#teacup holster

[sportsandlaughs]

#twitter #teacup #holster #awesome

[sosuperawesome]

Chalice and Teacup Holsters // Poptart Emporium on Etsy

#holsters #cosplay #larp #renaissance #etsy

[maraschinomerry]

Distracted part 2

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

Summary: after Lockwood tells Lucy and George about his encounter at the auction, the three of them set out to find you and the book

Content: making out, deep conversation, mention of manipulation

A/N: thank you all so so much for the love on the first part (which is here, originally requested by @superpositvecloudshipper) and thank you for being patient with me for the follow-up, hope you like it!

Word count: 2k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear + @rinisfruity14 @tigerthealien @honey-with-tea @frogmanfletch @ayoitsmickey

George paced furiously around the kitchen. Deep shadows crossed his face every time he turned away, the blackness of the night beyond the window not providing a single speck of light. "I can't believe you lost the book, Lockwood. Jesus, Barnes is going to kill us. We're screwed."

Lockwood heaved a sigh from the table, where he was scribbling something about you, the mystery woman from the auction, on the Thinking Cloth. "It's not my fault, I got trapped with this relic hunter and she pinned me down and stole it."

The thudding of George's footsteps ground to an abrupt halt and Lucy, on the other side of the table, snapped to attention. Lockwood almost squirmed under their scrutiny.

"She?" George frowned.

"We need to find her. What did she look like?" Lucy listened as Lockwood rattled off a remarkably detailed description of you and fought to keep her expression neutral. "Was she pretty?"

"Yes. Wait. No. I mean-"

Lucy burst out laughing while George stared in horror. "Oh my god, so when you say she pinned you…" Her face split into a mischievous grin.

George slammed his hands onto the table, making everyone's teacups rattle. "Do not finish that thought. But as much as I really don't want to say it, Lucy's right. We do need to find her and the book. And I think you know how we go about it."

—

"You never fail to surprise me, Locky."

The trio were down at the wharf in the early rays of morning, trying to find out if Flo knew you or your whereabouts. Much to Lockwood's chagrin, the other two were more than happy to divulge every detail they knew. Lucy had even put aside her disdain for the other girl to be able to fully participate in the gossip.

"I know, I lost a fight, these things happen. It was a very crowded space."

"I was talking about you finally being intimate with someone."

Lockwood blushed. "I wouldn't exactly call it-" the words died in his throat as Flo threw him a knowing glare. "Okay fine, but that's not why I- why we need to find her. She stole something important, and we have to get it back. Please, Flo."

"Fine. But I'm not coming with you. Being a relic woman was my thing until she decided to steal the idea, along with a bunch of my sources. It won't be pretty if I see her again."

—

Someone was coming. More than one someone. The sounds of multiple sets of feet and muffled voices echoed off the concrete walls of the place you called home, a disused undercroft in South Bank. You tucked yourself behind a pillar, pulling a knife from the holster on your leg.

"Hello?" The voice that called out was deep, but not deep enough to be a man's, and oddly familiar. "I'm here for the book." Oh.

You slipped out from your hiding place to see the boy from the auction flanked by a bespectacled, curly-haired boy dressed all in orange and a pretty brunette girl in a practical blue playsuit and leather jacket. They were both a little shorter than him.

"Hello darling," you flashed him a smile, noting the way the other two people glanced at each other behind his back. How much did they know? "I'm afraid you've wasted your time, though I'm sure I can make it up to you." Knife still in hand, you stepped a little closer. He didn't move, just looked you up and down, but the girl switched from behind his shoulder to in front. He murmured something to her, and you caught the name Lucy.

"You can make it up by not lying to me again."

"Okay, first of all, I never lied to you. I did have fun and you definitely seemed to. Secondly, what makes you think I'm lying now? I don't have the book."

"You're too smart to get rid of something that valuable. Personal insurance, didn't you say?"

"My my, you've got a good memory. Either that or you've been really thinking about me."

"We are still here, you know," the other boy interrupted. "Any time you want to let us know what's going on would be great, or shall we leave you to it?" The girl, Lucy, waggled her eyebrows a little. She definitely knew the whole of it, then. The taller boy pondered for a moment before giving them an apologetic smile and saying it was perhaps best.

As soon as they were gone, you sheathed your knife and took the boy by his tie. He gulped as your fingers ran up and down the smooth silk - not pulling, not forcing, just reinforcing the fact that you were unarmed and right in his personal space. His hand came up, ghosting across your shoulder, before it dropped and he cleared his throat.

"So, what exactly do you need personal insurance for?"

"Oh please, don't say it like you don't know. You're friends with that Bones girl, you've probably dealt with tons of relic hunters. It's just another part of the lifestyle."

There was something soft and sincere in the way he looked at you, a far cry from the angry, passionate boy you'd met the first time. He sat on one of the hard concrete benches and held out a hand. "Then you know you can trust me with it."

You refused the hand, but in spite of yourself sat down next to him with a huff. The last thing you wanted was to go churning out some sob story, especially with a fling so quick you still didn't actually know his name, but if that was what it took for him to leave you alone then so be it. Although, you had to admit, there was a tiny part of you that was pleased he'd come looking, that you'd got the chance to see him again. He seemed nice. Sharp enough to go toe-to-toe with you yet caring enough to know when to stand down. Your world would eat him alive.

"Nothing good comes from trusting others." You half-expected a snappy retort, a speech about the healing power of friendship, but he must have sensed the weight behind your words because he said nothing, simply waited for you to elaborate. So you did.

The long and the short of it was that you'd been an idiot. When you first became a relic hunter, you had only just lost your Talent and had no idea how to navigate the world without it, so you'd fallen in with a more experienced guy a few years your senior. He taught you everything you needed to know, helped get you on your feet and fending for yourself, but he also used your loyalty against you and tricked you into an obligation to give him a cut of anything you earned on a hunt. It wasn't enough that you couldn't afford to eat or anything, but just enough that you'd never be able to break away and gain your dependence from him. The book was your insurance because technically you hadn't got it on a hunt, so it was your nest egg for when you finally got the confidence to break free from him.

"Not that I think I ever will," you added bitterly. "It's too late for me."

"No. I don't believe that." The boy was almost choked up, watching you with the most pained expression.

"It's that relentless optimism that left you without the book in the first place."

"I'm not being optimistic, I'm being realistic. Come with us, we could help you."

"Look, you're sweet and all, but don't mistake me thinking you're hot for me liking you."

He raised an eyebrow and gave you another of those irresistible grins like he had when he first swiped the book. "At least you think I'm hot."

You laughed, genuinely, and it startled you a little. "Stop being so smug and get over here before your mates get impatient."

