Toshiro felt the most comfortable with Falin out of the rest of the party. The hyper-empathetic autistic girl who goes out of her way to accommodate others.

He has a rigid commitment to his values and morals

A strict, uncompromising moral compass is a hallmark of autism. It's everything Toshiro does!!

When Falin was eaten, he bolted off to assemble the best team he could think of. He believes that love is sacrifice, so he pushes his body and his family to the limit to try and prove how much he loves Falin. Chilchuck freaks out when he finds out that Laios told him about the dark magic, because "HE'S THE WORST PERSON TO TELL!"

LIKE, YEAH! HE SURE IS!

Maizuru also explains that from a very young age, he's been incredibly compliant. He never asks for anything, he's always been a bit sickly and uninterested in eating. He always tries to be on his very best behavior, even if that means not asking for accommodations he might actually need.

In fact, the only food he seems to LIKE eating is what Maizuru makes him. To the point where she ended up getting pulled into the kitchen even when she was on a "mission." Senshi makes a cute comment that it's "love" that Maizuru puts into those meals, but... what if it's actually because she knows the textures and flavors he likes?

Miscellaneous Autism Moments

There's so many little moments that are so incredibly autistic to me.

He sees Falin with a bug and he proposes right on the spot. The other characters are like, "oh that's just how they act in the east" but no the fuck it is not. They don't even know "Shuro" is a mispronunciation, how the hell do they know anything about eastern courting traditions?

I know EXACTLY what happened. I'm beaming you this information directly from the truth.

Toshiro was TOLD that you're supposed to 1. make your proposals a surprise, and 2. you will know the right one when you see them, and NO ONE elaborated any further because he comes from a high context culture. He popped that question the first time both of those boxes were ticked off.

In coming from a high context culture, what he does is strictly follow rules and conditions he was taught.

And that's absolutely why he handed Laios that bell. Because he does care about him and the party, and he's taught that doing these acts of service is a show of that... and he didn't even think ahead to the fact the bell was going to be ringing constantly.

And yet. In spite of that, he ALWAYS keeps it near him.

Before it clicked and I realized why, I used to think Toshiro was kind of an asshole for running off to get his vassals without even telling Marcille and Laios about his plan. Like... how could you not know they were going to do something drastic? The three of them were the Falin Fan Club and he was the most normal member of it. It's so obvious to me that Laios (brother) and Marcille (""Gal Pal"") were going to get themselves in danger.

So how could you just run off like that without telling them? Even if lack of supplies meant they couldn't go back in, how could you just leave them worried sick in the town, thinking you abandoned Falin?

And then it hit me. The man just has low empathy.

There WAS no malice, just like how there wasn't malice in how he was pushing him and his vassals to the limits, just like how there was never malice against Laios. It simply didn't occur to him like that.

He's never been taught to consider the thoughts and feelings of others very deeply and they don't come naturally. He's still compassionate. There's a reason all of his vassals love him!

But THAT'S WHY he never put himself in Laios' shoes, or anyone else's. Empathy does not come naturally to him. All of his good behavior is as a result of his moral code, NOT empathy.

So with that said, why does he love Falin so much? Aside from the wonderful, positive traits he lists when he's asked? I mean, what's really deep down at the core of why he finds these things so lovely?

Well... Falin and Laios are not all that different from each other, to the point where Toshiro gets gently ribbed in a bonus chapter about how if one of them was a girl, Shuro might have loved Laios instead. He waxes poetic about the ways she's different from most women, how she's not afraid of things like insects, her compassion, her face, her laugh.

These are all things Laios does too (in fact in one of the panels where Toshiro is appreciating Falin, she's trying to check if a caterpillar is a male or female), but Falin's personality expresses in a more subdued and introverted way. Closer to how Toshiro is, as a person. So... I think it's because he relates to her.

To both Touden siblings. But Laios makes him see things he doesn't want to.

THE LAIOS FIGHT

We established that Toshiro has a strict commitment to his values, he probably has low empathy, and even taking his cultural differences into account he's bad at communicating.

So then, why was one of his complaints against Laios' obliviousness that he "knows he doesn't mean anything by it, and that makes it worse"? Isn't that kinda specific when you think about it?

If you're neurodivergent, I want you to think back to points in time where you dealt with people who have the same issues you do. Autism, ADHD, PTSD, DID, whatever. Did you ever have a moment where they did something harmless or mildly inconvenient, definitely as a result of the same exact thing you have, and you just... HATED it?

You HATED it even more than you would anyone else doing the same thing. You probably know your response was disproportionate. But YOU don't do that THING they did. Or if you do that, it's less bad somehow. Or you used to do that but don't anymore and it reminds you of when you did.

If you're reflective, you might have realized it might be internalized ableism. I feel like that's a huge part of why Toshiro finds Laios SO. ANNOYING. Laios is like this stupid, idiot, blundering caricature of things Toshiro has been taught to avoid, which violate his moral code. Shuro comes from a place of so many more rules and subtle cues, and it's like Laios doesn't respect any of them.

What STARTS this fight, causes Laios to finally hit back after being smacked, shoved, and shouted at, is being told "YOU'RE NOT TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY."

It's so obviously wrong! Laios, who ran back into a dungeon immediately? Who Toshiro himself called rash? This is NOT a logical conclusion to make about Laios or his party. I think it came from frustration that Laios "does things the wrong way." That it's projection, stemming from that low empathy.

He's not like Kabru in the same chapter, who's desperately trying to get a read on Laios' inner workings and failing. Shuro's just extrapolating his own feelings onto him, because he's recognizing that same "sense" within him. If TOSHIRO didn't follow the rules he sets down for himself, that's not "taking it seriously."

Toshiro follows the rules. Laios does not.

...and Laios is FREE.

He's open and honest in a way Toshiro can never be, not as a noble, not as an easterner, and not as an autistic man. Hell, Laios was ALSO a noble, he gave that up! Threw that away, and then came back to his village and took Falin away from it. If Laios is acting like an idiot, he's acting like an idiot who does everything Toshiro has ever wanted to do. Laios cannot mask and Toshiro resents that.

One of the things Toshiro even explicitly says he HATES about Laios is the fact he's willing to be a burden on other people. Maizuru said earlier that he's NEVER made a "selfish request" before-- but Laios can just open his mouth and ask for help, feeling no shame, just as he did in this chapter when he asked him not to tell the Island Lord about the dark magic.

And then, after they literally come to blows, Toshiro tells Laios some incredibly brutal things, revealing he's NEVER been his friend and he has resented him this whole time. This actually sits with Laios well into the later chapters, but the fight ends and then they're just CHATTING FRIENDLY LIKE IT DIDN'T MATTER.

More honestly than ever before, because Toshiro is returning the effort. He eats some food (the narrative's metaphor for making connections). He thanks his vassals for the first time. He talks about how he wishes he'd told Falin about all the things he adored about her when he still had the chance.

I have to take the panels of his response right out of the manga actually because this little expression here is so subtle, but so meaningful.

(Read <- <- <- that way)

Look at the way that when Laios makes that genuine movement, assuring him with passion that he will be making sure Falin receives this message, Toshiro's gut response is annoyance. But then it softens and he pauses, like he's reconsidering what his response is going to be.

To admit that he envies "this side of Laios" is also admitting that the earlier fight was based on envy.

Laios was like this the WHOLE time. Making these grand speeches about his plans, what his party's been doing, how Toshiro needs to eat something and take a nap. He's ALWAYS been like this. It was Toshiro's mindset that changed.

In conclusion

Something I really like about Dungeon Meshi is HOW MANY of its characters can be read as autistic. Laios is just the most obvious one, with his special interest in monsters and inability to read social cues being central to the plot. His is a more "well known" expression of autism-- it's rare you get characters whose masking is central to their characters.

But it's really refreshing to see characters like Kabru, Falin, and Toshiro. Autistic people are rare enough in popular media to begin with, but we NEVER get characters whose autism intersects with their trauma, gender, and culture quite like these three.

#dungeon meshi #toshiro #shuro #shuro dungeon meshi #toshiro dungeon meshi #media analysis #autism

189 notes · View notes

ladylaviniya · 10 months ago

Text

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 6 || Masterlist || Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Upon meeting the Baroness you are enamoured by her devotion.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, (No Smut), typical historical misogyny and sexism, mentions and discussion on miscarriages. Implied domestic abuse and infidelity.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This is an important but rather sad chapter. I beseech you all to read the warnings. The details of this chapter are important to the plot of the missing Baron Thaddeus Pennicott.

Inspiring Song: "Flightless Bird American Mouth" by Vitamin String Quartet

8:30am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England.

Sherlock tucked your arm into his side as you three entered the Groveland house foyer. The floor was made of fine marble tile and with ever step a light echo raced down the halls.

The inspector called upon a nearby dusting maid to fetch the head of the house. Who returned was a thin and tall man in a butler’s uniform with a sliver pocket watch hanging from his chest. His hair was the colour of autumn leaves and his face littered in freckles.

