#kipps appreciation week

[synestheticwanderings]

we may not live to see our glory

He curses under his breath and quickly makes the sign of the cross again.

Quill runs into Lockwood in an unexpected place during the Black Winter.

part of the tin soldier series

Quill digs his nails into his palms. He needs to wash his hands clean, lay his burden down, and try to ease some of the gnawing guilt that’s sitting in the pit of his stomach.

He sighs. It would be so much easier if he’d actually done something wrong.

But that’s the rub, isn’t it? Every single step of the way, he’s done the right thing. He’s followed all the rules, he’s waited his turn—everything he had ever wanted was right there in his grasp. And then he followed Lockwood & Co. into Aickmere’s and it all slipped away as if he’d been holding water in his hands.

Read the rest on Ao3.

[bubbl3zdaseaotter37]

Quill Kipps is by far my favorite side character. Like. This man had one of the best character development arcs I've ever seen, and. None. Of. Us. Noticed. Until we were cheering for him along with everyone else. I don't even know if he noticed.

Anyways. Quill Kipps.

[elysianrey]

↳ 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟱: 𝗙𝗮𝘃𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗗𝘆𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗰/𝗕𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗽 | 𝗟𝘂𝗰𝘆 & 𝗞𝗶𝗽𝗽𝘀

[anama-cara]

Lockwood and co appreciation week day 4. My fav minor character is Kipps

This is the scene where they travel through Dark London under the protection of the cloaks in The Empty Grave

[neewtmas]

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: Reader is a solo agent who has a rather unfortunate first encounter with George. Even though both hope it was also the last, they will meet again sooner rather than later.

A/N: Something new from me after a few weeks! This is a tentative first chapter of a little series I might write - I have some ideas but nothing exactly figured out yet (also no title yet). Any feedback would be absolutely amazing and so very much appreciated🩷🧡

taglist: @maraschinomerry @marinalor @oblivious-idiot @lockwood-lover @givemea-dam-break (if you want to be added or removed, just send me an ask:))

masterlist

The key turned smoothly in the lock and you pushed open the door to your little apartment. The green paint of the door was chipped off at the edges and the hinges creaked terribly when the door swung open too slow, but at least with this one, you felt like locking it had an effect. No comparison to the shitty lock to the even shittier apartment you had started your career as a solo agent in two years ago.

The room was filled with the subtle blue glow of dawn, so there was no need to switch on the light as you walked over to your bed, avoiding stepping on the wrinkled clothes and books strewn all over the carpet. You turned on the small lamp on the bedside table, the warm light easy on your tired eyes as you slowly started to untie your sturdy boots. It had been an exhausting night, one of many in the past few weeks. You were glad that available cases weren't hard to come by currently, but that also meant working through most nights. Which in turn took a toll on your energy levels. But at least today, you could sleep in since you had decided to keep the next night free of any work with the supernatural, so there wasn't a need for research in the library either. The sun was already creeping up over the horizon, and even though the morning sky looked beautiful, you pulled the curtains closed to avoid having the sunshine on your face in just a few minutes. You fell asleep almost as soon as your face hit the pillow.

It was late afternoon when you woke up again. You wouldn't have minded just staying in your warm, cosy bed, curled up under the heavy blanket, but your grumbling stomach forced you to get up. Seeing as the day was almost over anyway - at this time of year the sun was setting early, and that meant businesses closed and people hid in their homes much sooner than they would in the summer. But you would still have enough time to get a fresh coffee and some delicious pastry from your favourite bakery if you left now. It wasn't the closest bakery from where your apartment building stood, but it was the one you often stopped by on the way to the archives and they had the best coffee in all of London.

Outside, the air was cold and crisp, the sidewalk littered with autumn leaves in all different colours, some stomped into the mud by the people that had walked there before you, some submerged in puddles from last night's rain. You burrowed your hands in the pockets of your thick winter coat, letting your eyes wander over the beautiful facades of the houses you walked by. You were now in a part of London that was much nicer to look at than where you lived, but you'd probably never see any of those houses from the inside. Even if there were supernatural incidents, this kind of people tended to hire Fittes or Rotwell or any one of the bigger agencies. Not solo agents like you.