He was on you in seconds. All the despondency of the conversation evaporated in the sudden heat between you as he dragged you into his lap. You moved with agility, knees either side of his waist and feet between his knees, and twisted your hand into his hair to hold yourself close. He moaned into the kiss and clamped his hands firmly round your waist. Still tasted like bergamot. You savoured him, drank him in, then decided to get a little experimental. Letting go of his hair, you took both hands to loosen his tie and undo the top couple of shirt buttons. The second his skin was exposed, you ducked down and worked a blossoming bruise into that perfect neck. To your delight, he tilted his head back to grant you further access. Once you considered him suitably marked, you trailed kisses up towards his jaw, and he brought his head back down to catch your lips with his. The hands on your waist moved in opposite directions: one up and around your back, the other down over your hip, lower and lower. You shuddered in excitement, but the movement jolted his teeth a little too hard against your lower lip and made you jump.

"Sorry!" he whispered, already deep voice made even huskier by desire and shortness of breath. "Are you…?"

"I'm fine," you reassured him, "but maybe it's a good time to call it quits while we still can."

You disentangled from one another, the tension of unresolved intimacy thick in the air that grew between you as you moved apart.

"You know," he began without making eye contact, "the offer still stands. We could make it work."

"I know. But no, we couldn't." Part of you desperately wished it weren't the case, but you understood deep down that you could never return to his world. You suspected he knew it too. He began to move away. "Wait, what about the book?"

The smile he gave you lacked any of the electricity it usually did, but still had the same depth of feeling. "Keep it. Consider it proof that trust can get you something." He was almost at the edge of the undercroft now, almost out of sight.

"Wait!" you called again, louder this time. Inwardly, you cringed at how needy you must have sounded.

"If you don't want me to go, just say so." That spark was back in his smirk.

"No, I just… I still don't know your name."

"Lockwood. Can I ask for yours?"

You smiled softly, trying so hard to keep up the confident snarky persona but feeling it crumble by the second in the face of his utter sincerity. "Maybe next time, darling." And then he was gone.

—

The letterbox of 35 Portland Row rattled. That was odd. The postman had already been by today. Lockwood pushed himself wearily out of his armchair and made his way into the hallway. On the mat was a single scrap of folded paper. Frowning, he picked it up. The handwriting was unfamiliar, messy with haste.

'Behind the wall'.

There was nobody at all on the street, no matter which way he looked. Whoever had delivered the note had made a point not to stick around. Tucked behind a small bush in the front garden, leaning against the wall as promised, so well concealed nobody could possibly know it was there without being told to look, was a rectangular block wrapped in brown paper. Tucked in the front was another scrap of the same paper, with the same handwriting.

'Lockwood, darling. Proof trust goes both ways. Until we meet again, (name) x'

Blinking back tears, Lockwood peeled back the paper with shaky hands. Hands that were holding the book.

#lockwood & co x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #fem!reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co fanfic #lockwood and co #renew lockwood and co

[nyxronomicon]

kill me

vampire!geto x vampire hunter!reader (gn); 1.5k words

!! dark content ahead !!

🔞minors DNI!! 18+ readers only🔞

@pearlsxandxpeonies ... hehe

cw: non-con (though he does not fuck you), blood, fighting, aphrodisiacs, biting (obviously), reader gets beat up, mind break, implied reader death!! pet names: darling a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble but i got a little carried away and now there's a little world in my head where geto keeps you as a pet in his dungeon and drains you to the brink of death only to let your body heal and do it again... and also a prequel where gojo-sensei feeds you the vampire aphrodisiac to raise your tolerance..... idk if i'll actually write them but uhh i'm definitely gonna think about it

"You finally made it." The figure didn't even turn around to see you, he sat in the furthest corner of the lavish mansion, staring out the window at the snow piling up outside.

After such a painstaking infiltration, your stomach dropped when he immediately noticed your presence. You were careful to avoid the various other creatures lurking the mansion. You'd spent weeks surveying the comings and goings of him and his thralls, plotting the perfect route through the floor plan. You'd even surveyed the traps, his feeding times. He at his weakest. You confirmed just this morning that he hadn't fed since last week.

"Don't be shy." A glint of red showed in his eyes as his gaze locked on you. "After all, a vampire hunter has never made it this far." A candle flickered at the table next to him, the soft glow bringing out his attractive features.

Vampires were usually more grizzled, the monster within them hard to control. They often rejected the dark curse put upon them, but those that didn't... well, Suguru Geto was a prime example. Feeding on blood made it easier for them to blend in. Easier for them to fly under the radar for god knows how many centuries.

"Or were you hoping to give me something fresh to drink?" He smirked. You watched his fingers wrap around a delicate teacup filled with a familiar red liquid.

Fuck.

Most vampires prefer fresh blood to the point where they wouldn't even touch something like that. It didn't occur to you that his infrequent feeding was due to the fact that he drank it cold.

"You know why I'm here." You hissed, fingers grazing a wooden stake in your holster. You had no choice. You wanted to sneak up for a clean kill, but you'd have to fight for it now. You just hoped that the lack of fresh blood in his system would be enough to give you an opening.

"You don't know what you're up against, darling." Geto smiled as he stood.

You brandished a stake, one of four you had on your person. Then you leapt at the vampire, hoping to catch him by surprise. He was too quick, nearly vanishing into thin air and smacking you onto the floor from behind. You quickly pulled yourself onto your feet, stabbing at him as he dodged your attacks. His strength and speed made it easy for him to relieve the stake from your grasp, throwing it out the window.

You watched the stake slip out of your view, the cold air wafting in. The momentary distraction allowed him the opening to grab you by the neck with one hand and rip the holster with the other three stakes off your body, tearing your clothes along with it. He threw the bundle of stakes out the window to join their companion, soon to be buried in the snow.

"Is that it? After all that hard work you did to get here..." Geto looked at you sadistically, eyes wandering your exposed skin as his fingers tightened around your neck.

"Nnh..." Though you struggled to breathe, you choked out a few words. "I'm not... dead yet..."

The vampire admired your tenacity. "Alright, I'll humor you." He dropped you. "Kill me."

Your head pounded as you caught your breath. Your eyes flitted around the room for something wooden to break. The table that sat next to his chair looked delicate. You barely took a step towards it before his claws dragged across your chest. Your already torn shirt was now completely in tatters, your chest now exposed as drips of blood trailed down your torso.

"Don't even think about breaking my things, darling." A light shove was all it took to have you on the ground. He quickly pinned you down, your strength no match for his, though you wiggled in his grasp anyway.

"Gonna... kill you..." You snarled, kicking and squirming.

"What's stopping you?" He chuckled, knowing full well he hadn't even given you the chance to fight back. Why would he? It was adorable how hard you were trying, though.

"Let me go." Your squirming weakened, pain catching up with you.

"I don't think so." Geto eyed your reaction as he dragged his tongue along one of the bloody gashes he left on your chest, trailing over your collarbone as he savored the taste, humming in satisfaction.

