sybil crawley [all]

The Signs as the Crawley-Sisters

Lady Mary Crawley // loving, loyal, cold on the surface, caring, when you get to know her; warm-hearted and kind, progressive, supportive, hard-working, self-confident, vindictive, emotional, courageous, willful, graceful, honest (Scorpio, Cancer, Capricorn, Aries)

Lady Sybil Crawley // open-minded, idealistic, sweet, politically engaged, strong opinions, brave, does not care about the things others say, energetic, lively, dreamer, dedicated, innovative, not afraid of change, understanding, respectful (Pisces, Aquarius, Leo, Sagittarius)

Lady Edith Crawley // reserved, kind, wants to be respected and loved for who she is, quiet, vengeful, romantic, survivor, enduring, curious, independent, never gives up, strong, good-hearted, can be selfish, longs for love and an own family (Taurus, Gemini, Virgo, Libra)

✗ INFP are absolute idealists: they have values inside them which they really want to live by. This makes them good at encouraging other people's growth, but can cause them to be too hard on themselves. They can be shy and reserved, but they're incredibly passionate and intelligent individuals with an innate need to change the world. [x]

Sybil x Tom Romance Week 2017
Day 7: Free Day

Pillow Talk Chapter 6

Sybil and Tom were lying in bed together, each reading their own books. Sybil was nestled into Tom’s side and his arm was wrapped around her shoulders. They had been settled like this for half an hour or so, not talking to each other as they were both focused on the words on the pages in front of them.

They were brought out of their silence by Tom’s phone notifying him of a new message on his bedside table.

He put his book down and reached over to grab his phone, careful not to take his arm away from Sybil.

She shifted slightly and looked over to Tom’s phone. She felt Tom let out a small quiet laugh against her.

“What’s up?” she said.

“Look,” he said, showing his phone to his wife.

Sybil looked at the screen to see an image of Tom’s sister, Meghan, on her honeymoon. It was an image of her and her new husband sightseeing in Iceland. She had sent the photo, captioned ‘We’ve spent all day exploring Reykjavik. Next step: whale watching!’ to the Branson family WhatsApp group, which included Tom, his siblings, his mother and most of his cousins (who were more like siblings), aunts and uncles.

“Looks like they’re enjoying themselves,” Sybil smiled.

Read it here.


Bouncy bouncy Sybbie.


the truth is they’re all getting too old for a mother’s control. they’ve grown up.

– requested by sansastarkae


Downton Abbey Modern AU
Father’s Day aesthetic

Thomas Barrow

**images not mine


Downton Abbey Rewatch + 1x06

yankeecountess  asked:

DRABBLE REQUEST! In which Mary and Edith band forces along with their brother-in-law in getting Sir Philip Asshat away from their pregnant sister (and thus helping save Sybil's life)--I have a mighty need for some ferocious "big sisters protecting baby sister" feels

Mary and Edith could tell that things were not alright when everyone was called into the library, save for Tom who had gone upstairs to be with Sybil. The concern on Dr Clarkson’s face was unmistakable, and before he even said anything they knew there was veritable cause to worry.

“It’s my belief that Lady Sybil is at risk of eclampsia,” Dr Clarkson explained gravely. 

Robert looked to Sir Philip Tapsell for an answer. “What is that?”

Sir Philip scoffed. “A rare condition from which she is not suffering!”

Edith and Mary glanced cautiously at each other. They hardly knew what eclampsia was, but being this close to Sybil giving birth, it was probably nothing short of calamitous. 

Dr Clarkson began to describe Sybil’s predicament. “Her baby is small. She’s confused, and there’s far too much albumin – that is, protein – in her urine. The fact is if I am right, we must act at once!”

From behind Matthew touched Mary’s shoulder reassuringly, but it did nothing to assuage Mary’s fears. Dr Clarkson’s panic was unnerving everyone greatly, except for Lord Grantham and Sir Philip. “And do what?” she asked. 

“Get her down to the hospital and deliver the the child by Caesarean section,” Dr Clarkson answered immediately.

