ABOUT

Welcome to the second of our forum-wide Drabble Challenges! The forum has grown so much since we first did this, and I hope we'll see lots of new talent as well as those of you who have been with us for a while. We have some amazing writers here and I'd love to see everybody participating and having fun.

Just to remind you of the rules of the game, which will be precisely the same as last time. We'd usually kick off with myself posting a prompt and then somebody responding with a drabble inspired by that prompt. I previously said 100 words (give or take a few words) but we ended up writing so much more than that and this time I'll not impose a word limit, as long as people don't get carried away! Whoever responds with a drabble in responsible for posting the next prompt.

Here's an example of how your response should look (and I'm lazy so I'm using the prompt from the previous drabble challenge):

Mrs. Hughes, "birthday"

There’s nothing like a birthday to bring them all together. Even Thomas joins them, but she suspects it has more to do with the bottle Mr. Carson brings clinking into the servant’s hall. O’Brien presents her with a veiled hat she’s put together herself, and she’s so touched she thinks she might cry. But she won’t. She’ll have none of that amongst her staff, least of all from herself! Somehow, Lord knows how, they’ve become a family. She, despite the sacrifices she’s made just to get here, is part of a family.

For Elsie, that’s the greatest gift of all.

Your next prompt is:
Vera Bates, "lonely"

Like last time, there's only one rule I really will enforce. The same character/pairing cannot be suggested twice in a row. So if someone has just responded to an Anna/Bates drabble, the next prompt cannot involve Anna or Bates as primary characters, nor is the drabble to be other character discussing that relationship. I'd really love to see some variety here people.

As always, if you have any questions you can PM either myself or Scarlet and we'll be happy to clear up any confusion.

Without further ado, the lovely Mei is going to kick us off... (and not with Vera Bates, "lonely", though I'd have no objections to this)

Yay! I am sooo excited, you guys. And sorry, Bex, but for my first drabble I simply MUST do something with Pregnant!Sybil which has absolutely no bearing on my real life....

Sybil - Maternity Wear

They had purchased the full-length mirror around Christmas, entirely for her benefit ("I don't really use a mirror!"ť had been one of his first shocking disclosures of their married life), and just in time for her waistline to begin stretching to unglamorous proportions. Sybil peered into the polished metal surface and watched her reflection stare glumly back, both images agreeing on a single thought:

It looks hideous!

"It looks very fetching on you!"

She was a bit astounded, for her husband must be referring to the sack of cloth currently draped over her body, the one that the shopkeeper had rather liberally labeled as a"maternity frock". Even more odd was that she could see he meant every word, not that he ever had any genius for artifice, but could he truly think she looked becoming in this shapeless square of puce cloth?

Sybil suppressed a scoff. What did he know anyway? The man could barely dress himself, such as it was, and it was only two days ago that she had stopped him from putting on a pair of mismatched socks.

"Thank you, darling," she ground out. He kissed her cheek and left for work, leaving a muttering wife in his wake.

It wasn't long before she decided."Something must be done!"ť she informed her reflection, for no amount of changing times, hard work, and idealism could take the fashion sense out of a girl who'd grown up shopping for new frocks twice a week.

---

She had what they jokingly referred to as"pin money"ť, though really it was just a tiny allowance that she could use to buy personal frivolities. No pearl necklaces or sapphire pins, to be sure, but buttons, ribbons, and colorful spools of thread were all well within the budget.

Her daily trip to the market included a few extra stops that morning, and when she arrived home dinner was duly put off so she could set to work immediately. It didn't take long till she was satisfied - say what you will about Ladies of leisure, but they knew their way around a needle and thread - and by the time Branson arrived home she was absorbed in admiring her altered image, doing small twirls in her newly trimmed garment in front of the the mirror.

"What do you think?"ť she asked excitedly when he waltzed into the bedroom, unlacing his tie. Branson looked confused.

"Isn't that just the same dress from this morning?"ť

Sybil paid no mind, and continued her preening. She knew she looked fabulous, fabulous and pregnant, and what did he know anyway?

And now, since I am such an obliging creature -

Next Prompt:

Vera Bates - Lonely

Vera Bates - lonely

Vera dragged on her cigarette as she sat on the back wall in the cold night air and stared up at the lights on the top floor of the house. The glow was coming from the bedroom and she kept her eyes on the closed window until they started to become painful and she had to blink away the tear that had formed there. This was bloody stupid! They were man and wife and still John persisted on acting like they were strangers and she understood that he needed time to readjust to living with a woman rather than having one on a pedestal but this had long since gone past the point of being ridiculous.

Perhaps she would have to become a bit more aggressive? He always had needed a bit of prompting after all.

