#i love lockwood and co

[strawberrycowgirly]

feel like shit just want my babes my back </3

i miss lockwood and co so much i’m crying right now bro

[autisticbiologistmess]

I'm re-rewatching Lockwood and Co. (because of course I am) and I love Lockwoods shoes. They are some random canvas boot trainer thingies and I think it's the perfect contrast to his formal (but redundant) suit and the whole meaning behind it. I just love the attention to detail and how everything makes so much sense 😭😭😭😭😭

[hurtcomfortficstilltheend]

A little post-river pick-me-up.

Lucy Carlyle x gn! Reader

Summary: R makes panqueques con dulce de leche (argentinian crepes filled with a milk based caramel) for the team after the shiver-inducing Thames fiasco.

Warnings: Falling into the Thames (chapter 7 follow-up), me sugarcoating the end because I'm weak for this fandom and this fandom only, and fluff.

A/N: The uncover DEPRAC agent didn't die, Joplin (just noticed in the book she's a man btw) doesn't exist, and Penelope Fittes is a good person, because I say so. Also, reader is Lockwood's cousin.

Word Count: 1.9k

Thank God. 

Thank God you were born in a town surrounded by water, thank God your father had insisted on swimming lessons since you were five, thank God you actually learned.

You’d probably drowned otherwise. Jumping from that rooftop, at least fifteen meters high, was already too much of a physical trauma, to add struggling to keep afloat on top of it. Now that you think about it, thank God you’d done all those scouts survival courses too. 

The moment the three of you hit the water, and after the initial sinking -followed by the thermic shock and panic- you instinctively swam up to the surface.The night breeze was somehow even colder than the Thames now.

“Lucy!” You yelled with the first gulp of air you got into your lungs. “Anthony!” You weren’t sure how far they could be, if you had drifted away during the fall, if they were still underwater. It was pitch black, and you didn’t even know if you were safe from the golden blade yet.

You kicked your shoes off into the river to lessen the weight, and considered doing the same with your dressing pants. “LUCY!” You heard some rustling in the water near you, and begun a clumsy front crawl towards it. It was your cousin, Anthony, who seemed to have just had his first breath. You held onto his arm. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy." He was having no problem with keeping his head above the water, so you let go.

You rolled your eyes, a dry but sincere "Great." Left your mouth, then you got serious. “I can’t find Lucy.” 

He nodded dutifully, but before either of you started calling out for the girl, she popped up a few meters away from you. You thanked God again, but noticed that she was coughing and struggling to stay afloat.

Lockwood got to her first and helped stabilize her, but you noticed that he was just as shaken, so it was kind of up to you to wear the trousers in the situation. Which right now meant to take them off. You had a pair of biking shorts under anyway, no biggie. So you did, discarding your coat into the river as well.

You got closer to Lucy and took Lockwood’s place holding her up. You weren’t sure Lucy knew how to swim at all. 

“We need to get to shore ASAP.” Anthony nodded again. You wondered if today’s events were too much for him, he seemed so quiet, unlike his usual self. You already missed his overconfident attitude.

At some point of the trip to the nearby beach, Lucy had actually started swimming by herself. Still, you kept an eye on her, just in case.

-

Getting out of the river was not as satisfying as you had imagined. You were grateful and relieved to be on solid ground, of course, as the whole group’s muscles were quite fatigued, and you were all agitated after swimming; but the cold that came with it was almost unbearable. The three were shivering violently when you threw yourselves to the gravel to catch your breaths.

Lockwood was the first to sit up. He felt horribly guilty for how the events had unfolded and how all of you had ended up in this situation. He knew it was his fault, his pride started the whole bone glass thing anyway.

Your teeth were chattering, and you knew you all were going to die of hypothermia if you didn’t get home as soon as possible. Besides, sooner or later you were bound to cross paths with a Visitor, and you were in no condition to fight. 

You turned to your side, and saw Lucy looking up at the dark cloudy sky with glassy eyes. Her lips were turning purple.

You jumped up into action, and reached an arm towards your girlfriend to help her up too. She struggled a little bit to gain balance, and so did Lockwood, and so did you, but in no time you were walking towards the nearest ghostlight to hail a night cab. 

Your appearance wasn’t decent at all. You were all dressed in night attire, but wet to the bone and filthy. Lucy’s mascara was running down her cheeks, and you were barefoot and in gym shorts. For a second you thought you probably looked like wet, sad, kicked puppies. Still, a taxi driver took pity on you and parked.

-

You didn’t even have the energy to fight Lockwood on this one, or tell him how reckless he had been, or how you could have all died tonight. You were exhausted. Still, as his family, you had the inherent responsibility to make him take account for his actions. “You can take the shower first, Luce.” You told her the moment you stepped into 35 Portland Row. 

“Are you sure..?” She turned around to look at you, hesitant to climb up the stairs to your shared room. 

You nodded and tried your best to smile for her. “Of course, just don’t use all the hot water again, please.” The joke went right over her head, but she still nodded and made her way to the attic.

