broadwaybaggins asked:

Mary and Matthew #23


Love is like light.

Sunlight in Manchester is very different than sunlight in Yorkshire. Matthew notices this when he steps out into the garden of Crawley House. Strangely enough, he only notices this after he first meets Mary Crawley.

Candlelight illuminates his first proposal. He loves Mary Crawley, he is sure he does, but when he looks back, he didn’t love her as much as he does in the end. Just as candlelight does not illuminate as much, so his young, innocent love for her does not run as deeply.

The war is darkness. It is gas and smoke obscuring an already cloudy sky. And Lavinia is the sun, or she tries to be, just as the sun tries to shine on the fields of France. Both are unsuccessful.

But he doesn’t realize how much light the sun gives, even in its halfhearted state. And when Lavinia dies, when the trying sun goes away, he feels nothing but blackness.

There is a light though. It is Mary, of all people. And she has always been there, even when he can’t see it. Sometimes she is closer, sometimes she is farther. But she is his true light.

There are clouds on the night he proposes. Snow falls gently around them. Even though it is dark, Matthew has never felt sunlight so bright in his heart.

Fractured Negotiations: Journey’s End

For the precious and oh-so patient flailinggirl who requested this months ago. I’m so sorry for the wait, dear one, but I hope you enjoy this! Thanks so much to miscreantrose for her eyes and heart she poured over this. 

The first writing of spring break. Parts 1-3 can be read here.

She cannot breathe.

They’d just crossed an ocean—an ocean, for God’s sake—after surviving a war, after she’d given birth out of wedlock and cared for a newborn in the midst of bombings, rations and parental scorn, after she’d wondered and prayed for two years without knowing if she’d ever see him again, after living day to day without any assurance he still lived. Walking up a few steps shouldn’t be so intimidating.

But it is. Oh God, it is.

She’s staring at the house, she cannot help it, the absolute American-esque quality of it striking her squarely in the gut as Isaac tugs at her collar.

“It’s alright, Mary,” Charles whispers, and she exhales audibly, kissing her son’s dark head as her eyes never stray from the front porch. “They’re going to love you.”

She nods absently, wondering how he can be so certain that his parents will love and accept his recently acquired British wife and son, remnants from a war that took him across the Atlantic and into her life.

“And if they don’t?”

The fear escapes her before she can call it back, and she bites her lower lip as he kisses her forehead.

“They will,” he assures her, touching Isaac’s nose playfully. “And they know you’re coming, so this isn’t a surprise.” He stares at her, easily reading that his reassurances are doing very little to placate her overly-sensitized nerves. “Trust me. Alright?”

She does trust him. But she’s not entirely certain he is right. His arm tightens about her waist, and she inhales as deeply as she can, absorbing the breeze on her face as it rushes against her legs and toys with her hair. She wishes Aunt Tessa were here as she stands so very close to the unknown, the unknown who are now her family.

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“Women like me don’t have a life. We choose clothes and pay calls and work for charity and do the season. But, really, we’re stuck in a waiting room until we marry.” “I’ve made you angry.” “My life makes me angry, not you.

gif request meme // anon asked: downton abbey + most attractive