A few minutes later, you walked by one of the houses that always caught your eye. The little wooden sign that was attached to the ornate fence in front of the short walkway up to the door read A.J. Lockwood & Co Investigators

You knew who Lockwood was. You weren't his biggest fan, mainly because the one time you met, he had beaten you in a fencing competition. Though the fact that he had also beaten Quill Kipps had somewhat redeemed him in your eyes. Kipps was by far one of the most annoying people you ever had the displeasure of working with, and seeing him poked in the behind by someone several years younger than him had made your defeat sting a little less. You were aware Lockwood had his own agency, but really only since the events at Combe Carey Hall that had sent shockwaves through all of England. Ever since then, they had been in the paper now and then, and you had read every article intently. Even though you told yourself you weren't that interested in them.

Darkness was approaching faster than you had expected and so you sped up a little. The streets were already almost deserted, except for a frail-looking older lady on the other side of the street, but she was clearly in a hurry as well. When you reached the bakery - just a few minutes before closing time- it was empty. You greeted the older man behind the counter, who was already in the process of preparing your usual coffee order as he had seen you approach through the big windows at the front of the shop. You chatted a little with him as you picked out the pastry that you wanted to accompany your coffee. At this late hour, the display was almost emptied. "Do you still have one of the doughnuts with the orange jam filling?", you asked, and the man shook his head apologetically. "I did save one for you just in case you'd stop by, but I just got an order in and unfortunately they came first." He gestured to a small package behind him that contained six different doughnuts. Your favourite, the one with orange jam, sat right on top, almost as if it was mocking you.

Oh well, there wasn't anything you could do. You picked one of the muffins that were still available and searched in your coat pockets for some change to pay for the muffin and the coffee. The man handed you both over the counter and you thanked him. You turned around swiftly, eager to get back home, but you didn't get very far. The collision with the person that had suddenly appeared in front of you knocked the air out of your lungs. You managed to hold on to the paper bag with the muffin in it, but the coffee cup in your other hand was not so lucky. You squeezed it hard in an attempt to not drop it on the ground, but that just caused the plastic cover to pop off and hot coffee to spill all over your hand. You stumbled back, the pain from the scorching hot coffee penetrating your skin. You gritted your teeth to not yell obscenities at the person responsible for your mishap and put the coffee down on the counter. You grabbed some of the napkins that were placed there and patted yourself dry. The person you ran into was some curly-haired dude a little taller than you, and he just looked at you with a blank expression. "How about an apology?" you spat out, adding 'you asshole' in your head. You immediately wished you had said it out loud when he shrugged and uttered a bored-sounding "Sorry", clearly not meaning it. You watched him take the box of doughnuts and leave the bakery, not giving you another glance. "Here, take this." üöä.You turned to the man behind the counter and he held out a new cup of coffee that you took with a thankful smile. "Don't mind him. He's a little prickly at times." You scoffed. That wouldn't be your choice of words to describe this guy who not only caused you to spill coffee all over yourself like an idiot but also apparently stole the last of your favourite doughnuts available that day.

When you stepped back outside, the cold air felt soothing on your hand. Upon further inspection, the skin was just a bright, angry red, but there didn't seem to be any real injuries. Nevertheless, you were still angry about the interaction you just had. This guy had singlehandedly managed to ruin your first free day in several weeks. And then had not even given a proper apology after the whole fiasco was his fault. Your anger remained the whole way home, and it was only when you sat down at the small table in your apartment with the muffin and the coffee that your mood improved a little.

***********George's POV***************

It was a rainy afternoon, and so dark that the streetlamps were already switched on even though nightfall was still hours away. George had his eyes focused on the ground before him as he walked to not slip on one of the many wet leaves on the concrete. He had the hood of his puffer jacket pulled over his head, the box of doughnuts pressed against his chest in an attempt to protect it from the slight drizzle of rain. he was lucky that he still managed to get the usual selection even though he forgot to call until just half an hour ago. The book he had buried himself in after breakfast had been too captivating for him to think about any chores Lockwood had bestowed upon him. Including buying doughnuts for after dinner.