From the shared expression on Edith and Mary’s faces, both of them would have picked Sybil up and carried her to the village hospital by themselves. What were they doing here, sitting in the library while Sybil gasped in pain, when they could be acting at once to help her?

“But is that safe?” Matthew questioned.

“It can’t be any less safe than what she’s going through now,” Mary snapped. “She’s giving birth, for heaven’s sake, and if what Dr Clarkson is saying is true, she’s going to be in even more danger the longer we wait.”

“Lady Mary, please do not assume these things when you are not trained in medicine in the slightest,” Sir Philip retorted.

Mary looked as if someone had thrown a lump of cow dung at her dress.

“Forcing Lady Sybil through a Caesarean section is the opposite of safe,” Sir Philip objected. “It would expose mother and child to untold dangers! She could pick up any kind of infection at a public hospital!”

“An immediate delivery is the only chance of avoiding the fits that are brought on by the trauma of natural birth!” Dr Clarkson countered.

Mary and Edith looked at each other helplessly as the doctors shot their own theories back and forth – Sybil wouldn’t get any better with the two doctors arguing, and from the agitation in Dr Clarkson’s voice, they could sense that Sybil’s life was on the line as well as her unborn baby’s. 

“A Caesarean section is a gamble which might kill either or both of them,” Sir Philip nearly shouted. 

“But if there’s a chance she might live if she has this … Caesarean section,” Edith piped up, “wouldn’t it better to give her that chance rather than leaving things to fate.”

“We aren’t leaving things to fate, Lady Edith, there is no reason to put her through that operation,” Sir Philip growled. 

Robert, rubbing his ruddy face, finally said, “I think we must support Sir Philip in this.”

“But it’s not our decision!” Mary protested. She knew Sybil wasn’t in any state to confirm what she wanted, but her husband would know what was best for her. “What does Tom say?”

“Tom has not hired Sir Philip, he is not master here, and I will not put Sybil at risk on a whim here,” Robert insisted.

Simultaneously, Edith and Mary shot up from their seats. “Now just listen, Papa!” Mary exclaimed. “It is Sybil who is giving birth, not you, and it should be her who decides how things will go. But she’s confused and hardly knows where she is, but Tom knows her best and is the only other person that can decide for her.”

“It should have been Sybil’s choice about who treats her, besides,” Edith put in. “You never asked her. Like Mary said, it’s Sybil who is giving birth, it is she who should be listened to.”

“And I know for a fact she is ill,” Mary conceded. “She told me herself, she knew something was off. That was a couple of days ago.” She sighed in shame. “I should have said something then. Then maybe this whole farce could have been prevented.”

“But what matters now is that we help her now,” Edith said. “I’m sorry Papa, but I believe Dr Clarkson—”

“So you’d put your own sister at risk over nothing?” Robert asked.

“She’s already at risk by giving birth!” Mary yelled. “Look, we need to talk to Tom right now, and the longer we wait, the more likely I think that something bad will happen to Sybil! If not by giving birth, then by hearing that a bunch of doctors were arguing about her health and not asking her or her husband what should be done!”

That was enough to convince everyone to clamber up the stairs to the gallery and and practically pull Tom out of Sybil’s bedroom. Dr Clarkson explained the situation as best he could, but all Tom was interested in was if Sybil could be helped at all.

“Could we get her to the hospital?” he cried.

Sir Philip held up his hand. “To move her now would be tantamount to murder.”

Dr Clarkson was still trying to convince Sir Philip that Sybil was indeed in danger, but all Edith and Mary could care about was Sybil’s muffled gasping from behind the closed bedroom door and Tom’s distressed face. The two of them could agree on one thing – time was running out.

“We should be at hospital by now!” Dr Clarkson said. “If we acted at once, the baby would be born.” 

“But if she had the operation now, do you swear you can save her?” Tom asked. His cracked from his own panic.

“I cannot swear it, no,” Dr Clarkson admitted, “but if we do not operate and if I am right about her condition, then she will die!” 

