#pity mrs. patmore

[jomiddlemarch]

But we will have a way more liberal

Henry looked terrible. He was unshaven and travel-stained, his hair mussed, his suit rumpled. The shadows beneath his grey eyes were near violet and he hadn’t managed anything near his usual devilish smile upon greeting.

“You look ghastly, darling,” Mary said, perhaps cooler than she ought to be but what could he expect? He’d told her, when he went, that theirs was not a marriage of debts tallied and called in; she could not owe him more than she was offering. It had been exhausting, Granny’s funeral, the family assembling and only Carson to rely upon, though Edith, to give her her due, had tried.

“I haven’t slept much,” he said. His voice was rough, she could hear the broken nights, the cinders from the train that made him cough. He lifted a hand to the back of his neck, a place she was fond of kissing, and then let his hand drop as if it were too heavy to hold aloft.

“Or not at all?” she said.

“Not the past two nights, no,” he admitted. “A few minutes on the train, coming up from London.”

“I shall call for tea, unless you’d like a bath and then bed,” she said.

“Tea—if you like. If you’ll share a cup,” he said. “I meant to be here sooner, Mary—”

“Did you?” she said, hearing the cool edge in her tone, hardly ruing it.

“I know you’ve kept yourself from saying, What a pity, or Whatever for,” he replied. “I know I took too long, I’ve asked too much—”

“You haven’t asked anything at all,” she said. “You haven’t been here.”

“That’s true,” he said, offering neither excuse nor explanation. She found herself unsure if she had wanted either.

“Have you eaten? You don’t look as if you have,” she said.

“Just the tea will do for now,” he said. “I didn’t believe it, d’you see, though of all of you, I had the least reason perhaps—”

“Didn’t believe what?” Mary said.

“I didn’t believe your grandmother would go before I came home,” he said. “That she’d leave you while she knew I was away. She always loved you best and she did seem…indefatigable. Beyond the constraints of general humanity.”

“It was very quick, at the end,” Mary said. “Like one of her bon mots. I wonder you’re here at all, candidly. You hadn’t indicated you had any intention of returning to Downton before the holidays.”

“She sent a telegram,” Henry said, fishing an envelope from the pocket of his dusty overcoat.

“Granny? From her bed?” Mary said.

“I imagine she had help. Denker or perhaps Anna,” Henry said. “Though she shouldn’t have needed to.”

“I told you I accepted your need to race,” Mary said. “That there would be distance, time apart, away—"

“It’s not a marriage if I’m away from you this long,” he said.

“Isn’t it?” she said.

“No,” he said, the small word heavy. Mary felt a tension between her shoulder blades release, saw in Henry’s eyes that he noticed, though he was too tired to smile over it.

“We’ll have the tea sent up to our room,” she announced, the Lady Mary he had met first, imperious because it suited her to be. “And I’ll have Mrs. Patmore send up scones and her raspberry jam. You look positively gaunt, you must eat something before you sleep.”

“Will you eat with me?” he said. He hadn’t taken a step closer to her and it appeared he gave even odds to her rejection his invitation, for all that she had been the one regularly writing him letters while he was away.

“You know I can’t abide crumbs in the bed,” she said. How many mornings had she awakened without him, how many nights facing the window instead of the broad expanse of his bare back? She walked over to him, brushed at the front of his coat as if she could make it any cleaner that way. As if he were unaware that it was simply an opportunity to touch him.

“Will you?” he repeated, asking less and more at once. He had that way about him, even exhausted, that sharpness that was only his own, never Matthew’s.

“Of course,” she said. “And then I’ll let you rest.”

“You’ll stay, Mary,” he said. “If you expect me to rest, you’ll stay, crumbs and all.”

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Ouija Says

From one of @alchemine‘s prompts. It’s a one draft wonder.

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Characters: Thomas Barrow, Andrew Parker, Mrs. Patmore

Relationships: General

Warnings: Language and booze

Note: This is what happens when you hand the prompt “ouija board thinks we should fuck” to someone who doesn’t like writing sex scenes.

Note II: While I have nothing against responsible drinking, I hate the taste of alcohol and have therefore never been drunk. May have gotten the whole experience wrong.

"I'm sorry, your Lordship," Thomas Barrow imagined saying as he checked the last of his pockets, "But I seem to have lost the keys to the abbey. No worries, though, I probably just dropped them at the pub, so I'll nip down and check." The thought, and his empty pocket, made him grimace. He would have panicked, but he'd only been through his pockets once. He would panic when he'd gone through them three times, one for each pint-too-many he'd had, and still came up empty handed.

Next to him, Andy sat on a pile of rubbish – old boxes and the like – that had been left next to the door for disposal. The younger man rested his head against the bricks of the wall, his eyes closed. "I think we're going to regret that last pint in the morning," he noted.

"Pretty certain I'm regretting it now," Thomas replied, starting from the top again with the search for the elusive keys. "And not just that one. Still, when a man comes in and buys a celebratory round for the house, you can't just say no. It would be rude." The truth was that he and Andy had only stepped out for a couple of pints, enjoying a little bit of freedom while the family spent a week visiting Lady Edith. However, just as they'd been ready to leave Mr. MacDermont had come in, crowing about the birth of his third son and offering a round on the house, so they'd been convinced to stay. They'd been convinced to stay through Mr. Sacks buying a second round and Mr. Hill buying a third. After that they had been just sober enough to insist that they had to leave while they could still walk home. Apparently the ability to walk lasted longer than the ability to find where one had put the blasted keys.

"If I ever have children, tell me that I'm flat broke and people need to work in the morning."

Thomas chuckled, then brightened as his fingers met metal. "Ah hah, here we go," he smiled, pulling the keys out of the pocket he always put them in. It took a couple of tries to find the right one and get the door open. On the one hand, he regretted locking the door early. On the other hand, if he really had lost the keys, it would have been much better to realize now than in the morning. "Right, then, in with us."

Andy sighed and started to stand, but he had apparently had enough that he was wobbly and his foot came down wrong on something. The something slid, causing him to sit down rather heavily on the stack of rubbish. The force of his weight, in turn, unbalanced the boxes which unceremoniously dumped him with a small crash onto the ground. "Ow!"

"Are you alright?" Thomas asked, automatically tucking the keys into his pocket. He was distracted enough that he chose the wrong one.

"Yeah," Andy grumbled as he worked at righting himself. Thomas offered him a hand, which he took. "Nothing bruised except my pride." As he regained his feet, he glanced down to see what he'd stepped on and frowned. "What is that?"

Thomas looked down, but couldn't quite make out the shape on the ground so, careful of his own balance, he reached over and picked it up. It was a somewhat triangular piece of wood with an eye burned and stained into the back of it. He recognized it immediately, but still turned it over in his hands as if he'd never seen it before. "Hullo, what's this? Didn't realize this old thing was still around."

"What old thing?" Andy asked, peering at it.

"Hm?" Thomas looked at him for a second before his slightly inebriated brain caught up. "Oh," he laughed, "This is part of a game. One of those boards that let you talk to the spirit world that were all the rage awhile back, what with the seances and things. Daisy found it not long after the war ended. I thought Mrs. Hughes had disposed of it years ago. She always hated it."

Andy peered through the rest of the scattered debris. "Maybe she just got rid of the board proper?" he suggested. "I don't see it here..oh. Wait, what's this?" He moved a box and pulled up a flat wooden board. Like the triangle, it was stained and burnt, only it had letters and decorations on it. "Never mind, here it is."

"It must have gotten shoved someplace all those years ago and she just found it." Thomas eyed the two pieces of the board. "Wanna have a go?"

"What, right now? It has to be near midnight, at least."

Thomas shrugged. "That's nothing new. We'd be up another hour if there was a large house party going on, and I don't know about you, but I'd like to wait a spell before walking up all of those stairs."

Apparently Andy hadn't thought about the many flights of stairs between them and a good night sleep. He pulled a face. "Good point. All right, then, you can show me how this thing works."

Thomas held the door for the younger man and, each carrying a part of the ouija board, they walked into the manor. They then stood just inside the door for another five minutes while Thomas, cursing loudly, located the keys again and re-locked the door. This time he was very careful to put the key in the proper pocket. "Right, then," he carried the board into the servant's hall, flicked on the lights, and set it on the table. "The hour is right and all of that. We'll need candles, though."

"What for?"

"To show the spirits the way," Thomas informed him in his best sinister stage voice, which had honestly never been that sinister, but then he'd never really tried. The whole thing was ridiculous, really. In his normal voice he added, "I suppose we don't actually need them. They're mostly for atmosphere."

Andy shook his head. "Maybe some other time. I don't feel like the fuss and bother of hauling them out and putting them away again when we're done."

"Fair enough." Thomas pulled up a seat and gestured for Andy to do the same. Since there were only two of them, they sat next to each other. Thomas set the wooden triangle on the board and placed his fingers at the corner. "Right, then, the idea is fairly simple. You put your fingers on the other corner of this piece here and then we ask the spirits a question. The spirits will guide our hands and spell out the answer." He grinned at the younger man. "No pushing, though. You need to let the spirits do the moving."

"That's it?" Andy gave him a bemused grin as he set his fingers on the triangle. "It doesn't sound all that awe inspiring to me."

"Well, you do need to have a bit of fun with it," Thomas admitted with a shrug. "Do the whole 'calling the spirits' and stuff. And it really isn't the same with electric lights instead of candles, but I'm sure we can manage. Before we start, though, what should we ask?"

Andy thought a bit. "We could start by asking the spirits what we should do while the family's away?"

"Bet they say 'clean the silver' or something like that," Thomas snorted, but didn't offer any real objections. "Then again, Carson's not dead yet, so unless we get the guy who came before him, it might be a bit more interesting. All right, then," he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. Once again switching to his not-really-that-sinister voice he asked, "Is anyone there?"

Andy dissolved into a bout of  chuckles.

"Do not snigger," Thomas informed him, without changing his tone, although he had a job of it not to smirk. "The spirits do not approve of sniggering."

Of course, that made Andy laugh harder and it was with great difficulty that he managed, after a couple of minutes, to swallow his mirth.

Once he was silent, at least mostly, Thomas tried again. "Spirits? Are you there?" This time, the triangle moved slowly across the board.

Y.E.S.

Ignoring Andy, who was still grinning like an idiot, Thomas asked solemnly. "Spirits, what should we do while the family is away?"

There was a moment of hesitation, then the triangle moved again. Y.O.U. S.H.O.U.L.D. F.U.C.K.

The two men stared at the board. Then they turned and stared at each other. "You didn't just read what I read, did you?" Thomas asked.

Andy looked at him, then at the board, then back. "I think I did, actually. At least the look on your face is how I feel, so I'm pretty sure I did." He paused, then added, "You weren't pushing it, were you?"

"What?" Thomas looked hurt. "Andy, we settled that years ago. I'm not-"

"I know, I know, sorry," Andy cut him off, shaking his head. "I just, I mean, I wasn't pushing it. I wouldn't joke about that." The two of them looked at each other for another minute. "Maybe we misread something?"

"We must have." Turning back to the board, Thomas cleared his throat and tried again. He was flustered enough, he forgot the sinister voice. "Ah, sorry, spirits, I don't think we quite got that. What should we do while the family is away?"

