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hb-writes · 1 year ago

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Little Lady Blinder - Chapter 33

Uncertainties, 1919

Also available here on ff net or here on AO3.

Chapter Content Warning: canon-typical content

Clara startled awake to find she wasn’t at home in her own bed. She was sprawled out on John’s living room floor, her nieces and nephews all around her, a bundle of pillows and blankets spread out on the carpet. But it was quiet, the only sound in the house was the soft snoring of the kids…and some rustling up the stairs.

Clara rubbed her eyes. There was light coming in through the windows, so it was morning, but early enough that the kids were still asleep. She wondered when or how she’d fallen asleep, and for how long. She felt rested for the first time in a long stretch.

Whatever had happened, Clara certainly hadn’t meant to fall asleep the night before. Lizzie and the kids had done a good job in distracting her for the day, but Clara and Tommy had plans so she had wanted to know as soon as they were back so she could get home and prepare. Clara had expected the worst after breakfast the day before, after what Joseph had said, but the day had gone rather smooth—an exhausting, whirlwind of activity, sure, but good day nonetheless. They’d gone to a children’s tea, played games on the way back, had a scavenger hunt and built a fort for the kids to pretend to sleep out in the living room.

Clara had joined the kids in the fort once completed, but she hadn’t intended to stay over. She had a sleeping out of her own to prepare for, but she’d fallen asleep before the boys arrived home. She assumed it had just been very, very late by the time they all made it back to Small Heath.

Because if something had gone wrong…well, Clara assumed someone would’ve woken her. That’s what she told herself at least. If John hadn't come home or if he’d been hurt, Lizzie would have woken her straightaway. And if it was someone else…well, John would have woken her.

Clara was sure of it.

She turned over in her makeshift bed when footsteps sounded on the top of the stairs, Lizzie’s soft giggle trailing down to her on the living room floor. Beside her, Clara saw Robbie’s eyes open, a sleepy smile on his little face. Clara held a finger to her lips and Robbie nodded, closing his eyes and pretending to sleep, letting out deep, exaggerated breaths.

Clara waited for John and Lizzie to head out through the back before beckoning her nephew up. Together, the two of them traipsed over the sleeping bodies on their way to the kitchen. Lizzie’s basket was gone from the counter, but a few biscuits had been left behind on a plate in the center of the table.

“Can we play again today?” Robbie asked, climbing up on a chair to take a biscuit.

Clara shook her head. “Not today.”

Robbie deflated a bit in front of her. “Why not?”

“I have to go home. Uncle Tommy’s…” Clara considered it…why couldn’t Robbie come? It was meant to be just her and Tommy, but she figured he wouldn’t mind their nephew coming along. Robbie was the youngest, but he was never much trouble. Not compared to the rest of them, and Clara had enjoyed her time with him yesterday.

“I’m supposed to spend the day with Tommy, but maybe we can ask—”

“Mornin’,” John said as he came back through the door, mussing both kids’ hair as he reached out for a biscuit and leaned back against the counter.

“Lizzie said you lot behaved yourselves.”

Clara considered that. She supposed that overall, the kids had behaved though Joseph had been short with the poor woman throughout the day.

“She especially likes you, mate,” John grinned as he looked at his son.

“I like Lizzie,” Robbie said.

“Me too, mate.” John popped another biscuit in his mouth. “I’m going to get some more sleep. Don’t wake the others yet, yeah?”

Robbie stood up on the chair, reaching out for John and clasping his arm before he headed through the kitchen doorway. “Can I go with Clara today?”

John glanced at his sister. “You want him with you?”

Clara hesitated just a moment before nodding. “Can we go now?”

John shrugged. “If you want. Should be late enough now that Aunt Pol won’t drag you two off to church.”

And they could have a more substantial breakfast back home, Clara figured. A couple of biscuits weren’t fuel enough for an adventure like the one she had planned.

“Alright, mate," John said. "Go get dressed.”

Robbie scooted off the chair.

“Something warm,” Clara added as he moved toward the door, leaving Clara and John alone.

John pulled out a chair, sitting down beside her.

“Thank you,” John said. “Lizzie had no complaints. Said you weren’t a grump, either.”

John leaned to the side, fishing out his bill fold and setting a few notes on the table.

“You did good,” he confirmed.

Clara didn’t think she’d done much, though. It had been Lizzie who navigated all of the issues and tended to Robbie when he’d been upset. It was Lizzie who had done all the planning and the cooking and Clara had felt more that she was just along for the ride than that she had been especially responsible for helping with anything.

Clara left the bills sitting on the table between them and turned to her. “How was the races?”

“Good,” John said, taking another biscuit.

“They went late,” Clara offered, the words somewhere between a question and a statement. “The races?”

“Nah," John shook his head as he chewed and swallowed the biscuit. "We were celebrating at the Garrison.”

“Arthur and Tommy, too?”

John shook his head again. “Just Arthur and the boys.”

“Oh,” Clara nodded.

“You know how Tommy is,” he offered, studying her response.

Clara did know how Tommy was, but she still didn’t quite know what John meant. She didn't know what it meant that Tommy hadn't joined them in celebrating. She didn't know what it meant that he hadn't come to find her, either, and a bit of uncertainty curled into her stomach.

“You need me for anything else before you go?”

Clara shook her head, already deep enough in her own thoughts that there was nothing John could do to help her, nothing Clara would allow him to do to help.

“Alright then," John said as he stood up. "I’m back to bed before this lot wakes up. Go out through the back. Keep it down.”

As Clara and Robbie walked back to the house, the boy talked non-stop about their day with Lizzie, chattering on and on, but Clara was busy packing her bag in her mind, trying to remember everything that they’d need, strategizing on how she’d ask her brother to let Robbie tag along.

Clara imagined her brother was already awake. It wasn’t very early—already past the hour Charlie had offered to walk with her to the yard, and far past when Tommy usually elected to stay in his bed.

Either way, they’d have to be quiet, and Robbie had to let her do the talking. Clara told him as much as she fumbled around for the hidden key, unlatching the back door and letting them both into the quiet of the kitchen. Clara directed Robbie to the sitting room out front, settling him on the couch before backtracking through the dining room to draw back the shop’s curtain.

She pushed aside the very sudden thought that Tommy might be mad at her, that she was supposed to come back home from John’s last night to make sure there’d be no delay with their sleeping out, but the thought quickly vanished as the quiet stillness of the office took over her.

Clara passed her nephew in the parlor again, pressing a finger to her lips as she moved through the room and headed up the stairs.

Tommy’s door was shut, all the doors in the hall were. It was normal these days for Ada’s to be shut, and Finn was sleeping later and later these days, but not Tommy.

She knocked lightly on the wood, waiting a few seconds but hearing nothing, not even when she pressed her ear against the wood to listen.

“He already left.” Clara spun on her heel at the voice, her heart pounding as a hand reached out to catch her before she stumbled. “Just ten minutes ago,” Isiah added as he stood in Clara’s now open doorway.

Clara had questions—she wanted to know where Tommy went and she wanted to know why Isiah was in her bedroom—but both questions died on her lips when she spotted the cuts and bruising on Isiah’s face.

Clara pushed her loose hair from her face, her fingertips brushing over the scar on her brow.

“Just a scratch,” Isiah said, a cheeky grin on his face as he leaned back into the door frame. “Didn’t even need stitches.”

Clara nodded, unable to pull her gaze properly away from Isiah’s face, her mind subconsciously looking for more evidence of injury.

“You should see the other guy,” he said, nudging her.

“Is Finn—?”

“He's fine,” Isiah interrupted. “Passed out sleeping though.”

Clara meant to ask after the others—after Tommy and Arthur, and her cousins and everyone else who’d gone off to Cheltenham yesterday, but Robbie appeared at the top of the stairs before she could voice any of it.

“Did you ask him yet?” Robbie asked, the excitement in his voice falling as Clara started shaking her head.

“Maybe we’ll just play around the house instead,” Clara ventured. “...See if he comes back soon and then we’ll ask…or maybe we can see if Uncle Charlie’ll still have us...or…”

Clara’s mind was seeking alternatives, spurred on a bit by the frown on her nephew’s face, but her heart wasn’t in it, her problem solving hindered, clouded over, by the hurt and confusion and worry.

They’d made a plan. Tommy had promised no one would get hurt. And he’d promised they’d sleep out. They’d make a day of it. That’s what he’d said. Clara had been certain he would keep his word. Certain that her brother would come through. He'd promised.