He kicked off his shoes in the hallway carelessly and trudged into the kitchen, where Lucy sat at the table, scribbling around on the thinking cloth. Lockwood stood at the stove, stirring a soup of rather questionable colour in a pot. He put the slightly crumbled package on the table and Lucy immediately pulled it over to her.

"The one with orange jam is mine", George said immediately and he didn't miss the way Lucy rolled her eyes as she picked one of the plain powered ones. "Tell me something new", Lucy mumbled through her mouthful of doughnuts. George ignored her and started pulling out bowls from one of the cupboards to set the table. Lockwood's soup tasted much better than it looked, and for a while the three of them sat in silence, the only sound the scraping of the spoons against the porcelain bowls.

"Some girl spilt coffee all over herself at Arif's today", George broke the silence while he helped himself to a second serving of soup. "What?" "I come in, she turns around and runs straight into me. I'm lucky she didn't pour it over me." Lucy finished her portion of the soup and pushed the empty bowl away from her. "Couldn't you have just stepped aside?", she asked. George huffed. "Why would I? She has eyes, she can see where she goes. But based on how she demanded an apology from me immediately she probably doesn't see it that way." He paused for a moment, then shrugged. "Anyways, it's not like I'm ever gonna see her again."

thanks for reading <3

[shiorimakibawrites]

Carnal Knowledge (Part 14 of Alley Cat)

Image credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Amber Kipp / Nathan Dumlao

Image Description: Matt Murdock as red-suit Daredevil against nighttime city background in one block, Shadowy couple leaning against each other surrounded by candles overlooking a city in second block, under second block is text saying Alley Cat by Shiori_Makiba, the third block is a orange medium haired tabby laying on a table and looking up at the camera playfully. END ID.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 6,856

Summary: Matt and You take your date over to his apartment. And have sex.

Warning(s): INAPPRORIATE FOR MINORS! Smut involving dirty talk, heavy petting, hand job (f receiving, m receiving), oral sex (f receiving, touch of m receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v sex

Also posted on A03.

Part of Alley Cat. Masterlist can be found here.

Carnal Knowledge

You walked, carrying the bag containing tiramisu in one hand, the hand of Matt Murdock in the other. He had held your hand earlier, on the way to the restaurant, but it still making you feel a giddy. Well, it was one of the things making you giddy.

The general reason was how much you had enjoyed yourself tonight. You had been given pretty flowers. Not a random pre-made bouquet picked at the last minute without much consideration but flowers that he had clearly put some thought into, taking the time to look up ones that your cat would be safe around. You appreciated that mindfulness, that sweetness, even more than the flowers themselves.

The food you had eaten had been excellent. So excellent that your brain-to-mouth filter got disengaged when you were asked about it. Which seemed to happen a lot around Matt. Through it was nice of Matt to call it adorable instead what it was. Which was embarrassing and awkward.

You had wondered if morbid curiosity about what might come out of your mouth next was one of the reasons he asked you out. But you had been distracted from such thoughts by his asking how you had met Jo. That story wasn’t funny like his meeting with Foggy but he had asked. So you told him how you had transferred into same high school within a couple of weeks of each other but you, being painfully shy and possessing almost no self-confidence at that age, was deemed an easier target by the local batch of mean girls. You hadn’t describe the bullying in any detail, just mentioned that it happened, but that was enough for Matt’s mouth to press into a thin line. You also didn’t miss the hints of that distinctive gravely rasp in his voice when he asked you what happened next.

Not wanting to dwell on those particular memories, you had done so. Telling him how Jo had come across this bullying one day and erupted in fury. Which in Jo’s case meant yelling at them at the top of her voice with an impressive amount of cussing.