He bowed, “I am mister Edward Redmayne, head butler of the Groveland estate, how may I assist you?”

The inspector shook his hand and stated quickly, “We spoke on the telephone yesterday? A telegraph was sent.”

The butler smiled with a relieving gasp, “Detective Holmes?”

Lestrade sheepishly looked over his shoulder to you and your husband. He nodded. His expression wore a emotion of embarrassment mixed with annoyance. Perhaps he was jealous of your husband’s successful published case stories. You wished you could have told the constable not to fret as Sherlock was nothing short of a arrogant mule...yet again- the mark on his face...he probably already knew that.

8:42am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England.

Upon meeting the lady of the house, you stood frigid by your husband. You felt somewhat self conscious by her grey eyes that lingered over your dress. Perhaps you should’ve worn your Sunday best before meeting a woman of such a high status.

The baroness was unmistakably pregnant. Her belly was bold and rounded beneath her maternity gown. She had been sitting calmly on a resting chaise, knitting a small bonnet for her future child. Her hands were covered in fine burgundy velvet gloves to match her modest dress.

Her face was framed by a light brown curls, that appeared almost white in some places, twisted into a bum at the base of her neck. Her pale face was blotchy with pink flecks and slight acne.

“Lady Pennicott, I am Inspector Braydon Lestrade of Scotland Yard,” the British officer proclaimed as he bowed dramatically forward. You withheld a girlish giggle by how low the man had bent his head and presented himself foolishly, and from the corner of your eye you manage to catch the whisp of Sherlock’s smirk.

The inspector waved his arm behind him and moved aside, “-and with me is Detective Sherlock Holmes and his wife, Mrs Holmes.”

You produced the baroness a respectable curtsy, your eyes glued down to the beautifully patterned carpet. You wondered how the servants could keep it so clean and freshly unstained by dirty guests. It must have been new.

The baroness shuffled her knitting needles and ball of woollen yarn into a Whicker basket and disposed of it beside her.

A slow stretching smile graced her thin lips as she spoke to you, “Oh, are you the little dear who solved that factory match girl incident?”

You weren’t sure how to answer her question. You weren’t entirely sure what the baroness was referencing until Sherlock stepped closer with your arm still cradled in his.

“No dear Baroness,” Sherlock pat your hand gently, “That would have been my sister Enola Holmes, she has her own detective office at present moment. My wife is here on my invitation. I wished to gift her a sight of the grand park and estate while I was here upon duty.”

The Baroness cocked her head, from her ears hung pearls that swung and hung like rain drops.

“Come forth dear,” she lifted her hand and beckoned you, “I would like to have better view of you.”

You wondered if she could smell the sweat beginning to drop down the back of your neck. You bit your tongue and tried to refrain from trembling. You were nervous. Her eyes were cold but her smile warm, two conflating details that you couldn’t understand. The last thing you needed now on top of a terrible start to your marriage was to be scrutinized by a haughty pregnant baroness.

She flickered your fingers for you to bend down to her. As you leant down, you swore you could smell copper, a metalic scent. A vein on your scalp pulsed. She scanned your face of its details. You dared to wonder what she was searching for. And then it clicked...the smell...

‘Dear god, you prayed, please don’t let her smell my blood, please let this not be my blood...’

You should have sprits on some perfume before leaving baker street.

She glanced behind you and questioned angelically, “How does it feel having such a clever husband?”

Your lips opened and closed. You resembled a fish. You were stumped to answer quickly.

‘Miserable, infuriating, torturous, pleasurable mixed with a cup of agony...’

She lifted her brows until you hurriedly blurted, “He is...formidable and righteous...” you stood up tall and took a step back, adding with a monetarism of truth, “I am very lucky to have become his bride.”

‘Lucky, while incredibly resentful.’

You reached back, Sherlock adopted your arm back into his hold once more.

Lady Pennicott rubbed her belly, her eyes started to twinkle, “And soon you will have a plethora of children that will look like him I gather.”

Your eyes fluttered. Sherlock’s hand tightened around your glove and his throat bobbed. You felt hot in the face.

Yes that’s right, that’s what normal husband and wife did isn’t it? They have children. That was your role, to be the mother of Sherlock’s offspring...

You couldn’t answer.

And there. That dear girl is when you questioned for the first time. ‘Is this what I want?’ and ‘Do I want Sherlock’s children.’ Because having a knowing of his barbarism conflated a fear in your belly...would Sherlock hurt his own children if he could easily hurt you, his wife?

When you hesitated for too long to answer her again, Sherlock said with a strained tone that was masked in a hopeful joy, “One may only hope, Baroness.”

“Lady Pennicott,” Graydon interrupted, “We have come to ask you on the whereabouts of Lord Pennicott and the evening he was last sighted.”

Her eyes narrowed at the inspector and with an annoyed twinge she muttered and wiped her hands on a nearby blanket, “I already informed the police of what I was informed of by our butler Edward.”

She glanced up next her right. Mister Redmayne observed her, looking down. The pair smiled to each other. She reached out to him. She grabbed his hand and they squeezed.

The inspector laughed nervously, “Indeed but Detective Sherlock Holmes was not presently involved in the case until yesterday.”

Her eyes flickered quickly to your husband and her face flared with confusion quickly to be matched with a impressed smile, “Of course, please sit all of you as I am near a indisposition with my child,” she gestured to the mirroring chaise and a chair beside the fireplace, “Edward, please tell Martha to bring tea and biscuits for our kind service men and Mrs Holmes.”

The butler bowed to you all and left the sitting room.

Lestrade took his place on the lone chair while Sherlock sat you beside him on the chaise. You took your time to lower yourself. Sitting on your bruises was uncomfortable while another cramp hit you. Your fingers dug into his palm.

From Lestrades breast pocket he pulled out a notebook and small pencil.

“Lady Pennicott,” Sherlock softly hummed, “Please, could you tell me what your husband is like as a person?”

The woman who you believed was in her late thirties smiled and stated softly, “My Thaddeus is a noble man, good taste in wine and very devoted to his work. He likes to go hunting and we share a passion for gardening,” she glanced up at the ceiling and paused, “He prefers to plant vegetables to donate to the church and orphans, whereas I have always loved to grow my flowers.”

The way she described him, her devotion was deep and honourable. She touched her round belly.

Sherlock looked over to the fire place behind the baroness. On the mantle was a magnificent portrait twice your height, painted on the canvas was who you recognised as Lord and Lady Pennicott. He was sitting up straight on a fine red cushioned chair with his dirty blonde hair and softened mutton chops while she stood at his right and her ringed hand on his shoulder. The similarities were there but Lady Pennicotts hair had lightened in reality perhaps from all the years that separated her likeness and her reality.

“I was informed Lord Pennicott is a father of five?” Sherlock asked.

The Baroness smiled proudly and pat her tummy softly, “Six soon.”

You couldn’t help notice something was missing from the painting, Sherlock also had a similar thought.

Where were the children in the portrait? Where was a family portrait in the house?

“Forgive me,” a breath of air escaped from him, “are the children away at school?”

“Oh,” her uncanny smile remained while her brows angled down, her throat tightened as she spoke, “I fear they are in the loving embrace of angels now. All of them were taken from us by God,” her eyes glanced to you, “They came out sleeping.”

Your heart sunk to the pit of your belly with sorrow and pity.

Five babies lost, five babies gone…five pregnancies… four and a half years of pregnancy and for what? Five angels.

A woman had one holy role in life, to bare her husband children, and when a woman was defective or produced a sickly child, it was a symbol of failure in society. But you never saw it that way...you imagined it must’ve been agony to lose so many babies. One or two was a common occurrence but five? Five was a curse to experience and relive over and over.

“Well,” you interrupted Sherlock rudely, cutting him off from his next abrasive question by squeezing his hand a little too hard.

You could see the mourning in the baroness’ face. You saw the classic look of all women made uncomfortable by something a man has said. What the hell would the detective know about a woman’s emotions after how coldly he has treated all women and yourself.

You shuffled on the opposite chaise and smile softly, “I will pray this one will come swiftly and feel the warmth of their mother.”

The baroness’ face lifted and warmed. She smiled happily and nodded, “Thankyou, oh I’m just so excited! This one really is a big one, I can feel it. I hope it’s a boy.”

Sherlock was staring at you intensely as the maid Martha finally delivered a pot of tea and poured the steaming liquid. His brows were knitted and his eyes held suspicion as he kept you in his sight. You politely nodded your head once at him before reaching for a hot cup and lifting it to your lips.

Sherlock sighed and turned back to his questioning, “You would say you liked your marriage?”

The baroness appeared offended by your husband as her face wrinkled and a sneer spread her thin lips, “Of course, any woman who doesn’t like her marriage should not be married in the first place. She is a burden to her husband if she cannot perform her duties as a wife.”

Lady Pennicott leant forward and collected her own cup of tea, she delicately pinched a biscuit and dunked it into the contents.