The most dangerous thing about hunting vampires was the consequences for failure. If they bit you, their saliva was a powerful aphrodisiac that went straight into your bloodstream. And a vampire as powerful as Geto would undoubtedly have you flooded with desire in no time. Not only that, but it made your body and will weaker.

This was how they controlled their victims.

Even so, as a vampire hunter, you'd had some training on this. They build your tolerance so that weaker vampire bites had no effect. Still, all it took was a more powerful vampire or a higher dose, and you'd be on your knees. It was really only a matter of time.

You could already feel your body reacting to him, though you kept defying him as long as you could. "You think a little spit can stop me?" You chuckled, a bit of a bluff, but it motivated you to attempt to wiggle out of his grasp again.

You were much weaker than before, his tight grasp not budging an inch. In fact, he was able to bring both your wrists over your head and pin them down with one hand.

"Call me naïve, but I do." He smirked, "I know how you hunters love to claim immunity, but I don't think you really understand the gulf between me and the average vampire." He dragged his tongue up another gash, lapping up your spilled blood. As more saliva entered your bloodstream, your squirming became less about escaping his grasp and more about keeping your mind clear.

Your thoughts became foggy anyway, back arching and eyes fluttering before you barked out, "Get off me." Lust still dripped from your words, making Geto chuckle. A last desperate attempt to resist when your body had already succumbed to him.

"Darling," you felt his teeth graze your neck, his tongue pressing your jugular. "There's no way in hell I'd let my prey run free."

Pleasure coursed through you. You ached with desire. He still had your wrists pinned above your head with one hand, the other holding the side of your neck that he wasn't about to pierce. You stopped moving, feeling weak and limp and if you were being honest, really fucking good.

Your will to fight was fading fast. It didn't help that he was so hot and he smelled incredible. You squeezed your thighs together when you heard him chuckle in your ear, teeth dancing lightly on your sensitive skin while he waited for the aphrodisiac to fully kick in. Watching a defiant little hunter like you give in was his favorite part or reeling you in.

"You want this, don't you?" He didn't need to ask, the scent of your arousal was heavy in the room.

"I..." in your brain fog, your head tilted briefly to give his mouth easier access to your neck. "Nn... No..." As if acting on instinct alone, you made a languid attempt to close the space he was occupying, but you were far too weak to hinder him. And you weren't sure you really wanted to defy him anymore...

"I'm getting mixed signals, darling." He grinned, teeth still dragging along your skin. "Answer me one more time." The aphrodisiac had set in like a thick blanket smothering your desire for freedom.

"Answer you..." What was the question? You felt so good, you just wanted more. You wanted him. No, he was a vampire, you had to... why were you here again? Fuck, there was something in your mind you just couldn't grasp... right? Was there? You couldn't think of anything other than him. But it felt so incredible to think about him...

"You want this, yes?" He rephrased a little to guide you to the answer he wanted to hear.

"Yes." Your weak voice echoed without thought. His scent was so decadent. The warmth of his body was so soothing. And the way his teeth punctured your neck was like pure ecstasy. You moaned as he drank your blood, your body limp and pliable in his arms. God this felt so good. Why did you deny yourself this pleasure for so long?

You could feel the fog take over, your mind only a jumble of thoughts now. God, this was so fucking hot. You wanted to fuck him a million times and that still wouldn't be enough. Your eyes drooped and you vision faded, the world around you a hazy memory except for him. And even then, his voice, his touch, it all faded into nothing. The darkness washed over you, replacing your entire being with emptiness.

Geto pulled away from your limp body with a smirk, his lips stained with your blood. "Almost a shame how easy that was, darling."

#geto x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #vampire geto #vampire au #geto suguru #so tempted to call this 'stealth check failed' lol

[rachelillustrates]

Need to have a bit of a moment about feminine-presenting fantasy Dwarf representation....

So I've been in "The Hobbit" fandom in full enthusiasm ✨hyperfixaaaaaaation✨ for about a year and a half now, and one thing that is EXTREMELY important to me is that fantasy Dwarves, in any Universe, are a) short, though not as short as my beloved Gnomes, and b) THICK. WIDE. EARTHY. And I know that working with taller human actors in the Hobbit films didn't portray that perfectly, but in general, it seems like that perception holds true enough and, again, has carried over into other media (and was there BEFORE the Hobbit movies in the first place).

They should ALSO be hairy, in the best of circumstances, though I understand we don't always get that regardless of what gender presentation is involved. Ahem.

In most cases - including those films AND the book they spring from - the focus is on masculine-presenting Dwarves.

BUT.

Those proportions usually hold true for feminine-presenting characters as well.

Some examples:

(From "The Hobbit" films specifically.)

(From "Rings of Power." HAIL Princess Disa. Though she needs a fuller beard, too - smoochy picture included to highlight what fuzz she does have. And because she and Durin are adorable.)

(From World of Warcraft - with feminine-presenting Night Elf for reference since that still b a r e l y counts as stocky, but their "average woman shape" is even more on the thin side, so I still think the intention was for us to view the Dwarves as thicker with that comparison.)

Those being my biggest two points of personal reference, I'm gonna stop there - but the POINT of all of this is that I recently read "A Fellowship of Bakers & Magic" by J. Penner.

Which IS delicious.

And includes a feminine-presenting Dwarf named Dolgrila "Doli" Butterbuckle. Who I would already freaking DIE for istg.

Her introduction, from the text:

(Transcription of the highlighted bits:

"The dwarf was a vision in a corseted, buttery yellow dress. The bright, warm hue complemented her rich complexion and lush head of sable curls. Each hair coil seemed to dance with the same radiant joy shown by her twinkling brown eyes and pearly smile. Holstered on her ample hip, where one might expect a weapon, was instead a teacup and saucer, held together by leather straps. ..... "I'm Dolgrila Butterbuckle," she said while reading. "But everyone calls me Doli." ")

AND the next book in the series ("A Fellowship of Librarians & Dragons," out Nov. 2024) IS ABOUT HER!!!!! ✨🎉✨

BUT. This is the cover:

And I zero percent mean any of the following as a complaint against the artist. I am sure they were just following the publisher's order. And BIG YAY for the publisher actually hiring a HUMAN!! Good choices are being made, there.

BUT.

If I didn't know already that Doli is a Dwarf, I WOULD NOT KNOW THAT FROM THIS IMAGE.

She looks, basically, human. She is almost just as skinny as the human woman (Arleta Starstone, also a badass character) on the cover of the first book.

Referring again to the images of the World of Warcraft Dwarves above, though, she DOES look a lot like them, proportionally. So I'm wondering, now that I've done that research/refresher, if that is the Dwarven standard that the Powers that Be were going off of, in this case. Especially since she is clean-shaven. And especially since in one scene, she alters one of her own dresses to fit the aforementioned human - though in my reading of it, I just assumed that she took in the waist of the dress, too, as well as adding onto the length.