This time there was no hesitation what so ever. Y.O.U. S.H.O.U.L.D F.U.C.K.

The two of them sat absolutely gobsmacked.  "That can't be right!" Andy protested finally, eyes still on the board. "We have to be misunderstanding it somehow."

"Right," Thomas muttered. "I mean, which one of us is it talking to? And who are we supposed to....well."

"Suppose we should ask?"

Thomas thought about that, then replied, "You should. It's clearly talking to you, anyway, no one would ever tell me to. Um. Do that." He looked at the other man and gave a tight smile and an inviting nod to the board.

"All right." Andy looked a bit nervous, but he schooled his face into the most serious expression he could manage and asked, "Who, exactly, should we...ah..."

Y.O.U. S.H.O.U.L.D F.U.C.K. E.A.C.H. O.T.H.E.R. The triangle flew across the board so sharply, one might have sworn the spirits were exasperated.

"Ouija board thinks we should fuck," Andy stated the obvious, his voice caught somewhere between amusement and hysteria.

"Ouija board is crazy."

"Except wait. If the board is just a way to talk to the spirits, it's the spirits who think-"

"Spirits are crazy." Thomas insisted. He really didn't care whether it was the board or the spirits, insanity was insanity. It really didn't occur to him that Andrew might have been pushing the triangle. The younger man wasn't that sadistic. The fact that the only remaining option was that it really was spirits, since he hadn't been pushing anything, didn't quite sink in past that last pint.

"Crazy or drunk," Andy agreed, nodding.

Thomas frowned at that. "Can spirits get drunk?"

"Why not? They call liquor 'spirits', don't they?"

Thomas grimaced. "Andy, that was terrible. Even squiffy, that was terrible." He glared at the other man, all but accusing him of making the situation worse with his humor.

He received a sheepish grin for his pains. "Yeah, it really was," the younger man admitted. "But really, why else would anyone tell us to do that? I mean, aside from the obvious part where neither of us wants to, can you imagine if we were caught?"

"I don't have to imagine, I've basically been caught thanks to..." Thomas stopped. Thomas blinked. His face blackening like a thunder cloud, he turned his full attention on the board. "O'Brien? O'Brien, is that you?" he demanded.

Andy blinked. "Who?"

Thomas didn't register the question. He just kept yelling at the board, his voice growing steadily more strident. He stood, so as to be more imposing. "That is you, isn't it? You've been sat on by an elephant or something and now you're trying to get me into trouble again. Well it's not working, you hear? Not this time. Andy's a nice boy, but he's not Jimmy and I'm not interested and he's not interested either. You're not going to convince me otherwise. God almighty, I don't know why I ever listened to you -" Something seemed just off enough about that to make him pause. "Well, alright, I do know why I listened to you, but I was a sodding idiot for it. I never should have. Really, nearly got sacked more times than I can count 'cause of you and your scheming and your encouragement, but not anymore. Oh no, go find some other ouija board to haunt, because you are not getting me sacked now! I have a good position, I have people who like me, and you are not going to cost me that. You're not going to cost Andy that!"

"Who is this O'Brien person?" Andy asked, thoroughly confused. "And why would she be trying to get me sacked?"

"Because she never cared who got caught in her schemes, so long as she got the person she was after. That would be me."

Andy was still trying to puzzle through that. "But if it was someone trying to get us in trouble, wouldn't it be someone who didn't like both of us? I mean, we'd both go to prison."

That got Thomas to stop and think. "But who is there who'd want to do that?"

"Denker," Andy suggested. "She never did like that we turned the tables on her back at Lady Rose's wedding."

"She still went after me more. And she's not dead."

"How do we know?  Have you heard from her since the Dowager died? She could have been hit by a train or choked on a fish bone or something."

Faced with the obvious fact that, no, he hadn't heard from the lady's maid since Lady Violet had died the year before, Thomas had to allow that it was possible. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed likely. "You're right, Andy....you're right. And she certainly was petty enough." He glowered at the board again. "Denker, you old bat, leave off, will you? I wasn't impressed by your tricks when you were alive, I'm certainly not impressed now! And Carson isn't going to back you up on this one. No one is and let me tell you, I never believed a word that came out of your mouth after that run in London. Not without someone else saying you were telling the truth, because you know what? You're not as clever as you think you are and you never were.  Come to think of it, none of you ever were, you scheming lady's maids. Not you, not O'Brien, not Braithwaite – lord, I don't know how Anna and Baxter have managed to keep their positions so long! Manipulative, scheming, no account harpy seems to be part of the job description!"

"All right, Braithwaite's another one I don't know." By this point, Andy had given up on any attempt at figuring out the ouija board's message and is just trying to keep up with Thomas's ranting.

The butler gave a nasty laugh. "Oh, she was a great one. Almost as good as O'Brien, really. She...well, no. I can't tell you what she got up to, I'm not supposed to know. Didn't find out until it was too late to stop her either, more's the pity. Even at my worst I wouldn't have wished her on –" he stopped himself. "The person she went after," he finished. "Of course, she blamed me for getting her sacked." He looked down at the board again. "I didn't, though," he informed the piece of wood. "I actually had not a thing to do with getting you sacked, you little witch, but you know what? I wish I had. I was trying to figure out how to, just someone beat me to the punch. I'm sad I didn't get to help! Nothing would have given me greater pleasure and if you've gone and gotten yourself murdered, I'm not sorry and I don't blame whoever it was and I hope he doesn't get caught! Because you undoubtedly deserved it! And Phillip called me a greedy social climber, really. He should have met you!"

"We had a lady's maid named Phillip?"

"What?" The question caught Thomas off guard. It took him a couple of blinks to process it properly. "Oh, no. He wasn't a lady's maid he was..." He paused again. What was he supposed to say? A Duke? One of Lady Mary's suitors? Someone he, Thomas, really had fucked in the past? More than once? "Someone who visited the family a couple of times. I tended to wind up valetting him. He was...not as nice as he came off. He was a greedy little liar, if you got right down to it."

"You seem to know a lot of people not worth knowing," Andy observed. "Or have known them, I suppose."

"Yeah, I have." It seemed like a revelation, somehow, as if he'd never stopped and thought about it before.

"You know what happened to this Phillip bloke?"

Thomas shook his head. "Probably died in the war, honestly, if he couldn't figure out a way to weasel out of it. He was officer material. Germans usually took that type out first. I'd feel sorry for his wife and kids, assuming he had some by that point. It was what he was after, anyway. Rich wife, heir to pass the title along to." It didn't occur to him that he'd just established Phillip as a member of the peerage, despite his earlier attempt not to. "I hope you got it all," he addressed the ouija board again, assuming his voice would carry through it to the spirit realm. "And I hope you enjoyed it. I hope it was worth being a heartless, hypocritical bastard. And for the record, you were wrong about me. You see, when I say I care about someone, I care. I may not know how to show it and it may not stop me from being a right horse's ass at times, but that is one thing I never lie about and if you'd actually been worth caring about, then you'd have realized-"

"What in Heaven's name is going on in here?" The question brought Thomas's rant to a grinding halt. Both he and Andrew snapped their attention to the doorway where Mrs. Patmore stood in her nightgown, robe, and night cap, torch in hand, staring flabbergasted at them. "Really," the cook huffed, "I come down for a glass of hot milk and find you two ranting like loonies!"

"I wasn't ranting," Andy pointed out.

Ignoring him, Mrs. Patmore stomped over to the table and looked down at the ouija board. "Where did that old thing come from?"

"Rubbish heap," Thomas replied, expression sullen at being taken to task. "It didn't have the good sense to stay buried."

"You didn't have the good sense to leave it there, you mean." Frowning, she sniffed the air. "How much have you two had to drink?"

"Just two pints," Andy informed her. Then he thought about it. "Or, well, it was two pints originally, but then Mr. MacDermont came in and bought everyone a free baby."

"Right, and then two other blokes brought them, and you can't just say no to three free babies," Thomas informed her earnestly.

Mrs. Patmore looked from one to the other as if trying to decide whether or not they were having her on. She then threw her hands in the air, obviously giving up. "All right, you two, enough of that!" She stepped between the two of them and gave Thomas a hearty shove toward the door. It was enough to knock him off balance and he stumbled, protesting. "Off to bed with you. Both of you!" She tugged sharply at Andy 's arm, half yanking him out of his chair. He managed to get his feet under him before he fell. "Go sleep it off and let's not have any more of this nonsense."

The two men walked, more or less, to the door without protest. Once there, however, Thomas turned and fixed the ouija board with one last glare. "Forget the rubbish heap! Tomorrow, I'm going to burn the lot of you!"

"Thomas go to bed!"

"I'm doing it first thing!"

"THOMAS!"

[jolie-goes-downton]

A transcript of THAT scene from Downton Abbey: A New Era

Warning: Big detailed spoilers for Thomas Barrow’s storyline in Downton Abbey 2 under the cut.

Jolie proudly presents: 1:30 minutes of pure agony.

(I’m not sure why I’m doing this to myself, but if it saves any of you the trouble of going to the cinema and throwing more money at this project just because you wanted to know the exact wording, then maybe it has served its purpose.)

Thomas is in his pantry, standing by his desk in his dinner clothes, looking visibly distressed. Mrs Hughes knocks on the open door and comes in.

MRS HUGHES: Lady Mary has gone to the pictures in Thirsk with Mr Barber, and old Lady Grantham is eating in her room, so Mr Dexter and Miss Dalgleish will be dining alone.

THOMAS: Have you let Mrs Patmore know?

MRS HUGHES: I have. We all pity Mr Dexter. She notices something seems to be very wrong with Thomas.

MRS HUGHES: What's the matter?

THOMAS: Oh, you wouldn't be interested, Mrs Hughes.

MRS HUGHES: Try me. If you want to.

Thomas signals to her to close the door. She does, and they sit down together. Thomas speaks in a quiet, subdued tone throughout the rest of the scene - no anger or rebellion, just resignation and sadness.

THOMAS: When we had the Royal Visit, do you remember a valet called Ellis?

MRS HUGHES: I do. You and he were quite friendly, I recall.

THOMAS: I had a letter from him this morning. Saying he's getting married.

MRS HUGHES: And that's sad.

THOMAS: I know it shouldn't be.

MRS HUGHES: Mr Barrow, your path in life is a hard one. Most people in your position choose to hide behind appearances that allow them to avoid persecution and rejection. He's surely not to be blamed for it?

THOMAS (after a pause): It isn't what I want, Mrs Hughes.

MRS HUGHES: Then you're a brave man, and you're also destined to be a very lonely one. Unless you're very fortunate.

Listen to the audio here, if you can stand it.

The scene takes place about 30-40 minutes into the movie. The film crew (including Guy Dexter) have already arrived and started filming, and there has been one short interaction between Thomas and Dexter at this point. Phyllis Baxter has left for France.

There is no further mention of Richard in the movie. Unless Thomas tells Dexter off screen, Dexter is not aware that Richard exists and what has happened.

[not-a-sort-of-anything]

My DA2 Review [pt.1]

Okay guys, I needed some time to become aware of my feelings and thoughts about the new film. Here is my first review depending the characters, sorted in ascending order of importance (main cast).