Cora and Sybil, being a mother

Cora and Sybil, being a mother

Sybil had heard of indulging one’s children, but this really was absurd. Tom was appalled – his poor socialist sensibilities were terribly offended by the sheer volume of gifts, and the cost was better left unconsidered – and she was aghast, but Mama...Mama was in her absolute element and Sybil couldn’t help but envy the ease with which her mother sorted the various items, envy the knowledge she could never imagine possessing, and thirty solid years of irrefutable proof that her mother had been a good mother and had been everything she had ever needed. Sybil had it all to come.

She peered across at her mother tentatively as she regarded a rather ghastly looking blanket she was sure Auntie Susan had picked out with nothing but the best of intentions, but not all of her child’s possessions had to be green just because her father was Irish.

“Mama...did you ever think you might not make a good mother?”

There was a long silence as Cora discarded the horrible thing, but Sybil did not miss the flicker of her eyes, even from halfway across the room, and for a moment the regret was as clear as the feel of her child kicking underneath her hand. Edith was gone now, mistress of Strallan House, but her portrait lingered on her mother’s bedroom wall.

Cora smiled sadly. “My darling girl, I think it all the time.”

Next prompt: John Bates, regrets

John Bates - Regrets

They are lying side by side under early morning light when she asks him:

“What do you regret most of all?”

He could fill the sea with his answers. The drinking. The fighting. Vera. They gather around him like stones, piled high upon each other like so many crude alters, waiting for him to offer up some kind of atonement. He once thought that the sacrifice of love, the companionship of the woman now beside him would be enough for a proper penance.

He carefully places his hand over her brow, and traces the side of her face garlanded with straw-gold hair. At his touch the regrets seem to reform themselves, from mountains of cast stones screaming for restitution to a smooth stone bridge, where his Anna waits there smiling at the other side, and he realizes:

“For the life that has brought me to you, I regret nothing at all.”

next prompt:

Lavinia and Richard - a chance at happiness

Lavinia and Richard - a chance at happiness

Lavinia surprised herself with how easily she was able to manipulate everyone around her, sometimes.

Mary was a threat. A threat that might draw Matthew's affections back to herself, and while Lavinia didn't dislike her, she longed to be everything to Matthew. After all that had happened, she needed security, and she felt so safe with him. Richard was a complication, and one that needed to be eliminated at once.

As soon as she told Mary the truth about their past, she knew she was safe. She covered up later, of course, fumbling just enough to leave a trace of doubt in Mary's mind, allow her to feel insecure, show her that she didn't hold utter power over any man. No matter how desperately she loved, nor how seductively she behaved, she would win nothing. Not Matthew. Not Richard.

Richard was going to suffer for what he had made her do, and what he had done to her. He had told her he cared for her.

He had had his chance at happiness, and she wasn't going to allow him another.

Next prompt:

Gwen Dawson - Impossible Achievements

Gwen Dawson, Impossible Achievements

When she’d first come to Downton she’d found the house very near unmanageable. A labyrinth of rooms and corridors that all looked the same, and where you could hardly hear a person coming for the carpeting—Lily had startled her once so badly that she shrieked and dropped a neatly folded stack of Lady Edith’s summer clothes. But she’d got the hang of it eventually, learned to flit about as quick as any of them who’d been there longer, silent as a little ghost.

The typewriter had been a great mystery, too, and it had taken her much longer to find order in that chaos of shining keys and intricate machinery. She started with two fingers plucking out the necessary letters like a nervous hen pecking corn, but of course the book said that wasn’t the right way at all. It was months before she could do it without looking at her hands, but by then it was almost like she didn’t have to think. Her fingers knew the placement of the alphabet, had learned to churn out words the way she thought girls might learn to dance—like the music spoke through their bodies without a conscious thought ever having to pass through their heads.

Even after that, she had never truly thought she’d find a job. The idea of it was hazy and far off like a shape in the clouds, something that was only there if you looked just right, and maybe not even then. But she’d done it, or rather Lady Sybil had, and some days when she used her own key to let herself into the office, switched on the light and sat down at her desk where the typewriter was ready and waiting, she could hardly believe what her life had become. She marveled regularly at her own luck.

But when, in her best dress that she’d made after using her own wages to buy the material, she stepped into the tea room that was by far the nicest in Ripon, she felt that this was the most impossible, the most difficult of anything she’d ever done. She fidgeted with the brim of her new hat, shifting from foot to foot as she glanced nervously about. It seemed incredible that she should be allowed to dine here, amongst people who might once have employed her to make up their beds and discreetly tidy their rooms once they’d left them.

“Gwen!” Lady Sybil appeared, beaming and waving a gloved hand enthusiastically so that Gwen blushed with a mixture of pleasure and anxiety. People looked up from their tea to eye them with interest.

“My Lady—” Gwen began tentatively.

“Oh please, Gwen! Sybil will do just fine.” Lady Sybil slipped an arm through hers and led them through the maze of little white tables to one of their own, where tea was already laid.