But to my eye, with my Hobbit-fandom/folklore heavy standards - at best, she looks like a half-human, half-Gnome, to me, especially with her nearly reaching the shoulder of a being that should be MUCH taller than her, as far as I can tell.

(I will admit I adore her outfit and want one, please.)

(And I will also admit that I MIGHT be assuming that person behind her is taller than they actually are, and I DO hope I am proven wrong. If she is like 4 feet tall, maybe they are only like 5 1/2 feet tall or so. I guess we'll find out in 11 months.)

So. That said.

Part of what attracts me to fantasy Dwarves in the first place is that they ARE plus-size. Unforgivingly so, most of the time. As a short, plus-size person myself, they are a haven in a swath of feminine-presenting representations across lots, and lots, of media that treats the feminine-presenting form as "average" height or taller, AND much thinner than most non-Hollywood women actually are, these days.

So to have seen this, when I realized the next book was about Doli and rushed (in my elation) to read the synopsis, was a notable disappointment.

ANYWAY, I will be drawing Doli myself, as I saw her, for self-care purposes. And here's the bare bones so far:

And all of that said, I will leave you with one of my favorite moments with her in the story:

(Transcription of the highlighted bits:

" “He was very generous on our trip here,” Arleta whispered as her cheeks heated slightly. “And a perfect gentleman, but we’re only friends.” She stopped and worked out the timing in her mind for a moment. “We’ve only known each other for less than two days, really.”

Doli let out a giggle, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Well, look at us. We’ve only known each other for a few hours and we’re already best friends. Did you know that some elves are fated?”

“What does that mean? Arleta asked, intrigued by Doli’s quick change of subject.

Doli’s eyes lit with pleasure. “I visited the library here – it’s massive by the way – and read through a few books on elven culture. You know, to figure things out. I love libraries and books.” She leaned in closer. “Some of them – not all – get night visions of their soul partner. They can experience these for years, starting when they are very young.”

Arleta tipped her head in great interest. “Do they always find these soul partners?”

“No,” Doli said with a hint of wistfulness. “If they don’t, they will never settle for anyone else. They could never fully commit to another.”

“That’s sad.” Arleta winced as the large ogre she’d seen before took his seat directly in front of her, completely blocking the stage.

“Or romantic,” Doli sighed.")

And all of all of THAT said, I do highly recommend the book!! Illustration issues aside - and I'm looking at you too, World of Warcraft - the more Dwarven romances we support, and more feminine-presenting Dwarven representation we support, the more (and better) we'll get!!

So, check it out here on Goodreads and please pick it up at your local bookstore or library, if you can!!

#doli butterbuckle #a fellowship of bakers & magic #inspiration #dwarves #fantasy dwarf #dwarf women #lotr meta #size positive #size representation #personal

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 13: Dance of Darkness

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: Lucy offers Polly compassion, and Tommy strikes a new deal with Alfie.

Word Count: 2,888

Notes: Warnings for references to past sexual assault.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 12: Digging

“How the hell did you get in?”

Lucy turned to Polly, who was standing, still in her dressing gown, at the doorway, her hair only half pinned up. 

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” she commented, looking around Polly’s living room.

“What do you want?”

“I have something for you,” she sighed, supposing that it really was better to not try to engage in small talk with her. “From Tommy, and…me,” she held out a little piece of paper. “A ticket to Epsom.”

Polly took it from her. “Why the hell would I want to go to Epsom?”

“Because Major Campbell will be there. And there will be a certain pocket of time in which there will be a lot of chaos, and police forces will be pulled away to focus protection on the King. Should…something happen to Major Campbell during that time, I doubt anyone would really notice until much later,” she cocked her head, quirked an eyebrow. Polly stared at her. “You know,” Lucy swallowed, shoving her hands into her pockets, “I found, and this is just me, personally, but I found it to be very cathartic, to watch as the blood of the men who’d hurt me seeped into the ground and the light faded from their eyes,” she shrugged. “But that’s just me. Cheerio, then, Polly. Have a good day,” she went to the door, glancing over her shoulder. “Take care of yourself.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“Do you want tea?” Ada asked, setting the tray down. Tommy didn’t make any indication that he’d heard her, still scribbling out a letter at the table.

“I'll have some, Ada,” Lucy called to her from her spot beside him, nibbling on a muffin. Ada came over with the teacup, then went and got one for herself and Tommy, setting the teacup and saucer down beside him.

“I did you one anyway, you ignorant git,” she said fondly. He asked her to sit down beside him, instructing her to post the letter he was stuffing into an envelope, should anything happen to him today. Ada picked up the letter, attempting to ask him what it is was that he was involved in. He didn’t answer her. 

“God, you never let anybody in,” she sighed.

“He’s told me,” Lucy bristled lightly. Ada looked her up and down, expression unreadable, like she was trying to decide if Lucy counted or not.

The conversation at the table was brought to a close at the sound of creaking on the stairs. James came in, grabbing his coat from where it was laid out on the couch. Lucy put down her teacup and stood, shoving the remainder of the muffin into her mouth. Tommy stood and grabbed his coat, looking at James. Noticing the interaction, Ada leapt to her feet, questioning them about what was going on, chasing them as they headed for the door. 

“He just has to stand there, Ada,” Tommy said.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine,” Lucy patted her shoulder on her way around her. She continued to shoot questions at them, but didn’t follow after they’d stepped out the door. Though she stood there, watching from the entryway until they’d disappeared around the corner. 

“You got everything set with Alfie?” Tommy asked Lucy.

“Mhm. We had a lovely chat on the phone, so at least we won’t get shot the moment we first walk through the doors,” she adjusted the placement of her gun in its holster against her ribs.

“The next ten minutes, you don’t do or say anything I haven’t told you,” Tommy told James sternly. “All right?” when James didn’t say anything, Tommy looked at him sharply. “All right?”

“Yeah.”

“Hello, Ollie,” Tommy acknowledged the young man waiting for them by the door.

“Oi, hang on. Just you and the demon, yeah? He stays out here,” he gestured to James. 

“You stay here,” Tommy pointed to James, who nodded. Lucy patted him once on the shoulder encouragingly. 

“Be right back.”

They followed Ollie into the bakery, passing by rows and rows of barrels turned over onto their sides. Tommy paused, kneeling down next to one of them, and fumbled with his shoelace. Lucy stopped at his side, keeping an eye on Ollie, who was busy marking something in the paper, barely paying Tommy any attention as he waited for him to finish.

Good.

They went the rest of the way through the bakery, into Alfie’s office. Alfie was seated with his glasses perched on his nose, making marks in the paper clutched in his hands, feet propped up on the desk. He made no indication of even knowing that they were in the room with him, as they sat down across from him. Until the phone rang.