…you felt Sherlock drag his thumb across your fingers. You felt chilly, could he read your thoughts? Did he know truly how much you already hated him and his ideas of intimacy in your marriage? He clear his throat when both your glancing eyes caught each other.

“Can you tell me what happened,” Sherlock pressed, “The night of your husbands disappearance?”

“Well...after dinner,” the baroness sighed in thought and nibbled on her moist biscuit, “Thaddeus wanted to speak with me in his office about a spending I had made a week ago. You see, I had bought a cradle for the nursery. The one we had originally was broken and beyond repair, we disposed of it a month prior. Thaddeus was not pleased with the price and claimed it was an unnecessary purchase,” she paused and set her cup aside before she touched her belly again; rubbing in soft slow circles, she began to blushed, “He was sorely hurt by my choice. He then became very cross with me and left his office in a huff.”

She looked to the yarn, to the tea pot and then finally to the painting on the mantle, “I deemed that he would find forgiveness in his heart by the morning and brush it off. I returned back to the nursery to tidy up before I went to my rooms and went to bed to sleep in my quarters of the east wing. Thaddeus keeps himself to the west wing most nights.”

The detective nodded, “What time do you believe it was when you went to your bed, Baroness?”

She hummed softly while pursuing her lips, “A quarter to nine in the evening.”

“And how did you realise your husband was missing?” Sherlock stole a scone off the tea tray and lifted it to his lips. He paused amidst chewing it slowly.

The noble woman sighed and recollected, pragmatically, “In the morning Mr Redmayne informed me on how Thaddeus took off into the night astride Arion, our prize stallion Clydesdale. Thaddeus had not returned by the next morning and that is when concern drew near. I sent members of my staff to the factories to investigate his whereabouts and none had come upon him. I knew something had to be wrong so I alerted the authorities by the second morning.”

Your husband took a deep breath and discarded the half bitten scone, he wiped his hand unceremoniously on his jacket and throatily asked, “Do you recall if Lord Pennicott has any potential persons he might be deemed as an enemy towards?”

“Only his company competitors, Detective,” She said saccharinely with her smile, “He was a very loveable man.”

“Do you have a list of the names of staff who were working that evening here in Groveland House?”

The butler stepped forward and cleared his throat, “That would be in Lord Pennicotts office,” he pulled out a pair of keys, “I can you show you gentlemen in and where he keeps his accounts and other paraphernalia to his business if you’d like?”

Both Sherlock and Lestrade smiled and stood up.

“Baroness,” Sherlock gently requested, “Would it be overly bothersome if my beloved wife remained and kept you company while the inspector and I look in your husband’s office.”

Your heart jumped to your throat. What was Sherlock doing leaving you behind with the Baroness by yourself!?....what if you spoke out of turn or said something too presumptuous for your status!?...

“Most certainly not,” she beamed “I will gladly accept such delightful company,” She held out a hand, palm down to her right. The butler speedily stepped to her side and leant her his hand. She winced as she scooted forward on the cushioned lounge before struggling to rise to her feet.

Sherlock leant down and kissed the back of your wrist again, so scantily in front of the baroness. You tried tor refrain from loudly gasped and bringing anymore dangerous attention to yourself. Your husband left your side and followed the butler with Lestrade out of the sitting room.

So the party turned to two married women. The baroness was pleased.

She stepped closer to you and reached for your arm. You were surprised by her familiarity but you would not deny the assistance of a woman so desperately swollen and ready to birth any day.

“My dear, would you care to have a stroll with me in my garden?” She smirked and jerked her chin, “Knowing how dear Thaddie kept his space organised I suspect the gentlemen might be a while.”

You nodded and quickly made the warning assurance, “Are you in a condition to move great feets Lady Pennicott?”

“Fret not,” She giggled girlishly and waved her hand casually, “The physician told me fresh air is delightful for the health of the babe,” she tapped the top of her belly, “I have a month or so before they come.”

Your eyes widened, she looked huge enough to give birth now, surely she wasn’t a month away!! Maybe she was going to be blessed with a pair of twins. You had such a limited knowledge of pregnancy in women. Your grandmother hadn’t given birthed a child in the last forty years before your birth!!!

She pointed the way out of the main mansion to enter the garden paths. The sun was perfect today amongst the clouds. It was neither cold nor hot nor humid and dank...it was pleasant and you could smell the fresh nature of bushels and flowers.

“How long have you been known as, The Mrs Holmes?” She inquired cheerfully with her shining silver eyes.

“...Not very long,” you replied warmly before risking a white lie, “We recently finished our honeymoon.”

She grinned and waddled passed a wooden bench, she took a quick stop to rest and pat the seat for you to join her instead of standing dumbly.

“Shall I share some words of advise?,” She hummed, “From a woman that has been married for twelve years?”

“I would be ever so grateful,” you said rushed and desperate. You wouldve listened to anything she had to say. A woman of her standing must’ve held adequate wisdom.

She warmly cupped both your hands and squeezed them. And yet there was an ice creepy into her gaze. She appeared to dissociate, her voice losing its youthful lilt. Her lip wobbled slightly.

“Men are visual creatures. While you are so young and beautiful, you must become pregnant as soon as possible,” Lady Pennicott ran her palm across your waist, her eyes like razors cut across the yard to a bush of red rose buds, “It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature,” those grey stones in her face rolled back and weighed you down, “as I said- visual creatures. The sooner you make a babe, the easier his devotion comes,” A joyous grin returned to her thin lips, she playfully tapped the tip of your nose and stated, “Trust me upon this.”

You clenched your hand behind you and strained a smile, “I thankyou for such wise words Baroness. I will endeavour to do what I must to conceive.”

At this moment in time Sherlock had proved himself a monstrous villain. Would it be possible for you to fall pregnant?

You looked out at the divine lush greenery and exhaled softly.

“Do you garden Mrs Holmes?” the baroness queried.

You chuckled softly and removed your gloves, you flashed her a sight of your palm, “I am afraid my hands have never been introduced. My grandmother preferred I focus on mastering piano and embroidery.”

The grey orbs fluttered back at you with a surprised him, “Embroidery is a lovely skill,” she pat your hand and pointed across the field, “Please help me up Mrs Holmes, let us take a look at my lilacs.”

You stood straight up and leant out your arm, she was surprisingly light for a woman her size. She leant against you and took small timid steps to her flower patches.

She stood and admired the flower patches, pointing to different types and explaining the breeds of flowers she hoped to grow in the future.

You finally bent over enough and cupped the petals of purple to hold up to your nose and took in a wiff “They smell lovely,” from the corner of your eye was a line of crimson, “I see your roses will soon be in bloom.”

She pinched a bud that was peaking to bloom soon.

“Oh yes, the soil is rich and healthy,” she giggled, “I can’t wait for Thaddeus to return, he liked the roses. He would stand here for a while and think. I know he will love the red colour. It is his favourite shade you see...” She sighed dreamily with her eyes scanning the bushes of scarlet rose buds, “I miss him terribly. I hope he’s alright. I want him to come home soon before the baby arrives.”

A fly smacked into your eye and you sputtered, battering it away. When you gracelessly composed yourself, you stood back up to your feet beside the Lady of Groveland.

You could see how her eyes puddles with droplets of mournful tears. You felt bad for any woman that did not know where her husband was. Especially if there was a rumour about him fleeing the marriage and abandoning her in her serious pregnant condition.

Taking the chance, you boldly took both your hands into yours and now squeezed them. Another buzzing from a fly sat on your shoulder.

The day was growing warmer and a bead of sweat rolled down your neck. The fly tickled your neck and suckled along your salted skin.

You tried your best to ignore the annoying creature.

“I am sure he will Lady Pennicott,” you soothed with a soft welcoming grin, “And he will be most happy when he returns.”

She sighed solemnly and glanced back at the rose bushes. You felt obligated for her happiness in that moment. Glancing back to the house you felt a opportunity come to you.

“May I visit your nursery Lady Pennicott, so I may have references for my own in the future?”

Her eyes flickered up, her face shine bright and her hand tightened over your wrists excitedly as though she was still as youthful as a school girl.

“Why of course Mrs Holmes,” she spun on her heel and wobbled a slight, she lifted her hand and called to the maid Martha still packing the china set inside, “Please inform the detective that I am taking his wife up to the nursery.”

“Yes Baroness,” she said with a humble curtsey and scurried off while Lady Pennicott took you totally inside the house and up a grand stair case from the foyer.

9:03am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England.

Up, up, up you both climbed the stairs. You noticed how the stairs didn’t bother her ladyship once, she was fit and stridden widely whereas you were breathing a little hard by the top step.

She pulled you down a hallway to a white painted door.

She excitedly opened the door wide and practically skipped inside to show you around her future child’s room.

The walls were covered in light blue and yellow paint. There were small peonies covering the trim of the room. There was no carpet but who needed one when you had a newborn.

“Welcome to the resting nest of my baby,” Lady Pennicott proudly exclaimed, spreading her arms out at the room around you.