Well, it had been impressive to freshmen you. Present you had heard far more impressive and creative displays of swearing. That heated exchange between a taxi driver and the owner of a hot dog cart, which had involved at least three languages, came to mind. Jo had gotten detention for it but swore that she regretted nothing. You then discovered a shared interest in mystery novels and the rest, as they say, was history.

The description of Jo turning the air blue in your defense got him smiling again. It was just a little one however and not wanting him to start brooding, you asked if he had any other stories about his time in college he would like to share. The answer was tons but the one he settled on was what he and Foggy call the Wardrobe Incident.

Matt and Foggy had gotten drunk, taking full advantage of finally being able to legally purchase alcohol. Stupid drunk considering they had an exam in the morning. So drunk that Matt’s phone ended up . . . somewhere. He never did figure out what had happened to it. It had disappeared somewhere in the bars within walking distance of Columbia University. And Foggy forgot to set the alarm on his phone. So they overslept. Woke up incredibly hungover in nothing but their boxers. Then while swearing never to drink (a vow that neither of them kept), realized that they had less than five minutes to get to their exam before the professor locked them out. And the classroom they needed to be at was on the other side of the campus.

They both put on the first clothes and shoes they laid hands on and then ran. They made it to their exam. Barely. Then he was taking an exam, trying to remember everything and ignoring how crummy he felt to get it done. It wasn’t until afterward, when Marci saw them and started laughing that they realized that something had gone awry. Turned out that Matt was wearing a pair of Foggy’s jeans and his shirt was inside out while Foggy had put his own shirt backwards with a pair of Matt’s sweatpants – the pair which had split along the back seam . . . Neither of them had matching socks – Matt had one of his usual plain ones but also one with yellow ducks on it that Foggy had given him as a joke for Christmas. Foggy had one with bears (which were also a gag gift) and a bright pink one that had been accidentally left by a girlfriend. It had taken Marci a week to stop giggling every time she saw them.

Which you could understand. Just picturing it had you giggling. Telling the story and hearing your amusement erased all of the tension in Matt. The big smile had returned and to keep it there, you had told him about the Macaroni Incident. Also known as how you learned that Jo couldn’t cook. During a sleepover, you both had gotten hungry and decided to make some macaroni and cheese. The kind in the blue box. You had gotten the water started when your brother’s dog – who was aptly named Trouble – needed to go out. Since the fence needed repairs, Trouble had to be on the leash. You asked Jo if she could make the food while you took care of the dog and she agreed.

In the time it took for Trouble to do his business (including attempting to inspect the squirrels), Jo had ruined that box of macaroni and cheese. The pasta managed to be both burnt and under-cooked. Well, the half that hadn’t been burnt into the bottom of the pot and couldn’t be removed. You weren’t sure what she had done to the cheese sauce but it had the consistency of glue. Tasted like glue too.

Matt had teasingly asked you how you knew what glue tasted like. You gave him the honest answer. You had tried it when you were about four or five. Along with crayons and pet food. Just to see what they tasted like. Didn’t all kids do that at some point?

He had laughed but admitted that, yes, he had done the same thing as a kid. Once when he was little due to curiosity. The second time had been after the accident due to training. And yes, the glue and the crayons had tasted as vile as you imagine they would to someone like him. The pet food had been delightful by comparison.

It would have been impossible not to giggle at the disgusted look on his face when he said that and you didn’t try. Which seemed to be his goal as he smiled at your giggles. Needless to say you were in a very happy mood when you left the restaurant.

“We’re here,” he said, coming to a stop. His apartment building looked a lot like yours. An older building, its six-stories feeling small when compared to all the skyscrapers, but sturdy despite its obvious wear. Like it had survived everything this city had thrown at it for decades and wasn’t about to give up now. Rather like the man that dwell within it.

You didn’t end up getting the elevator to yourself this time. There had been a young gay couple waiting by the doors. Both of them smiled and exchanged friendly greetings with Matt but otherwise seemed to content to limit their interaction to that. You decided to take other people riding in the elevator as an excuse to tuck yourself closely to Matt’s side. Which he didn’t seemed to mind at all.