“That will probably be for you, won’t it?” he pointed with his pencil to the phone. Tommy stood, picking up the phone.

“Hello. Arthur? You’re out?” he listened only briefly, then hung up the phone. 

“Right, so that will be your side of the street swept up, won’t it?” Alfie set the paper down. “Where is mine? What have you got for me?”

Tommy handed a paper from a file to Alfie, who looked over it only briefly in interest, while Tommy explained how it would allow Alfie to put his rum in their shipments without issue. Alfie began to pull out the whiskey to celebrate, then hesitated, putting the bottle aside. 

“There is one thing, though, that we do need to discuss,” he pulled out some papers and set them down in front of Tommy, explaining how he’d had his lawyers draw them up. “It says that…in here, that one hundred percent of your business goes to me,” he tapped with his index finger.

“I see,” Tommy said.

“Just there, but…don’t worry about it, all right, because it is totally legal binding.”

“Alfie…” Lucy groaned.

“What? What, Lucy? I think that’s more than fair,” he nodded to himself, looking back at Tommy. “More than fair. All you have to do is sign the document and transfer the whole lot over to me.”

Tommy played along, but only for a moment, before he stated his refusal, and that was when Ollie pulled a gun on him.

Lucy rolled her eyes. Tommy cast him a look that seemed to just say seriously? She had to huff back another chuckle. It would have been actually at least a little surprising, had Ollie not been shooting shifty, nervous glances at Tommy incrementally for the past few minutes they’d been seated in the office. 

“Ollie, no. No, no, Ollie,” Alfie took the gun from him, but did not relent on his demands that Tommy sign the papers. 

Tommy just straightened the documents out in front of him, and began to explain, in a calm, level voice, how the boy they had left standing outside the door was an anarchist. A bold-face lie, of course. Lucy wondered if James had ever even held a gun in his life. 

“Tommy, I’m going to fucking shoot you and your little Red Demon here, all right? No hard feelings by the way, eh, Luce?” he shot a look her way. 

She shrugged and shook her head. “No. No hard feelings,” she actually meant it, too. It was just how business was.

Tommy carried on in his low rumble of a voice, telling Alfie how when he’d stopped to tie his shoelace when they came in, he’d laid a hand grenade under one of the barrels of rum. If she and Tommy didn’t walk out the door by seven o’clock, their friend outside would blow the grenade. 

Alfie and Ollie were both quiet, Ollie very obviously silently hyperventilating while Alfie stared at Tommy in contemplation, clearly trying to puzzle out if he was bluffing or not. Lucy kept her face schooled into a neutral expression of still vague amusement. 

“He tied his lace, Alfie, and there is a kid at the door,” Ollie said. 

“From a good family, too, Ollie. It’s shocking what they became,” Tommy added. Lucy chuckled around her cigarette softly, consciously adding just enough of an edge to it to make it sound more sinister. Just to really fuck with the kid.

Alfie turned on the poor kid, demanded what he had been doing while Tommy was tying his lace. 

“All right, Ollie, I want you to go outside, yeah, and shoot that boy in the face from the good family,” Alfie handed Ollie the gun.

“Anyone walks through the door except me or Lucy, he blows the grenade.”

Ollie froze. “He tied his fucking lace, Alfie.”

“I did tie my lace,” Tommy concurred.

“He sure did,” Lucy added. Damn, this was fun. Alfie temperamentally snatched the gun back from Ollie. 

“I bet, hundred to one that you’re fucking lying, mate. And that’s my money.”

“Well, you see, you’ve failed to consider the form. I did blow up my own pub for the insurance,” Tommy lied. Lucy rolled her head back with a smile. Originally, she’d planted the fake rumors that they’d blown up the Garrison themselves for the insurance as a way to help them save face from the Irish attacking one of their primary establishments. Who would have thought that little rumor would come in handy later down the road?

Alfie fiddled with the gun. Ollie looked like he was going to throw up. Lucy noted Tommy also watching the boy shrewdly from the corner of her eye. She turned her gaze to Ollie as well, cocking her head when he met her eyes. Out of the four of them, she reckoned that he was the only one there who was truly afraid to die.

The negotiations started. Alfie offered sixty-five percent, which Tommy refused. Ollie had a little meltdown and had to be told to go sit in the corner by Alfie. At Alfie’s request, Tommy began to talk about hand grenades, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the pin of a grenade. The same pin Lucy had pulled from a grenade that morning, holding the pin tight in her fist as she chucked the grenade out into a field, laughing at the boom as it exploded, kicking up dirt and grass and sending a collection of birds flying up into the sky in alarm at the sound. Tommy toyed with it before tossing it into an empty glass in front of Alfie. Alfie reached forward and plucked it up, running it between his fingers. 

He offered forty-five percent. Tommy countered with thirty. 

Tick tock, tick tock. 

Tommy started to talk about his time as a tunneler, the 179.   

“It’s funny, that,” Alfie leaned forward. “I do know the 179. And I heard they all got buried.”

Lucy tensed at the thought, taking a long drag from her cigarette to hide it, foot tilting from behind the desk to just barely rest against Tommy’s ankle.

“Have a lot in common, don’t you two?” Alfie asked, looking between them. Of course he knew what had happened to her, all those years ago.

“Three of us dug ourselves out,” Tommy said.

“Like you’re digging yourself out now?”

Tommy gave a half smile. “Like I’m digging now.”

“Being alright with blowing yourself up, that I can understand. But are you really willing to take your girlfriend here down with you?”

“I don’t mind,” Lucy said simply, truthfully. “No hard feelings though, right, Alfie?” she smiled sweetly as she threw his words back at him. 

Alfie grunted, shaking his head. “Fucking deserve each other, you two do…” he looked at Tommy, hard. “Fuck me,” he hissed. “Listen, I’ll give you thirty-five percent. That’s your lot.”

Tommy nodded. “Thirty-five.”

Alfie spat on his palm and held his hand out. Tommy did the same, and they shook on it. On their way to the door, Lucy turned to Ollie, still sitting in his chair with his shoulders hunched in.

“By the way, some advice to your boy here, Alfie, one professional to another, when you’re planning on pulling a gun on someone, don’t go all shifty eyed, glancing at them nervously every three fucking seconds. It ruins the surprise when you’re so obvious.”

“Alright, come on, now,” Tommy took her by the arm, leading her out of the office. They collected James at the entrance and walked him back to Ada’s. He kept shooting them curious glances, but didn’t ask any questions. Smart boy.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

They met up with their boys already gathered around a truck. Lucy clapped Arthur warmly on the shoulder as she walked past, climbing into the front while Tommy talked to the men. He joined her a moment later and they started off, only stopping once they’d gotten clear of the city and were out in a green, secluded field. They all filed out of the trucks, Tommy jumping up onto the hood as he gave them all their instructions for the day. Lucy leaned against the side of the truck, not really listening that closely. She already knew the plan. And she already had her instructions. 

