#sidney chambers

[tonymarias]

shoutout hot priests! gotta be one of my favorite genders

[aliceourpalace]

Sidney Chambers text post

bonus:

[bonobochick]

Every once in a while I recall the outrage from some Grantchester viewers that Sidney's S4 happily ever after exit from the show was with a Black woman. It shouldn't've been a surprise after ep 1x05 yet long, angry posts and pearl clutching happened anyway.

[proto-language]

WHAT is their deal‼️⁉️

[professional-sinner]

[hballegro]

i can smell this stupid image

this took me like 8 hours and i hope they explode

pink lady apple if you were wondering. chosen with percy's help because ive literally never eaten an apple off the core and never even had apple slices of my own volition

only bts is this when i was like 5 hours into it when it was just 'generic apple' still

and ofc WHY this happened:

[johannestevans]

a thing i'm really enjoying about Grantchester so far is how unflinchingly the show depicts geordie keating's racism, his misogyny, and especially his easy violence towards women, without trying to get us to ~understand~ it or take his side in it, and whilst equally showing his more tender side

geordie loves and dotes on his wife, weeps at the potential loss of one of his babies, cares deeply for and fusses over his children, likes dogs and animals, cares for and is very affectionate for sidney, and also is a violent, cruel cop who relishes wielding power over others, beating women

i especially like the contrast between when he's with other police, where he usually sits back and watches, or even gives orders while another cop acts, in scenes of violence toward witnesses or suspects, versus when he's alone or with sidney, where he's the actor in those scenes

it's just a very intentional and very incisive depiction of how much his masculinity as a 1950s white british veteran soldier, within the police force, is bound up in his colonial desires and especially his relationship with violence, contrasted with sidney's age, vocation, etc

so many shows are really scared of fully depicting the depths of this sort of violent man because they worry about making him unlikable or unwatchable to the viewer, so they only have like, an episode or two of racism and then they magically learn the error of their ways and become bumbling allies

or they lean fully into it and depict that violence as like, an unfortunate necessity for Good Policework or being able to Cope, etc

this show is just. refreshingly complex in its layers, despite from the outside seeming to have a quaint and absurd central concept of a priest helping the cops

[bullet-prooflove]

Summer of Love: Sidney Chambers x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

You like to swim.

It’s the first that Sidney notices about you as he watches from the embankment, his white sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a cigarette hanging from between his lips.

It’s summer 1953 and he’s perched in his usual thinking spot, mourning Amanda’s wedding to Guy Hopkins. It’s been six months now and although the wounds are starting to heal, he can still feel the fractures in the depths of his chest.  They say you never forget your first love, but she has certainly forgotten him.

The water splashes and his gaze returns to you as you raise yourself up onto the embankment. He doesn’t realise you’re naked until that moment. His stare fixates on the delicate slope of your shoulders, taking in the tempered waist before it comes to rest on the dimple on that shapely left buttock.

You stand there in the open air, the sun streaming through trees as you shake out the droplets of water from your hair and all thoughts of Amanda are long forgotten.

He averts his gaze when you glance over your shoulder, your lips tipping up into a knowing smile as you pick up the men’s button up shirt you’ve left hanging from one of the tree branches.

“Enjoying the view vicar?” You call out to him and a flush raises in his cheeks as you drape the garment over your damp skin.

“You have me at a loss.” He responds, watching as you begin to fasten the buttons. “You seem to know me but I don’t know you.”

“A rarity.” You remark before you pull on a pair of tailored trousers with suspenders attached, drawing them up over your shoulders. No underwear, he notes before chastising himself for unpure thoughts. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

It’s later that evening when he’s flicking through the new jazz records that Jen dropped off that he sees a familiar face.

A jazz singer, he realises as he studies the glossy covering.

Ester St Clair.

Essie, he comes to call you in the years that follow.

Beautiful Essie, his wild and wonderful girl.

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