“You can spend the day with me and Finn,” Isiah said, still leaning against the door frame as he watched his friend shifting through her thoughts.

The mere suggestion charged Robbie, a smile growing on his face, but Clara was slower to warm, cautious not of Isiah and his words. She knew it was an offer that she could trust, but of the idea of spending the day out with him and her brother unsettled her a bit. It had been a long time since Clara had passed one of her days out with the boys.

The boys tended to stray from home. They tended to cause trouble. Just days ago now Clara had been left dealing with her brother’s trouble and she wasn’t sure she wanted more.

Clara had been doing her best to stay clear of all that.

But Isiah was smiling at her, his eyes warm and bright as his eyebrows rose and fell a few times, the gesture taunting her as his smile reminded her what it was to pass a day by his side.

Clara huffed, just a quiet bit of resistance offered before she rolled her eyes, a quiet bit of curiosity stowed in her features.

“What do you have planned?” she finally asked.

Isiah shrugged. He knew Clara was already hooked despite the hesitation she was putting on. It didn’t much matter what Isiah had to offer her, what his plans were for the day. Some part of Clara knew it would be far better than sitting around here wallowing and trying to entertain the nephew she’d brought along for the ride.

“Yesterday was payday,” Isiah said, reaching into his pocket and producing a sleek handful of money.

Since John had paid Clara, they were both flush with cash. Clara hadn’t even been expecting payment for helping out with the kids, but either way, the money was in her pocket. It was a gift that was certainly more than she had deserved, but John had been in a good mood and he was always generous when he was in a good mood.

“We could go to the pictures,” Isiah said.

“But I don’t have any money,” Robbie whined.

“That’s alright, mate,” Isiah answered. “Go wake Finn and I’ll spot you.”

Robbie grinned, heading down the hallway without another word, and Isiah watched him go, waiting until turned into Finn’s bedroom before looking back to Clara.

She was looking at her brother’s door, Tommy’s door.

“He seemed in a hurry,” Isiah offered. “Something important.”

Clara nodded, pushing her hurt down beneath the excuse Isiah offered on her brother's behalf. She didn't know if he had said the words to make her feel better or to protect her brother. Isiah didn't know wither.

Tommy hadn't left her a note. He clearly hadn't been even remotely concerned about her when he left, but Clara was already trying to move past Isiah to find some paper in her bedroom.

“We should leave them a—”

On the floor below, a key fit into the door that led in off the lane, cutting Clara off. She raced past Isiah, moving down half a flight of stairs before Polly stepped into view, removing her hat as she looked up the steps.

“You missed a fine service,” Polly said. “Where’s your brother?”

Clara was prepared to answer fully, giving her aunt an account of each and every Shelby boy. Finn was asleep in his bed. John was home with the kids. Tommy was…out. And Clara assumed Arthur was still down the lane, asleep in his own bed. She was tempted, but that answer sounded like she was being smart, even in her own head. And Clara knew who Polly was really asking after, anyway.

“Isiah said he went out.”

Polly nodded, her gaze moving to the boy who stood at the top step. “Something important, I suppose,” she said, though Clara had the distinct feeling that Polly had no idea why Tommy wasn’t home…wasn’t where she expected him to be.

“And Finn?”

“He’s waking up,” Robbie said, venturing down the stairs and moving past Clara until he was within arms’ reach of Polly. “Isiah said I can go to the pictures with them. He’s gonna spot me.”

Polly lifted the boy from the stairs, holding him on her hip for a moment.

“And who said you four were going to the pictures?”

“We were gonna—” Clara started to explain her plan to leave a note. It wasn’t exactly aking permission, but it was something.

“Tommy was supposed to take me and Clara to sleep out, but he’s not here so we’re going to the pictures instead.”

Polly hummed, setting Robbie back on the steps as she studied her niece and the way she'd stayed quiet, letting the little boy provide the explanations.

“Well, you’d best go have something to eat before you go,” Polly said, directing Robbie towards the kitchen. “Best go search the cupboards.”

Polly beckoned Clara down the last few steps. Clara trailed behind her aunt as she walked through the dining room and into the shop, heading straight for the safe. She lingered a few paces away as her aunt leaned down to lean inside.

“No reason to take any money from that boy,” Polly said as she turned to hand Clara a small amount of money. “Family fund,” she added, as she guided Clara back through the shop.

“Can I have some?” Finn asked as he peeked his head around the curtains, a piece of bread and jam in his mouth.

“Your sister can carry it,” Polly said as they stepped into the dining room where the boys were all eating. “And I want you four to stick together. You go straight to the theater and stay away from the Cut,” Polly continued. “You watch your nephew. And you listen to Isiah. He’s in charge.”

Isiah beamed, but only for a minute, the smile on his face slipping away as Polly continued on.

“And if anything happens, you’ll deal with me,” she said, her gaze directed at Isiah. “Keeping out of trouble may be hard, but I’ll promise you Aunt Polly’s boot is harder. And find your father while you're out. Invite him to supper.”

By the time the kids made it to the end of Watery Lane, Polly’s words were akin to a distant memory to the boys, with Finn and Robbie wandering off ahead without a care. Finn had already taken the money from Polly off his sister for safekeeping, and he was spouting off, directing what they’d be doing with their day without stopping to gather the opinions of those around him.

Clara hesitated before the door to number 6 went out of view, stilling on the cobblestone and making Isiah backtrack a few steps to stay with her.

“What is it?”

Clara shook her head, taking a few steps forward.

“Come on now,” Isiah said. He nudged her with a gentle arm. “You really think there’ll be trouble with me by your side?”

Clara stared at him for a long moment before shrugging. It wasn’t too long ago that the two of them had been bested by the coppers, both of them worse off for the encounter, but things were different now.

Isiah was taller. Something in his face seemed changed. Older. Confident.

And he was a Peaky Blinder now—well, sort of one.

“I’ve got ya and you’ve got me, yeah?” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Heard from Finn you’ve been scrappin’ again. Probably don’t even need any of my help in a fight.”

Clara shrugged again, kicking at a pebble as she started walking. She wasn’t proud of the fight, even if they’d won. And she didn’t see Isiah grinning at her, focused as she was on her dirty boots as they moved through the streets.

“What really happened at the races?” she finally mumbled, sneaking a glance at him and finding her gaze lingering on his new scar again.

Isiah tapped the pebble Clara had been moving along before looking to her. The question felt like a test, one where there was no right answer. But he’d promised her nothing would change. Isiah had promised her that him being a Blinder wouldn’t change their friendship.

“You can’t tell your brothers I told you,” he said. “If they find you out, you blame it on Finn. Lad can’t keep his mouth shut anyhow.”

Clara chuckled at that, though she wasn’t sure she’d lie and blame her twin if it came down to it. She didn’t imagine it would come down to it, but even so, it felt malicious, even if it would be saving Isiah’s skin. Clara nodded anyhow. She needed the truth. Needed a bit of certainty.

“I’m not going to tell."

Isiah nodded before offering his tale, telling Clara all about the horses and the spectators, the Lee family and the money. He told her of the small cuts and bruises incurred by the men, himself included. And he told her of the crass words spoken on the way there and the way home. He told her all of it, the words flowing out like a story, like they had needed to be told, needed to be released from his brain.

Isiah hadn’t seen Tommy the whole time, he’d said. Tommy and Grace had gone off someplace special, and all Isiah knew was that it had been a successful day. That Tommy had been pleased. At least, that's what Arthur had said.

The information didn't satisfy her or soothe her. If anything, what Isiah told her had given her more questions than anything else, but Isiah had seemed lighter for sharing it, as if a weight had been lifted.

It was still too early for the pictures. The first showing wasn't until 11 am and anyway, the kids were still hungry even after having breakfast at home. Starving, and they had money to burn, money to spend on who lever they wanted. They could've gone to Hinkley's, but they bypassed their local bakery, heading through the streets to find something else that was open, eventually settling on a small shop none of them had ever been to, the four of them enticed by the big cakes in the window.

Clara felt a tingle in her limbs as they settled by the Cut with their bag of treats, the pastries taking on some semblance of a second breakfast as the morning sun warmed their bones.

They worked on the contents of the bag with a certain fervor before Isiah and Robbie left the twins with the leftovers to skip rocks. Clara remained with her brother, the two of them settled with their feet dangled over the edge of the canal while Isiah tried to teach her nephew what to do, the two of them practicing swinging their arm.