They sat, and after delicately choosing an egg sandwich from the stand Lady Sybil said, “Go on Gwen, I’ve come to hear all about your new job and I can’t imagine that I ever shall if you keep silent the whole time!” She sipped her tea and fixed her eyes on Gwen, who gave a small laugh, then quickly focused on her own cup where swirls of unstirred milk still lingered. She smiled shyly and cleared her throat. Once it would’ve seemed quite ridiculous that anyone like Lady Sybil could take an interest in her life, but Gwen found that, under her friend’s warm gaze, it began not to seem so impossible after all.

Rosamund, homesick

Rosamund, homesick

(As if I could resist a prompt with my favourite sexy ginger lady!)

Being far from home is a state Rosamund is more than used to by the 1920s. On the first day of that year she is humiliated in her childhood home and she knows that by the end of the following week, and by no fault of her family who are embarrassed for her which might well be the worst thing, it will be around London and the home she has made for herself will be unbearable.

If she were a different woman – a braver, more respectable sort of woman that her Mama had always wished she would be – then she would have weathered the storm and seen the whispering and gossiping off with perseverance and a well-placed sharp word. But she can’t bring herself to do it anymore. Can’t bring herself to smile and keep pretending that everything in her world was rosy. So she packs up her clothes herself - she can’t stand the thought of looking for another lady’s maid just yet, perhaps not ever - and heads for the continent. Paris is far from home but it is safe and no one knows her name.

Except for Sir Richard Carlisle of course who, it seems to Rosamund, appears to be attempting much the same task. The month she had planned extends. Weddings pass at home - both of which she’s invited to but neither of which she wants to attend because the first reminds her that some people get all the luck and the second makes her miss Marmaduke more than she thought she could - and there is a new child and still she stays in her new home.

“It’s been nearly a year Rosamund, are you planning to go back this Christmas?”

“Of course not darling,” she pressed a kiss to his cheek as they walk past the train station, for once not the people that are coming and going constantly. “Why would I when I’m perfectly happy here?”

“It’s your home, no matter what else.”

“Downton hasn’t been my home for a very long time,” she smirked and curled her arm tighter through his, knowing that the pressure would tell him the truth even if she couldn’t. “And I don’t miss it you know. Not a bit.”

Next prompt: Thomas, chameleon

Wait..do I ship Rosamund/Richard now?

Thomas – Chameleon

In his father’s house he was the avid apprentice – You put the gear in backwards, Tom! Now pull it out and do it over!

He hated clocks. And he hated his father even more.

…

Out on the streets he was the tiny thief – Watch that mark careful, Tommy. You’ll only get one chance and if you come away with nothing it’s a sure thrashing.

He didn’t mind the stealing. But he could never stomach handing his earnings over to someone else.

…

In the children’s home he was the subdued student – Read that portion again, Mr. Barrow, this time without affectation. They’ll be a caning for you if you do otherwise.

He liked learning. But the way the schoolmaster stared at him made his insides churn.

…

At Downton Abbey he was the flawless footman – Thank you, Thomas, that will be all. Could you inform Anna and O’Brien we’re all ready to go up?

He wanted to be a valet. But either way he’d be taking orders from someone else.

…

“Got a light, O’Brien?”

She extended the match and they both began to converse – Breath in. Breathe out. Inhale. Exhale.

She knew it all – his demons, his strengths, what little virtues he retained from babehood – and still she stood beside him. The world had chewed them up and spit them both out, made them put on mask after mask per another’s bidding.

But there were no masks here.

With her he was his true self.

Next Prompt:

Daisy Mason - Till Death Do Us Part

(I felt I needed to do this one )


Daisy was red in the face. Her heartbeat could be heard in her eardrums. Gripping tightly to her wedding dress (if that's what you wanted to call it.) She walked up the steps with Mrs. Patmore by her side. Daisy stayed quiet until she couldn't no more.

"I'm sorry. But...I cant...can't go through with this." She said digging her nails into Mrs. Patmore's arm. "It's lying i'll be lying to a dying man. It's not right!" She squirmed a little at the thought.

She liked William, but not that way. Maybe in time she would but not now. The little woman's breath staggered as they almost reached the top of the stairs. Mrs. Patmore wasn't listening to what she was saying, only telling her to shush up and be a good girl and marry the 'poor fellow'.

Total and complete guilt rushed over her head. She felt like fainting. The sweet words William had spoken to her the night prior. How he wanted her to take his money after he.......

The two women stopped in front of the door before walking into Williams bedroom. "Now then," Mrs. Patmore said digging out a cloth out of her pocket and dabbing the beads of sweat off of her forehead. "Don't worry. Everything will be alright."

The girl shot Mrs. Patmore a glare, and before she knew it she was in front of The Dowager Countess herself along with everyone else who had taken time out of their busy lives to see the wedding. Daisy managed to force out a smile at William before his hand engulfed her own. Taking a deep breath, the vicar began. Right there and then, Daisy knew she would never forgive herself for lying to William not until she's long gone.



(Edith: Jealousy)

These least beneficial way for you to pass-up a partner is planned to be chilling correctly along all of them learning you could‘w not get them.
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