I'll post my overall rating [pt.2] and thoughts on Thomas's story [pt.3] separately, otherwise this will get quite long. ::::::::SPOILER ALERT::::::::

Anna & Bates: Happy as ever, everything tip top. Check! #

Isobel: Sad to see her losing her best friend. Likeable, as always. #

Tom & Lucy: What was Tom's job in this film? I don't know. I just noticed that the bright summer suit looked very good on him, and the swimming trunks were rather so-so. That was it. I like Lucy more now than I did after the first film. She comes across as nice and likeable and she seems to be a good mother substitute for Sibbie. But there's nothing more to say here either. #

Bertie: I like Bertie! He doesn't do much, but he seems like a very pleasant person to be around and he's good for Edith. I liked the scene at the party when they were both dancing! #

Andy: Can't remember, was there anything worth mentioning with Andy? I don't think so. Ah yes, they bullied Mr Mason out of his house. XD #

Daisy: I found Daisy really funny! Her facial expressions were very comedic. Overall she seems happy, that's all there is to say. #

Edith: Edith really came across as very charming in this film. She looked really great, no trace of the former "ugly daughter" anymore. The tensions between her and Mary seem to have died down. A pity, actually. I think it's good that she wants to write again. #

Elsie: Mrs Hughes fulfilled her role perfectly, as always. The good soul of the house. I thought it was nice that she took an interest in Thomas's well-being. #

Mrs Patmore: Her in that costume! Mega!! Really funny!! The love affair with Mr. Mason is rekindled because it's just so convenient, it seems to me. Hm, well. If you say so... Typical Downton. „You seem to be not a complete asshole. Let´s get married!“ – „Okay.“ #

Lord C.: Good overall, his complexion didn't come across in the film as sunbathing as it did on the posters. The only thing that bothered me: I hate it when actors cry without tears! When Cora tells him about her illness, he sobs so bitterly, but his eyes stayed dry, like the Sahara. #

Lady C.: Of the Upstair people, Cora has always been one of my favourites. I like her gentleness and her positive attitude. She could just really eat a bit more and I found her illness story extremely unnecessary. That game of "Who's going to die?" ... they could have saved themselves that. #

Violet: You can tell it was time for Maggie Smith to finish the role. That's not meant disrespectfully, not at all. To still be playing at all at that age, kudos. But she seems to be tired, and her lines came nowhere near as biting and pointed as they used to. Unfortunately, the mystery about her past was not so mysterious. Personally, I would have liked more time for the farewell. The scenes were nicely done, but overall quite short. And then this strange time jump immediately afterwards ... #

Mary: Since Mary has emancipated herself and taken the reins, I really like her. This time, too, she has fulfilled her role perfectly. I feel a bit sorry for her that after all the searching for the perfect husband, she probably doesn't have much of a marriage now. But the flirtation with the director and the experience of dubbing a film seemed to do her good. She´s the boss and I like it.

[fotheringhay]

Alternative ending for Downton Abbey: Mrs Hughes realises that, actually, Carson is an uncalled-for arsehole and divorces him, then her and Mrs Patmore run the b&b together forever.

[yetanotherramblingfangirl]

Carson/Hughes for the shuffle ask?

You're a good woman and a good friend / You've got a good heart, even when it's busted and bent - “May Your Kindness Remain” by Courtney Marie Andrews

[This is set after Mr. Bates’s trial.  This also went way more melodramatic than I originally intended, but here we are.  It’s also like 2000+ words long, so I’m putting it under a cut.]

Elsie leaned back against the closed door, her eyes drifting shut for a brief moment.  The day had hardly started and already she was ready for it to be over.

Opening her eyes and releasing a deep breath, Elsie decided a walk was definitely in order.  She wasn’t fit for company.  She just didn’t have the patience for it at the moment.  Slipping on her coat as she slipped out the door, she was careful to close it as quietly as possible.  She paused for a moment to pull her gloves from her coat pocket.  She worked her fingers into the lined leather, flexing her fingers to adjust the fit.  Satisfied, she folded her arms over her chest and set out across the courtyard at a measured pace.  

The air was cold and crisp, not at all unusual for January.  A steady wind tugged at her hair and stung her cheeks.  The sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky.  The bright cheeriness of it did little to brighten her mood.

With no real destination in mind, Elsie found herself heading toward the folly.  She usually didn’t take that path.  Perhaps that was precisely why she’d gone that way today.  The others weren’t likely to go looking for her there.  It was the perfect place to think, especially about things she didn’t wish to discuss with either Mrs. Patmore or Mr. Carson.  And this feeling of failure, this horrible gnawing guilt, was one she didn’t wish to discuss with anyone.

Frustrated with herself, she kicked at loose bits of gravel.  It surprised her how much satisfaction she gained from sending the small stones sailing through the air.  A distraction from her troubled thoughts, that’s all it was.  Something to focus on other than that so often suppressed inner voice that questioned whether she’d made the right choices.

She veered from the path, the grass soft beneath her feet.  She missed having something to kick at.  Despite the lack of distraction, she did not increase her pace.  To do so seemed unnecessary.  Time was immaterial today.  The family was away and the others had been given the day off.  She had work to do, but it was nothing that wouldn’t keep.  She didn’t often have free time.  And if she decided to spend what little she did manage to find pitying herself then that was her prerogative.  However, that didn’t mean her practical nature wouldn’t rail against the very notion.

“Just stop thinking about it.  You made choices, choices you cannot change and cannot fix,” she said under her breath.

Had anyone else been around, she would have been mortified.  She wasn’t usually one to talk to herself.  But this needed saying, and as she couldn’t talk about it with Mrs. Patmore or Mr. Carson, that left only herself to do the talking.  She wished for her mother.  If she was there she would have someone to not only tell her she was being ridiculous, but someone who would also offer kind words and a hug.  She felt very much in need of a hug.

Finally she reached her destination.  The wind had been steadily increasing in strength as she neared the folly.  Her ears were very cold and she knew her cheeks must be quite pink.  She wished she’d grabbed her scarf before coming out here.  But it was too late for that now.  Lowering herself carefully to the ground behind a pillar, she was relieved to find that it provided a break from wind.  However this relief was not very long-lived.  The damp chill of the stone seeped through her coat and dress into her body.  An almost violent shiver ran through her, but she refrained from moving.  If she just waited a few moments she would adjust.

Then there was the fact that the thought of going back to the house before she sorted herself out made her queasy.

It seemed that nothing was going to keep her from having these stupid irrational thoughts.  The only thing to do was to wait them out.  So, head in hands, she leaned against a pillar and allowed her thoughts free reign.  It was only a matter of moments before the first tears began to fall.

The tears didn’t last very long, just long enough to release the pressure that had slowly been building within her.  She still wasn’t happy and she still felt an almost overwhelming guilt, but at least she no longer felt like an exposed nerve.  Pulling a handkerchief from inside her sleeve, she wiped beneath her eyes.  A few more minutes of quiet reflection would be enough time to mentally prepare herself for her return to the house.  If she was circuitous in her route it might also be enough time for her appearance to return to normal.

Elsie wasn’t sure how long she sat there before she heard the first tentative footstep on the stone steps behind her.  Startled, she froze.  No, no, no.  She wasn’t ready for company.  She might no longer feel like a woman on the verge of emotional collapse, but she certainly wasn’t ready to speak with anyone either.

“Mrs. Hughes?” the butler’s voice called.  He hadn’t seen her yet.  She sent up a silent prayer that he wouldn’t venture far enough into the folly to find her.  She was in the middle of promising never again to indulge in such ridiculous behavior when Mr. Carson came into sight.  

He turned his head to the left, his eyes lighting on her immediately.  A look of relief flashed across his features before quickly transitioning to confusion.  “What are you doing sitting on the ground?”

His confusion was almost enough to make her chuckle.  At least he hadn’t ventured upon her while she was in tears.  The poor man would have been completely at a loss for what to do.  That thought did make her chuckle as she attempted to stand.  Unfortunately, the cold had made her limbs stiff and her body refused to cooperate.  She wavered unsteadily before falling back to the ground with a soft thud.  Before she could attempt to right herself again, Mr. Carson was at her side, kneeling and offering her his hands in support.  She was absolutely mortified.

“Thank you, Mr. Carson,” she said after he had helped her to stand.  She could feel a fierce blush spread up from her chest, spreading across her face.  Knowing that her face must be practically incandescent only served to further add to her embarrassment and thus fuel her flush.  She couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.  She brushed the back of her coat and looked down at her trembling hands to avoid his gaze.  “I do apologize for appearing so undignified.”

He waved aside her apology.  “Are you quite alright?  How long have you been out here?” he asked softly, his concern evident in his furrowed brow.  A large part of her was touched, but an even larger part of her was embarrassed.

Elsie could feel his eyes upon her and silently prayed he wouldn’t badger her into telling him what was bothering her.  She couldn’t tell him.  He would think her ridiculous, and that was the last thing she ever wanted.  God, this was awful.  Clearing her throat, she looked just over Mr. Carson’s shoulder.  “Yes, perfectly.  I can’t have been out here for very long.”  

The last part was a bald-faced lie.  She knew it, and she knew that he knew it.  But he seemed content to leave her alone, at least for the moment.  She nearly sagged under the weight of her relief.

Mr. Carson watched her as she readjusted her coat and gloves.  “Shall we head back?”

She offered him a weak smile.  “I suppose we should.”

He returned her smile and gestured for her to lead the way.  She did as he bade, hoping they could walk back in companionable silence.  Maybe if she didn’t say anything, he wouldn’t either.

She should have known better.

Several minutes passed in blissful silence.  Elsie took great comfort in Mr. Carson’s presence at her side.  Her shoulder bumped lightly against his arm by mistake.  She shot him an apologetic look, which he answered with a small smile.  They continued on.

The next bump was his, but it was no accident.  Elsie could tell.  He nudged her lightly with his elbow, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.  He was offering his arm.  Wordlessly and without his usual grace, but he was offering all the same.  Elsie’s heart skipped a beat.  She wrapped her arm around his and allowed herself to be drawn closer.  He was so solid and warm.  And, in his own particular and often infuriating way, sweet.  But he also didn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

“You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?” he asked a moment later, his gaze flitting to her before returning to the lawn before them.

There were many things Elsie could admit she loved about Charles Carson, but his inability to leave her be when she most wanted him to was not one of those things.  She tried to formulate some sort of response that would reassure him that she was fine.  The problem was she just couldn’t bring herself to do it this time.  Not today, not when she felt this gnawing consuming guilt.  So instead of offering paltry assurances, she remained silent.

Mr. Carson pulled her just a fraction closer.  “Because you know I’m on your side.  Don’t you?”

Elsie looked up into his face.  “I do know that,” she said, squeezing his arm reassuringly.

He stopped walking and stared at her.  She grew uncomfortable under his scrutiny, but she refused to fidget.  Her heart thudded painfully against her ribcage.  He doesn’t believe you.  He thinks you’re lying.

It felt like an eternity before he spoke.  “I know what it is to regret a choice, Mrs. Hughes.  To blame yourself for events you couldn’t possibly have predicted and which would have carried on without your involvement regardless. And Mr. Bates would very likely tell you the same thing.”