There was a tall shelf filled with stuffed animals and teddy bears. There was a rocking horse, a doll house, spinning tops, tin cars and rubber balls all waiting, collecting dust, awaiting the arrival of a playmate. There was a permabulator by the window sill. There was a rocking chair in one corner and against the wall closest to the door- you smiled and swaggered over curiously, “Is this the cradle you bought?”

It was made of fine cream painted wood. You chewed your bottom lip in the thought. It was a lovely crib, why was Lord Pennicott so upset by such a delightful purchase? He didn’t have money issues. You put it down as that you didn’t understand the way men thought and men will never know what women think.

“Yes,” Lady Pennicott chirped, “it is from William Whitely department store in Baywater next to the Howard & Co dress department.”

The Baroness sat down into her rocking chair and slowly moved it back and forth, watching you admire the nursery she spent hours and years consistently curating.

You clenched the edge and looked over the railing down at the empty bedding. There was a teddy lamb in the corner, you pinched it’s fluffy white tail and sighed. For a brief moment you let your eyes close and your imagination wander far.

One day you’d have this...with Sherlock. An empty cradle to be filled. You caught the vision of a tiny hand squeeze around your finger and the sound of soft gurgles with the warm pressure of a hand on your waist...was that Sherlock’s hand? Was that your child?

One day you’d have a baby to care for, to provide these things that meant love...yet, was any child of Sherlock’s capable of love? He certainly wasn’t as far as you were concerned.

You bit down a shudder and opened your eyes, feeling hot tears glide down a cheek. You pushed back and sighed, “I am most confident on one thing Lady Pennicott.”

“And what is that Mrs Holmes?” she said softly, she could see the unspoken pain in your face. You swallowed hard and your face fell into a smile, you flashed her a wink.

You laughed softly, “Your child will be spoilt rotten by the love you give.”

She chuckled with you and nodded.

“Have you thought of a name?” you inquired, waltzing over to the chested drawers of baby knick knacks on display.

“Thaddeus Colin if it’s a boy,” she hummed, “or Theresa Grace if it is a girl.”

“Theresa?”

She giggled gently, “That is my name dear.”

Mrs Theresa Pennicott. It suited her. Her old soul eyes reflected her devout name.

A shine of glass pierced a ray of sun into your eyes, you pinched the glass object carefully. You touched a long black tube pulling out of it. You couldnt understand it’s purpose, your eyes narrowed at the rubber end that was shaped like a thumb or a cows udder. There was a second tube attached to the first with a rubber squeeze ball at the end.

“What is this?” you humoured.

“Oh that? It’s a fantastic invention,” The baroness said, “It’s a pump for breast milk with a tube that syphons the milk into this baby feeding bottle. When babies start to teeth they can scar your breasts. This is an effective and modern method I look forward to trying.”

Your eyes widened, scarring!? Babies teeth could scar a breast!?

You placed the bottle bump back and helped Lady Pennicott when she beckoned to stand back up from the rocking chair.

“Have you ever felt the sensations?” She suddenly, “In which they kick within?”

Your face must’ve looked idiotic as you asked plainly, “Kick?”

She giggled and nodded, “Give me your hand, perhaps you may feel them moving.”

She plucked your palm and pulled your glove off your fingers. She pressed your entire hand intimately to her belly. You felt a sense of taboo shame, she was making you touch such a beloved spot.

“Do you feel it?” she then asked.

Felt what? Confusion flooded your mind. Your hand moved around her belly slowly.

“I am afraid I don’t know what I’m meant to be feeling?”

She moved your hand and again you felt absolutely nothing.

“They are very brutal on my body,” Lady Pennicott sarcastically assured, “trust me there is a kick.”

She made a point to push your hand harder, but all you felt was the hard material of her corsetry beneath her main dressing materials.

“Baby’s kick you inside?” you marvelled with stunned horror. This was the first time you’d ever heard of such a notion of a baby beating it’s mother inside.

“Not out of malicious intent Mrs Holmes,” she reassured, “mostly it is the baby using its limbs to move their cramped bodies inside or excitement at the sound of voices, I truly believe they can hear us while still inside. Fear not, to you it will feel like a faint touch like this-”

Lady Pennicott softly tapped your wrist, “Like that.”

And there again was new knowledge you heard from a woman on matters of pregnancy. You moved your fingers around, seeking the supposed feeling of a kick...

Still nothing. You frowned, was there something wrong with you that the baby was choosing not to reveal itself.

“How interesting...”

A soft knock on wood alerted you both to glance at the door.

“Mrs Holmes,” the butler from earlier politely spoke, “the detective is requesting your return, I believe he intends to depart.”

Your face fell. You couldn’t believe it but you’d found this experience immensely enjoyable. You had surprisingly made a friend of the Baroness.

The fair lady hugged your side and sweetly exhaled, “Then I shall escort you back to your husband, Eddie fetch me my cheque book.”

He nodded and walked ahead of you both. You solemnly shut the nursery door, trying to remember every precious detail as possible. It was a innocent place to escape from the crude world.

You returned to the bottom of the foyer and smiled at your husband that stood by Lestrade at the front doors.

By the bottom step you faced the noble woman and curtsied.

“Thankyou Lady Pennicott for your kind hospitality and agreeable cooperation to the case,” you heard Sherlock’s voice float over your shoulder.

“Of course detective, please,” the Butler returned with her cheque book, “find my beloved Thaddeus.”

She scribbled speedily with a modernised ink pen, a sharp tear of paper flashed to his direction, “Here. Thirty pounds. I am sure you are busy with other clients considering your reputation, but I beseech you to seek out my husband quickly.”

Sherlock bowed his head as he deposited the cheque into his pocket, “We shall try our hardest. Good afternoon Lady Pennicott.”

Your mouth might’ve collected flies. Thirty pounds. THIRTY pounds. That was a hefty wage for a year to many men.

Sherlock was granted his coat and walking cane along with Lestrade.

He opened the front door and left slowly, glancing over your shoulder back at the heavily pregnant Baroness.

9:21am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England.

Sherlock and you walked up the gravel path in silence for sometime. You weren’t in much of a mood to speak to him despite well knowing conversation would need to spark eventually.

The three of you slowed down beside the inspectors horse cart.

Thankfully it was Sherlock who destroyed the silence with a stretched sigh. Lestrade grimly smiled at that sigh and rocked on his heels.

“Lestrade, show a useful skill,” Sherlock slapped a coin purse into his chest, “Find my wife and I a decent ride homeward. You still need to return back to the office and finish writing those reports on the Spring heeled Jack sightings....” he snickered.

The mutton chop male grumbled and left you pair alone to walk down the path into the main parklands to hail a cabriolet or another hackney carriage.

Sherlock pulled out his pipe and lit it quickly, he inhaled fast and asked curiously, “Did you learn anything else from our suspect?”

You squinted and felt a gasp pop from your lips, your hand snapped out and dug your nails into his arm with a scolding hiss, “Suspect? Look at the state she is in Sherlock. She clearly loves her husband. How could such a indisposed woman do anything to her husband?”

He smirked, “Perhaps a jealous one?”

Your brows pulled together. Jealousy wasn’t something you would’ve describe Lady Pennicott as especially with such a privileged life. Such an emotion wouldve been beneath her...but.. ‘It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature.’

Sherlock pinched out a piece of card from his pocket, a business calling card, he flashed it through his fingers and let you carefully pluck it from his hand.

“it is no wonder Thaddeus Pennicotts name was so familiar,” Sherlocks huffed a puff of air, “He visits a like minded establishment.”

On the front of the card was a single image, a dove holding a olive leaf, and when you turned the card around there was a woman modelled in immodest clothing with text and an address in perfect hand writing.

“The Mayfair Row Dove club.”

You almost dropped the card in the mud at your feet.

He tucked the card back into his breast pocket and hooked his arm around yours, walking you closer to Lestrade waving his hands back at you both.

“I’m curious who his go to bird is there,” He chuckled.

You shook your head and scoffed in disbelief, “but she’s pregnant.”

“Men have needs,” Sherlock sighed, “I thought you’d have learnt that from last evening?”

Your nails dug harder into his arm and grit your teeth. Not everyone was as depraved as Sherlock, surely not. You couldn’t imagine Mycroft or your grandfather practicing such atrocities on women, especially women that weren’t their wives.

You noted snootily, “She said her husband liked to stand out by the roses to think. Perhaps he regretted his choice.”

Sherlock laughed cruelly and hard enough to almost drop his pipe from his lips. He plucked it out of his mouth and kissed you hard and squarely in front of Lestrade and any passing people that shook their heads in disgust at such public affection.

The taste of his tobacco filled your cheeks and floated down your throat into your chest. You could feel how his breath became your breath. Your head grew dizzy from it. His release left you trembling and collapsing against him briefly. His arm grabbed around your waist and held you totally against his chest.

“You see too much good in the worst people,” he whispered wetly into your ear.