“If, if, if, if – I’m telling you there’s no need!” Sir Philip shouted. “There is nothing happening, only that she’s about to give birth! Why put her through more risk?”

“This is ridiculous,” Mary muttered, her hands in her face. She didn’t care if a Caesarean section might not save her, but if they didn’t take every chance they had to save Sybil then that would be a shadow that lingered over their family forever.

“Tom, Dr Clarkson is not sure he can save her,” Robert tried to convince Tom. “Sir Philip is certain he can bring her through it with a living child. Isn’t a certainty stronger than a doubt?”

“And isn’t taking a chance better than doing nothing?” Edith interrupted. 

“Lady Edith, we are not doing nothing, we are simply not putting Lady Sybil through an unnecessary operation—” Sir Philip started to say.

Mary had had quite enough. She slapped Sir Philip across the face.

“I’ve had it! I don’t care what you think — Dr Clarkson knows Sybil, he knows her symptoms, she told me about them herself, and I don’t give a damn about the risk from an operation. I’d rather she die from the operation knowing that we did what we could to save her rather than let her die right now as all of us stood by and did nothing because our papa trusted the word of some pompous unfamiliar doctor rather than the doctor who’s known Sybil her entire life!”

“So you’d have her taken to hospital?” Tom asked.

“I’ll carry her myself if I have to!” Mary exclaimed. 

From within the bedroom came a loud, agonizing scream.

“God help us,” Tom whimpered, looking like he was going to pass out. 

“That is it!” Mary gestured to Edith. “Telephone for an ambulance right now and tell them to get here as fast as the engine can go! Dr Clarkson, if there’s anything you can do to help Sybil in the meantime, please do so!” 

Edith nodded quickly and bounded down the stairs. Mary rounded on her papa and a fuming Sir Philip. “And I suggest the two of you go back downstairs and have a bit of whiskey, and don’t do anything to get in anybody’s way.”

“Mary, you are being absurd,” Robert shouted. 

“Am I?” Mary glared. “Your youngest daughter is clearly ill and each moment you say nothing is wrong, the closer she comes to dying. Papa, you had no right to interfere! You know nothing about pregnancy or childbirth or Sybil’s desires! You just wanted to prove she was still a lady by putting that arrogant prat in charge of her well-being!”

She raced into Sybil’s bedroom, tears streaming down her face and Matthew following at her heels. Downstairs, Edith’s voice could be heard speaking into the mouthpiece of the telephone. 

At the cottage hospital, Dr Clarkson hastily preformed the operation, delivering a small but otherwise healthy baby girl. But Sybil hovered between life and death for several days.

Neither Mary or Edith could hardly eat or sleep for several days. Sybil and Tom’s little girl was sure to survive, but Sybil had barely had the operation done in time. Dr Clarkson estimated that if they had hesitated for a few moments longer, Sybil would have died on the operating table. For now, it was a matter of her regaining her strength, coming out of the coma that she had been in since she arrived at the hospital.

“You and Edith did the right thing,” Matthew said to Mary as they sat outside, on their bench underneath the great big tree. “You stood up for Tom and helped Sybil when no one else was doing anything. She’ll be eternally grateful to both of you.”

“Was it enough, though?” Mary asked. “Sybil’s so weak she can barely eat.”

“But you gave Tom a little girl, and the hope that his wife will live,” Matthew said. “He’s grateful as well that you acted in spite of the doctors. Your actions probably did more to save her than the operation.”

“I just couldn’t bear it,” Mary sobbed. “They were standing there, arguing while Sybil was screaming her head off. It didn’t matter if she was in any danger or not, I would have done anything and everything to make sure she was safe. Any chance to save her, even if it failed in the end, I would have taken it. She’s my little sister, and I know I couldn’t live with myself if she died and I didn’t do anything.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m glad you smacked that other doctor.” Matthew smiled faintly. “He was starting to get on my nerves. My father said once that a doctor that treated everything as perfectly normal was a bit too narcissistic to trust.”