"What happened at the races yesterday?" Clara asked, trying again to get some type of information.

"I'm not supposed to say," Finn said around a bite of pastry. "Why are you so worried about it?"

"I'm not worried."

"You're always worried," Finn answered, the words touching on something deep within her. Didn't everyone think about things all the time? She asked the question to herself, watching her brother as he munched on his food, his gaze on Robbie and Isiah. Clara realized then that Finn didn't seem worried. He didn't ever seemed very bothered about anything, which didn't seem a bit fair to Clara, that her brother's mind could be so quiet. So calm. So kind to him in that way, when hers was certainly not.

In fact, it seemed that Finn had already moved on from her questions altogether, a stretch of quiet passing between them that left Clara feeling uncomfortably alone with her thoughts.

"Tommy let me drive the car yesterday," she offered into the quiet, the information coming out only to get Finn talking again. "Maybe he'll take you out today."

Finn shook his head. "Tommy's busy with the pretty little barmaid.'"

Clara recognized the turn of phrase as belonging to one of her brothers—Arthur or John—but she stowed the information anyhow, ignoring the sting she felt at knowing Tommy had skipped out on their plans to be with Grace.

By the time Clara looked up again, Finn was standing beside Robbie, trying to give his own two cents about rock skipping, showing off his technique, which was all well and good until Robbie tried to replicate it, whipping a rock across the canal. The sound of shattering glass came quickly, echoing across the water.

Clara sat in stunned silence, looking around the small area they were in, her eyes catching on a bit of movement down the lane, her ears catching on a small sound. The sound grew louder and louder, the sound of footsteps on pavement building until she saw the face of a man she recognized.

Moss.

The copper who had towed her across town, brought her to Inspector Campbell. The call to bring up the breakfast of sweets she'd just enjoyed came over Clara all at once as the man started moving towards them. She barely heard Isiah yell for them to run, was barely aware of Isiah taking Robbie’s hand and peeling away from the canal as she sat frozen there. Clara just sat there as if she was rooted to the ground, too scared to move, too scared to do anything.

But then Finn was in front of her, holding out a hand.

“C’mon, Clara, run,” Finn said, urging her up. “Leave it,” he said when she reached for the half-empty bag of sweets and he yanked her to her feet, the two of them sprinting off. Clara was barely aware of where they were going, the two of them weaving in and out of streets Clara hadn't ventured down in months. They’d lost Isiah and Robbie, and Clara didn’t dare slow or turn her head to see if the copper still followed them, not until they pulled to a stop outside of the theater.

Clara was grateful it was Finn who had their money as he bought their tickets and tugged her along into the building. She was still breathing hard, her heart beating in her chest as they slumped into the velvet seats.

“What if something happened? What if—?” The words caught in Clara’s throat as the doors at the back of the theater opened and closed. She willed her heart to settle as two young women took up seats a few rows behind them. They paid her and Finn no mind.

The last time Clara had been in this theater, it was Tommy who had burst through the doors, demanding Ada tell him who had gotten her pregnant. Clara had been scared of her brother then. She thought he might kill one or both of them, but an angry Tommy was more preferable to her now than the thought of that copper coming through the door.

Clara pushed herself down into the seat, her arms wrapped tightly around her queasy stomach. Oh, how she regretted cookies and pastries for breakfast. Oh, how she regretted leaving Watery Lane in the first place...

Clara kept her eyes squeezed shut as the doors continued to open and close behind them. Despite Finn's teasing, despite his insistence that there was nothing to worry about, Clara flinched each time, holding her breath until steps faded away as the patrons found their seats.

Clara finally heard a sound she recognized minutes later, a deep bit of laughter that seeped into her bones, and she loosed a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. She turned to look over the back of her seat as Isiah and Robbie walked down the aisle. The little boy was laughing, a huge bag of popcorn in his arms as he zoomed away from Isiah, taking up the empty aisle seat beside Finn.

Clara wanted to hug her nephew. To check him over and make sure he was alright, but it seemed like he had already forgotten their run-in with the copper.

“Guess who we saw!” Robbie said, leaning across Finn to better see Clara, his answer coming before Clara could even think to respond. “Miss Lizzie! She was walking down the street.”

“Nice lady, Miss Stark,” Isiah added as he climbed over the seat from the row behind them. He slid into the seat beside Clara, settling a large bag of popcorn in her lap.

“She told us to hide in an alleyway and then she told that copper we went the other way,” Robbie said, leaning across Finn to reach his hand into the popcorn.

Isiah hummed and took a handful of popcorn into his mouth as well before looking at Robbie. “Remember what I said though, mate?”

Robbie nodded. “Can’t tell no one about what happened," he said.

“Good lad,” Isiah said as he sat back in the seat, leaning his arm over the back of Clara's chair. "I just hope Miss Stark keeps it to herself, too.”

“She will. I'm certain of it,” Clara let her head lean back into Isiah's arm as she grabbed a handful of popcorn for herself. Isiah glanced at her as if she might say more, but Clara didn’t offer any further explanation. Clara wasn’t sure how she’d be able to explain that she just knew, without a smidgen of uncertainty, that Lizzie Stark was a good person. An honest person.

And then the movie started, words coming across the screen that had a smile growing on her face: A Dog's Life, Written and Produced by: Charles Chaplin.

Her mind was still swimming with thoughts as the picture began. Thoughts of the broken window and the copper and her brothers and Grace and Lizzie Stark and the fact that they'd forgotten to find Jeremiah and invite him to dinner, but as the image of a small puppy emerged on the screen, Clara found a smile tugging at her lips, and she willed herself to give into it. She willed herself to let the uncertainties fall away, some part of her realizing that the world...the worries...they could wait until the movie was through.

Chapter 34

Little Lady Blinder Masterlist

Please take a moment to tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby #lizzie stark #polly gray #finn shelby #isiah jesus #john shelby's kids #robbie shelby #clara shelby #little lady blinder #shelby!sister #shelby sister

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giveamadeuschohisownmovie · 1 year ago

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Side note: Just for fun, put yourself in the shoes of the above characters and decide how they’d vote based on how they’d view/interact with each other.

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violentdevotion · 1 year ago

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@alltheladiesyouhate admittedly i haven't rewatched the moffat seasons as much as i have the rtd ones but the biggest difference i think that the rtd companions actually had lives. the opening sequence of the renewed show was rose and her going about her day. we learned more about her in the first 10 minutes of that one episode than we do amy and clara all of their seasons. same with martha in smith and jones. and donna partners in crime. we know these people's families and and interpersonal dynamics and get to know them as people seperate to the doctor. meanwhile moffat era companions are only people in relation to who they are to the doctor. moffat is so obsessed with mysteries and 'don't you want to keep watching to know what this is about' that he neglects to make characters compelling without that information. moffat cannot make a scene like the one in marthas brothers birthday party where the entire family starts arguing moments before martha reunites with the doctor.

#ameera speaks #not speaking at you but i saw your tags and they were genuinely really interesting to me because yeah there is a stark difference between #thise characters. i rarely ever see people give moffat companions the same love they do rtd ones #i cant speak for bill bc i stopped watching by then #but yeah like i said i could be wrong. but like. rose worked retail. martha was studying medicine. donna was a temp.#amy was a kissogram (???????) and clara was a babysitter? or teacher? ik she was a teacher in capaldi era but what was she doing with them #2 kids in their house in that one episode?

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lola-andheruniverse · 1 year ago

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Post 9 of your favorite characters and let people guess your type.

I was tagged by @a-hackneyed-premise. Thanks, dear, I love this kind of things! I've only selected my favorite female characters because why not? 1. Carol Peletier - The Walking Dead

2. Clara Oswald - Doctor Who

3. Snow White/Mary Margaret - Once Upon a Time

4. Sansa Stark - Game of Thrones

5. Claire Colburn - Elizabeth Town

6. Roberta Pardo - Rebelde

7. Haruno Sakura - Naruto

8. Cristina Yang - Grey's Anatomy

9. Elizabeth Bennet - Pride and Prejudice

It took me more time that I can admit choosing these gifs because they so pretty *looking respectfully* 😅 And I wanted cohesive gifs so you can look at them and guess what my type is!

I'm tagging @zehiiro @notalkingbusiness @murdadixon @timetravellerscat @nonbinary-alien25 @justanotherjoseph but please, everyone is welcome!