“Not true,” you panted, you blinked your eyes hard and tried speaking again. You weakly pushed away from him back onto your own two feet. From the corner of your eyes you could see the inspector standing beside another hackney carriage.

“Not true,” you repeated and swallowed hard, “...I don’t see any good in you Sherlock.”

He grinned devilishly and walked you both to the carriage, He ignored Lestrade entirely except for retrieving his own purse.

“None at all?” Sherlock asked as he helped you step up inside of the carriage. It jostled as he plotted himself next to you instead of opposite.

You thought hard on his question for a time. You shouldn’t have ever been as petty as him. So you kept your silence before you could decide on a eloquent response. You did try to find the good in him. The trouble was you barely knew Sherlock and the side that you’d encounter was nothing short of a blagged, insufferable man that happened to be very experienced in the arts of the bedroom. So you tried to think about qualities you hadn’t seen in him but had at least heard of him.

“You help solve cases and even sometimes restitution, these deeds could be counted as decent and beneficial...perhaps good...”

He smirked until you finished hastily, “However your mistreatment and lustful addiction is nothing short of that than a person that suffers in his sin.”

A long annoyed sigh drew from his lips, however the corners jerked up.

He tug out his pipe and tapped it’s contents out the moving window, “Might I ask Mrs Holmes...” he inquired as he tucked in his pipe, and wiped his lips thoughtfully, “Do you think yourself better than me?”

The silence shared between the horses trotting along the cobblestones allowed you a chance to glare long and hard at Sherlock.

It was a jab, a jibe, a joke, a trick, a trap...

He wanted you to say yes... You could see it in his eyes the way they flicked to your lips and almost drooled with anticipation. He wanted to start a fight.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at you, you turned your head away and scoffed, “You may have quick wit and a expansive knowledge Sherlock, but I at least carry myself with the fairest morals.”

And that? The reply was granted a omen of Sherlock’s sickly chuckles and his heavy warm hand to sit over your thigh, running his them over the fabric of your skirts.

“We will see how fair a baker street whore morals really are when we arrive home then shall we?”

You leant against the wall of the carriage and chose to ignore him. You closed your eyes and held Sherlock’s hand to prevent it wandering anywhere else. His thumb rubbed along the back of your gloves hands.

You couldn’t understand Sherlock. And feared you never would.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x ofc #sherlock holmes x female reader #sherlock holmes x poc!reader #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x reader #dark!sherlock holmes #dark!henry cavill

308 notes · View notes

genderkoolaid · 8 months ago

Text

one of my pet peeves is in historical fiction (or modern fiction taking place in a made up country) when they'll graft UK accents onto everyone. like everyone in rome uses british slang and the lower class is full of scottish people. i love the regime (hbo television show) but it also does this and it's wild. i want someone to do this with american accents so it can be obvious how stupid it is. have a movie set in a fictional eastern european country where the sexy foreign prince talks like one of the succession guys and his servants are new yorkers.

#m.#like. i may be crazy but is it really that wild to ask actors to. learn to do a different accent #I mean I'm sure the reason they do this is because it sounds fancy & they don't think anglophone viewers will watch an entire show/movie #thats full of italic or slavic or etc accents #but also. stop being cowards

182 notes · View notes

metamatar · 4 months ago

Text

more excerpts from the excellent jamhoor article about the histories of caste class and power embedded in kamala's nom

In a 2003 interview with the San Francisco Weekly, Shyamala Gopalan, Kamala Harris’s mother, announced proudly— In Indian society we go by birth. We are Brahmins, that is the top caste. Please do not confuse this with class, which is only about money. For Brahmins, the bloodline is the most important. My family, named Gopalan, goes back more than 1,000 years. [...]

TamBrahm supremacy undefeated

Gopalan was a life-long civil servant, first in the Imperial Secretariat Service of British India, and then the Central Secretariat Service post-Independence. In her 2019 memoir, The Truths We Hold: An American Journey, Harris calls Gopalan “an original Indian Freedom Fighter”. However, some of her close family members highlight how any public opposition to British rule would have meant the loss of Gopalan’s job and livelihood.

if this is true it would be hilarious.

#there's congressis on my paternal grandmother's side who got cushy bureaucrat positions post independence i should hit them up for the goss

94 notes · View notes

grits-galraisedinthesouth · 8 months ago

Text

My perspective on "kategate" is rooted in personal & professional (American) experiences. Perhaps this post will help someone.

My Charles- Catherine theory:

Charles' Cancer diagnosis was not entirely unexpected

BRF is hoping for the best AND preparing for the worst

In My imagination: Before the Coronation, Wills & Kate revisited their checklist of major things to do before Wills becomes king: Kate's surgery was on that list. Charles feeling "unwell" sped up the timing of what may have been Catherine's "future" surgery.

A planned (disruptive) medical event scheduled to fit the best time in the life of a princess who is the future queen consort & mother of his heir.

What the world knew:

BRF Major Health Updates

PROSTATE Procedure -king

Benign ABDOMINAL surgery -wife of king's heir (princess)

Results

Undisclosed location of malignancy-king

Successful surgery. Medical leave of absence (at minimum) through Easter-princess

Protocols

Weekly (undisclosed) "treatments" & crowd control -king

Discharged home to Windsor to continue recovery-princess

Prognosis

Caught early (intentional slip via Rishi)-KC

Making good progress-Princess

Princess well enough to travel to her Amner home w/husband & kids for school break

What the Media Heard

What the Media Did...

Tumblr to the Media: stop feeding the sewer squad!

I've personally experienced a medical talk: "at some point in your life, you should PLAN x (a very disruptive) operation"

"We advise you to make PLANS to undergo x surgery, preferably before the age of your mother's x. Pick the best time for your busy schedule and lifestyle as it will be a major disruption. It's prophylactic so there's no rush and of course this is a recommendation, but studies show that it will prevent you from developing x or at minimum, significantly decrease the probability of you ever developing x, a life threatening malignancy. Sorry, we cannot tell you when, but just PLAN to do it when it fits your (busy) lifestyle & schedule."

Me during "the talk"

Me listening to 2nd 3rd 4th opinions

Sometimes our PLANS get interrupted

"In the end, everything will be okay. If it's not okay, it's not the end."

How did the British media vultures ignore "Keep Calm and Carry On"

Many members of this family have been treated for malignancies and other life threatening illnesses and yet they have remained tight lipped.

Perhaps King Charles had a recurrence or even developed a malignancy secondary to previous adjuvant treatments. No one needs to know the location of his tumor.

Perhaps Catherine's procedure was not prophylactic. She could have been uncomfortable for a very long time. No one needs to know Catherine's diagnosis.

I do want them to be well & become humble servants of Christ Jesus, like Queen Elizabeth.

Open to hearing corrections & thoughts.

#get well soon #keep calm and carry on #brf #king charles cancer #king charles #prince and princess of wales #kate #catherine the princess of wales

101 notes · View notes

probablyasocialecologist · 3 months ago

Text

The rise of the Royal Navy as the British state’s main military force also created a new elite of officers that, over the span of two centuries, leavened the influence of the country’s inward-looking, inherently parochial political leadership: the landed aristocracy. In 1810, the Navy had 145,000 men in service, nearly 3 percent of Britain’s male population—a sufficient size to effect social change. According to naval historian Michael Lewis, throughout the eighteenth century “the generality of captains … were of middle-class extraction.” While a quarter of midshipmen during the Napoleonic Wars were from the landed gentry, 50 percent were sons of professionals and about 10 percent from merchant or working-class backgrounds. Although social connections certainly eased promotion, the relentless rationality of naval warfare allowed commoners to rise, by merit, from ship’s boy to lieutenant, captain, or even admiral, sometimes winning peerages that would place them at the right hand of power. These trends inside the Royal Navy reflected what historian C.A. Bayly has called “a significant growth of the power and aims of the British imperial state.” After autocratic rule and a rebellion that cost it the American colonies, Britain moved toward the formation of a permanent civil service and the reform of its government, even starting a postal service. At Cambridge University and two colleges for civil servants in India, meritocratic reforms began creating a cadre of skilled administrators for its expanding state apparatus, at home and abroad.

Alfred W. McCoy, To Govern the Globe: World Orders and Catastrophic Change

#british empire #royal navy #british history

42 notes · View notes

pers-books · 6 months ago

Text

Obituary

William Russell obituary

Stage and screen actor who was part of the original cast of Doctor Who

Michael Coveney Tue 4 Jun 2024 17.40 BST

William Russell, left, as Ian Chesterton, with William Hartnell as the Doctor, Jacqueline Hill as Barbara and Carole Ann Ford as Susan in the Doctor Who serial The Keys of Marinus, 1964. Photograph: BBC

On 23 November 1963 – the day after the assassination of President John F Kennedy – the actor William Russell, who has died aged 99, appearing in a new BBC television series, approached what looked like an old-fashioned police box in a scrapyard, from which an old chap emerged, saying he was the doctor. Russell responded: “Doctor Who?”