“Hey, Lucy,” Arthur said, after speaking with Tommy.

“Yeah?” she asked with a sigh.

“John told me about the family meeting that you all had while I was in prison. And what Polly said about you and…Tommy.”

A sick feeling washed over her at the memory, but she ignored it. All the others who had been at the family meeting–or who had heard about it afterwards–hadn’t said a thing to her about it. Perhaps because they had already known. Or perhaps because they knew better than to go poking around in her and Tommy’s private business.

“Yeah,” she sighed, quietly.

“Look, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for some of the…things I’ve said to you in the past. I was just joking. And I didn’t know that you and Tom are…” he trailed off, looking down at his shoes.

“I know. But thanks anyway.”

“What Polly said…what John says that Polly said about you, it wasn’t right.”

She let out a quiet, bitter chuckle. “You know, you’re the only one other than Tommy who has told me that?” it made sense. Tommy and Arthur were the only ones of the family who didn’t actually hate her.

“Well, I…think everyone is a little scared of Polly.”

“More like everyone hates me.”

“No, no, I don’t think…” he trailed off when she gave him a look. Sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve gotten used to it,” she shrugged.

He cast her a grin. “So you and Tom, eh?”

“Ugh, Arthur…”

“No, no! I think it’s good! Really,” his voice softened. “I worry about him sometimes. But, uh, not so much when…when you’re around. You help him,” he nodded. “You make him laugh.”

Lucy smiled. “Thank you, Arthur.”

“I do have a couple of questions though. For starters, how does it work with–oh!” he jumped. “Erm, hello, Tom.”

Lucy shot Tommy a smile, snorting at the way he’d managed to sneak up behind Arthur without his older brother noticing. 

“Arthur.”

“I was just, uh, asking Lucy some questions about how it all…works between you two,” he stammered.

“Arthur,” Tommy said, stern but gentle. “We kept it all quiet for a reason, brother.”

“Right! Yes, of course, you both are, um. I mean some things should just be kept between a man and a woman, I suppose.”

“Yes.”

“I’m gonna go, erm, talk to John. Yeah,” he bustled off. Lucy chuckled as she watched him go.

“I’m gonna be getting bombarded with questions by all of them pretty soon, aren’t I?”

Tommy shrugged, leaning against the side of the truck beside her. “Just tell them to fuck off. You don’t have to tell them anything.”

“Mm,” she hummed, dropping her head onto his shoulder. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

She stroked her hands over Grace’s Secret’s flank, kissing her nose while Tommy and May talked about meeting up after the race was over. Tommy was clearly distracted, probably by what was about to happen today. Though of course, May knew nothing about that.  

“You don’t want me to join you,” May said. Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it.

“It’s not that,” Lucy attempted. She still felt terribly guilty for the entire thing. So much so that she could barely look May in the eye.  

“It’s fine. I’ll sit out here in the mud,” May told them. 

Tommy, clearly feeling as bad about the whole thing as Lucy did, took a step forward, and kissed May softly on the lips. Lucy would have done the same, but she didn’t want to scandalize the stableboys. 

“Whatever happens today, it was good,” he told her.

“You mean win or lose?”

“Yeah, win or lose.”

“May, come up after the race, it’s alright,” Lucy said.

“You know, I never watch the race,” May admitted. “Can’t stand it. I always like to find somewhere dark and quiet,” she looked up at him nervously when he didn’t respond. “Tommy?” 

“If you can’t find me up there, I’ll come and find you later. Or Lucy will,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Whatever happens, May, no regrets. No regrets. And I will find you.”

“Right,” May nodded.

“Remember that.”

“Tommy,” Lucy glanced down at her watch. “We’ve got to go.”

“Bye,” Tommy moved past her carefully. Lucy squeezed her shoulder, and rushed after him.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #my ocs #my fanfiction #fanfiction #dance of darkness #lucy winters x tommy shelby x grace burgess #tommy shelby x grace burgess #tommy shelby x grace burgess x oc #grace burgess x lucy winters #grace burgess x oc #grace burgess

[scifiseries]

I sewed a Steampunk Teacup Holster - for those winter teatime adventures

#scifiseries #steampunk #scifi

[teascented]

I made a teacup holster to hold my lily-of-the-valley set but it also has a spoon holder and a detachable bit to hang a milk can on.

We duel at dawn.

#teablr #tea #tea holster #diy #I planned to use a tutorial and then said 'fuck it we ball' and free-handed the entire thing #I blame the unbridled masc energy of these pics on the fact I’m wearing motorcycle pants that aren’t even mine

[drawnbydandy]

An entry for a J-fashion art contest, with the theme, Alice in Wonderland: Tea Time.

I wanted to draw Alice in a lolita outfit that reflected this theme, so she's wearing some accessories that called back to events from the story; a white rose painted red, a vial labelled, "drink me," and some very large keys.

I also wanted to tie the "Tea Time" theme into her outfit, so she's got a teacup holster on her harness with a clock-themed saucer, and the flowers pinned to her hat and necklace and printed on her collar and skirt hem are sprigs of the tea plant.

I wanted to incorporate playing cards in the piece, but I didn't want to overload her coordinate with too many disparate elements, so I worked them in as flying debris. The Queen of Hearts and Jack (also known as Knave) of Hearts are in the foreground, as they're notable characters in the story.

This boy in ouji fashion is the White Rabbit; he's described in the book as pink-eyed, wearing a waistcoat, and flustered about being late for a very important date.

#Alice in Wonderland #ouji #EGL #lolita #steampunk #illustration #artists on tumblr

[alicesought]

{{ We all understand this is canonly a part of Arkham Jervis' outfit right? Like, if this was a part of his 25 belts and straps it would not seem out of place. I am going to write him having this in interactions and refuse to elaborate what i mean by teacup holster }}

#{{ I'll be productive eventually today... }} #🐇 ◆◇◆ || ₙₒ ᵣₒₒₘ₋ ₙₒ ᵣₒₒₘ! || { o.o.c. } #🐇 ◆◇◆ || ᵢ cₐₙ’ₜ ₑₓₚₗₐᵢₙ ₘyₛₑₗf ᵢ’ₘ ₐfᵣₐᵢd ₛᵢᵣ... || { headcanons. }

[more-than-a-princess]

Continued from here with @scarlxtleaves!

As soon as Lupin took his seat, Sisi's head rose. Tucked in front of the fire, the dog now possessed a newfound interest in the gentleman thief: particularly, his proximity to the plate of shortbread biscuits. Meandering over, the corgi took a seat at Lupin's feet, giving the man the largest, saddest eyes he could seemingly muster, partnered with a pathetic whine. Sonia laughed, refilling her own teacup after Lupin had filled his.