She dropped his arm and backed away.  Tears welled in her eyes.  This was absolutely mortifying.  It only got worse when the first few tears trickled down her cheeks.  Her breaths were coming in shorter and shorter gasps.  Mortified at the display she was making of herself and incapable of stopping, she buried her face in her hands.

Elsie Hughes, you’ve brought this upon yourself by listening at that grate.  Mam always warned you that your curiosity would bring ruin, she thought bitterly.  Her shoulders shook with effort not to sob outright.  She wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

It surprised her when Mr. Carson rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.  But she couldn’t stop her stupid tears.  She couldn’t catch her breath.  She couldn’t do this.  It was all too much.

“It might not seem it, but you’ve done nothing wrong,” he whispered.

“I failed Mr. Bates and because of that I failed Anna,” she said, her voice muffled by her hands.  She couldn’t bring herself to say anything else.  What else could she say at this point?

“You’ve failed no one as long as you told the truth.  And I know you to be nothing if not honest.”

They stood there for several silent moments as Elsie slowly regained control over her emotions.  She swiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks.  Sniffling, she said, “You must think me ridiculous.”

“I could never think that.”

“I don’t see how you couldn’t.”

“Well, I believe I should be the judge of what I think is ridiculous.”  He said it with such an air of authority that it drew a short laugh from Elsie.  “Ah, that’s better.”

Though it did little to improve her mood, the laughter at least allowed her to regain some of her footing.  “Please forgive me, Mr. Carson.  I’m so embarrassed.”

Mr. Carson let his hand fall back to his side before taking a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to her.  “You’ve done nothing for which you need to be embarrassed.”

She took the proffered token, using the soft linen to wipe away the last of her tears.  She offered him a watery smile.  “And yet I am.  Please accept my apology and let us head back to the house.”

[oilysmug]

@acercontego​ continued from x

He’s come to expect nothing less from Thomas Barrow. Always sniping, always plotting. Head turns as if to almost acknowledge the younger man, but he continues on with his current work at hand, shining his lordship’s boots. Should have let him sink when he’d had the opportunity, but he had done his part to help keep the current under butler at Downton.

          “I haven’t forgotten, Thomas.” comes his quiet response; steady at the helm. The other could gripe and sneer at him as much as he wanted, but John knows one of - if not Thomas’ darkest secret, and that’s enough to help any man move forward with any sort of unpleasantness there may be during breakfast. Prison had been an education, after all.

         “Put aways your claws before breakfast or Mrs. Patmore will have a fit.”

     “that’s MR. BARROW to you.”  he hisses, feeling his feathers ruffled.  “do you think just because  --  you took pity on me that i  -- “  he falters.  thomas has felt so out of control that he needs something.  it’s hard to be so vile to bates when the man saved his arse from o’brien nearly having him sacked and jailed.  he sneers. 

      “i will not stand for disrespect, mr. bates.  so  --  so  -- “  he tugs down his waistcoat, as if that will help ground him.  “watch yourself.”  thomas hates that bates has the one-up on him. 

[lozbotwfanart]

14. 27.

14. an artist (of any kind) whose work you look forward to seeing

Uhm, on tumblr? I really like Crimsonchain's art. I really liked cockismybusiness' art, but I don't think they're on Tumblr anymore. 🤔 uh there's so many really great artists here, aunt beef, eilera-chan, chicken-sandwitch, hertika, saltycatfish, waxydoll...... Fuck I can't think of them all. Just too much good art

Outside of tumblr, I'm looking forward to the third season of Thunderbolt Fantasy written by Gen Urobuchi. Though, there's a lot of moving parts to that show, I can't attribute it to one artist. Someday.... It'll happen...Maybe....

27. your favourite flavour and brand of tea

Ugh, that's tough... I guess i get Republic of Tea the most. Their ginger peach is really good, it stains my teacups though 😅 the honey green tea is really good too!! My favorite of theirs is a limited edition flavor that tied in with Downton Abbey, Mrs. Patmore's Pudding Tea 😱 oh!! It's to die for, it's so good!! Idk, if it's still around though. And I don't like vanilla flavors with my tea very much.

I think Twinnings has the best Earl Grey, it's just really balanced and smooth.

My favorite type of tea to drink though is oolong, which is a little harder to find in most places. Unless you go to the Asian market. Even the super cheap oolong I just love. BUT!! There's this semi local place here that sells full leaf tea. They used to have this AMAZING oolong. It was a Magnolia Oolong, scented with Magnolia flowers. Omg.... That's my favorite tea. But they don't have it anymore 😢 the next best oolong i had was the milk oolong from the Republic of Tea. But I can't get it unless I order online or go to the next town an hour away.

There's also a brand that the restaurant PF Chang's uses called Revolution. Their Dragon Eye Oolong is sooooo good. I don't think I could stop drinking it if I ever found it out in the wild.

I don't think I've ever had a darjeeling I didn't like, though I've had some very dry ass darjeeling 🤔 that one was disappointing. I think the brand was Numi. Their rose tea was pitiful too.

And I will avoid Lapsang Souchong like the plague. Tastes like cigarettes 😖 (yes I know what a cigarette tastes like, don't ask) but apparently it was Winston Churchill's favorite.

Thank so much for the asks!!! 🥰😘 especially the tea ask!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

[shirtlesssammy]

10x12: About a Boy

At a bar in Pendleton, Oregon, two men almost break out in a grand old bar fight. One kicks the other, JP, out and tells him he’ll kill JP if he sees him around again. JP’s a little worse for wear and he stumbles off to his car. The tooth fairy A man appears behind JP, and grabs what appears to be a hex bag and JP is engulfed in a bright light. A homeless man looks on, rushing to JP’s car, only to find nothing but his empty suit sizzling on the ground.

Dean is in a bad way, guys. The Mark of Cain is haunting his every thought and removing it is consuming his every action. He’s in full-on research mode, which means things are really bad.

For Library Science:

Sam checks in on his big bro (in his VERY messy bedroom, ugh. It hurts to look at.) He’s got a case --missing people. Dean’s gonna sit this one out, thx Sam. Sam refuses to listen to Dean’s pity party and gives him the old Football Coach lecture about getting out there and beating this thing. To ease into agreeing with Sam, Dean makes fun of him for believing in the Easter Bunny until he was 12. Sam, knowing he got Dean, partially agrees (he was 11 ½).

They head off on the road. Once in Oregon, they interview the homeless man that saw the abduction. He explained it all and while he didn’t smell sulfur, he did smell flowers. They were flowery flowers. Also, he knows exactly what’s going on --Aliens. Specifically, probing aliens. 

The boys are at a loss and decide to split up to investigate. Dean heads inside to the bar, while Sam heads to JP’s place.

At the bar Dean orders a drink and talks up the bartender about JP.

While the bartender didn’t have much, a woman, Tina, at the bar knew JP a bit (I like the idea that Dean decided to listen to her, not because she mentioned JP, but because she dropped a pop culture reference. She’s speaking his language.) Later, we find Tina and Dean bonding over their shitty childhoods (#JohnWinchesterA+parenting). I don’t know what this says about my own childhood but I totally added ketchup to mac and cheese as a kid. And he added Fluff marshmallow mix to mac and cheese? No wonder Sam had a sweet tooth that he’s spent his entire adult life trying to suppress. Sam phones Dean and Tina makes her exit.

Sam has nothing good to report. (Uh, I’m just going to skip right over the weird devil’s butt joke because, what? I find zero humor in Sam’s Lucifer trauma. My in-show excuse for this is the Mark of Cain.) Just as Dean is admitting to Sam that he’s got nothing, he sees Buddy the Elf’s mailroom friend a man follow Tina out of the bar. He cuts Sam off and follows. He hears a scream, sees a light flash, and pulls his gun. He finds nothing but her clothes --and before he knows it, the man grabs his hex bag necklace and Dean is blasted with bright light.

He awakens in a basement cell, and to a MUCH younger face.

Oh dear, our Dean Bean is now a tiny Dean Sprout. There’s a girl in the next cell ---Tina. She’s freaking out a bit, but Dean assures her that he won’t let anything happen to her anything else happen to her. ALL PRAISE DYLAN EVERETT. I just love his portrayal of Dean. He just nails every beat of Dean. There’s another boy in the cell with Tina who Dean realizes is JP. He’s whisked away by the man before the others can stop it.

At the bar, Sam doesn’t find Dean so he tries calling him. The bartender has a phone that mysteriously rings to Sam’s call. HMMM.

The Moose™ faceplants the dude into the bar to get some answers.

Meanwhile, in Cellblock C, Dean is busy enjoying a piece of cake. Dude. DUDE. Tina thinks the cake was poisoned. Which, lol, Dean way to think ahead. He stops eating it reluctantly. And then he starts to formulate an idea to break them out of their prison. Using part of a bed frame, he tries jimmying the window open (and declares that he’s a “functioning alcoholic” --I see no lie, unfortunately). Tina wants to know who/what he is. “That is a long-ass story,” Dean responds. Ha, 14 years and going!

Sam finds Dean’s clothes and gun behind the bar. He also find flower pollen all over Dean’s gun.

Just as Dean has made some headway on their escape, the man comes back. Tina tells Dean to get out. She’ll distract the man while Dean gets help. She starts to scream while Dean makes his escape.

Sam is busy researching yarrow at their motel when a knock sounds at his door. Dean’s there! And Sammy is surprised. Dean is in full hunter mode and bursts into the room and finds his things. Sam needs a moment, but Dean doesn’t have that. He needs to save Tina. HOW IS HE STILL THE OLDER BROTHER? I believe this on a cellular level. This child is bossing Sam around and it’s amazing. Dean runs out. A woman in the next room is heading into her place and drops her keys. Dean stops and picks them up for her. She compliments a frazzled Sam on what a polite son he’s raising. LOLOL. Dean’s driving, but one bench seat adjustment makes Sam suggest Dean take shotgun.

They head out to save Tina. While Sam drives them to the witch’s creepy, old house, they talk about Dean’s sudden de-aging. Dean confesses his troubling enjoyment of a Taylor Swift song in addition to other puberty-related bodily hijinks. The biggest change though? The Mark has disappeared from his arm. I have…so many questions. Does it exist in some pocket universe waiting for Dean to grow up again? Does he still carry it...just not the scar? Knowing what we know now about the function of the Mark, this is the only thing that gives me pause about this episode - the rest of which I LOVE. Dean entertains the idea of staying a teen if it means he doesn’t have the Mark anymore. (Boris: I think it’s still there, but won’t show itself until Dean ages to the point when he got it.)

At the witch’s house, Tina’s already been removed from her cell. Dean sneaks in through his cellar window while giant moose Sam finds his own way in. Watching Dean carefully stalk the basement, it’s suddenly easy to picture him while he was young - hunting creatures clutching a gun and a flashlight and grown up far too quickly. We don’t have much time to reflect on this, though, because the creepy guy who stalked after Tina shows up. “I’m not a witch,” the guy protests when they confront him at last. “I just work for one.”

The guy starts to plead, confessing that he’s worked for the witch for centuries doing terrible things. For example, he was forced to eat “poor Gretel’s heart.” Oooooh my. Meet Hansel of THE Hansel and Gretel, folks. Dean’s on board with killing a famous witch.

“You can’t kill her,” Hansel tells them. “You’re just men.”