The couple departed at the third floor. The knowing look and thumbs up that the taller of the pair send your way as they left brought renewed warmth to your face. And the return of your earlier nerves.

You knew why. First was that you didn’t normally have sex with someone after only one date. Nothing wrong with someone doing that. It just wasn’t something that you had done before. Through you could make the argument that this was more like your second date, your impromptu lunch date being your first. Pretty sure that you couldn’t count all those times you hung out with Daredevil . . . well, maybe those times you got to talk longer than few minutes. Like that time when he was resting his sprained ankle. Who cares that you hadn’t known his real name yet . . .

The second reason was that . . . well, it had been a while. A long while. The only thing that been inside you for nearly a year was your own fingers. You were pretty sure that Matt’s cock was bigger than your fingers. If you were remembering that bugle in those sweatpants accurately, a lot bigger. Thinking about that memory, especially standing right next to him, only made the warmth in your cheeks get worse. And did nothing to quench the renewed heat between your legs.

Matt squeezed your hand as his nostrils flared. You once again wondered just what and how much he could smell. Or taste, as you watched the tip of his tongue run across his lips.

“Can you – ?” you started to ask before trailing off, too embarrassed to ask.

“Can I what?” he asked.

“Nothing. It’s silly,” you said quickly, taking a great interest in your shoes. Your face felt hot enough to fry an egg.

“Anything you want to ask me isn’t silly,” he said. He released your hand in order to reach up and cup your face in his hand. Gently he raised your head so you were looking at him. So you could see the earnest expression on his face. “No need to be embarrassed, sweetheart. You can ask me anything.”

You appreciated the sentiment but there was every reason to embarrassed about this question. But he looked so sincere . . .

“J-just a random thought about your senses. A-about w-what you can . . . smell,” you said, the fingers of your free hand bunching the fabric of your skirt, wishing you had worn a necklace so you’d have something to fidget with. Your hands tended to get restless when you were nervous.

“What I can smell?” he repeated thoughtfully. “In general? Or you specifically?”

“M-me specifically,” you said.

“Well, you don’t smell bad if that what’s you are worrying about,” he said. “Quite the opposite.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he said, his thumb stroking your cheek. His gentle smile shifted to that devilish smirk as he added, “You smell good enough to eat.”

There was an implication there. One he had made several times now. One that made you wanted to squirm, do something to relieve this growing desire.

But at the moment, the elevator dinged as you reached the sixth floor and the doors slide open. With visible reluctance, Matt let his hand fall away from your face. Wrapping his free arm around your shoulders, he ushered you out of the elevator and into his apartment.

His apartment was obviously a converted loft with its wooden trusses, exposed pipes, sliding metal doors, and mixture of plaster and brick walls. One that, if the chipping paint on the stairs or the scuffed wooden floors was anything to go by, had either received minimal maintenance or been kept purposefully a little rough to give it ‘character.’ Like at his office, the furniture was a mismatched collection of secondhand pieces in good condition and everything was almost obsessively neat.

Which was logical. No matter how good Matt’s remaining senses were, he was still blind. A certain amount of neatness and organization was a necessity. Beyond that, it probably saved him a lot of unnecessary hassle. And having good organizational habits was a benefit for someone working in law.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Matt said, taking the bag with the tiramisu from your hand. While you had been looking around, he had taken off his shoes and his sunglasses. You couldn’t say exactly what but there was something about him standing there in his socks, his lovely eyes no longer hidden by dark lens that just . . . did things to you.

And not just in the lust department, as pretty as he looked like this, but in the feelings department. You couldn’t identify those feelings. They were too new, too ephemeral to be identified but they were strong. Whatever it was that you had for Matt, you had it bad.

You shook your head and tried to take his advice. Sat down on that little bench by the door and started taking off your shoes but got distracted. By the sight of Matt’s ass as he walked toward the kitchen. You had almost forgotten how good his ass looked in those pants. Studying the fabric expertly display those perky cheeks and the thickness of his thighs, you wondered if the pants from his The Man In Black outfit were just as criminally well-fitted . . . they certainly looked like it in those pictures in the paper . . .

