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the mary & lavinia comment ficathon
a.k.a. the
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oltha_heri and oliveoyl and i get an excuse to post lots of prompts ficathonIt's a legit thing, okay! The world needs all the Mary/Lavinia adventures.
rules (?)
+ One prompt per comment. Feel free to submit as many prompt-comments as you'd like. The more the better! If you'd prefer platonic fic to shippy fic, just specify that in your comment.
+ If you respond to a prompt, include a title in the subject line of your comment if you are using a lj layout that has subject lines. If you're not, please put that same information at the top of your comment.
+ Okay, that's as authoritative as I feel like being right now!
+ Spread the word:
Masterlist of Responses
My dear, my dear, it is not so dreadful here by
oltha_heri - You reach out a hand, slowly oh so slowly you inch closer to the porcelain skin of her wrist, and then dark eyes are fixed on you.with grace in all she offers by
dollsome - You are Lady Mary Crawley. Cold and careful, soulless and heartless. Selfish. Thorn-sharp to those who would stand in your way.throw over your man, i say, and come by
screamlet - "Lavinia, what about London?" Matthew asks as he clasps my hands.it's you season by
dollsome - "It's tradition," Mary says. "It's barbaric," Lavinia says.Scandals Bear No Meaning by
femme_slash_fan (crossover with Upstairs/Downstairs) - The fact that Agnes Holland had stood by her good friend and, for the moment, only company at home, had meant a lot to Blanche Mottershead.The Truth Will Out by
femme_slash_fan - Lavinia had come to Mary’s side when she called, gently taking her hand, feeling the girl’s trembles and gently squeezing her hand.
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You are Lady Mary Crawley. Cold and careful, soulless and heartless. Selfish. Thorn-sharp to those who would stand in your way.
In a way, you've been waiting for Lavinia Swire your entire life. Granny and Aunt Rosamund scheme and smirk and all but cackle like the wyrd sisters: how eager they are, to watch you do what you have always been meant to, to unleash a talent you no doubt inherited from them. You may be a woman, your battlefield a drawing room, your rival an unassuming English rose with a smile that is inconveniently sweet and true. That doesn't mean you won't go in for the kill to take back what is yours.
You would have once. Edith will certainly attest to that, if asked.
And yet it only makes you tired, tired and sad and a little ashamed, sitting at tea and listening to your aunt and grandmother plotting the ruin of the mousy and inferior Miss Swire. You think of the way her hair catches the light at the dinnertable, hovering sweetly somewhere between red and gold. Everything about her seems soft and inviting; if chamomile tea and May mornings could be shaped into a person, they would be Lavinia Swire. You don't wonder that Matthew has had the good sense to fall in love with her. You can't blame him a bit.
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Perhaps it is the thought of Matthew that stays your hand. Your love of him: selflessness at last, and you don't even have anyone to show it off to. Matthew deserves a good girl, a kind girl like Lavinia after being dragged around by you every which way. He is living through hell; let him have his angel to think fondly of. To live for.
And yet it isn’t only that. You wonder what you would have thought of her if you’d met her in any other world, one where she was not Matthew Crawley’s Inconvenient Fiancee first and foremost, and never mind any of the other facets of her soul. Those under the roof at Downton certainly don't. You imagine shaking hands with her, hearing her name for the first time from her lips. A few years ago, you would have thought her very dull.
Now your standards have reinvented themselves. Now she seems quite wonderful. A treasure. The sort you'd want to call a friend, if you had any of those. You think you could tell her anything and she would take it to the grave. Let you cry on her shoulder. You are remarkably unacquainted with the shoulders of other people -- at least those that don't belong to the serving staff.
Your mind keeps wandering back to the garden: Lavinia crying, saying things that no one says, especially not here. Empty polite lies don't come naturally to her. No one could doubt that she has a heart.
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Perhaps you envy her.
If you ever admitted it aloud (which you won't), of course everyone would think it had to do entirely with Matthew. You almost wish it did. It would be so much easier to recognize yourself, then.
You wonder what she might see in you; perhaps you're softer in her eyes. You hope that she can feel it back -- this thing she's done to you.
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My poor bb Mary, and all I want is for Lavinia to hug her. And this is just so perfect in its characterisation, and brilliant!
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*cries*
Wonderful! <3
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Well done.
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I CAN'T HANDLE THIS. This gorgeous spot-on Mary POV, where: OF COURSE it's her destiny to be a raging snobby bitch, look at her pedigree, she was BORN to rip Lavinia Swire to shreds. And of course knowing that as an audience member, and then seeing it NOT happen, was how this entire ship started to grow in my little heart. AND YOU'VE EXPRESSED IT SO BEAUTIFULLY. Lavinia the unassuming red-and-gold English rose!!!! aaah. IF CHAMOMILE TEA WAS A PERSON. you are perfect.
You imagine shaking hands with her, hearing her name for the first time from her lips. A few years ago, you would have thought her very dull.
This is so right, and so Mary. The way in which these women defy each other's expectations is my favorite thing about them. LAVINIA, SAYING THINGS NO ONE SAYS. YES!!!! That is why I fell in love with her too, Mary!!!
dollsome, you get me. Thank goodness for you. Thank goodness for this. This is how OTPs get made.
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Like, I had even totally spaced on the fact that finding out Lavinia made a deal with Sir Richard to save her father/family from ruin was what made Mary really like her because THAT IS WHAT MARY IS DOING WITH SIR RICHARD TOO.
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