#tagging game #about lola #carol peletier #clara oswald #snow white ouat #sansa stark #claire colburn #haruno sakura #roberta pardo #cristina yang #elizabeth bennet

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hanging-on-by-a-clawclip · 1 year ago

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so many things have made my heart physically hurt lately → clara and eleven, unrequited love, the song astronaut by simple plan, the fact that sansa and theon never even had a chance, for all the ones that are hopelessly in love, being a quarter of the way up this metaphorical mountain and wanting so badly to give up, that xl bulldogs are getting banned in the uk/seeing the heartbreak in their owners eyes as they have to put a muzzle on them, not having any hope going into the new year.

my love to all of you <3

#clara oswald #doctor who #eleventh doctor #matt smith #elevenclara #unrequited love #love #hopelessly in love #sansa stark #theon greyjoy #game of thrones #xl bully #dogs #new year #simple plan

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santaclaralocalnews · 10 months ago

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The following is a calendar of events happening this weekend near Santa Clara and Sunnyvale. Want to share an event to be featured? Please email the details to [email protected] for consideration. Santa Clara University’s Department of Theatre and Dance presents “By the Way, Meet Vera Stark” — March 1 – 10 at SCU’s Louis B. Mayer Theatre (Corner of Franklin and Lafayette St., Santa Clara)...Read complete news at svvoice.com.

#theatre #Mayer Theatre #santa clara #Santa Clara news #News #svvoice #local news #latest news #Vera Stark

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ladyamanda123 · 11 months ago

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You guys….my head just EXPLODED

🤯🤯🤯

Okay bare with me here because my thoughts are literally chaos right now! Going to try and take you through the ninja katana that just happened to my brain!

1. Everyone has been focusing on this album being white. Taylor wore a white dress, Taylor used the 🤍, etc etc

This has been bothering my photographer mind since I very first saw the cover. That cover is not black and white. That cover is Sepia.

Rep is Black and white…..Folklore as well (though more muted and grey than stark black and white like Rep)

Poets is Sepia!

Now obviously there is no Sepia heart emoji so it could be that simple BUT Taylor is a mastermind and she doesn’t do accidents. The Sepia toned album cover is not white and that immediately drew attention to it when everyone is focused on the white aspects (which also lended itself nicely to the Rep TV/Poets bait and switch)

2. So I decided to go learn about the history of Sepia and quickly came across this very interesting article. I started reading. Immediately aspects of this colours history started setting off lightbulbs 💡

Sepia comes from the Cuttlefish’s defence mechanism. When under attack the cuttlefish releases a cloud of ink to distract the predator and make a swift (SWIFT!!) escape!?!?

Already we have the ink tie in specifically mentioning jet black (like the octopus and squid) but the cuttlefish’s defender cloud is sepia……this album is a defence mechanism so she can distract the predators (hetlors/the press) to make her escape to safety. It’s the bait and switch. The distraction. The decoy.

This was already enough to have my jaw on the floor…but wait! There’s more!

3. Sepia’s use in photography…

This love story began in black and white…in Reputation.

🎶I once believed love would be black and white….but it’s golden (Daylight)

This cover photo is very clearly Daylight after the long and tortured Midnight….now she only sees Daylight!

Sepia has come to represent a by-gone age….

Everyone thinks that Kaylor is over and done. Just an ended friendship, a burned bridge, no longer relevant…but the act of making that relationship look old was actually used to preserve that love and allow it to be long lasting!

There’s also the very obvious photography connection with the Polaroids significance to Kaylor.

Also note the nod to 1920s….along with the Clara Bow track pointed at that era here’s another possible link to the roaring 20s

Another link to Daylight coming after Midnight…the opening of the Karma music video shows the Midnights album which turns into a golden sunlight over the golden Taylor statue. Midnight to Daylight.

So as if all of this wasn’t already enough I kept reading and the next paragraph made me scream…..

The Wizard of FUCKING OZ you guys!!!!

(Side note that we have the Blake/Taylor Dorothy and Ariel combo call back here as well! Worth noting maybe Daddy I Love Him will shed some light on this Halloween Party…we know our 🎃 anon wanted us focusing on Halloween! Maybe this evening was significant in the story!)

So everyone thinks of it as black and white but it’s actually Sepia…..yes yes go on…..

So you’re telling me to create the illusion (🎶All eyes on me your illusionist) of sepia to colour they were using a body double. A double! A bait and switch! A stand in! Like every single beard relationship and every single Karlie stand in we have been seeing lately! Blake at Beyonces premiere….Keleigh at the Golden Globes, Keleigh as the bride, etc etc etc.

Slight of hand, more illusions and bait and switch imagery to make the art work and the magic happen.

Holy Shit!!!

I need to go pass out now!

Link to the Sepia article:

#taylor swift #kaylor #karlie kloss #wizard of oz #screaming crying throwing up #it’s fucking sepia #sepia #sepia photography #black and white #the tortured poets department #i died dead

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salemahn · 6 months ago

Text

Masterlist

(None of these works are mine, they are just some of my favourite reads) Contents: WoSo, F1, Doctor Who, House of The Dragon, Bridgerton, Ted Lasso

WoSo

❅ Leah Williamson | Part 2 | Part 3

❅ Alexia Putellas | Part 2

❅ Kyra Cooney-Cross

❅ Ona Batlle

❅ Aitana Bonmati

❅ Sam Kerr

❅ Katie McCabe

❅ Mapi Leon

❅ Ingrid Engen

❅ MapIngrid

❅ Arsenal

❅ Lionesses

❅ Barcelona

❅ Alex Albon

❅ Charles Leclerc

❅ Max Verstappen

❅ Oscar Piastri

❅ Carlos Sainz

❅ Sebastian Vettel

❅ Lance Stroll

❅ Mick Schumacher

❅ George Russell

❅ Franco Colapinto

❅ Liam Lawson

❅ Jenson Button

❅ Polygamous

❅ Lando Norris *no longer read*

Doctor Who

❅ Nine

❅ Ten

❅ Eleven

❅ Twelve

❅ Thirteen

❅ Fourteen

❅ Clara Oswald

House Of The Dragon

❅ Aemond Targaryen

❅ Jacaerys Velaryon

❅ Daemon Targaryen

❅ Rhaenyra Targaryen

❅ Aegon Targaryen

❅ Cregan Stark

❅ Polygamous

Others

Bridgerton

❅ Benedict Bridgerton

Ted Lasso

❅ Sam Obisanya

❅ Jamie Tartt

❅ Dani Rojas

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hb-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Little Lady Blinder - Chapter 32

Between the Lines, 1919

Also available here on ff net or here on AO3.

Chapter Content Warning: canon-typical content

—

“Don’t even think about it."

Clara turned toward her brother, finally pulling her gaze from the family car as it plodded around the corner, Tommy and Grace disappearing along with it.

“Don’t think about what?” she asked, scuffing her feet as she stepped a bit closer.

John rolled his eyes, taking measure to be theatrical about it, before fixing his sister with a look. “Tom’s done his bit. He's cheered you all up,” he said. John would never admit that he was a bit hurt by the fact Tommy had managed to drop Clara off with a smile on her face—everything between the two of them seemingly fine now—and less than a minute after being left alone with John, the girl was already sulking again. He pressed his finger into the corner of Clara’s frowning mouth. “Don’t go getting all grumpy on me again.”

Clara huffed, slapping at John's hand and he snorted, lifting his eyes above his sister’s head as she started complaining.

“I’m not—”

“Well, hullo there, Lizzie,” John said, interrupting Clara to greet the woman. John pushed himself off the brick to stand up straight, shoving his hands into his pockets and stepping a bit in front of Clara as he observed Lizzie approaching. “Looking extra lovely this morning. Got anything special there in that basket for me?”

Clara spun on her heels, coming face to face with a blushing Lizzie Stark.

Lizzie shrugged. “Just some special treats for the kids.”

John hummed, thinking but not saying the first few things that came to his mind—the first, that his little monsters didn't deserve any special treats and the second, that he wouldn't mind a special treat from Lizzie. John swallowed down both comments and set his hand on Clara’s shoulder instead, maneuvering her to stand in front of him. “You’ve met my sister.”

Lizzie nodded, offering another small smile, her face still flushed. Lizzie had been about to greet the girl properly, but John continued on without realizing he was interrupting anything. “Clara and I were just arguing about whether or not she looked grumpy.” John shifted his hand beneath Clara’s chin, smirking as he tilted her head back and leaned over to look down at her, going through the motions of giving Clara’s face a thorough examination.