And so was launched one of the most popular TV series of all time, although the viewing figures that night were low because of the political upheaval, so the same episode was shown again a week later. It caught on, big time, with Russell – as the science schoolteacher Ian Chesterton – and William Hartnell as the Doctor establishing themselves alongside Jacqueline Hill as the history teacher Barbara Wright and Carole Ann Ford as Susan Foreman.

Russell stayed until 1965, returning to the show in 2022 in a cameo appearance as Ian and, since then, participating happily in all the hoop-la and fanzine convention-hopping, signing and schmoozing that such a phenomenon engenders.

Before that, though, Russell had achieved prominence in the title role of the ITV series The Adventures of Sir Lancelot (1956-57) – he was strongly built with an air of dashing bravado about him; he had been an RAF officer in the later stages of the second world war – and as the lead in a 1957 BBC television adaptation of Nicholas Nickleby, transmitted live in 18 weekly episodes.

William Russell on the set of the 1950s television series The Adventures of Sir Lancelot. Photograph: Mirrorpix/Getty Images

When Sir Lancelot went to the US, the first British TV import to be shot in colour for an American audience, Russell rode down Fifth Avenue on a horse in full regalia, like some returning, mystical, medieval knight in the heart of Normandy. The show was a smash hit.

By now he was established in movies, playing a servant to John Mills in The Gift Horse (1952) and a clutch of second world war action movies including They Who Dare (1954) opposite Dirk Bogarde, directed by Lewis “All Quiet on the Western Front” Milestone – he met his first wife, the French model and actor Balbina Gutierrez on a boat sailing to Cyprus to a location shoot in Malta – and Ronald Neame’s The Man Who Never Was (1956), the first Operation Mincemeat movie, in which he played Gloria Grahame’s fiance.

Until this point in his career, he was known as Russell Enoch. But Norman Wisdom, with whom he played in the knockabout comedy farce One Good Turn (1955) objected to his surname because he felt (oddly) that it would publicise a vaudevillian rival of his called Enoch. So, somewhat meekly, and to keep Wisdom happy, he became William Russell, although, in the 1980s, for happy and productive periods with the Actors Touring Company and the RSC, he reverted to the name Russell Enoch. Later, he settled again on William Russell. All very confusing for the historians. His doorbell across the road from me in north London bore the legend “Enoch”.

He was born in Sunderland, the only child of Alfred Enoch, a salesman and small business entrepreneur, and his wife, Eva (nee Pile). They moved to Solihull, and then Wolverhampton, where William attended the grammar school before moving on to Fettes college in Edinburgh and Trinity College, Oxford, where his economics tutor was the brilliant Labour parliamentarian Anthony Crosland.

But Russell didn’t “get” the economics part of the PPE (philosophy, politics and economics) course and switched, much to Crosland’s relief, to English. In those years, 1943-46, he worked out his national service and appeared in revues and plays with such talented contemporaries as Kenneth Tynan, Tony Richardson and Sandy Wilson.

Derek Ware, a fight co-ordinator, runs through a scene with Russell during a break in filming the Doctor Who story The Crusades at the BBC studios, Ealing, in 1965. Photograph: Mirrorpix/Getty Images

On graduating, he played in weekly rep in Tunbridge Wells, fortnightly rep at the Oxford Playhouse and featured, modestly, in the Alec Guinness Hamlet of 1951 at the New (now the Noël Coward) theatre. He had big roles in seasons at the Bristol Old Vic and the Oxford Playhouse in the early 60s, while on television he was in JB Priestley’s An Inspector Calls with John Gregson, and was St John Rivers in Jane Eyre.

He played Shylock and Ford (in the Merry Wives of Windsor) in 1968-69 at the Open Air, Regent’s Park, before joining the RSC in 1970 as the Provost in Measure for Measure (with Ian Richardson and Ben Kingsley), Lord Rivers in Norman Rodway’s Richard III and Salisbury in a touring King John, with the title role played by Patrick Stewart.

His billing slipped in movies, but he played small parts in good films such as Superman (1978), starring Christopher Reeve, as one of the Elders; as a passerby drawn into the violence in the Spanish-American slasher film Deadly Manor (1990); and in Bertrand Tavernier’s Death Watch (1980), a sci-fi futuristic fable about celebrity, reality TV and corruption, starring Romy Schneider and Harvey Keitel.

With John Retallack’s Actors Touring Company in the 80s, he was a lurching, apoplectic Sir John Brute in John Vanbrugh’s The Provok’d Wife, possessing, said Jonathan Keates in the Guardian, “a weirdly philosophical elegance”; a civilised Alonso, expertly discharging some of the best speeches in The Tempest; and a quick-change virtuosic king, peasant, soldier and tsar in Alfred Jarry’s 1896 surrealist satire Ubu Roi in the Cyril Connolly translation.

Back at the RSC in 1989, he was the courtly official Egeus in white spats (Helena wore Doc Martens) in an outstanding production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream by John Caird, and both the Ghost and First Player in Mark Rylance’s pyjama-clad Hamlet directed by Ron Daniels. In 1994 he took over (from Peter Cellier) as Pinchard in Peter Hall’s delightful production of Feydeau’s Le Dindon, retitled in translation An Absolute Turkey, which it wasn’t.

He rejoined Rylance in that actor/director’s opening season in 1997 at the new Shakespeare’s Globe. He was King Charles VI of France in Henry V and Tutor to Tim in Thomas Middleton’s riotous Jacobean city comedy, A Chaste Maid in Cheapside. Many years later, in 2021, his son Alfred Enoch (Dean Thomas in the Harry Potter movies), would play on the same stage as a fired-up Romeo.

Russell is survived by his second wife, Etheline (nee Lewis), a doctor, whom he married in 1984, and their son, Alfred, and by his children, Vanessa, Laetitia and Robert, from his marriage to Balbina, which ended in divorce, and four grandchildren, James, Elise, Amy and Ayo.

William Russell Enoch, actor, born 19 November 1924; died 3 June 2024.

-- I'm a bit annoyed there's no mention of the fact that William continued to play Ian Chesterton for Big Finish.

#RIP #William Russell #Obituary

96 notes · View notes

opencommunion · 5 months ago

Text

"While the North American colonists identified with the chosen people who sailed across the Atlantic to conquer the promised land, to be wrested from its unauthorized inhabitants and cleansed of their presence, the Latin American revolutionaries, in the wake of their argument with Spain, tended to denounce the genocidal practices of the conquistadores, Spanish in particular and European in general. Here too the road had been indicated by the black slaves of San Domingo who, after having broken with Napoleonic France and defeated its attempts to re-conquer it and reintroduce slavery, had assumed the Indian name of Haiti. ... Thanks to the politico-social homogeneity (strengthened by the availability of land and westward expansion) of its dominant class, and thanks also to the confinement of much of the ‘dangerous classes’ in slavery, the North American republic soon succeeded in achieving a stable structure. It took the form of a ‘master race democracy’ and a racial state, based on the rule of law within the white community and among the chosen people. The situation in Latin America was very different: between liberal beginnings and radical outcomes, the revolution had mobilized a front stamped with profound social and ethnic contradictions. Thus two contrasting ideas of liberty confronted one another: one calls to mind the English gentleman determined to dispose freely of his servants; the other ultimately refers to the struggle that had put an end to black slavery in San Domingo-Haiti.

Around 1830 the American continent presented a rather telling picture. While it had disappeared in a considerable part of Latin America, slavery remained in force in the European colonies, including British and Dutch ones, and above all in the United States. We can say that from the slave revolution onwards there developed a pent up confrontation, a kind of cold war, between San Domingo and the United States. On one side, we have a country that saw ex-slaves in power, authors of a revolution that was possibly unique in world history; on the other, a country almost always led in the early decades of its existence by slave owning presidents. ... Once the new revolutionary power had consolidated itself, it was a constant concern of the United States, where not a few ex-colonists took refuge, to overthrow or at least isolate it through a cordon sanitaire. It would be dangerous, observed Jefferson in 1799, to enter into commercial relations with San Domingo. That would result in ‘black crews’ disembarking in the United States, and these emancipated slaves could represent ‘combustion’ for the slaveholding South. On the basis of such concerns, South Carolina banned the entry into its territory of any ‘man of colour’ from San Domingo or any of the other French islands, which might in some way have been infected by the new, dangerous ideas of liberty and racial equality. Regardless of commercial exchanges, stressed influential political figures in the North American republic, by its very example the island risked challenging the institution of slavery far beyond its borders. ... Only after the end of the Civil War did the United States agree to open diplomatic relations with Haiti. But it was a move bereft of any warmth, and in fact functional for a project of ethnic cleansing. The idea, also entertained by Lincoln, of depositing on the island of black power the ex-slaves, who were to be deported from the republic that continued to be inspired by the principle of white supremacy and purity, had not yet been abandoned.