You crossed your arms to try and hide your shivering. When you were both alone, you turned to face your cousin. “Dude..” 

“I know. I’m sorry” You didn’t mean to make him feel worse about it, but this wasn’t going to just be forgotten and forgiven like almost everything always was.

“You fucked up big time.” He just gulped and stared at his now water damaged dress shoes. You sighed. It was not the time anyways. “Go shower so I can patch up your forehead.” He was about to complain, but you cut him off with a gesture of your hand, “Don’t lie to yourself, we all know you’re an awful nurse. Now go.”

“You sound like aunt Lauren.” He grumbled. That’s how genetics work, you thought, but before you could react, he had already gone upstairs.

You sat on the second bottom stair step, and leaned your body to rest on the wall. You were facing the door, waiting for George to barge in, and tell you all that the mirror had been safely handed to DEPRAC. You truly couldn’t take any other scenario for an answer. 

-

The dissonant shriek the hinges emitted when the entrance door was opened disturbed your sleep. You hadn’t even realized you dozed off. You clothes were still wet and cold, so it couldn’t have been too long.

“George.” You said standing up slowly. Your knees popped and the general soreness hit you like a tidal wave. “Is it over?”

He turned the key and locked the house. “What happened to you-”

“Long story, jumping into the Thames does this sometimes, is it over?” You repeated. It sounded desperate.

He seemed to understand. “Yes, it is. The furnaces are not on during the night, but I made sure they took the mirror to the lowest level to be incinerated first thing in the morning.”

“Good.” Everyone was inside, everything was okay. You were all safe and alive. You tried to hold on to that thought. You breathed out slowly. “I need a shower.”

Halfway up the stairs you looked over your shoulder. “The entirety of today was a clusterfuck. How does argentinian milk caramel crepes tomorrow afternoon sound? If we go to Arif’s before that I can prepare some. This team really needs a pick-me-up.”

George took in your tired eyes and miserable appearance altogether. He formed a half-smile and nodded softly. You did the same and headed to the small bathroom in the attic, making a quick detour to apply a few steri-strips to Anthony's forhead and calling it a day.

-

You got out of the shower and dried your hair. Your piyamma was already on when you got out of the bathroom and into the room, a cloud of steam following you. The lights were off, but the street’s ghost lamp illuminated enough for you to get to your side of the bed without stumbling over something.

Lucy had been so tired she had fallen asleep over the covers. You picked her up softly, undid the bed and did your best to settle her in, following suit onto your side. She stirred.

“What took you s’long?” she slurred out. You could tell she wasn’t really awake. You answered anyway.

“I was just waiting for George to get home. It's over.” You were lying on your back, and in her drowsy state she got closer and curled onto your side, an arm around your waist. You caressed her hand softly with your fingertips.

“Yeah?” She asked. You hummed in confirmation. Her body relaxed and her breathing evened out. Soon enough, so did yours.

-

The feeling of freezing water engulfing you and getting into your lungs woke you up. You opened your eyes, the adrenalin already in your bloodstream, muscles itching to get into action. But you didn’t. You were safe, in your room with your girlfriend sleeping soundly by your side. It was just a nightmare.

You didn’t want to go back to sleep though; you knew if you did, your mind would come up with more terrors to torment you with. From your position you checked the clock on the wall. 10.52 a.m. Too early for your liking, but it would have to do.

You got up slowly, making sure Lucy's sleep didn’t get disturbed in the slightest. 

Every single fiber of your body was sore, it felt worse than the night before, but it made sense, so you decided to ignore it.

You brushed your teeth and picked up some clothes to change downstairs.

-

After getting the supplies and getting the pancake pan going, little by little the house started waking up. 

“Would you please put the kettle on the stove?” You asked George. He was the first to wake up and the most alive looking, at least compared to the shapeless form slumped over the table, AKA your cousin Anthony. Lucy hadn’t gotten up yet.

It was one p.m. when the last crepe left the pan. They were all stacked up on a plate, ready to be filled with dulce de leche and enjoyed. The tea was already in the teapot, Ariff's swiss rolls on display, and other add ons made by George scattered around.

Still, Lucy wasn’t there.

“Don’t you dare start without us.” you said in an over dramatic manner, pointing at them and making a threatening gesture as you headed upstairs. You knew they were going to be halfway down the stack by the time you came back anyway, but you didn’t actually care that much. 

“Lucy…” You sing-songed when you got to the attic. At first glance you noticed she hadn’t changed position from when you left her a few hours before. 

You sat on the edge of the mattress and ran your fingers through her hair. Slowly but surely, she started stirring, her eyelashes fluttering open.

“Hi.” She croaked out.

“Hi, babe. There are fresh crepes in the kitchen, and I was wondering if you wanted some… you know, before they get eaten by George and Anthony… who were left unsupervised just about now in front of the plate-”

She jolted up at that. You knew it would do the trick, since it was her favorite dish. She smiled broadly, gave you a little peck on the cheek and got into the bathroom.