Sam identifies themselves as hunters and Hansel immediately volunteers to help them kill the witch. Sam first demands to know how to turn Dean back. That this isn’t Dean’s first priority is a lovely nod to his character and also a little heartbreaking. It turns out that turning back into an adult is easy. Just squeeze the hex bag around Hansel’s neck and BOOM you’re transformed.

Upstairs, the witch prepares vegetables for her young-child stew. JP, she grouses, didn’t have much meat on his bones. But stew is a great way to stretch meat, amirite? For Tina, the witch envisions a nice sweet chili glaze and an apple in her mouth. (Boris: How great is it that Mrs. Patmore is COOKING in her guest spot on this show?)

It turns out that the witch has a walk-in oven. As one does. When Dean, Sam, and Hansel emerge from the basement, she’s nothing but pleased. Her joy should be off-putting but it’s okay. The Winchesters and Hansel are a united front against her! Oh wait, it turns out that Hansel gleefully ate his own sister and is allied with the witch. Things go south quickly and both brothers are soon disarmed and held at gunpoint by Hansel.

The witch grouses about society these days. She used to steal and eat children back when child mortality was so high that nobody missed the odd kid here or there. Now she transforms adults that no one will miss into children and eats them instead. Is that...recycling?

While she cuts vegetables, the witch reveals that she’s in the U.S. for the first time and appreciates our body fat just as much as the Leviathans. Um. Thanks? She’d been sent by the Grand Coven to hunt down Rowena. (Any theories I had that the Grand Coven was somehow more civilized, or less murdery than Rowena just went out the window.) While the witch is temporarily distracted by their discussion about Rowena, Sam makes his move. Dean tries to help but gets pummeled by Hansel. He’s young and small, after all. The witch stokes the fire, her victory imminent, and orders Hansel to turn Sam into a child as well.

Dean rises to the occasion and hauls out the hex bag that he stole from Hansel’s neck during their fight. He grabs it, transforms back into adult Dean, and uses the surprise and his adult size to drive a knife home between Hansel’s ribs. Dean does what Hansel never could and stuffs the witch plus her hex bag into her giant walk-in oven. She burns into nothing.

Outside, they talk with the still-young Tina. She asks about transforming back into an adult but the Winchesters sadly inform her that the hex bag was destroyed. They don’t have a spell at the ready to turn her back but they can probably figure it out. Tina thinks about this for a moment. She has ex-husbands, a ton of debt, and a sorrowful adult life. If she stays young, she can take this as a second chance for building a better life for herself. Dean’s not jealous of this AT ALL. They drive her to the bus stop, give her all their cash (because they’re good dudes), and see her off on her new life. (I always scoffed at people who yearned to go back to their childhood, but a “do-over” is certainly a compelling argument for de-aging.) (Boris: If I knew what I know now, I’d do it over again in a heartbeat.)

After Tina leaves, they mull over this new bit of information about a “Grand Coven.” Dean thinks it sounds like an eighties hair metal band. YES. Sam’s not in the mood for jokes, though. He asks Dean about the Mark.

Dean pulls up his sleeve to reveal it and Sam has to look away for a moment in disappointment. Sam tells Dean that he “pulled a Dean Winchester” by sacrificing something in order to save Sam and Tina. Oh. Man. That’s so true. (I’ll just be over here weeping in the corner.) Regardless of the Mark, however, Sam’s happy to have Dean restored. He missed his brother. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Dean drives them out of town while Taylor swift sings about shaking it off. (This led to the Hillywood Sisters singing about Shaking it Off as well. We are truly #blessed.)

Quote it off, Quote it off:

Those suckers, they grabbed me, and they probed me everywhere.

Son of a Bitch.

Yahtzee.

Hiya, Sammy.

Hey, we got any grenades?

About time this gig got an R rating.

I’m a freakin’ teen and you look like some One Direction reject!

I can still hunt, I’m just…dewier.

You can drink in another seven years.

If you’re going to fry that candy-coated bitch, I want in.

Word on the street is people kinda taste like chicken.

I’m painting a word picture here.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[galindadaae]

2017 Matthew x Mary Secret Santa!!

THANK YOU @orangeshipper Mary and Matthew have helped me through some of the toughest times of my life, and as such a great fic writer you were a huge part of that!! It was just as great of a gift to receive a present from you as the writing itself!

Merry Christmas!!

Better late than never, I hope you’ll enjoy this offering… I’ve decided to very happily revisit my All That Is Left universe! 

In order to cover both happily married M/M (plus family), whilst still enjoying a bit of good old S2 angst, I’ve gone for Christmas 1918 - so Matthew’s home and the war is over, buuuuut, he’s still in his wheelchair. For reference (I’m sure I saw in your tags somewhere you’ve read ATiL!! I hope so!), Matthew and Mary having been married since the outbreak of war, their daughters Mabel (Bel) and Catherine (Kit) are around 3.5 and 1.5 respectively. This snippet would come between Chapters 24/25. If you haven’t read it, well, I hope you enjoy this snapshot of Matthew & Mary from it!

I wish you such a lovely Christmas, and all the very best for 2018. I’ve not followed you long on Tumblr, but I’m so glad that I started! Happy, Happy Christmas! And with that… I so much hope you enjoy the fic!

Claire (OrangeShipper) :) :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Matthew awoke, though his eyes remained shut, he knew that it must be Christmas. They’d gone to bed shortly before midnight (he hadn’t been able to face the humiliating performance of getting to church for mass, even if it had been possible at all), and his fitful sleep had seemed long enough that it must be Christmas morning now. 

He couldn’t feel Mary beside him, though there was warmth there that meant she was not long risen. 

He couldn’t feel his legs, still, either. 

Eyes opening in the darkness, his jaw set with determination as his hands clasped firmly up and down his thighs. Sometimes, just sometimes, he thought there was something… A whisper, a tingling, like pins and needles but never for more than a second or two, and each time his heart leapt… But Clarkson was sure it was nothing, and he didn’t dare to hope. 

God, it was miserable. It was three years since he’d spent Christmas at home, and it had been the happiest of his life. He’d seen Mabel for the first time, and he and Mary had danced, loved, been together, so completely and so happily. The two intervening years he’d been at the front, and had missed them so terribly. What he wouldn’t have given, then, in the frozen mud and biting cold and restless, uneasy boredom, to have been with them at home. They’d made as much celebration of it as they could, and the fighting had held off in an unspoken truce for a merciful day or two. But oh, how he’d longed to be here instead. And now he was… yet a small, treacherous part of him longed to go back, because then at least he’d been able to walk, and the dream of making love to his wife hadn’t been an entirely impossible one, or the prospect of swinging his daughters up into his arms and… he’d been able to live. However much progress he’d made in accustoming to his new life over the past few months, he wasn’t sure yet that he’d ever fully accept it, or that the bitter sting of misery and regret would ever fully leave him. 

He leaned across to the lamp, switching it on to see that he must have had a reasonable sleep after all, as it was now six o’clock. A quiet knock echoed from the door, which Matthew found belonged to Bates when he bid him come in. 

“Good morning, Mr Crawley - I’ve come at Lady Mary’s request, to see if you were awake to sit you up a bit. And, may I say, Merry Christmas!”

“Is it, Bates, really?” Matthew returned with a sigh, as he worked with the valet’s help to sit up against the pillows. He couldn’t say as such to Mary, he knew, but Bates at least would understand. 

“Yes, Sir, it is. Because you’re here, and that’s all there is to it.”

“Damn it, man, can’t you just agree with me for once instead of being so unfailingly optimistic?” 

There was a light-hearted glint in his eye, and Bates chuckled warmly. 

“Not on Christmas Day, I’m afraid.” 

“Ah well. Optimism it is, then. Thank you, Bates - and Merry Christmas, too.” 

He wasn’t left waiting for long after Bates had gone, and Mary’s absence when he’d woken became clear. The door cracked open and her face peered round, shining with excitement, breaking into a laugh as the door flew back and two small figures in their nightdresses hurtled in. 

“Papa! Happy Christmas!” Mabel cried, with an indecipherable echo from Catherine, who clutched at the covers as her older sister helped shunt her up onto the bed. 

“Merry Christmas, my darling little ones… What a lovely surprise to wake up to!” Matthew’s smile now was helplessly wide as both girls clambered their way onto his lap. “Thank you,” he murmured to Mary, settling in beside him. 

He welcomed her soft kiss, but only for a moment as Mabel tugged at the collar of his pyjamas. 

“Got you something, Papa! Close you eyes-”

“Present!” Catherine mumbled, tugging her thumb from her lips to clap as Matthew dutifully shut his eyes, waiting until he felt a small package pressed into his hands before opening them again. 

“Well, what’s this?” He slipped off the ribbon.

“Only something little,” Mary smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. Mabel bounced with excitement, as Catherine looked expectantly on. 

The wrapping paper slid to the floor, and Matthew’s eyes lit then stung with tearful affection as he turned the small Bible over in his hands. Small enough to fit in his pocket, soft leather, and just inside the cover… a photograph of Mabel and Catherine sitting together (recent, he could tell), and on the page behind it their full names and dates of birth. Underneath was written, in Mary’s elegant script, ‘With so much love, from all your darling girls.’

“Oh, my dears… Thank you, so much.” 

“We choosed it, with Mama,” Mabel chattered as Matthew hugged both girls tightly, “and sat so still for the picture!”

“S’pretty,” mumbled Catherine around her thumb. 

“You like it, Papa?” 

He beamed, eyes glittering as he kissed the top of her head, then Catherine’s, blonde curls and dark that shone softly in the lamplight.

“Very, very much. I’ll keep it with me always.” 

Mary rubbed his arm, thrilled to see his delight. “That was the idea, darling… Like a proper family Bible, but one that you can keep with you. For when you feel you need it.” 

His smile trembled, and he held back a sigh. Darling Mary, she knew him so well. He’d had a pocket Bible with him at the front, of course; he’d tried to seek comfort in it when everything felt so senseless and dark. It hadn’t helped much but, still, he’d tried. Somehow it had been lost when he was wounded. They hadn’t spoken about it much, but Mary must have guessed that his faith had been terribly shaken by the pitiful state he’d been left in… and he wasn’t yet sure it was recovering, as all his prayers went unanswered. But at least, when he was ready to look again, now he’d have this - with his precious family safe in it too. 

—————

The war might have been officially over, but still it lingered in Downton. While many of the convalescents had chosen (and been able) to return to their homes for the Christmas season, a fair number still remained, and the family and hospital staff tried to make the day as celebratory for them as they could. The decorations weren’t quite so lavish as before the war, but lent a cheerful atmosphere at least, with a modest tree in the hall and another in the small library, where the family now were enjoying their lunch and the rest of their gifts. 

Matthew had remembered that they served themselves for this one day of the year, while the servants enjoyed their Christmas dinner downstairs… but hadn’t counted on the difficulty of doing so from his wheelchair. After trying unsuccessfully to manoeuvre himself whilst serving food to a plate balanced on his lap, and thanking God that no one seemed to have noticed his failure, he accepted Mary’s assistance and the excuse of holding Catherine while Mabel tumbled with Isis between everyone’s legs. 

“Don’t you want to play, too, Kit?” he murmured against her hair. 

