Would you do 18.Family headcanon for our favourite couple?
Oh yes. Yes yes yes. Cobert &
The Family Crawley
Robert is through and through a people-person, HIS people. He is/was
a Mama’s Boy (TM)
desperate for his father’s approval, especially since they were quite different in personality. His father was rather quiet and stoic, he loved to travel and get away from Downton - Robert is very much not quiet and emotional, and he should never like to leave Downton.
loyal to his sister, even if they didn’t really get along THAT well all the time. Before ANE, I felt sure Rosamund was the elder sibling, but now that we know she’s not, I still think she’s only a year or two younger than Robert, making her around three-ish years older than Cora.
amazed by his slightly elder cousin, James. Amazed in the truest sense of the word: sometimes shocked at his crassness, sometimes in awe of his spirited whims. He loved him, really. It did sometimes feel as though his father and James were closer than Robert and him, but it didn’t bother Robert. His uncle was even more stoic than his father and used to intimidate him when he was little.
adoring of his little daughters, though uncomfortable around them. Now he doesn’t know how he’d exist without them. First of all, girls in general were (and are) a mystery to him; now add the fact that he felt he never held anything more pure and precious in his whole life when each was born. Until they became actual women, he thought they were thoroughly pure and precious. They were girls, after all. Girls are angels without any sharp edges or bad thoughts, right? The finer, fairer, and gentler sex. He knew a little of their personalities (Mary = determined; Edith = sensitive; Sybil = joyful), but that’s generally where it stopped. He felt too uncomfortable to be around them too often when they were babies. They cried, and it made him nervous and upset (what was wrong?). When they were just beginning to toddle, they’d fall or try to speak to him but he couldn’t quite understand what they were saying. (“What does one say to a nineteen-month-old girl, anyway? How are you enjoying the weather?”.) At age five onward, their world blossomed for him. They were funny and clever and loved to perform their plays for him. Sybil sketched him pictures, which Cora included in her letters while he was fighting the Boers. Edith showed him her poetry, which he thought was quite good! Mary rode out with him on her pony and eventually he taught her to hunt. He liked that.
Cora longed for a family she could feel close to. She wanted to be a mother more than anything else. She:
was never particularly close with her own mother. They were very different and Martha always seemed to expect Cora to be a little braver or sharper than Cora ever was. She was never meek, not by any means, but she was an introvert, something Martha didn’t understand. Martha also exhausts Cora — she sees her as a small-doses person.
adored her father, but left on fairly uncomfortable terms with him. He didn’t disagree with the marriage, necessarily. But he felt his treasured daughter was being taken advantage of, even in spite of her earning a title.
had a lukewarm relationship with Harold. He was younger than her by only a year or so, but he was always a bit of a grumpy little guy. They banded together against their mother, and they’d do anything for one another if it came to it, but Cora thinks he could be smarter. He makes poor decisions. And Harold thinks she was the favorite and a goody-two-shoes. (She was.)
yearned for a nursery full of babies. She felt a little less in charge than Nanny was of her daughters when they were small, and she hated that. Nanny intimidated her, which Violet assured her was exactly how it should be. (“Nanny knows best, Cora. It is her job to know best.”) She was happy to nurse her babies, and thankful the doctor recommended it for she knew Violet would never have allowed it. It was the only time she could be alone with them. She would slip into the nursery and talk to them and touch their little noses and hold their little hands, marveling at how perfect they were. She felt a little like an intruder, and she always found herself asking if she could hold them. It was another thing she hated. She liked to buy little dresses and adored to see them dressed like little dolls. As they grew older, she felt a little on the back foot. She didn’t know what to do in the mother-role for teenaged girls. Her own mother had been so overbearing. She would catch glimpses of her own mother in her actions (especially with Mary) and, feeling strange and guilty about that, would whisk them away to London for new frocks and take them to eat at a hotel, winking at them that it was “their secret.”
really, really, really wanted to have a son. After the Titanic went down, and before she really got to know Matthew, she went to London to a certain Doctor Ryder. (Rosamund had spoken of him in conversation, though she didn’t outright suggest Cora should go. She and Rosamund are cordial at best. She wanted to be close, and they could have been, but Rosamund felt a little resentment at Cora ranking higher than she did in the home she grew up in). Cora was still young enough to conceive, physically. And she had a small operation to remove scar tissue left by Sybil’s birth which had been quite traumatic. She never told Robert, not out of fear he wouldn’t understand, but because he took to Matthew much sooner than she did (her loyalty was to Mary), he believed in the honor of things, and because she didn’t want him to get his hopes up if nothing came of it. Something did come of it. Alas … She couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge that the miscarriage would have been a son, that the baby was a boy. She never talked about him to Robert because she couldn’t bear it. It was too awful. She did tell him she was sorry, though she didn’t verbalize what for. He knew, though, and dismissed it.
It was Robert and Cora who brought the Crawleys closer after that first year of marriage, with Mary, really. The Crawley family had always been loyal to one another, but something about the way Robert and Cora looked at Mary warmed the family from the inside out.
Their grandchildren are the absolute light of their lives. They spoil them completely rotten. Way too many gifts. Way too many games. Way too many hugs and tickles and giving them sweets with a “it’ll be our little secret” as Mary, Edith, or Tom sigh heavily. (Robert is MUCH worse than Cora in giving the children sweets; Cora finds this adorable.)
They have way too many photos of them all on every surface. Cora commissioned an artist to sketch and oil pastel all their cherubic little faces. Robert constantly suggests that they all come and stay at Downton for an extended holiday. Again, Edith and Tom sigh.
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...When your Profound Bond enables you to see what the interdimensional wavelength of celestial intent is actually thinking about questionable presents, feat. Sam Puppy Face Level 9000
(ie: I was trying to explore the concept of Dean being the only one able to see Cas' extremely sassy floaty bits)
Happy Holidays everyone, I hope you've been safe, warm, loved and full of sugar and/or cheese. (Sorry this is late, I've been recovering from said sugar/cheese overload)
(Please don't repost, but do leave me a tip if you feel so inclined, it's much appreciated.)
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