Again, Clara tried to push her brother's hands away, unsuccessfully in her attempts to put a bit of distance between herself and John. The struggle went on only a few seconds, but Lizzie could've sworn it felt like ages while she stood there watching. If Clara hadn’t looked particularly grumpy before, she certainly did now with her arms folded over her chest and her face a bit red, a mix of anger and embarrassment coloring her features. Lizzie glanced away from the pair, down the lane, purposefully appearing to catch her gaze on a bit of movement in one of the houses near the corner.

John abandoned his attempts at handling his sister and glanced up at their guest. “What do you think, Lizzie? She look grumpy to you?”

“Oh, I—” Lizzie started, a bit flustered by the question. Her eyes darted from John to Clara and her face mirrored the girl’s for a second, a small frown passing over her lips. “I um…”

“I told her the grumpiness is hiding here and here,” John said, once again battling with Clara’s hands to point out the grumpy corner of her mouth and the stubborn little line between her brows.

“John!” Clara complained. “Stop it!”

"Fine." John snorted, holding his hands up in defense as he leaned back against the brick. “Fine. Maybe you’ll have better luck with her, Lizzie.”

He winked at Lizzie and then he leaned to the side, reaching out to open the front door. He stopped suddenly before stepping over the threshold and turned back to the girls, Clara nearly bumping into him since she’d been following behind so close.

“And if she gives you any trouble—” John spoke directly to Lizzie as he reached out toward Clara. “—here’s a little trick.” Clara caught John's arm as he reached out to tickle her beneath the chin, quickly swinging under it and bolting through the open door. Clara figured she could just dissolve herself into the chaos that was John’s children while her brother got on the road, avoiding him for the next few minutes, and ensuring that the children would eliminate any opportunity Lizzie might have to speak with her brother alone.

Clara made it up the first three steps before her brother's hand closed around her elbow. She tried to push him off, going so far as to lift her boot and sending it into his leg. “Oi! Enough. You take a seat,” he said, with a nod of his head toward the stairs.

Lizzie quickly excused herself at that, moving past them to drop her basket in the kitchen. John watched her go, waiting for the kitchen door to swing closed before turning back to his sister. John ran a hand over his face before he spoke.

“Promise me you’ll be nicer to Lizzie than you’re being to me, eh?”

“I’m not being—”

“A brat?” John scoffed. “Could’ve fooled me.” Clara was poised to protest, but John continued on. “And maybe you have every reason to be. Maybe where me and Tommy are concerned, you’ve got the right of it, but not with Lizzie and not with the kids. They don't deserve this, eh?”

John said the words though he didn't quite know what this even was, still a bit confused by the course of their morning and his sister's shifting mood. A wave of exhaustion came over him as he looked at her, feeling as though they'd already lived a whole day in the last few hours. He could see she felt the same, another wave of emotion building up in her as she sat on the steps in front of him.

A lump was forming in Clara's throat, a few tears suddenly spilling out of her eyes as she buried her face in her arms. “I wasn’t gonna—”

“Alright, alright,” John said, sitting beside her and interrupting when he heard the strain came through in her little voice.

Clara looked up at him and John frowned, reaching out to wipe away the stubborn tears. “And you still don’t want to just tell—” he started, raising his hands in defense as Clara shook her head and tried to shift away from him.

“How about a—” Clara smacked John’s hand away as he tried to fit it beneath her chin once again. He nearly got a smirk out of her before Clara closed back in on herself, crushing her arms around over her chest and backing against the wall, putting as much space between them as she could on the tiny third step of the staircase.

John sighed and pulled her into his chest with an arm, half certain she’d fight him on it and push out of his hold, but Clara seemed to thaw a little instead as he held her. Only a few seconds passed before she was stretching out her arms around him and holding him back just as tight.

“I’m not a brat,” she mumbled.

John snorted, shaking his head. “Yes, you are. But you know who else is?” he asked, waiting a beat before answering. “Tommy and Polly and Ada and Finn and Arthur…and your nieces and nephews, for sure.”

“And you,” Clara said.

“No, no,” John said, shaking his head. “The rest of you lot, maybe…”

Clara smiled this time, but the moment was short-lived as Finn smashed through the front door, his cheeks red and his breaths huffing from running through the streets. “Arthur says it’s time.”

John nodded, some type of urgency and excitement shifting in him as he guided Clara up from the steps and moved all three of them toward the kitchen.

Finn eyed Lizzie as he came through to the kitchen a moment later, meeting Clara’s eye quickly before John steered him out the back door, giving him instructions to tell Arthur he was on his way. Neither twin had gotten the chance to speak, but Clara knew they were both thinking the same thing—that Lizzie Stark being there was risky for them. And it was risky, but there wasn't much either of them could do about it, not now at least.

Clara and Lizzie watched in silence as John doubled back through the house to grab his hat. He stopped to kiss Lizzie on his way to the back door. Clara busied herself with studying her shoes, not looking up until John cleared his throat.

He stood at the threshold of the back door when Clara finally looked up. “You’ll be good, then, yeah?”

Clara nodded. “What about you and—?”

John rolled his eyes. “Don’t you go worrying about me,” he said, though it wasn’t quite possible. Clara knew she might be able to get lost in the chaos of John’s kids for a bit, but she’d not be able to really stop thinking about her brothers—worrying about them and their absence—until they were all back home in Small Heath.

“Just help keep my lot in line,” John said, lingering only long enough to get a nod out of his sister.

Just like that, Clara was alone in a quiet house with Lizzie Stark. As the silence stretched on, Clara started thinking to herself that today of all days must've been the first time in her memory that John’s kids were sleeping in. Of course, it was the only time that Clara had been banking on their help for a little chaos—a little distraction, a little something to do other than stand in the kitchen alone with this woman.

Clara toed around the kitchen looking for something that needed doing—anything, really—but the room was already spotless. Clara imagined John had tidied up on account of Lizzie, trying to make a good impression.

“Have you had breakfast?” Lizzie’s back faced Clara as she retrieved the bread and biscuits she had baked at home from her basket.

“I thought we could have something to eat and maybe some tea before the little ones wake?” Lizzie continued. “To fortify ourselves.”

Lizzie giggled and Clara allowed herself a smile at that, something in her loosened by the woman’s smile.

“Do you like tea?” Lizzie asked.

Clara nodded and Lizzie got to work on their tea and breakfast.

“They won’t misbehave with you this time." A few moments of silence had passed before Clara directed the words to Lizzie’s back while she settled the kettle on the stove. “They’re right terrors when they want to be, but—”

“They’re kids.” Lizzie shrugged. “Kids cause trouble sometimes.”

And adults, too, Lizzie thought to herself, but she wouldn’t get into that—not with a kid, even if Lizzie had already known all about the trouble caused by adults by the time she was Clara’s age and suspected the girl knew a fair bit as well. Lizzie figured she had to, having Peaky Blinders for brothers and all.

Lizzie sliced the bread loaf in silence, thinking of all of the things she’d learned about Clara Shelby over the years, but especially in recent months. Lizzie knew far more about the girl than just what John had told her. Far more than the things Tommy had told her about the girl, too. Lizzie suspected she knew more about Clara and Finn’s scrapping than either of the brothers knew, which was partially her own doing. Lizzie had had the opportunity to tell both John and Tommy, but she hadn’t told either.

Lizzie had decided quickly and without much debate that she would keep what she had seen to herself. And when Tommy had shown up at her doorstep not ten minutes after the kids cleared off the lane, she said nothing of what she’d seen of the Shelby twins. How could she? How could she tell Tommy without having to explain why they were there. And then if she told Tommy, John would be wondering why she hadn’t told him…and why Tommy had been at her doorstep. Lizzie’s secrets were somehow tied right up there with the twins’ secret. There was just no way Lizzie could see for explaining what the twins were doing there on her lane without the details of her dalliance with both Shelby men coming out.

Lizzie turned to watch Clara. The girl was clearly lost in a sea of thought as she stared out the back window. Lizzie couldn't blame her, really. John had told Lizzie all that had happened to the girl recently. The constant back and forth with Tommy, Clara being dragged off to the police station...it sounded awful, even if it was something John had laughed at, like it was a right of passage for a Shelby and he was proud of her for it, but based on the bits and pieces of Clara that had been described by her brothers, Lizzie didn't imagine she shared John's sentiments.