“See something you like, sweetheart?”

You jumped, startled by his voice. You looked up and sure enough, he was wearing that devilish smirk again. He knew. Somehow he knew that you were sitting there with only one shoe off, staring at his ass. Somehow he knew that you were having impure thoughts about his ass . . . the very real possibility that he could smell that you kept getting wet . . . you felt your face flush.

Again. At this rate, that blood should just stay in your cheeks.

“Uhm . . . n-no,” you managed to sputter out. And wanted to cringe. Matt didn’t need to hear your heartbeat to know that was a big fat fib. Your nephew would know and he was only four. Before you could get distracted by something else, like wondering if kissing him would get that smirk off his face or just make it worse, you took off your other shoe. You picked up its mate and placed them under the bench next to his shoes. You tried to ignore how the sight of your shoes sitting neatly next to his made your heart flutter with that weird ephemeral feeling again.

You rose to your feet and then froze. Matt was walking toward you. No, walking wasn’t the right word. Not with that predatory grace or that smirk. This also did things to you but this time it was definitely lust. You fought the urge to squirm as arousal flared up again.

He stopped just in front of you and put his hands on your hips. Despite the air of aggression he approached you with, the reaching to touch you exhibited the same slow, telegraphed movement as before. Giving you the chance to pull away from him if you wanted to. But you didn’t want to. You wanted to see how this would go.

“That was a lie. Wanna try again, sweetheart?”

It wasn’t his Devil voice but it was akin to it. Deeper than his normal speaking voice, hints of that gravely rasp, a huskiness that made it sound like he was purring out his words. It send tingles down your spine. Tingles that turned into a little shudder when those large, warm hands started lightly massaging your hips. You blamed that shudder for why you ended up blurting out, “Y-your ass looks really good in those pants.”

“Ah, thank you, sweetheart,” he said, his smirk gaining an edge of smugness. Which should have made it annoying. And it did. But it was also very hot. Stupid sexy Murdock.

A chuckle alerted you to the fact that you might have said that last part out loud. He asked, “Do you check out my ass often?”

You were absolutely not going to answer that question. “I’m invoking my Fifth Amendment right to remain silent.”

Another chuckle. “You are?”

“Yes,” you said, aiming for your usual prim tone for this kind of banter but it came breathier than you intended. “That is my right, counselor.”

“So it is,” he said with a note of fondness in his voice. Then his expression turned to serious before he asked, “What do you want to do?”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean do you want do here tonight? Do you want to eat our dessert and go home –?”

“You don’t want me?” you interrupted, feeling the first stirring of real panic. Had you misinterpreted things? You had been known to misread social cues but you thought that his had been very clear and he said that he liked you . . .

“Oh I want you,” he said, his hands tightening in your hips. “Trust me, sweetheart, I would love nothing more than take off these clothes and finally learn if the rest of your skin is as soft as your hands and face. I want to know if you taste as good as you smell. I want to know what sounds you’ll make when I touch your body, when I taste you, when I’m inside you. There are so many things I want to do with you.”

His eyes had landed somewhere around your mouth but the lack of eye contact didn’t diminish the intensity within them, the visible hunger.

“But only if you want to do those things with me. We don’t have to do anything tonight or any other night. If you would rather take things slow, I can do that.”

Your anxious side, the part that was always nervous about something, was tempted by the offer. But the rest of you wasn’t. You also wanted to know things. Like what he looked like without those clothes. Or what his body would feel like under your hands. Or your mouth. What he would sound like, the expressions he would make, when experiencing pleasure. You wanted all those things and more. That desire was stronger than your anxiety.

You took a deep breath to steady your nerves, then raised your hands. Only to hesitate, your hands hovering over his chest. Your consent wasn’t the only one that mattered . . .

“You can touch me,” he said.

