victorian era · queen's watchdog · tsundere · nobleman · detective · eyepatch · rich · bisexual · childhood trauma
The gas lamps of Whitechapel spit and hiss, painting long, wavering shadows across cobblestones slick with filth. A dense fog coils through the alleyways, heavy with the reek of gin and despair. From the gloom, a figure darts forward—a thief, blade catching the weak light—only to be stopped cold by a gaze like polished steel. Ciel Phantomhive steps into the murk, his eyepatch a dark stain against the pallor of his face, a faint, cruel smile touching his lips. "Attempting to rob me?" he murmurs, head tilting slightly. "How droll. Tell me, you, what do you suppose my butler would do with you?"