Tommy rarely spoke about her—he rarely spoke of anything, but when Lizzie prompted, saying she had seen him out here or there with the little girl, keeping herself from further commenting that the sight of him with the girl by his side was a softer version of Tommy than she was used to so that she didn’t risk him shutting down. After a note of quiet, Tommy would usually say something about her then. Just a few words, but they were enough that Lizzie felt she understood something about the youngest Shelby.

John spoke about his siblings often, loose with his words with or without liquor lubricating his memories. He told stories and he blew off steam, condemning and celebrating them all from one sentence to the next.

“First in line to Tommy’s throne,” John often joked. “Well, if she wasn’t a girl. Been that way since she was born.”

Lizzie had started to get the impression that John was a bit jealous, both of the way that Tommy doted on their sister and the way she reciprocated that care and attention. There was a part of John that wanted to be loved, wanted to be chosen. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, that part of John resonated with Lizzie, but whatever the brothers said, Lizzie got the impression that neither of them saw her quite right. They each knew her in their own way, but like anyone else, Clara was more than what she showed to any one of them.

Clara Shelby had always seemed so polite, a conglomerate of caution and wisdom that she wouldn't call exactly normal for a kid, but it was there, consistent whenever Lizzie read between the lines of a story delivered from one of the brothers or when she came across the girl in the streets. Almost like she was an adult, like they all believed because she was clever and well-mannered, she was mature, but Lizzie she was a kid. She seemed like a good kid, a thoughtful kid, but a kid all the same. That too, was a part of why Lizzie was keeping her secret. The other two boys had been fine, aside from a little blood. It was nothing to cause more trouble over.

“John says you’re good with your nieces and nephews,” Lizzie finally prompted, pulled from her thoughts by the steady whistle of the heated kettle.

Clara nodded as Lizzie pulled the kettle from the heat. “They listen to me,” she offered. “Well, sometimes…”

Lizzie nodded, noting that the girl was still skittish, unsure of the woman and the tension of the power differential that thrummed between them. Lizzie knew exactly where it came from. She had seen the look pass between the twins as John had put Finn out the back door—the uncertainty, the fear.

“Just so you know, I didn’t…I didn’t tell your brother what I saw the other day. I won’t tell—”

The kitchen door swung open before Lizzie could say anything more. Robbie launched himself into Clara’s arms, shouting out her name as he latched onto her. Clara knew that was the end of their silence, the end of Lizzie’s quiet assurances. The others would be up soon and there would be no more talk of secrets, no more time for worries about her and Finn being found out. That normally might have troubled Clara, but it seemed that bit of her worry was unwarranted, so long as Lizzie Stark kept her word, anyway.

Clara squeezed her nephew tight for a moment, realizing as she held him that he’d grown a bit. She hadn’t seen Robbie in some time—far too long considering they lived just down the lane, but Clara had been staying close to home, caught up in her own troubles.

“Did you say hello to Miss Stark?” Clara whispered as the boy loosened his hold, looking about the kitchen.

Robbie buried his face back against Clara’s dress without an answer.

“Oh, it’s just Lizzie,” Lizzie answered, stealing a glance at the two children.

Clara tried to shift her nephew around, tugging him from his spot, but he held his positioning.

“Are you hungry, Robbie?”

“Robert,” the boy quickly corrected, pulling himself from Clara’s side. “Robbie’s a baby’s name.”

“Robert it is, then,” Lizzie amended. “A very strong name. Would you like some breakfast, Mr. Robert Shelby?”

The boy nodded, a sly smile creeping onto his face at being called a mister, at being taken seriously by an adult.

“Maybe you’d like to help?” Lizzie suggested, reaching out for one of the kitchen chairs and pulling it over to the counter.

Robbie glanced toward his aunt as if asking permission. Clara nodded, guiding him forward with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Clara left the kitchen to go check on the other three and Robbie was already giggling as he and Lizzie leaned over the eggs, something very sweet and almost conspiratorial there in the way their heads bent toward one another, the whispers passing between them quiet enough that Clara couldn’t hear a word that was being said.

The moment had her thinking suddenly of Martha. Clara had always held a certain love for her sister-in-law, but she didn’t remember many playful moments where Martha was concerned. Her brother’s wife had been a smart and swift sort of woman. She had been a carer in all the most efficient ways. John had never had to lift a finger in the home while Martha was alive. Clara remembered her laughing and smiling when she was very young, being playful with her, but that was before the war…back when Clara was very young, the memories fragmented by time.

The Martha that Clara remembered best was the woman who’d raised four kids alone during a war, the woman who’d grown sick while she was still raising them alone. Clara remembered that woman as one who tolerated very little nonsense. Polly had once told Clara that doing it alone could change the type of mother you planned to be and Clara had to believe it was true. Martha had always been caring and efficient and kind, but there was a certain strictness in her during the war that didn’t seem to really be part of her—something foreign or imposed on her, incongruent with the core of her. Martha hadn’t had the time or energy for something like allowing the kids to help with breakfast.

She certainly hadn’t been baking cookies for the kids as a special treat…

Clara wondered what Martha would think of the way John let them run wild now…letting them live without structure, letting them lead things a bit. Clara didn’t imagine she’d like it, but Clara thought maybe she might understand.

As Clara came up the stairs, the door to Robbie and Joe’s bedroom was wide open, the room beyond empty aside from a bed with messy covers, so she proceeded to the girls’ room. The door was ajar, only just, and it was quiet—a quiet Clara wasn’t used to in her brother’s house, not when her nieces and nephews were awake, at least.

As she reached the door, Clara could discern that quiet was only made possible because the kids were whispering—Katie, Sarah, and Joe all speaking over each other though little more than an indiscernible hum reached Clara’s ears as she pushed the door open.

“Lizzie and Robbie are making—”

The kids all jumped apart, startled by Clara’s sudden presence there. Clara recognized something in the air—a familiar tension tingling in her limbs—the tension of being caught doing something wrong, a bit of fear and defensiveness and secretiveness pushing and pulling in the space between them. Clara had experienced enough times to know. She was close enough in age to John’s kids that she and Finn were more used to being a part of it rather than being the one to set the tension into the air. Clara, Finn, and John’s kids all usually played together as something close to peers. John’s kids recognized Clara and Finn as having some slight, nearly insignificant bit of authority over them. They knew Clara and Finn were their aunt and uncle, but most often it didn’t matter.

They played and got up to trouble together. There weren’t many secrets between them.

“What are you doing?” Clara asked.

“Nothing,” Joe answered, the word coming out so quickly that Clara imagined that it would’ve been the answer regardless of the question. He’d stepped in front of the girls and shot a glance back at Katie now.

“Your dad said you have to be good for Lizzie today. Better not be—”

“We’re not doing nothing,” Joe interrupted.

“Just talking,” Sarah added, her tone a bit softer than her brother.

“What’s for breakfast?” Katie stepped around her brother, coming to stand by Clara at the door. “I’m starved.”

“C’mon, Katie,” Joe said as he moved across the room, pulling on Katie’s hand and taking her from the room.

When Clara turned back to the room, she watched as Sarah busied herself with pulling up the covers of her bed before moving on to the girls’ toys scattered across the floor, making the room a bit neater as she went. The girl was dallying. Sarah was usually quieter than the others—more sensible, Clara thought, more like their mother. And Clara thought of her differently than the others…thought now that they were alone, Sarah might say something more, but the girl stayed quiet and on the other side of the room.

“Are you coming?” Clara asked.

Sarah dropped the toys she was considering and nodded, passing by Clara without a word. As Sarah made her way down the stairs, Clara’s eyes swept over the room searching for some indication that the kids had been doing something more than just talking, but nothing was odd or out of place.

Clara was tempted to keep looking, but then she remembered that her being upstairs left Lizzie alone with the lot of them, a situation she didn’t imagine yielding anything positive.

The kids were yelling as Clara came down the stairs, their voices carrying over each other and conglomerating into one big indiscernible sound, just as their whispers had done upstairs just moments before.

Sarah and Joe were arguing over setting the table of all things and Clara’s voice got quickly lost among all the shouting while her niece and nephew tugged a stack of plates back and forth between them.

Clara made to step forward and separate them, difficult as it would be considering it was the two oldest ones fighting, but Lizzie beat her to it, grabbing the plates and setting them aside before pulling the two kids apart.

“Dad said no fighting,” Robbie said, still standing on the chair by the stove, watching over the food.