"Don't believe him for a moment," She advised through giggles, adding a cube of sugar and splash of milk, just as she liked it. "He's already gotten two shortbreads out of me. He's simply acting like no one has deigned to bestow him with the treats he deserves."

The dog seemed to understand, shooting her a disappointed look as Sonia took a sip of her drink. At least her tea managed to stay in her mouth and not end up back in her cup, which was the fate of Lupin's beverage at her decision. She raised her eyebrows, surprised: had he expected something different? Certainly by now it was clear that divulging anything about a potential heist to Sonia, currently on holiday from being the Princess of Novoselic, would ensure she offered both her opinion and her participation in the scheme. Except in this case, she'd have to don the tiara again: quite literally, in fact.

"Novoselic has never been invaded and I certainly don't intend for that to commence now," She replied matter-of-factly, her belief in her nation stronger than any terrorist threat. "But consider this: the best possible distraction would be to comfort the attendees and staff in question. And there's no better method to do that than to use me, just as I am: I'll be a novelty, after disappearing for some months now. And while I'm capturing the attention of whomever you need me to, surely you can slip in as someone innocuous and do what needs to be done."

It wasn't as if her days were particularly full of responsibilities, either: at least not the ones she was used to. Topping up Sisi's kibble, helping decide what to prepare for meals, and choosing films to watch at night were hardly taxing for her, someone whose diary was chock full of meetings and appearances, tours and balls. Attending the Imperial Family's gala would be reminiscent of her old life, her true life: what she was living in, a Japanese mansion with five men and a dog engaging varying degrees of criminality, was more akin to a forced-upon holiday.

And like all holidays, it would eventually come to an end. Something Sonia had yet to reckon with as she straightened in her seat, setting down her cup and saucer. "The Comte may not approve, but it has the potential to take care of two capers in one evening, which is efficient and he seems to be a man who respects efficiency. Though if it is a gala, then we will need an appropriate vehicle for royal transport, and for weapons...I'm thinking that I should be equipped with a pistol and holster, a concealed knife, a straight razor blade, and a vial of poison. That should do it!"

She rattled them off the way most people would share a grocery list, beaming with satisfaction. Even before he'd suggested it, Sonia had put thought into such situations. Partly to avoid subsequent kidnappings, recent events aside, but partly due to her own overactive imagination and a perchance for serial killers, horror, and murder mysteries. In fact, it was effort on her part to request practical weapons and nothing too fantastical.

"What is the target, by the way?" She asked, petting Sisi's head in order to distract him from the biscuit plate. And to distract her from mentioning what, inexplicably, gave her discomfort: If both plots succeed, I'll be on my home to Novoselic for good.

#scarlxtleaves #Non-Despair AU: The Princess of Novoselic #(What happens when you've got a sheltered young woman who reads too many novels + watches too many TV/movies) #(And has a fascination with serial killers/murder - This.) #(Today in 'how do Lupin and Sonia manage to frighten and/or anger the rest of the crew' - this!)

[penny-nichols]

You should never give me access to money because I will either spend it all on my friends, on fabric (that I’m not even USING because my back pain prevents me from sewing) or on shit like Teacup Holsters. I haven’t worn a belt since May. I don’t drink hot tea.

[corruptradiance]

09/26/23 - I have a lot of dreams about carrying a gun.

// psychosis, familial trauma, gun violence

I've never been interested in firearms. Dad taught me how to use a handgun when I was younger, but I didn't feel like I had any reason to use it. We’d gone shooting a few times, but I didn’t see the point in it really. I guess everyone has their pastime.

In my dreams, the fact that I even have a gun on my person is completely irrelevant to the context. The gun is always the same; An unadorned black handgun, always a little too large for my hands. I don't have a holster, leaving me the only option of storing the weapon unceremoniously in the pocket of my jeans. My baggy shirts cover the grip so long as there’s no wind or physical contact to speak of.

Last night I dreamt of a woman; one of those small, delicate women who speak to you as if they themselves are a dream. She was a school counselor, adorned in clothing somewhere adjectively between “medical” and “maternal”. She had a gun too.

Sometimes I find the gun in my hand even when the situation far from calls for it. When I tried to get help, nobody seemed to notice the gun I was holding. They looked past me entirely at the woman crying on the lawn, trying and failing to land the bullets in her head. I'd never fired my gun, yet this teacup woman was landing lead in the buildings and ground all around her. Anywhere but herself.

Dad doesn’t know that I know the code to his safe. He doesn’t pay enough attention to even consider the idea. When he left me this morning, I opened it; a small thing, perfectly cubic and heavier than I imagined. once I heave this Pandora to the comfort of a bed that is all too large for one man, I surreptitiously input four digits: 1-0-0-3.

This one isn’t like the dreams. Dad never let me touch his gun, but as I pressed my palm to the smooth grip and felt the orgasmic heft of metal against my muscles, I wished he had. To my surprise, the gun is loaded. A quick inspection reveals one full magazine within the gun itself, and an extraneous one containing only a single hollow point. I recall the woman from my dream.

I waited until he came home. I might've spent hours turning the tool over in my hands, examining its countless features and details. I realize that while the gun in my dreams was always too large, this one fit nicely in my hand. I rolled my fingers over the grip and flicked the safety on and off. I ejected the mag before pleasurably meeting the satisfactory click of its reentry. Over, and over.

When dad came home, he didn’t say a word. This time of year is hard for him. We ate dinner in typical silence, and I watched him retreat to the den. TV on, lights out. I stood and stared at him until the time got away from me.

I've dreamt of this gun in my hand for so long. It never felt right until now; That was a sign wasn’t it? I hadn't pulled the slide back once. It simply isn’t safe to have a round in the chamber until you’re ready to destroy something. Truthfully, I wanted to savor the feeling when I was.

My body shivers gratifyingly as brass slides to steel.

Dad always tried his best to do right by me. The thing is, I didn't want him to do right. I didn't want him at all, especially not after what happened to mom. not after he sent me to that hospital. Not then, not now.

I wish I'd had the forethought to use ear protection. Tinnitus still hasn’t left my ears. My eyes, however, are clear as rain. The running red and hinging flesh lapped them clean.