Hence a distinguished historian of slavery has appropriately warned against the tendency ‘to confuse liberal principles with antislavery commitment.’ ... Lincoln himself initially conducted the Civil War as a crusade against rebellion and separatism, not for the abolition of slavery, which could continue to survive in states loyal to central government. It was only later, with the recruitment of blacks into the Union army and hence with the direct intervention of slaves and ex-slaves in the conflict, that the civil war between whites was transformed into a revolution, conducted partly from above and partly from below, making the abolition of slavery inevitable." Domenico Losurdo, Liberalism: A Counter-History, trans. Gregory Elliot (2011)

#colonialism #antiblackness #resistance #turtle island #caribbean #history #library

53 notes · View notes

a-998h · 7 months ago

Note

How would the Stardust Crusaders react to a vampire reader with a Cockney accent who wants revenge against Dio for turning them into a vampire? At the the fight with Dio, reader immediately cusses him out in full Cockney and nobody, except Dio, could understand a single thing they're saying lol

Joseph: Are you an agent of Dio?

Reader: Neva in me loife would I eva work for that bloody wankah! Look wot that bloke did to me!

I'm american and have never heard a cockney accent in my life.... I tried writing it as best as I could

Jotaro Kujo

Oh fuck

The first time you meet... he tries to murder you

After you explain you're harmless sort of

He has no trust in you because... vampire, but your accent makes things off too

He isn't around a lot of British people back home, and decades in America has evened out Joseph's accent... and the only person Joseph knew with a cockney accent was Speedwagon, who's dead

That, combined with the rhyming slang that is used by those with a cockney accent...

Jotaro: So, are you with us or against us?

Reader: I'm with yew koid

Jotaro: The hell are you saying?

He tries his best but he still doesn't understand you

Weary of you because of your vampiric nature

Keeps an eye on you so you don't attack them

Tries to figure out your slang

Jotaro: Why did you work for Dio?

Reader: Oi didn't willingly work for vat Hampton wick!

Joatro *confused*

Reader: Wot, yew don't understand me?

Bonds with you over other things

Starts to like you after you try to protect him

He now understands fully that you want to drown Dio in holy water

Starts picking up on your slang... and he hates it

When you curse Dio in full cockney... he silently cheers for you

Smirks and says he's proud of you for cursing out Dio

Oldesph

Joseph: Are you an agent of Dio?

Reader: Neva in me loife would I eva work for that bloody wankah! Look wot that bloke did to me!

Yeah, after that his Britishness returns

He starts to pick up on your slang, and it bonds you two

Is basically a sort of translator between you and the group

Sometimes, even he can't understand you through your accent

When his accent starts to show, he jokes that it's your fault

You two bond over your hate of Dio and being British

Asks you about his grandfather if you were turned during Phantom Blood

He tells you about Speedwagon, cause that is the only person he knows with a cockney accent

Joseph: You have a Stand?

Reader: you can't Adam and Eve it?

Joseph: Don't get brassed off at me!

Tries to explain American things to you and it's fun to watch

He is not happy about being a translator when he sometimes can't understand you

When you all get to Dio and you go full Cockney... he gives a 👍

Laughs and cheers you on as you curse out Dio with all the British slang and cockney rhyming slang you know

Pats you of the back when you're done

Hopes the Speedwagon foundation can cure you of being a vampire

Jean Pierre Polnareff

He might have heard some cockney tourists when in France

Knows you from when he worked with Dio, so can vouch you're harmless... to the Crusaders

Polnareff: Oh Reader, it's good to see you're free mon ami!

Reader: Polnareff! Oi haven’t seen you for donkey’s!

Polnareff: I still can't fully understand you, but I've missed you

He works with Joseph as a translator for you to the others

He has taught you some French slang and you've taught him cockney slang

Likes your accent

Will defend you if people mock you due to your accent

Has written translations for the others

Hopes to get you cured of being a vampire

Teaches you french... which confuses more people

Polnareff: Do you like kabobs?

Reader: Yew bloody eejoit!

Polnareff: *confused* I'm not an idiot, I just asked if you wanted food!

Helps you talk with the locals in towns

😁👍 <- face he makes when you curse out Dio

Know your anger transcends any language

So happy you vented before helping in Dio murdering

Noriaki Kakyoian

Also knows you from when he was a Dio servant

He never could grasp your accent or slang

Tries his best to understand you

He asks Polnareff to explain to what the hell you're saying

Reader: Kakyoian, let me give yew a lump of ice.

Kakyoian: We don't have any ice

Reader: I don't mean actual ice.

Wishes to have a book of your slang

He starts to pick up on slang you use

Also let's the others know you are harmless... kind of

Thinks rhyming slang is cool

Starts to pick up on your slang, just uses things wrong sometime

Sometimes he uses the slang which leads to funny situations

Kakyoian: Want an oily rag Polnareff?

Polnareff: An oily rag?

Reader: *laughing like a maniac*

You have to explain what so slang means

When you all face Dio... he just stares in shock as you go fully cockney swearing

At some point he starts laughing at the sight

Muhammad Avdol

The most confused out of all of them

Outside of Joseph, he hasn't met a lot of British people

He is the most on edge with you, being a former servant of Dio

Once he warms up to you, he is still confused about what you're saying

Your slang is confusing to him...

Relies on Polnareff and Joseph for translation at some points

Can understand you when you aren't using the rhyming slang

The concept of rhyming slang is cool to him

Might pick up on some slang, but uses it wrong

Avdol: I saw something tumble down the sink.

Reader: *stares in confusion* maoite....

Avdol: I'm asking for a drink.

Reader: Vat.. Vats not wot vat means

You two bond over other things

Is shocked when you curse out Dio

Knows you hated Dio, but damn

42 notes · View notes

meraki-yao · 11 months ago

Text

RWRB: Prince Henry = Princess Diana

If someone were to compare Henry to an irl royalty, many would immediately say Prince Harry. In that Variety interview with Nick, even the interviewer asked Nick if Henry was a gay version of Harry. And the association is understandable, the clearest similarity being falling for an American, and being the spare.

But hear me out.

I think Henry's counterpart is actually Princess Diana.

I went to visit my high school two weeks ago and had a chat with my best friend (a budding actress studying at NYU Tisch) and the principal (a lovely British gentleman who's willing to spend time talking to students, he greets us at the school gate every morning, and I really like and respect him) and we talked a bit about the British monarchy because we were talking about historical fiction and I mentioned the crown

And my principal (who was still living in the UK and presumably a young adult when the whole Diana thing was happening) mentioned that the monarchy used to be really isolated and closed off (granted except for state events which are still not that accessible, and occasional rebels like the Duke of Windsor and Princess Margaret) But when Diana joined the royal family, she brought a lot more public attention to the monarchy. People started paying more attention to the royal family because of her.

And she used that extra attention to shed light on causes that the crown previously didn't touch on, perhaps most notably AIDS by hugging a patient during a time when people were afraid to even approach them.

Diana didn't fit into the pre-existing, and perhaps cold mould of the monarchy. She wasn't a typical bride for the heir. (No queen consort is truly "weak" but Diana was really stubborn especially regarding how to raise her children) And honestly, while personally I think the whole marriage issue is really unfortunate circumstances and there's no singular villain, the royal family could have been a lot kinder to her.

But despite everything, and perhaps partly because she didn't fit in as well, she managed to change things for the better.

Prince William took after his mother's efforts to shed light on marginalized groups or topics that need to be addressed: he's the first royal to appear in a gay magazine, he's currently doing a couple projects tackling homelessness, he and Princess Kate have a couple of projects regarding mental health and anti-bullying, he founded the earth-shot prize etc. And so much of what he (and his wife) does is following Diana's footsteps. The monarchy, at the very least the Wales is more of a public servant than a mere figurehead now.

Now let's look at Henry.

Henry's the odd one out by being gay, but also by not being the traditional figure of masculinity that his monarchy held by: Henry's a writer, a historian, a hapless romantic. It's harsher in the book (and I've written an essay before on the movie's version of Henry's grandfather being genuinely worried about Henry not being accepted by the public and getting hurt as opposed to the Queen in the book who's just a homophobic bitch for the sake of it), but in both, we see how terrible Philip and the Queen's insults to him was. In both, the monarchy was not accepting of his differences, and in the book, they were straight-up cruel. They very deliberately hurt them. (His situation in the books is more black and white than Diana's situation)

He wanted to work with Pez's foundation on LGBT youth shelters long before he came out. His outing, despite being an invasion of privacy, led to the mass pride protests. By officially announcing Alex as his boyfriend/suitor, and later creating/joining LGBT charities, he's giving support and a platform for the LGBT community.

In the movie it's implied that their monarchy is more closed off and like our world's old monarchy (Henry's children's hospital visits are private endeavours, and he mentioned being stuck "doing mindless ribbon-cutting" while Alex is out there changing the world, which implies his jobs is more the ceremonial stuff)

So just like Diana, Henry was not accepted by the monarchy/royal family but eventually used his position to shed light on those in need, using the monarchy's influence for positive change.