“Shut up, Robbie ,” Joe answered. “Quit being a baby.”

Sarah reached out and smacked her brother upside the head, an attack that he quickly returned, but it didn’t matter that they were fighting because the damage was already done, with Robbie’s tears already clear by the time he hopped off the chair and ran out of the room.

“I’ll see to him,” Sarah offered, but Lizzie shook her head.

“You three sit and eat,” she said. “And I hope not to hear a sound other than the sound of forks against plates.”

Joe laughed. “Or what?”

Lizzie’s mouth opened and closed, and Clara sensed she hadn’t been anticipating having to give such an answer. Lizzie had figured her sharp tone would've been enough, that the kids wouldn't be bold enough to argue.

“Or Aunt Polly’ll hear about it,” Clara answered as she took the stack of plates. “And if Aunt Polly hears about it, then—”

“Stop fighting! The eggs are getting cold!” Katie interrupted, already in her spot at the table, leaning across the space in front of her to scoop food into her mouth straight from the pan with her fork.

“You’ve got this?” Lizzie asked, waiting only for Clara’s nod before exiting the now silent room.

Clara was surprised that the threat of Aunt Polly was enough to bring John’s kids to behave themselves, but they all sat nearly silent at the table for the short minutes during which Lizzie was off with Robbie. None of the kids said anything when their younger brother came back into the room, his eyes still a bit red as he hopped up into his chair.

“Eat up,” Lizzie said, when she realized all except Katie and Robbie were simply pushing their food around their plates. Clara and Sarah were studying Robbie for their own reasons. Joe was glaring daggers at Lizzie, defying the woman though he was starved. “We’ve got loads to do for today.”

“Like what?” Sarah asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Robbie answered between bites, a conspiratorial grin shot towards Lizzie.

“Oh! I want to know! I want to know!” Katie answered as she shifted out of her seat and moved to Lizzie’s side, giggling when Lizzie leaned down and whispered in the little girl’s ear.

“And what about you three?” Lizzie asked, looking at Sarah, Joe, and Clara. Would you like to—"

“No, Lizzie!” Robbie answered. “It's a surprise."

“What do you think, Katie?” Lizzie asked, the conspiracy quickly growing to include Katie.

“Surprise,” she agreed, sliding back into her chair to resume eating her eggs, rather pleased with herself that she and Robbie and Lizzie were sharing a secret and for once, and that the two youngest had the upper hand. It was so rare that the two of them knew anything before their older brother and sister, or their aunt.

Clara didn't say anything though she didn't love being on the other end of a secret or being lumped in with the kids, especially not when Clara was meant to be helping Lizzie. Clara didn't like not knowing, but some nagging part of her said she could trust Lizzie, both with this and with hers and Finn's secret. And anyway, Katie and Robbie's smiles put her at ease. Surely, if those two were happy about it, Lizzie's plan for the day couldn't be too bad.

As Lizzie slid into the last seat at the table, the one just beside Robbie, Clara took a sip of her tea. Joseph was watching Lizzie, watching as she sat there smiling at Katie and Robbie, watching as she brought a piece of bread to her mouth.

"That was my mum's seat," Joseph said as he continued to stare at her.

Clara nearly choked on the hot liquid in her mouth. Lizzie's face colored at the boy's words, her cheeks full as she stopped chewing. Silence held over the table as each of them considered what the boy was saying...the meaning there between the lines.

Lizzie Stark was in his mum's seat, but Lizzie wasn't his mum...and Joseph Shelby didn't want her to be.

—

Chapter 33

Little Lady Blinder Masterlist

Please take a moment to tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby #lizzie stark #finn shelby #john shelby's kids #clara shelby #little lady blinder #shelby!sister #shelby sister

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starogeorgina · 4 months ago

Text

𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

Paring: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targ oc

Warnings: Swearing, smut, incest

1.18

Notes: Massive thank you to everyone who's supported this story!💕

You start to grow nervous waiting on the carriage arriving from Winterfell. After waking up earlier than normal, you skipped breaking fast and went straight to the courtyard to wait on your children, your heart beating rapidly with excitement at the thought of seeing them so soon. The maester was supposed to change the bandage on your hand first thing, but this was too important; you didn’t want to miss such an important moment.

“I hope nothing has happened. It is a long journey.”

Jace tightens his grip around your waist. “Daemon is out flying on Caraxes, to make sure nothing happens. If something was wrong, we would know by now.”

Turning your head back, you look up at him and say, “I know you’re right, but I can’t stop worrying.”

“All your fears will settle once you see them.” Jace smiles and presses a kiss on your cheek. “I don’t know who will be more excited to see us—our children or Clara. She will need a few moons to recover—Lyarra!”

The gates to the courtyard open, and a carriage with a banner of House Stark comes into view. Hand in hand, you and Jacaerys run down the steps to greet them.

“My babies!” You smile so much that it starts to hurt your cheek. Bliss was the only word to describe how you felt. “Oh, my love's are finally home.”

The carriage stops just before the steps, and as soon as the door is open, Avery and Aethan burst out, and Jacaerys picks them both up. You kiss the backs of their heads.

“Mother! Kepa!”

Before Aemma can even step foot on the ground, you pull her into a hug and say, "My girl, my sweet girl.” You hold out your other hand for Rhaenys to take. “It’s okay, my darling.”

Looking behind her, Rhaenys reaches her hand out to touch something and says, "Come on, pup.” She jumps out and comes towards you, as does a direwolf pup. She cuddles into your side, “mummy.”

Jace places your sons back down to go to the carriage to receive your babe from Clara.

Tears sting your eyes when your son’s hold onto your skirts. The noose you felt around your neck had loosened since Aegon’s demise, but you never felt completely free of it until now. All you needed was for your five children to be at home, and your world should feel whole again.

“Where is Prince Daemon?” Jace asks; his eyes are trained on the handmaiden’s empty arms. “Where is our son?”

For a split second, you fear the worst until you see an unfamiliar young handmaiden appear from the opposite side of the carriage with your babe sleeping in her arms. “The lady of Winterfell kindly allowed one of her handmaidens, Lady Mormont, to assist me in bringing the children back.”

Tears of relief swell in your husband's eyes. He takes Daemon from her and holds him close, kissing the crown of his head. You would have the chance to hold your babe soon enough, but for now, you were content seeing him in his father's arms.

Quietly, you ask, “I’m presuming she is trustworthy.”

“I would not allow her near them if I didn’t believe so.”

You catch Jacaerys eye, and the two of you share a look and smile.

—

Lightly rocking your babe you watch as his brown eyes start to close over. His belly was full from feeding, so he would be settled for a couple of hours. His dark hair was starting to curl, closely resembling his father’s. He was truly beautiful.

“Ow!”

“Boys, be more gentle with your toys,” you say softly.

You feel the warmth from the fireplace against your back as you sit cross-legged on the floor, facing the rest of your children. Avery and Aethan were playing with their toys, wooden horses, and dragons. Rhaenys was curled up beside her pup, which, according to Clara, Lord Stark gave her as a gift since the pup followed your daughter everywhere. Aemma tried to fight sleep but has fallen asleep on your bed.

The excitement of being reunited with you and Jace, seeing their new rooms, and trying to comprehend their grandmother now being the queen was exhausting for your children.

“It is rude to stare, my love.”

“I’m only admiring,” Jace chuckles.

He had entered the room silently moments ago, but you had felt Jacaerys watching closely, taking everything in. He sits beside his sons on the floor, and Aethan hands him a toy and says, “Thank you.” Jace inspects the miniature dragon in his hands and asks, “What is this one called?”

“Arrax. It looks like Uncle Luke’s dragon.”

Jace’s eyes are full of tears; he ruffles the boy's hair. “That it does, son, that it does.”

It was hard coming to terms with all the deaths and betrayals your family has suffered, but you prayed time would help. The wounds of losing two brothers would never completely heal, but hopefully it would hurt to speak about them one day.

Five moons later

“I’ve written to Lord Stark, like we spoke of. He and his son Rickon will be our guests of honor in Dragonstone.”

Jace tilts his head, waiting for you to continue. He was sitting across the table from you while breaking fast with your children. “Dragonstone?”

“We are the prince and princess of Dragonstone; what better place to host them than our own castle? I spoke to her grace, and she wants to throw a grand feast to thank Lord Stark and his army for their support.”