In no time you were both heading towards the kitchen, holding hands.

-

-

-

Bonus:

You were surprised to see the guys hadn’t gotten to inhaling the food yet. Then realized as they handed you a butterknife, they were just too lazy to actually spread the caramel into the crepes. You rolled your eyes, but prepared one for each, and then another one. You ate last, but you didn’t mind, you were happy you could bring a smile into their faces, even if it was just with something as simple as food.

-

After finishing the breakfast feast, the whole agency, one by one disappeared into your bedrooms to take a well deserved nap.

[soup-sponge]

it's them

[paranormaljones]

Yet another thing I find absolutely wonderful about how Jonathan Stroud wrote Lucy Carlyle is how he betrays her with the narrative.

In The Screaming Staircase, at the start of her story, Lucy gives us an idea of how she wants to be perceived; unaffected, unbothered, unburdened by fear or particularly revelatory emotions. She drops horrifically painful realities about her childhood on us as if she were describing a dull gray rock she found on the ground. She tries very, very hard to school her emotions around Lockwood and George. And if she had been written by anyone else, she might have fallen prey to the "strong independent female character" tar pit of a stereotype.

But then along comes Annabel Ward's ghost.

And the narrative looks at Lucy and says "I know how you wish to present yourself, but that's not who you are."

And Lucy is repeatedly shown to be incredibly Sensitive in so many ways. She is under the influence of the ghost of Annie Ward, but the emotions are still partly Lucy's. And most of the time she has the emotional intelligence to differentiate which feelings are hers and which ones are Annie's, and where they overlap. She chokes up with empathy on multiple occasions in the process of uncovering what happened to Annie Ward. She becomes enflamed with the desire for justice for someone who was murdered decades before she was born. She's shown that by her very nature, her emotions are her strength and not her weakness. Because she has a narrative that loves her and isn't lazy about her. She is the narrator and she tells us who she is, but the narrative shows her and us who she really is.

[eudociacovert]

I've been thinking about the door on the landing.

It's easy to understand that opening that door is a sign of Lockwood's growth, him learning to trust his friends and let people in, but... keeping it closed was also learning to let people in. Specifically, letting George in. George Karim was fired from Fittes for breaking rules, asking too many questions, and visiting areas he wasn't allowed into. Lockwood knew that and brought him into his metaphorically haunted childhood home anyway. Then Lockwood made a rule that George could not enter the door on the landing, and could not ask why, the three things George had not been able to do at Fittes.

And George didn't.

He didn't ask, he didn't push, and he didn't go in. And that, Lockwood deciding to trust George even when he could be setting himself up for pain and George being worthy of that trust, that's the first cornerstone on which Lockwood could eventually build a new home, a new family. Trusting George not to cross his boundaries was Lockwood's first big leap of faith, his first step towards opening himself to others and healing.

George is just... so important. Lucy and Lockwood are incredible for each other, they're the catalysts for so much of each other's growth, but if Lockwood had met her before he met George he wouldn't have had deep enough roots to begin to bloom.

[juneneedsabreak]

+ literally my fav:

locklyle textposts: 1, 2, 3, 4.

[mageofspace924]

i binged lockwood and co and then i read the entire series immediately after i am OBSESSED i love this trio, i love the crew, locklyle is my everything

[hermesmoly]

Been burnt too many times (has their favorite shows cancelled by netflix)

[maarigolds]

"What happened?!"

"Fought off a load of thugs, fell down the catafalque hole, battled a bunch of ghosts. You know, the usual sort of thing"

The main trio in Lockwood and Co. (2023-)

[ktonyard]

I want to read the Lockwood and co books from Lockwoods POV so badly. He has the emotional range of a teapot with a unknown liquid in it and I need to hear him pine after her and supress his thoughts about how wonderful she is.

[strawberrycowgirly]

AWWW

AND cameron liked it

[peachymaryobrien]

2024? Idk, I'm still here

[ann1eandco]

one of the things i adore about the casting of cameron chapman as lockwood is his SMILE. in the books lucy is constantly describing lockwood’s smile as all sorts of lovely things and i think cameron encapsulates the exact vibe stroud was going for when writing him

[rantsramblesandrandomthougts]

They are meant for each other

[paranormaljones]

One thing I really love about George in the books is how much of a guard dog he is about Lockwood when it matters. When Lucy's on the landing considering the "forbidden room" her first day in the house and George finds her, he immediately tells her that it's forbidden, and that no, he himself doesn't know what's in there, but it's Lockwood's and shouldn't be messed with because Lockwood doesn't want it to be.

And then later on when they have that run-in with Kipps and his gang at the library, and Kipps makes that shallow (and like . . . horribly hurtful) jibe at Lockwood about how everyone who's close to him comes to a bad end and has since Lockwood was little, George immediately steps in and ends Kipps' whole career being like "Hey remember the names and faces of every kid who's died under your watch since you have the highest mortality rate of any team leader at Fittes?"

Like . . . George does not mess about at all when it comes to Lockwood.