Mary smiled a little bit, but it disappeared as Edith came running towards them. “We have to get to the hospital now.”

“Why?” Mary was frightened. “What’s happening?”

“It’s Sybil. She’s woken up.”

*Six months later*

Matthew, Mary and Edith stood at the platform of the train station, saying their goodbyes to the Bransons. Sybil looked better than she had in months, and now that Dr Clarkson had declared her fit to travel, she and Tom were leaving Downton as soon as they secured tickets for the ship to Boston.

“Is Fiona warm enough?” Edith asked as the little baby grasped her little finger. 

“I think she is,” Tom said, grinning. “She’s as happy as a clam.”

Sybil bounced her little baby in her arms. “She’ll like Boston, I think. So much excitement.”

She looked up at Edith and Mary. “I don’t know if I’ve made it clear just how grateful I am for the two of you. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think either Fiona or I would be here today.”

“We did what we could,” Mary said. “It was Dr Clarkson who delivered your child.”

“But you were the ones who stepped in and took control. Edith, you phoned the ambulance, and Mary – well, you told that other doctor off. I never wanted him anyway.”

“As I said to Papa,” Mary said.

“Just know that, if ever I say another cruel word to either of you, I will never forget what you did for me, and for Tom and Fiona. I mean it,” Sybil promised. 

Mary touched Sybil’s arm tenderly. “We’re your sisters, and whatever happens we will look out for each other, no matter what.”

Sybil grinned. “I hope that still holds true now that you’re expecting.”

“Do you think I wouldn’t help Mary?” Edith asked. 

Sybil shook her head. “No, I know you would do anything to save her, just like you did for me.”

She handed Fiona to Tom before embracing both of her sisters. “God, I love you two so much.”

For all of their bickering and backstabbing, no one could deny that their sisterly love was capable of conquering all adversity. No one, not even a Harley Street doctor or the Earl of Grantham, could stand in their way.


Saw this floating around on my dash earlier…

au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate

and thanks to the wonderful gif creators in our fandom, like repmet, piperholmes, angiemagz, and many others…I was inspired

Lady Sybil Crawley

All she’s known is a world in black and white.

Her sisters have found color, as have her parents, and they’ve told her all about their beauty, but it’s hard to understand when you don’t know what “green” looks like, or to look in the mirror and be told that you have lovely blue eyes because you can’t grasp what “blue” is…

She’s jealous of her sisters, of her parents, of all her friends who have found and see color.  She wants to see it too, she wants to know what it’s like to look at the sky at dusk and understand what people mean when they describe it as “amber rose”. 

But there’s only one way to see color.

And Sybil wonders if she’s only eager to meet her “soulmate” so she can understand the beauty that everyone is talking about…

Maybe it’s her jealousy that she hasn’t experienced color (or “true love”), or maybe it’s her confusion over what she really wants.  But whatever it is, she pushes herself to her new role as “nurse”, making her focus about helping others, rather than wondering about reds, purples, and golds.  For the first time in her life, she feels a sense of purpose, and that’s enough to distract her…for now.

Tom Branson

All he’s known is a world in black and white.

His mother thinks he’s not trying hard enough; “Kieran found his soulmate when he was sixteen!"  Really?  Is that all that matters?  How can anyone think about anything when their country is on the brink of revolution?  When freedom may come at any day?  There’s something to be said about a world in black and white, or so he tells himself.  Though he knows that even that isn’t as simple as it sounds.

He needs work, he needs to help his family, and even though it’s away from the Emerald Isle (something he’s never completely understood), he goes to England, to Yorkshire, to a place called "Downton Abbey”, to work as a chauffeur for the Earl of Grantham, something he tells himself over and over will only be temporary, just until he’s made enough to help the family, and then he’ll go.  After all, he won’t always be a chauffeur!  Though he will admit, Lord Grantham is a decent employer…even if he is a representative of an oppressive class.  At least that’s one thing that unites the classes; being born into a colorless world.