“No,” she shook her head slowly, tracing sticky fingers over the colourful pages of a new storybook in her lap. “This!” 

“Alright. Here, shall we read it again?” He smiled at the little girl’s eager nod, and turned the pages back to the start, reading softly until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Here’s your lunch, darling,” Mary passed him the laden plate (which smelt delicious), then lifted Catherine into her arms. “Come on Kit, let’s see what there is for you. Bel - no, watch where you’re going - yes, you too, you can play with Isis again once you’ve had something to eat.” 

“Does Isis need lunch too?”

“I’m sure she does, my darling, but not from you!” 

“Don’t worry,” Robert said fondly, “Mrs Patmore will make sure she’s well fed later on.” 

Mabel seemed content with that, and trotted to the settee where Mary sat with Catherine, with Matthew’s wheelchair beside. Her small hands tried to smooth the creases from her dress - Matthew noticed his wife’s little frown, and smiled as he knew she withheld the chastisement that would normally come, because it was Christmas. 

In the pleasant lull that came from full bellies and the calm after the morning’s excitement, Robert clapped his hands together. 

“Right! Now we’ve all had a chance to recover somewhat, let’s get it out, then!” He stood and made his way to the sparkling new gramophone displayed on the table. 

“Now?” Violet clasped her cane, raising her eyebrows. “Is that really necessary?” 

“Oh, yes!” Sybil cried, as even Edith smiled beside her, “It is Christmas, Granny…” 

Cora joined Robert beside it, and rifled through the few records there.

“Quite right. Mary, Matthew - thank you again, so much. What a lovely thing to bring some joy after the year we’ve all had.” 

Matthew smiled graciously and nodded, feeling Mary take his hand and squeeze it. They’d ordered it months ago, and even after he’d been wounded it still seemed a lovely idea, a pleasant distraction from the darkness that still threatened at times to overwhelm him. 

Though they were all a bit cramped in the small library, a reasonable space was somehow cleared, and as jaunty music crackled into the air the mood became infectious. Robert and Cora turned sedately together, while Sybil danced wildly with Mabel, and Isobel a little more carefully with Catherine, as the rest of the family watched with beaming smiles. 

Matthew watched his daughters, his heart full. Mary’s hand was still in his own, slender and soft, and he turned to look at her. Her face shone, her smile wide as she watched the scene too. God, he loved her. 

“You should dance with your Papa,” he said quietly. 

She turned, her eyes meeting his, and though she tried to hide it he could see the sadness encroaching on her smile. 

“Not just now. I’m perfectly happy here, with you.” 

“Mary…” His voice cracked, and he gripped her hand more tightly. “Just because I’m stuck here, sitting-”

“Darling, please don’t-”

“No, I - I’d love to see you dance. I mean… of course, of course I’d far rather dance with you myself, but I… Oh God, Mary…” 

It hit him like a blow to the chest, the finality of it, and he could barely breathe under its weight. Never being able to stand, or walk, was hard enough, but this… To never dance with his wife, or his daughters, to never feel that joy of movement and ache of love with those he held the dearest… It was such a little thing, but such a desperately unbearable prospect, he couldn’t bear it.

Her hand was at his cheek, her thumb stroking comfort, as she murmured, “It’s alright, darling…” 

“It isn’t,” he gasped. “It's… damned hard.” 

He felt himself falter, and was desperately grateful that Mary saw it, and rose swiftly to take him out before anyone else could see. That last thing he wanted was to cast a gloom on everyone else’s day, but how could he help it, wretched as he was? His jaw clenched tightly as they wheeled across the hall to the dining room, the nearest private space they could get to, where he finally broke down in his wife’s arms. She held him tightly, perched on a chair beside him, arms around his heaving shoulders and her cheek against his hair. She held him as long as he needed, as sobs began to subside to ragged, slowly calming breaths.

“Sorry for blubbing,” he whispered at last, scrubbing away his tears. 

“Don’t be.” Mary held his face, kissed his cheeks with such tenderness, and stroked his hair back. “Don’t ever be sorry for that, darling. What can I do?” 

With a sniff, Matthew turned his face into her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm as he clasped it. 

“Well…” he said, with a trembling smile, “it would truly give me joy to see you enjoying yourself, my darling. So please, take me back in, and go and dance with your Papa, or with Bel and Kit. They’re having a marvellous time, aren’t they?” 

She chuckled, kissing him softly on her way to stand.

“Yes, I think so! And so much better for you being here, too.”

“I know.” 

If anyone had noticed them leave, no-one said a word when they returned, for which Matthew was grateful. Mary rubbed his shoulders affectionately before going over to Robert, and Matthew watched them dance, with a more heartfelt smile than he’d mustered all day. Catherine had exhausted herself dancing (Mabel showed no such sign of tiring yet), and toddled up to climb into his lap, with a helping hand from Isobel who sat down beside him.

“It’s a lovely sight, isn’t it,” she said happily, and Matthew couldn’t say how glad he was that she didn’t ask if he was alright, or anything else like that. She rubbed his arm instead, and that was enough to let him know how proud she was, and how pleased she was that he was here, and to reassure him that he was quite entitled to feel as miserable as he liked, and how she wished she could bear his pain instead. He knew it, because it was the same assurance Mary always gave, and he could see that the others felt it too in that glint of sympathy behind every smile, however they tried to hide it. Still, he was glad that none of them said it, because no-one’s sympathy could help. 

He focussed instead back on the sight she’d drawn attention to, of his family dancing, so happily, and their smiles that radiated in the firelight. He held Catherine tighter on his lap.

“The loveliest,” he agreed.

—————————

“Happy Christmas, darling,” Mary murmured later that night, as they lay in bed together fighting off sleep to enjoy these last moments of peace in the quiet of night. He felt her curl against him, her arm slung over his waist, and his fingers played along the smooth skin of her shoulder. 

“You, too… I can hardly believe we’ve been married four years, and it’s only the second I’ve spent with you. My darling, I'm… so happy to be with you. You know that, don’t you?” 

She leaned up to face him, and tickled his chin. The memories of those early days when he’d honestly, truly rather wished he were dead had faded, somewhat, but still stung to think of. 

“Absolutely, I do. I know it isn’t easy.”

He sighed, and brought her hand to his lips.

“It’s easy when I’m with you,” he said, and felt her shiver against him. Pulling her closer, he kissed her, eyes falling closed as his lips parted to hers, with such delicate tenderness it made him ache. Everything was easier with Mary, when it was just them (and their darling, innocent girls who were happy without question), alone and without intrusion… it was all so much easier to bear. Her warmth, her kiss, her gentle, loving hands, all helped him forget… helped him feel happy. 

His hand slipped into her hair, like silk between his fingers. It was rare now that they kissed like this, it seemed always too tempting and too taunting a reminder of what they could not, now, do… but it was Christmas, and he loved her, and she tasted so wonderfully sweet… He hummed at the delicate tease of her tongue, felt her fingers skim down to his belly, with a sharp gasp as a shiver shot down his spine and down to his toes. 

He was shocked into stillness, and their eyes flew open, breathless in the darkness. 

“I love you,” he whispered fiercely, before she could ask what it was. “My God, Mary… I love you so much.” 

He couldn’t bear to tell her, to let her hope, even the slightest bit. Not when it was most likely nothing… just the memory of a feeling, that was all, and it had been so brief he wasn’t sure (as with the other few times) if he’d imagined it after all. He filed it to the back of his mind. He’d prayed, and wished over the Christmas pudding (at Edith’s insistence they all did), that one day a miracle would come… It must just be wishful thinking. 

His wife’s hand stroked affectionately through his hair, pushing it back from where it flopped over his forehead.

“I know you do,” she said, punctuated by one more soft kiss. “I love you, too… so terribly much. I hope you’ve had a happy day, however hard it’s been.” 

“I’ve tried to,” he laughed gently, “for everyone’s sake - and I have, really. It started off quite perfectly… and it means the world to know that I’ll never miss Christmas with you again, not one. And you know, I can enjoy the gramophone’s music from my chair… Anyway I think Bel, particularly, will dance quite enough for the both of us!” 

“I think you might be right!” 

“And it was lovely to steal you away for a walk, briefly, in spite of the cold. Dinner was perfectly divine, and, well… I must say I’m enjoying our end to the day, too…” He kissed her nose, and grinned. “Merry Christmas, my darling girl.”

His arms wrapped around her, holding her close as she took his face in her hands and kissed him soundly, murmuring against his lips,