Mom's birthday is in one week. Maybe I'll visit her.

x

#my writing

[anxietywriter]

Trinkets in Writing

Does your character like to hoard things? Looking for something to add for your readers to get emotionally attached to so you can rip it away? WELL DO I HAVE THE DEAL FOR YOU! FOR JUST 99.99-

Clear, heart-shaped tea cups

Fairy princess sword (can be elegant but i was thinking of those plastic ones you find in the store for kids)

Sword-shaped perfume bottle

A chessboard and the pieces are all plants

Tea bags meant to look like fish when you put them in water

One of those bowls or plates that have a hill in the center, with a little house or something on that hill

A mug with the design on the bottom of the cup, that way when you drink all of your chosen beverage, you can see the design

Books that were all bound by hand

A dozen or so enamel pins, who despite their numbers cost an exorbiant amount of money

A lamp but it looks like a flower

A scrapbook filled with pressed flowers

Empty paint bottles that have been repurposed as little vases for pretty weeds

A little baggie of bubble soap for on-the-go bubbles

A whole pack of like unwatermarked stock photos

Unsharpened pencils with cute text on the side or images wrapping around

Potion bottles full of mundane kitchen items

Dozens upon dozens of rings, most of them engraved

Lazer engraved rolling pin

Cat/Dog-themed magnets

False wing harness

A set of tiny statues with a common theme (ex: bears, bees, etc)

Metal lunchbox, filled to the brim with colored pencils & crayons

A ceramic pot meant to look like a planet

Pages and pages of poetry with uneven sides from being ripped out of somewhere, stapled together (one staple, you can choose where for *flavor*)

Fake skull, but someone's colored on it

Boots designed to leave animal track treads

Propeller hat

Animal-shaped pencil pouch

TEACUP HOLSTERS

A mason jar that, for whatever reason, is just filled with lots of small stones

A sushi plate with a little shark on it

A massive, hugely inconvenient, keychain charm of sentimental value

#writing ideas

[bananaqueensewandsketch]

Ren faire fit!!! I sewed the lace up "corset" ish top, and it's reversible! So when I want to go for a red themed outfit it'll be time for the black and red roses side. I also put together a teacup holster bc you never know when you need some leaf juice

#sewing #sewblr #teacup #ren faire #craftblr

[theorphaninthetardis]

Chapter Twenty-Seven

With Jack gone, Sophie doesn't want to do any of the things she has planned. So instead she plods back to the sofa, plopping down. She puts on Eloise at Christmastime, and pulls a blanket over her chest. The movie plays, and she just relaxes into the seat. She falls asleep about halfway through the film.

Waking up a few hours later, Sophie begrudgingly goes into her room. She pulls a couple packages from underneath her bed, and begins to wrap them. As soon as they are wrapped up, she slips them under the tree.

She keeps herself busy for the next few hours, until Jack once again slips into the flat again. "Sorry about that," he sighs. He's juggling a stack of wrapped packages.

Sophie rushes over, taking a few of the parcels from his hands, "What's all this then?"

"Gifts from the team." He slips the stack that he's still holding under the tree, and Sophie follows suit almost immediately. "So, what now?"

"All that's left of my plan is more movies."

The Captain smiles, "Why don't you make some popcorn, some hot cocoa, and I'll pick out a movie," he shrugs.

Smiling, Sophie immediately agrees. She comes back into the room, a giant bowl of popcorn, and two teacups balanced in her hands. Jack takes the bowl, and presses play on the movie. "Miracle on 34th Street?"

He shrugs, "It's a good movie."

She sets the cups down on the coffee table, "I never said it wasn't," she says, sitting down next to him.

Jack wraps an arm around her shoulder. She glances over at him, "Maybe we could do the first two Home Alone movies next?"

"And then In the Good Old Summertime?"

"Elf?" Sophie adds.

"Die Hard," Jack states.

He leans forward to grab his hot chocolate. Sophie grabs it away from him, "Hang on, we are not watching Die Hard."

Jack snatches the drink from her hands, "That is a classic!" he punctuates, pointing furiously at her.

"It's not even a Christmas film!"

"Yes, it is! It takes place at Christmastime. It's got festive moments. It's a Christmas movie."

"It's an action movie."

Jack grabs a cookie off the cookie tray on the table, "C'mon, Soph. Can't we watch it?"

She sighs, and crosses her arms, "Fine."

*The Next Day*

As the end credits for Die Hard start to play, Sophie feels her eyes drift shut, as her head rests on Jack's shoulder. The Captain also begins to doze off, having been awake for quite a while. As sleep begins to claim the duo, on the roof of the flat, a blue box materialises. A man in a pinstripe suit stolls out, the December chill seemingly not bothering him. He spies the closest chimney, and a manic grin crosses his face. He slips into the brick structure, easily going all the way down.

Jack hears a noise from the fireplace, and reacts, accidentally waking Sophie in the process. He pulls his pistol out, aiming it at the fireplace, as Sophie grabs her sword off the floor by the couch. A man with spiky hair rolls out onto the floor of the flat, spreading soot onto the floor. Sophie sighs, and places her sword down, Jack re-holstering his gun. The Time Lord grins, his teeth glowing in comparison to the rest of his body, "Merry Christmas!"

"It's the twenty-third," Sophie deadpans.

The Doctor shrugs, "Okay, it's close enough."

Jack rolls his eyes, "Why don't you go and get yourself cleaned up, Doc. We're really just relaxing."

"We need a new movie suggestion," Sophie calls after the retreating Time Lord.

"I'll let you know when I get back," he calls back.

Jack climbs to his feet, and grabs the mop, cleaning the smoke and soot off the floor. Sophie slips into the kitchen, and starts to boil some water, intent on making something warm to drink. About ten minutes later the Gallifreyan reappears, in a suit identical to the one before. His hair is slightly damp, but he's smiling all the same. "So," he starts, clapping his hands together, "Someone mentioned a Christmas movie?"

Sophie steps back into the living area, and sets three cups down on the table, each filled to the brim with hot chocolate, topped with marshmallows. "We've already watched quite a few," she starts, handing the Time Lord one of the cups. "White Christmas, Christmas Carol, Home Alone, Home Alone 2, the Santa Clause trilogy."

She hands Jack a cup, and he continues, "Miracle on 34th Street,, In the Good Old Summertime, and Die Hard."

"Sophie let you watch Die Hard?" the Doctor asks, raising his eyebrows. The woman sticks her tongue out at him, and then takes a sip of her drink. The Time Lord seems to think deeply, before suddenly snapping his fingers, "What about the old Rankin and Bass movies? Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, and, of course, The Year Without a Santa Claus. Those are some of my personal favourites." He proceeds to take a loud, obnoxious slurp of his cocoa.

Jack and Sophie look at each other, and nod, "Sounds good," the Captain states, and sits back down onto the sofa.

Sophie flops down beside him, and pulls the Time Lord down on her other side. She reaches into the Doctor's inside breast pocket, and pulls out his sonic. He makes an affronted noise, trying half-heartedly to grab the screwdriver back, but the woman leans further into Jack, and aims the sonic at the screen. It fades to black, and then the beginning credits of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer begin to scroll across the screen. She tosses the screwdriver back to the Time Lord, who shoves it back into his pocket, and leans back into the sofa, with a sigh.

#Doctor Who #Doctor Who fanfiction