He meets many people at Downton; some like him who still see in varying shades of light and dark, and some who sigh dreamily while looking into the eyes of the other, going on and on about the colors they see.  Is that all anyone thinks about?  Truly?  Though he cannot deny, he is a little curious…but there’s only one way to see color, of course.  And he’s far too engrossed in politics to spare such romantic notions a thought…for now.

That day…

They haven’t crossed paths, amazingly enough.  Her nursing has kept her busy, as has his work in his Lordship’s garage.  But Tom notices her name in his Lordship’s ledger…and how it’s connected to a book about Ireland.  And Sybil comes across some pamphlets he’s dropped, about women and the vote.  She picks up the pamphlets…and wonders if he’s aware he’s dropped them?  Well, she’ll just to go the garage and give them back!  She has some time now, before dinner.  Though she can’t help but find it fascinating...a revolutionary chauffeur.

She enters the garage, the strong scents of motor oil filling her nostrils.  Oddly, it’s not as unpleasant as she thought it would be.  “Hello?” she calls out.  She hears a man grunting from underneath a car.  “Oh!  Hello?  Um…Branson?” she asks.  All she can see are a pair of black boots and black trouser legs.

He drops his tools and turns his head, seeing a pair of black boots–women’s boots–approach.  He doesn’t recognize her voice, but he can tell that whoever she is, she’s posh.  Probably the youngest daughter to his Lordship, the only one he hasn’t met.  “Aye, milady, I’ll be right there,” he answers, putting his tools aside and sliding out.

He nearly bangs his head as he hears her let out a startling gasp.

His eyes fly to hers, wondering whatever is the matter…and his heart stops.


Or…or at least what…they think is color.

But it has to be!  Because…because suddenly her dress is…what is that?  He doesn’t know, because while people have told him what color is, he’s never been able to understand! 

She blinks and stares back at him, and even though his trousers and waistcoat are black, and his shirt is white…his skin…his skin his…well, she doesn’t know how to describe it, but…but it’s not black and white!

This is color.

THIS is color!

Which…can only mean one thing…

“Branson…?” she breathes, her heart beating so loudly, she’s sure they can hear it back at the house.

He takes a long, shaky breath.  “Tom…” he answers.

She smiles…and his heart speeds up.  “Tom,” she whispers back…and he holds his breath as she reaches forward…and touches his cheek with her soft, gloved hand.

“Sybil,” she introduces, her eyes growing wider as she looks deeply into his eyes.  They’re so beautiful…more beautiful than anything she could ever imagine…oh gracious, she must know their color, what color are they?  Whatever color it is, she knows it is her favorite.

Tom lets out a long, shaky breath…and leans his face into her palm.  Her lips part and he wets his own as his eyes move them.  This is his soulmate.  This woman…who just so happens to be the daughter of his employer, an English, Anglican, aristocrat…but he knows, not just because of the color that now surrounds his world, but because when he looks at her, he can feel nothing but the purest joy fill his heart.  His soulmate…he’s found her.  Here, at Downton Abbey of all places!

“Sybil…” he murmurs, his own hand rising to touch her cheek.  She shivers at the way her name sounds with his Irish lilt.  Her soulmate…he’s here.  She doesn’t care if he’s the chauffeur, she doesn’t care if he were…Uncle Tom Cobley!  He’s here…standing before her, touching her cheek just as she’s touching his. 

“You came,” she whispers, blushing and smiling as he grins at her words.  “No wonder I couldn’t understand what they meant; you were in Ireland!”

“And you were in your Yorkshire,” he replies, a deep chuckle in his throat, the sound causing her toes to curl deliciously. 

They both continue smiling at the other…and then, their eyes going back and forth from each other’s to their lips, Sybil murmurs, “yes…”


She smiles.  “Yes, you can kiss me.”

He grins and leans close.  “God knows it’s enough that I can kiss you,” he moans, before finally his lips caress hers, and their love, their bond is sealed for eternity, in the sweet passion of their first kiss.

…And just like color, nothing can begin to describe it, other than “beautiful”.


The Lady and The Chauffeur- Three Quotes [1/3]