“And here’s to many more…”

~~~~~~~~~

Happy Christmas! xx

[kickingtheladder]

Downton Abbey Episode Five, Flower Show and Snuffbox Shenanigans! (Also there are apparently one two more episodes left this season, which means they must cover a hell of a lot of ground...)

- Anna is really the MVP of this episode: keeps Gwen’s secret, tells Bates to shit or get off the pot romantically speaking (...she phrases it slightly different), and is delightfully (and successfully! Anna is probably the best plotter of them all) schemey and totally down to get O’Brien or Thomas fired with snuffbox shenanigans. She’s so great.

- Meanwhile Mary and Edith achieve peak Petty Bitch towards each other and its so fun. 

- Matthew remains weirdly reasonably normal, presumably because he hasn’t yet absorbed enough upper class drama vibes, but he does manage to ditch Edith within thirty seconds of being left alone in a conversation with her and then delightfully smoothly snubs Mary at the flower show, so he’s getting there.

- Robert is surprisingly observant about Matthew and Mary, really. Especially given how epically unobservant he is about a bunch of things later on.

- I also like Antony Strallan, I was super down for Edith marrying him back when I watched this first time around.

- Violet and Isobel taking shots at each other is always a delight.

- I had completely forgotten that Edith actively found out about the Pamuk thing from Daisy, with some help from O’Brien, and I’m so proud of her! She manages to get it out of Daisy and keep O’Brien out of the loop in one smoothly managed bit of manipulation. So delightful. (Especially given multiple people this episode “Poor Edith” her, but ha, here she is, striking back! By, you know, being a schemey bitch, but I love all the underhanded scheming on this show, so.)

- The O’Brien and Cora relationship continues to fascinate and kind of baffle me. Is Cora just convinced she is so awesome that of course O’Brien will think the best of her? Is Cora just really thick and doesn’t realise O’Brien might have actual independent motives? 

- I feel like Molesley gets increasingly daft as this show goes on. In this season he’s pretty down-to-earth and competent, but he definitely is not those things as we carry on. Also I love his dad, he of the prize winning roses.

- O’Brien and Thomas are so bad at sneakiness and scheming despite constantly initiating it, I love it. If they hadn’t kept needling Bates about it, Bates would never have found the snuffbox in his room, and may well have been accused of the theft, but because they also cannot resist being Petty Bitches and Anna isn’t actually stupid, they give their game away.

- And then within two and a half seconds of Anna turning the scheming around, the pair them effectively admit their guilt by dashing up the stairs and turning the rooms upside down as soon as the idea of a room search is mentioned, which is incredibly funny. You guys are such morons, I love it. (Also why don’t they actually get into trouble about this?)

- Do we ever find out why Thomas is nicking wine? Is he drinking it? Is he selling it? Is he taking the bottles out back and smashing them while swearing?

- Also I love that tiny bit when everyone is walking down to the flower show and Thomas tells O’Brien to not be so much of a grump, hee.

- Lord Savident and his valet are apparently amazing at spreading gossip, I’m impressed. 

- I feel like Thomas has more friends this season that he ever has again: this valet, whoever he contacts about Bates, I think there’s a couple of other throwaway lines about him being in contact with people. Wait, no, abort, I just made myself sad because presumably the reason he doesn’t have that network later on is that they all die in the war.

- I think the way Carson handles Mrs Patmore’s blindness is possibly the best bit of personnel management he ever displays. He talks to her privately, he’s actually compassionate and doesn’t yell at anyone! ...pity he doesn’t resolve further staff conflicts with anything like the same level of competence as far as I remember.

- Gwen and Sybil continue to be delightful. I want them to run away together.

- Cora’s hat in the last scene is amazing.

[alchemine]

Downton crackfic

Late last night while discussing the “will they kiss” question regarding Baxter and Molesley with nevermore191, I thought:

what if they were about to kiss, and then some accident stopped them?

what if one of them fell down a manhole and died?

what if a pterodactyl swooped down from the sky and carried Molesley away?

and then this happened. 

As she watches the pterodactyl disappear over the horizon, with a kicking, struggling Molesley dangling from its claws, Miss Baxter is horrified, but not really surprised. She’s always known that as a former convict, she doesn’t deserve to be happy. She just never expected happiness to be literally snatched from her arms by a giant flying predator.

She goes back to the house and reports what has happened to Mrs Hughes, who asks Mr Carson if he doesn’t think they ought to inform Lord Grantham. 

Carson harrumphs. “I wouldn’t want to bother his Lordship with this. I think it would be much simpler just to hire another footman. It isn’t as if they’re hard to come by." 

This makes Phyllis burst into tears, and Mrs Hughes pats her kindly on the shoulder while glaring at Mr Carson. "There, there, Miss Baxter. We’ll get Mr Molesley back for you." 

"Leave it to Molesley to get himself captured by a pterodactyl,” Thomas says, rolling his eyes.

“Aren’t pterodactyls extinct?” Daisy asks Mrs Patmore.

“If they’re not now, they soon will be,” Mrs Patmore says grimly. She brushes some flour from her apron, hefts her largest rolling pin, and smacks it into her free hand a couple of times as if testing its usefulness as a weapon. “Come along, Daisy. If the men won’t help, we’ll just have to do this ourselves.”

“Look after things while we’re gone, will you?” Mrs Hughes says to Mr Carson.

“Whatever will I tell the family?" 

"You could try the truth,” Mrs Hughes suggests.

“What, that Mr Molesley has been abducted by a Cretaceous-era winged reptile, and you, Miss Baxter, Mrs Patmore and Daisy are off to find its nest and take him back?” Carson clutches his head as if his brain hurts. “No thank you. I’ll think of something." 

"You can add me to that list,” Anna says, appearing from the boot room. “I’m going too, obviously." 

"What? No! You’re too delicate for such things, my angel.” Bates, who has been absorbed in yesterday’s newspaper until now, throws it down on the table and struggles to his feet. “You must stay here so I can watch your every move in an adoring and somewhat creepy fashion. Molesley isn’t worth it." 

"Don’t be ridiculous, Mr Bates. Mr Molesley is nice, even if he did try to seduce me with a book that one time in 1921. Of course we can’t let him be eaten by a pterodactyl." 

"No, of course not,” Thomas says. Everyone turns to look at him, and he adds, “It couldn’t possibly be good for the poor pterodactyl. Won’t someone think of her in all this?" 

"Oh, shut up, Thomas,” Phyllis says through her tears, and on that note the rescue party, minus Anna, sets out to search for the dread raptor’s nest.

Molesley, for his part, is lying on his back at the bottom of that nest, staring at the sky, and bemoaning how his lifelong bad luck seems to have turned fatal. There he’d been, about to finally kiss a woman for the first time (and maybe more than that? possibly? he thought things had been headed in that direction, at any rate) and now here he is, waiting for the moment when he becomes a pterodactyl’s lunch. Or its dinner. Or something. He isn’t quite certain what time it is. He could be on the menu for afternoon tea, between the tiny sandwiches and the iced cakes.

“Why me?” he groans aloud. 

He finds that it feels good to vent his self-pity to the universe, and he’s just about to do it again when a grappling hook comes flying over the side of the nest and embeds itself barely an inch from his leg. A moment later, Mrs Hughes’ face appears, looking stern.

“Really, Mr Molesley,” she says. “This has been very inconvenient.” 

“I’ll say,” says Mrs Patmore, appearing beside her. “For goodness’ sake, man, stop lolling about and come with us. Don’t you know when you’re being rescued?” 

“Is he all right?” Phyllis’s voice says faintly from somewhere below them, and at that, Molesley leaps up. 

“Miss Baxter!”

“Well, that got him moving,” Mrs Patmore says with a rather dirty chuckle. “Come on up and see for yourself, Miss Baxter. Daisy, give her a boost, will you?” 

“All right,” Daisy says even more faintly. “Ouch! Don’t stand on my head like that, Miss Baxter, I’m not a stepladder.” 

Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore reach down with an arm each and haul Phyllis up until she emerges into view as well, a bit mussed and dirty, but a very welcome sight for Molesley, who until this moment was quite certain he’d never see her again. He wonders if now would be a good time to finish their interrupted kiss, but decides that Mrs Hughes probably won’t allow it.

“I’m so happy to see you,” he says instead.

Phyllis bestows a smile on him that warms him through and through. “I’m happy to see you too, but I think we’d better hurry up and go before the pterodactyl comes back, don’t you?” 

“Yes, let’s do that,” says the still-invisible Daisy, distantly.

“Come on, Mrs Patmore, let’s get him out,” Mrs Hughes says. “Miss Baxter, you and Daisy go down first and wait for us at the bottom of the cliff. We’ll reunite you and Mr Molesley more thoroughly soon enough. Ugh! This nest smells terrible.” 

“I think it’s stuck together with pterodactyl droppings,” Molesley says, letting them pull him up onto the edge. Below, he sees the same fifty-foot drop that prevented him from escaping before, only now in addition to the rope and hook, there are spikes driven into the cliff face, leading up to a narrow ledge below the nest where the four women have apparently been taking turns standing. 

“I hate to ask,” he begins.

“But where did we get mountain-climbing equipment?” Mrs Hughes says. “And when did we learn how to use it?”

“Well, yes.”  

“Best just to accept it, Mr Molesley,” Mrs Patmore advises him. “Careful on those spikes, now. If we don’t have any accidents, we may still get home in time for dinner.” 

[jolie-goes-downton]

EPISODE 5.04 IS UP!

In which Sarah Bunting STILL annoys Robert, Edith STILL annoys the Drewes, and Mrs Patmore is STILL unhappy about the war memorial. In other news, Lord Merton pops the question, Mary sends Gillingham packing, Thomas doesn’t want Baxter’s pity, the noose starts tightening for the Bateses, and Molesley wishes he weren’t the First Footman.

Find downloadable transcripts of the Season 4, 5 and 6 episodes here:

@naevery @tuesdayintheservantshall @misunderstoodbarrow @misunderstoodnotevil @thedanceronthestreets @infinity2020corner @irrationalgame @xrocketbabydoll @hobbitkate @oleander4 @bitletsanddrabbles @whymustiwaitinline @lifeisjuicy92 @soft-in-my-old-age @leelajoy716 @blackbirdinthebox

Let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged for future episodes!

[biofunmy]

A power ranking of all 32 ‘Downton Abbey’ movie characters

That’s not to suggest the folks upstairs always wielded more power than their downstairs counterparts. Social propriety only dictates outward behavior, and it often seemed as though the Downton servants were the ones who actually pulled the strings. Such is certainly the case in the “Downton” movie, released Friday, more than three years after the British television series concluded its six-season run.

Set in the late 1920s, the movie consists largely of Downton preparing for a royal visit by King George V and Queen Mary. While the Crawleys — Robert, Cora and their daughters Mary and Edith, along with Robert’s mother Violet — deal with the usual family drama and logistical rubbish, everyone downstairs tries their best to resist a complete takeover from the royal family’s hoity-toity servants. There’s very little plot and very much banter, highlighting power grabs both subtle and fierce.

Here is a definitive power ranking of the “Downton” movie characters, from boring and weakest to magnificent and sneakiest. (Note that the blurbs contain plot spoilers.)

The ‘Downton Abbey’ cast wants to take you back to a more innocent time — 2012

32. Richard “Dickie” Grey, a.k.a. Baron Merton (Douglas Reith)

Who he is: A trusted friend of the Crawley family, Dickie is also Mary’s godfather. In the series, he fought with his spoiled children to marry Isobel Crawley, the mother of Mary’s late husband, Matthew Crawley.

Why he ranks here: Dickie is a perfectly fine person, and it is truly a delight to hear people say his name with an English accent. That said, he is entirely a background character in the movie.

31. Phyllis Baxter, lady’s maid to Cora Crawley (Raquel Cassidy)

Who she is: Not to be visually confused with housekeeper Mrs. Hughes, Miss Baxter is a well-intentioned lady’s maid with a criminal record who, in the series, was briefly blackmailed by Thomas Barrow.

Why she ranks here: Like poor Dickie, Miss Baxter is barely a part of the movie. She finally seems to express her romantic interest in Mr. Molesley toward the end, though, so three cheers for that.

30. Captain Chetwode (Stephen Campbell Moore)

Who he is: Captain Chetwode approaches Tom Branson, a Crawley son-in-law, in public with a devious look in his eyes. The captain looks like all the other random men who pass through Downton, making it difficult for Tom to determine who he is or what his true motivations are.

Why he ranks here: Well, he tries to assassinate the king. While Tom, an Irishman, has his own issues with the English monarchy, he foils the captain’s violent plan as soon as he figures it out.