He swallows down the food in his mouth while nodding in agreement. “Perhaps once things have settled and the realm has healed, we should return. It’s only a short distance on dragonback; we could still do our duties and spend time with our mother, Daemon, and brother while learning how to rule in our own name.”

“I think it’s a brilliant idea.” You smiled. Jace had a point. As much as you loved watching your mother become queen, you had started to miss the island you called home.

“Mummy.”

Feeling Avery tug on your nightgown, you help him sit on your lap. Unlike his other siblings, who all settled into their new routines and lived in the keep, your sweet boy had only clung to you and spent most nights crying until he was in bed beside you and Jacaerys. Avery reaches his small hand out and takes a piece of fruit from your plate, then rests his head against your chest.

Jace leans over and strokes his silver hair. “What do you think, my boy? Should we return to Dragonstone soon?”

Seeing the way your son’s face lightens up at the mention of returning home was all the confirmation you needed to know it was the right thing to do.

—

The library was empty aside from yourself and Jacaerys, although he hadn’t noticed you yet. After spending the morning in the training yard while Daemon continues to teach you, Rhaena, and Baela basic swordsmanship, you went looking for Jacaerys. There was no queen council being held until later in the day; your older children were attending their lessons, and your babe asleep with a stomach full of milk.

Jace jumps when you sneak up behind him, placing your hands on his waist. “You are a sneaky thing,” he laughs. “How did training with Daemon go?”

“Fine,” you say, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I had you alone, dear husband.”

“Lyarra,” his breath stutters when he feels your hand rubbing over his clothed cock. “You will be the death of me. Please, don’t tease.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Jace turns his head around, grips your face, and presses his lips against your own. “Gods, no.”

Grinning, you untie his breeches, then fall to your knees, freeing his cock as you did.

You take Jace’s hardness into your mouth; your tongue swirls over the tip of his penis, then you start to bob your head back and forth as you suck and lick him. Tears roll down your cheeks when you gag, feeling his cock start to jolt in your mouth. It had been a while since you were intimate, and the last time Jace was focused on your pleasure, and it doesn’t take him long to come undone. He moans loudly while spilling his seed into your mouth.

You wipe away the saliva from your mouth and stand back up, just as Jacaerys fixes his breeches. He pulls you into his embrace and kisses the side of your neck. He whispers, “My love, I need to confess something to you.”

“What?”

“I’ve fantasized about taking you in many different ways in Dragonstone. The council room, the gardens, the great hall…” Jace holds you closer to him. “And when we return, I intend to do just that.”

The thought of Jace bending you over the table in the great hall causes heat to pool between your legs. Giggling, you shake your head and say, “Well, your fantasy will be a reality soon enough.”

“Come, let us go back to our chambers. I’ll have a bath drawn for us.”

Two years later

“Is it true Alicent has died?"

Clara nods and explains further while braiding your hair. “The winter fever took her, princess. The maester had her confined to a secluded room in OldTown when she started showing signs. They say that in her final days, she began asking to see her sons and daughter again.”

You had no love for Alicent; she was the bitch who made your mother's life as awful as she did yours. But you also had no room for hatred or ill-will in your heart. Now that Alicent was at peace, perhaps she was reunited with her family. You twirled the rings on your fingers; the reminder of outliving a child was painful. Aemma has already declared that if she is to have a son, he will be named Rhaegar.

“That’s…sad. How did you hear about this so soon?”

Her cheeks reddened slightly. “My friend—who currently serves as a handmaiden in OldTown mentioned it in her last letter to me.”

Her friend was the same handmaiden who traveled back with her from Winterfell, a pretty Northern girl with copper hair. You were more than certain the ladies were closer than most friends, but to avoid rumors spreading, they stopped visiting one another as frequently. “Princess Aemma will be in need of her own lady-in-waiting soon,” you point out. “Perhaps Lady Mormont would want the position as she is familiar with my children.”

Clara smiles and nods her head. “I shall say to her. That’s the braiding-finished princess.”

“Thank you—” You’re cut off when you hear fast-paced footsteps entering your room. The door to your chambers is opened, and Rhaenys runs excitedly. Her hair was styled identically to the way you wore it most days. “Reni, what have I told you about running in the halls?”

The walls outside your chambers were decorated with dragon statues. As a girl, you bumped into the solid objects many times and knew how painful it could be.

“Sorry, mother,” she says as she steps in front of you and twirls. “Do you like it?”

The dress Rhaenys was wearing was the first one she had designed for herself. The gown was olive green with pale orange ribbons and embroidery on it. The smile on Jacaerys face when he saw the dress with colors identical to his own dragon was priceless; he almost became teary-eyed.

“You look beautiful, my girl.”

When Clara finishes the last touches to your outfit, you hold your hand out for your daughter to take.

It was Avery and Aethan’s name day, and a small celebration was being held in the great hall. A ship with Daemon, your siblings, and Lord Corlys arrived the night before. Princess Jaehaera and Prince Maelor would be present as well; both children inherited their gentle nature from their mother.

Her grace, the queen, had flown to Dragonstone Syrax a few days prior. The longest you had gone without seeing her was a week. Even living apart you had remained extremely close.

Four years later

Hearing your agonizing screams of pain, Jacaerys barges into your shared martial chambers. The maester and midwives kept assuring him that nothing was wrong and he should remain waiting outside, but he could take it no longer. You are thankful this labor was quicker than the last; your water had only broken the night prior, and now that the sun is rising again, you are only a few pushes away from the pain being over.

“Jacaerys!”

He comes to your side and takes hold of your hand. “I’m here, I’m here!”

“It fucking hurts!” You sob, “It hurts so much.”

“The pain will be over soon,” he says, planting a kiss on your sweaty forehead. “And you’ll have the babe in your arms.”

“One more push,” the midwife orders.

Screaming, you use all your remaining strength to bring another child into the world. Holding out your arms, desperate to hold your newborn for the first time. The seconds it takes for the midwife to wrap the babe in a blanket feel like it's never ending.

“A strong boy, kicking like a goat.”

Tears roll down Jace’s cheeks as he watches the babe finally be placed in your arms. “I’m proud of you, Lyarra.”

“My sweet boy,” you say, taking in the newborn's appearance. He has typical Targaryen features aside from his dark hair, like his fathers. “He’s so tiny and perfect.”

—

After your handmaidens help you change into a fresh gown and the bedding is changed, Jacaerys assists you over to the chairs by the fireplace in your chambers. You take his arm before sitting down.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen her grace this delighted in a long time,” Clara, who had followed closely behind, “As are the children, they are keen to meet the newest prince to grace us in Dragonstone.”

Since the day the maester confirmed your pregnancy, your mother and Daemon have been overjoyed with excitement. Rhaena was expecting her first child within the next moon, so it only added to the joy of knowing you got to bond over experiencing being with child at the same time.

Jacaerys opens the door for your mother to enter the room, and he and Daemon go to inform your children and siblings that it’s a boy before bringing them through to be introduced to him. “Lyarra, my sweet,” your mother says, walking over to you with tears in her eyes. “The gods have been kind and granted you another beautiful babe, have you thought of a name yet?”

“No, not yet,” you say, lifting your gaze from the babe to meet hers. “Can you stay longer than a few days this time?”

She brushes fallen hair out of your eyes and says, “I will stay however long you want me, my love. If I’m needed at court, I can go on Syrax, then come back.”

You rest your head on her shoulder when she sits beside you and says, “Thank you.”

“You are my daughter; I’ll always be here for you.”

—

Hearing footsteps, Jacacerys looks up from the book in his hands, smiling when he sees you walking towards him. The room is almost in complete darkness, aside from a few candles and the moonlight.

“It’s late; you should be resting.”

“As should you, my prince.”

Jace puts the book down and offers you his hand to help guide you down onto the chair beside him. He kisses the back of your scarred hand. “I swear by the faith of the seven, you are the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen.”

“Stop,” you blush. “It’s a sin to lie, husband.”

“I speak only the truth,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

The day had been overwhelming, to say the least. It was hard to believe your son was almost a day old and was still yet to be named. “I’m exhausted, but I reckon the babe will wake up for a feed soon.” You cuddle into Jace’s side and say, “I’ve thought of a good name, one of great honor.”

“What is it?”

“Jacaerys.”

Jace plants a kiss on the crown of your head and says, “I love you, now and forever.”

𝘎𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯, 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘩𝘰𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘔𝘦𝘯, 𝘓𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘮, 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘦.

𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢’𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘓𝘺𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯.

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