There are a couple more parallels:

In the book, Henry has blonde hair and blue eyes and so does Diana

In the movie, Henry was named "the Prince of England's Heart" just as Diana was called "the Queen of People's Hearts"

And I don't know if this was a deliberate design on Nick's part but

(these are the best gifs I can find that demonstrate what I'm trying to show, a better parallel would be the shot of Henry looking at Alex through his eyelashes when Pez was introducing himself to Nora but I can't find a gif of it)

TL DR: Henry will have the same role/position/significance to his world's monarchy as Diana did with our world's royal family

And honestly, I think Diana would have loved him.

tagging @lfg1986-2 because you mentioned you were looking forward to this one, hope you like it!

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #nicholas galitzine #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry hanover stuart fox #princess diana #diana spencer #rwrb thoughts #rwrb analysis #meraki essay #I think at some point Casey did mention they really like Princess Diana #Also I have genuine respect for Prince William because he does a lot of work on topics I care about also he just seems like a great guy #these are just my thoughts I didn't do research purposefully for this one please don't come at me #this is also part of the reason I don't want movie Henry to abdicate #yeah anyways

69 notes · View notes

sleepingdeath-light · 2 years ago

Text

mixed race (japanese + native american) fiancé hcs ; 16+

requested by ; anonymous (14/04/23)

fandom(s) ; black butler

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | main characters | main villains | anime only

character(s) ; alois trancy, our!ciel phantomhive, real!ciel phantomhive, sebastian michaelis

outline ; “hey! i hope youre doing well. if/when youreable to, would you mind writing some headcanons for o!ciel, sebastian, r!ciel, and alois (if thats too many, just the first 2 💜) with a gender neutral fiance who is partially both japanese and native american please? thank you very much in advance.”

warning(s) ; references to period typical racism, references to canon-typical violence, generalisations made as to not link the reader to any specific native tribe, author craps on british food in a few places (author is british, it comes from a place of love)

note ; this took ages to look up and research in order to try and not lock the insert into any specific tribe or tribal family for their native side — given how broad and diverse they are. hopefully this came across and wasn’t too disappointing to the requester or anyone else who might have been looking for a very specific type of representation.

Alois Trancy

this man isn’t the most sensitive or understanding in general — so he wouldn’t necessarily ‘get’ or question your religious practises

like if you’re spiritual and perform smudging in the manor then you’re only really going to irritate his demonic staff and prevent them from entering certain rooms for a while

on the other end of the spectrum, smudging is an excellent way of keeping claude and the triplets out of your rooms if you’re annoyed

this would amuse alois for sure — but his interests would be focused exclusively on the aesthetic and story based aspects of your culture

he loves listening to you as you explain the folklores and mythologies of your two heritages — wide eyed and quiet for once as he takes in everything you have to say

he has a particular preference for creatures and deities that explore the gorier aspects of life, and he’ll ask you to retell them often, but he’ll listen to any story you have to tell

and if you participate in cultural crafts like beadwork or shodo or anything along those lines, then he’ll gladly fund your work and might even pay you to make things for his person, his peers or just to display about the estate

he’ll also ensure that you’re never without clothing from your cultures and would prefer you wear it over things from england — be that a selection of richly dyed kimonos for you to wear during galas, or importing regalia from your tribe for you to wear during traditional dances and such if that’s something you partake in

if your tribe partakes in the tradition of getting facial tattoos, then he’ll be incredibly interested in their history and meaning for you

will celebrate and observe holidays that aren’t on the british calendar with you — whether that’s national foundation day, or something that requires travel abroad like a powwow

and in the same vein, he’s not afraid to send his servants after anyone who disrespects you whilst at his manor

Our!Ciel Phantomhive

ciel has a particular interest in the culinary/confectionary side of your dual cultures and would be very invested in trying and recreating the dishes you grew up eating

that, of course, includes sweet things like candies and desserts

(his favourites are dango and saututhig)

but it also applies to meals — especially those associated with specific holidays

so, for example, he would have sebastian recreate the seasonal flavours of namagashi if you opt to take part in any tea ceremonies

or he might recreate some festival foods like okonomiyaki or yakitori when it’s the right season

or if you’re craving something from a powwow, he’ll ensure you have access to things like corn soup, fry bread and so on

he never wants you to be without the comfort foods you grew up with, nor the things you crave

so he has the staff modify the manor’s menu and meal rotation to incorporate more foods from japan and from your tribe

(which is a relief as british food isn’t the most flavourful in the world)

he also insists on trying to learn whichever language (or languages) you’re comfortable with so he’s able to connect and understand more of his future spouse’s culture and world views

he struggles immensely with japanese, specifically with forming his kanji for some reason, but his pronunciation is pretty spot on

but he manages to pick up the language of your tribe pretty quickly

so he’d probably prefer to speak to you using that tongue if he wished to mention something privately

he’s also keenly aware of the history of conflicts faced by native americans — as well as the bigotry faced by immigrants in the uk

he did his fair share of studying at the beginning of your relationship and, well, he has eyes and the situational awareness to recognise how you were being treated

this makes him incredibly protective of you — he trusts you to take care of yourself (you are engaged to the queen’s watchdog, after all), but that doesn’t mean that he expects you to put up with outright horrific treatment by his peers or his people

in other words: sebastian and the rest of the phantomhive staff get some free target practise courtesy of people that insult the lord of the house’s fiancé

Real!Ciel Phantomhive

this man is the sort to spoil his partner however he can at every opportunity — and you are far from the exception

any food that you’re craving, he’ll have the ingredients imported and will hire a specialty chef (or train one) to make it for you

any clothing you desire, he’ll have hand made and imported

if you miss your family or wish to go home to celebrate a holiday, he’ll arrange a trip to the americas or to japan and send you there with supplies and gifts to spare

he’ll usually try to go with you, but there are times where his schedule just doesn’t allow it so you’ll be travelling alone (with dozens of personal attendants)

he’ll study every language you speak independently, learning them whilst you’re away in order to surprise you when you get home

he’ll decorate the manor with pieces of art that represent both of the cultures you come from — or pieces that were made by yourself/your relatives

if there are any local sports or games that you enjoy, he’ll arrange for them to happen at the estate

he’s an excellent partner in that regard

but he puts his business and reputation above a lot of the things he should be doing for you

like yes he’ll spoil and indulge and learn for you

but if one of his most important investors says something offensive then he won’t do anything to stop it

at most he’ll encourage them to keep that talk to his office, but usually he’ll just laugh along and encourage you to grin and bear it

he wants to defend you, really, but he can’t risk plummeting his business because of it

he doesn’t have the means to get rid of someone without it looking suspect — which would tank his reputation and out both of you at risk

if he can punish someone for being cruel, he will — like a staff member of his or someone on the streets

but most of the time he really can’t — so the most he can do is try to keep you away from it all

as his father taught him, his duties to his country and his business come first — only then can he be a husband and lover

Sebastian Michaelis

he spends most of his time with you switching between japanese and the language of your tribe — mainly because he doesn’t like the idea of anyone (or anything) listening in on your combinations and seeing him in such a vulnerable state

he has an incredibly low tolerance for any mistreatment of you (actual or perceived) and, unless instructed otherwise by his master, will just eliminate them immediately after their transgression

a lot of the time you don’t even realise what happened — only that someone is now missing

but you’re usually able to put the pieces together

if you have an argument, he’s usually able to gather how mad you are based on how many rooms have been cleansed and he’s no longer able to enter

the worst argument you had, to date, ended with you cleansing the entire manor and locking him to the outside and the basement for a whole week

(ciel found it hilarious)

if you’re ever feeling homesick, it’s a cakewalk for sebastian to get you back to your family — you can be there one day and back in england the next

but good luck explaining to either side of your family that you’re courting a demon

if you’re artsy and like creating things to honour your heritage then he’ll indulge you, fetching you the necessary materials and displaying the final result proudly

he has met both sides of your family and has scared the crap out of a few relatives when they accidentally almost cleansed him out of a room

(not a fun conversation to have)

he’s an excellent cook (naturally) and is more than happy to indulge any cravings you have for foods that aren’t a commonly sold thing in england

of course he’ll encourage you to eat full, hearty meals because he wants you to be as taken care of as possible, but he can’t say no to his mate and will usually give in if you’re particularly desperate for sweet things or street foods

he gives you a number of nicknames based on new or traditional pet names from your cultures

for example, some japanese pet names he might use are ‘ダーリン’ (daarin), ‘ハニー’ (hanii) (these are mainly used in notes sent to each other) — or, when speaking, he might something more traditional like calling you your given name or an a version with the appropriate suffix (depending on your preference)

and, of course, any other pet names depends on the tribe you’re from

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #black butler x reader #black butler headcanons #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji headcanons #sebastian michaelis x reader #our ciel x reader #ciel phantomhive x reader #real ciel x reader #alois trancy x reader

288 notes · View notes