27, 28 & 29. All of the Crawley great-grandchildren: Sybil “Sybbie” Branson (Fifi Hart); George Matthew Crawley (Oliver and Zac Barker); Marigold Crawley (Eva and Karina Samms)

Who they are: Sybbie is Tom’s child with his late wife, Sybil Crawley. George is Mary’s child with her late husband, Matthew. Marigold was born to Edith and Michael Gregson, Edith’s magazine editor boss who mysteriously disappeared in Germany. Such drama!

Why they rank here: The Crawley great-grandchildren are still very young and therefore inconsequential. But they’ll inherit Downton and the Crawley wealth one day, which means they are somewhat powerful.

26. Joseph Molesley, schoolteacher and occasional footman (Kevin Doyle)

Who he is: Mr. Molesley worked as Matthew’s valet until the latter’s death and later returned to Downton as a footman. He discovered his passion for teaching while helping assistant cook Daisy Mason with her studies and eventually left the house altogether to become a schoolteacher.

Why he ranks here: I only want the best for Mr. Molesley, but by golly if this man isn’t one of the most pitiful characters to ever pass through Downton. He practically faints upon seeing the king and queen.

25. The Royal Chef (Philippe Spall)

Who he is: The better question would be, who does he think he is? Sure, he cooks for the king and queen of England, but he is unnecessarily rude to Downton’s Mrs. Patmore from the moment he walks in.

Why he ranks here: Rudeness is only productive if you’re an established part of Downton.

24. The Royal Butler . . . or the King’s Page of the Back Stairs (David Haig)

Who he is: This guy is the Charles Carson of Kensington Palace, in that he’s been loyal to the royal family for a long time and will do anything to appease them. He clarifies to the Downton folk that he is “not a butler” but, in fact, a king’s page of the back stairs. They don’t give that title much thought.

Why he ranks here: He is the absolute worst, but Mr. Haig is quite convincing in the role.

23. Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham (Hugh Bonneville)

Who he is: Robert is the Crawley family patriarch and owns Downton with his eldest daughter, Mary.

Why he ranks here: I honestly could not tell you a single significant thing Robert accomplishes in this movie aside from continuing to co-own Downton, therefore giving the royals a reason to visit and the movie a reason to exist. But hey, that’s pretty important, right?

22. Herbert “Bertie” Pelham, Marquess of Hexham (Harry Hadden-Paton)

Who he is: Edith married Bertie at the very end of the series and, after enduring six seasons of relentless misery, said she was finally “completely happy.” Bertie became Marigold’s stepfather.

Why he ranks here: Bertie is involved in a B-plot that gets quite a bit of screen time, as the king asks Bertie to embark on a project that would keep him away from his family for three months. Even after Edith informs her husband that she is pregnant and that the assignment would require him to miss the first few months of his child’s life, he hesitates to ask the king to find someone else for the job — understandable, but not the ideal course of action.

21. Andrew “Andy” Parker, footman (Michael C. Fox)

Who he is: Andy is a recently hired footman engaged to Daisy.

Why he ranks here: Andy somewhat annoyingly plays a jealous boyfriend for much of the movie, sparked by a flirty plumber arriving to fix Downton’s boiler. While Andy breaks the boiler in a fit of jealousy, it’s pretty cool that he loves Daisy and disregards the monarchy enough to risk sabotaging the royal visit.

20. Cora Crawley, Countess of Grantham (Elizabeth McGovern)

Who she is: Cora is an American heiress married to Robert, with whom she had Mary, Edith and Sybil. She has a fun muddled accent and enjoys providing commentary on strange English customs from an American perspective, which makes her a valuable asset for stateside viewers.

Why she ranks here: Cora senses that Edith is upset and, after learning of the conundrum, takes it upon herself to instead appeal to the queen on Edith and Bertie’s behalf. It works. Hurrah for involved mothers!

18 & 19. King George V (Simon Jones) and Queen Mary (Geraldine James)

Who they are: King George V was the grandfather of the current queen, Elizabeth II. He married Mary of Teck, and together they had six kids — five boys and one girl, Princess Mary, who appears in the movie.

Why they rank here: They’re very powerful in life but don’t do much for the plot, other than show up at Downton and later allow Bertie to stay home with Edith, so they land in the middle(ish) of the ranking.

17. Richard Ellis, perhaps a valet? (Max Brown)

Who he is: Richard works for the royal family and, just like Barrow, seems to get the short end of the stick from time to time.

Why he ranks here: Richard appears to be sweet on Barrow, which is proven true after he bails Barrow out of jail and later kisses him. Though this is admirably bold for the era in which “Downton” is set, Barrow was only jailed in the first place because he went to a gay club with another man after Richard was extremely late to a date he had planned with Barrow.

16. John Bates, valet (Brendan Coyle)

Who he is: Bates is Robert’s soft-spoken valet, and Anna Bates’s husband. He was hired at Downton after having saved Robert’s life while they both served in the second Boer War.

Why he ranks here: Though Bates usually tries to avoid stirring up trouble, he and Anna mastermind a plan to (rightfully) regain control of Downton from the royal family’s servants.

15. Lucy Smith, lady’s maid-turned-companion of Maud Bagshaw (Tuppence Middleton)

Who she is: Lucy, said to be a lady’s maid, accompanies the Crawleys’ relative Maud Bagshaw to Downton for the royal visit, during which Violet tries as best as she can to figure out why the childless Maud hasn’t listed Robert as a beneficiary in her will. Maud prefers to call Lucy her companion, and it is later revealed that they are actually mother and daughter.

Why she ranks here: Though uncomfortable with the tiff between her mother and Violet, Lucy stands her ground when it comes to her inheritance — commendable, given how frightening Violet can be.

14. Princess Mary (Kate Phillips)

Who she is: Princess Mary is the king and queen’s only daughter. She prioritizes her duty to her country over her own happiness and therefore remains in a loveless marriage to a dull, controlling man.

Why she ranks here: Princess Mary struggles with what to do about her marriage, given that a divorce would toss the royal family into scandal. After Tom spots her crying about it outside Downton — as an Irishman, he has no idea who she is — the two of them chat vaguely about obligations to their respective families. Princess Mary is inspired to stand up to her husband, telling him that they have no choice but to change for both of their sakes.

13. Henry Talbot, co-owner of Talbot and Branson Motors (Matthew Goode)

Who he is: Henry and Mary got married at the end of the series, and they have a daughter together. Though he lives at Downton, Henry often travels to different car shows for work (and fun).

Why he ranks here: Henry spends most of the movie away at a Detroit car show because the actor who plays him wasn’t able to fit a full “Downton” shoot into his schedule. He nevertheless receives an entrance scene so dramatic that it rivals the king and queen’s. (Author’s note: I will forever think of Matthew Goode as the guy from 2004′s “Chasing Liberty.” If you’ve seen that, you know how much he puts up with in it, and you’ll agree that Mr. Goode deserves this dramatic scene as restitution.)

12. Charles Carson, retired butler (Jim Carter)

Who he is: The curmudgeonly Mr. Carson rose through the ranks at Downton and eventually became the butler. Though he retired because of health issues, he worked for the Crawleys for so long that the family members, especially Mary, treat him as one of their own. He is married to Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper.

Why he ranks here: Mary asks Mr. Carson to replace Barrow as butler for the duration of the royal visit, and he agrees. This is rather mean to Barrow on both of their parts — he’s trying his best! — but it’s hard not to notice the respect with which the Downton staff treats Mr. Carson.

11. Isobel Grey, née Crawley, Baroness Merton (Penelope Wilton)

Who she is: Isobel, a former nurse, moved to Downton at the start of the series with her son, Matthew. She remained close to the Crawleys even after Matthew’s death — becoming close frenemies with Violet while co-chairing the hospital — and later married Lord Merton.

Why she ranks here: Isobel tries to act as a mediator in the conflict over who will inherit Maud’s wealth. Unlike Violet, she is able to sense that there is more to Maud’s relationship with Lucy, and encourages Maud to tell Violet the truth in order to put the argument to rest once and for all.

10. Beryl Patmore, cook (Lesley Nicol)

Who she is: Mrs. Patmore is the witty cook who runs Downton’s kitchen. She is exceedingly strict but cares deeply for those she knows well, stepping in as a mother figure to her assistant, Daisy.

Why she ranks here: Along with Daisy, Mrs. Patmore is never afraid to speak her mind — especially when it comes to the royal staff invading her kitchen.

9. Elsie Carson, née Hughes, head housekeeper (Phyllis Logan)

Who she is: Mrs. Hughes is the head housekeeper. She is married to Mr. Carson.

Why she ranks here: With Mr. Carson technically out of Downton, Mrs. Hughes is the most powerful person downstairs. She is the no-nonsense type, and will always look out for her people.

8. Thomas “Tom” Branson, co-owner of Talbot and Branson Motors (Allen Leech)

Who he is: Tom came to Downton as a chauffeur but became a member of the family after marrying Sybil Crawley, against her family’s wishes. They eventually warmed up to him and, following Sybil’s death, he continued to help manage and live at Downton for his daughter’s sake.

Why he ranks here: Tom doesn’t consider himself to be a member of the aristocracy given his humble roots and, as such, is likely the most level-headed character upstairs. Not only does he provide emotional support to Princess Mary and Lucy, two strangers, but he also saves the king’s life.

7. Violet Crawley, Dowager Countess of Grantham (Maggie Smith)

Who she is: As Robert’s mother, Violet is the senior member of the Crawley family. She reveals to her granddaughter Mary that her health is failing, and as such, aims to tie up all her loose ends.

Why she ranks here: Yes, Violet’s quarrel with Maud is a bit much, but it is comforting to see that she has remained her witty, combative self. After someone accuses her of being Machiavellian, for example, she responds, “Machiavelli is frequently underrated. He had many qualities.”

6. Mary Talbot, née Crawley, heir to Downton (Michelle Dockery)

Who she is: Mary is the eldest Crawley daughter and co-owns Downton with her father.

Why she ranks here: Though Mary can be quite prissy at times, it’s notable that Violet points to her, and not Robert, as the future of Downton. As might be uttered in HBO’s “Succession,” Mary is the No. 1 Boy.

5. Thomas Barrow, butler (Rob James-Collier)

Who he is: Barrow, a former footman, stepped in as butler at Downton after Mr. Carson retired.

Why he ranks here: Barrow was an irritating backstabber for much of the series, but we eventually got to know and appreciate him. When Robert and Mary inform him that Mr. Carson will be taking over for the duration of the royal visit, Barrow is appropriately snippy and storms off. The act of insubordination takes Robert by surprise and, instead of firing Barrow, he admires him.

4. Daisy Mason, assistant cook (Sophie McShera)

Who she is: Once a kitchen maid, Daisy worked her way up to being Mrs. Patmore’s assistant.

Why she ranks here: Daisy’s rebellious streak is more evident than ever before when the royal servants arrive. She has fully come out of her shell and amusingly defends Downton at one point by saying, “We’re not footballs, Mr. Bates, we don’t deserve a kicking!” They most certainly do not.

3. Edith Pelham, née Crawley, Marchioness of Hexham (Laura Carmichael)

Who she is: Edith is the second Crawley daughter, and Marigold’s mother. She is married to Bertie.

Why she ranks here: Though she was for a long time the self-pitying Crawley sister, Edith has finally learned to take a stand when called for. She is very direct with Bertie about his needing to turn down the king’s assignment and, after Bertie says that she should have told him earlier that she was pregnant, she informs him that he will not be making any of this her fault. Growth! We love to see it.

2. Anna Bates, née Smith, lady’s maid to Mary Talbot (Joanne Froggatt)

Who she is: Anna is Mary’s lady’s maid but has become more of a friend over time. (Remember, she helped deal with the whole Pamuk-dying-in-Mary’s-bed situation back in the first season.)

Why she ranks here: Anna spearheads the downstairs rebellion and also blackmails the royal seamstress, who has been stealing from Downton throughout the visit. How far our meek Anna has come.

1. Maud Bagshaw, Crawley relative and lady-in-waiting to Queen Mary (Imelda Staunton)

Who she is: Maud is a baronness who serves the queen. She is a cousin of Violet’s late husband and somehow inherited an estate from him. She and Violet aren’t the best of friends.

Why she ranks here: American viewers might recognize Imelda Staunton as Dolores Umbridge from the “Harry Potter” films and, while Maud isn’t at all evil, she is just as stubborn. It’s difficult to win a fight against Violet — she’s the Dowager Countess, for heaven’s sake! — but Maud has what it takes, and seems to care endlessly for her daughter, Lucy. If they ever do make a movie sequel, we hope Maud makes a special appearance.

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