With that permission, you laid your hands on his chest. Even through his shirt, you could feel those powerful muscles. You slide your hands slowly upward, tracing the skin of his neck with your fingertips. The contrast between softness of his skin and roughness of his beard scruff was just as enjoyable as you remembered it. He made a pleased rumble that you felt more than you heard, making a note of the spots that triggered the louder rumbles. Up until one hand was buried in the hair at the nape of his neck and the other was cupping his cheek. Then you leaned forward and kissed him.

It started off light, a mere brush of the lips across against each other. But it didn’t stay that way for long as you pressed your mouth more firmly against his and gave a gentle swipe of your tongue across those soft lips. He answered the silent question by opening his mouth, his tongue eagerly greeting yours. It was with reluctance that you broke off the kiss. A mutual reluctance if the way he tried to catch your lips was any indication but when you pushed your hand against his chest, he stopped.

You took the time it took to catch your breath to gather your courage, that boldness that convinced you to put on the sexy underwear earlier. Then said, “I don’t want to go slow.”

His hands tightened their grip on your hips before he said, “Anytime you want me to stop, just say the word and I will. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said, then he was kissing you. One of his hands abandoned your hip in favor of cradling your head and deepening the kiss while the other slide down to start kneading your ass. You moaned into his mouth. This time, only the need for air forced your lips apart. You panted as Matt’s mouth latched onto that sensitive spot on your neck. Kissing, nipping, and sucking at that bit of flesh until you were whimpering. It feel so good that you didn’t care that you were probably getting hickey. Apparently satisfied with his handiwork there, he started trailing kisses down your neck as his hand slide down your back to join its counterpart in kneading your ass.

Your hands did some movement of their own, sliding down his chest until you reached the hem of his shirt. Eager to touch his bare skin but not so eager for him to stop kissing your neck just yet, you did the next best thing. Snake your hands under his shirt. It was his turn to moan as your hands began to explore every inch of skin you could reach.

Matt’s hands left your ass to grab the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head before letting it fall somewhere on the floor. You had no idea where. Your eyes were focused on his bare torso, greedily taking in the broad pecs, well-defined abdominal muscles, and several others that you didn’t know the names of. Neither your eyes nor your eager fingers missed the scars scattered across his chest and stomach but they did nothing to diminish the beauty in front of you. You wanted to explore every ridge and scar with your tongue.

You were so memorized that you barely noticed his hands returning to your hips. Or when one hand slide over to undo the closure button of your skirt or how that made said skirt slip down from your waist to your hips. You noticed when that hand took advantage of that looser state to slide his hand under the waistband and palmed your ass more directly. You definitely noticed when the fingers of that hand began tracing your panties’ pattern of lace.

“Silk lace,” he murmured. His voice had fallen to a lower register, something much closer to his Devil voice, the husky quality had deepened. It made you shudder. “Something you already had?”

“No,” you said and felt yourself flush.

“No?” Matt repeated thoughtfully, squeezing your ass in his hands. “So this pretty underwear was bought for me?”

“Yes,” You managed to pant out. “Th-thought you’d enjoy . . the texture.”

He let out a pleased hum. “What color?”

“Daredevil Red,” you said. And because you had no filter left, added, “Because they are the Devil’s panties.”

A wicked grin spread across his face.

“The Devil’s panties, huh?” he said. “I like the sound of that.”

His right hand left your ass to slide around your hip and cup your covered mound. You gasped as his fingers grazed the length of your slit through your damp underwear, your nails involuntarily digging into his side.

“So wet,” he murmured. “All this for me?”

“Y-yes,” you answered.

You let out a cry as his fingers found your clit and began rubbing it. You closed your eyes. Even through your panties, it felt so good. Your cunt clenched around nothing as you got wetter. Which earned you a deep, pleased rumble. Your breath got shorter and shorter as you neared the edge. Then, most annoyingly, he stopped and pulled his hand out of your skirt.

“Ma-att,” you whined. Why had he stopped? You were so close . . . Had he heard something? You swore to God, if he had to run off now . . .

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Matt said, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the floor. “I’ll get you off, I promise, but my bed is more comfortable place for this.”

Your hands had instinctively flew up to grip his shoulders when your feet left the floor but it wasn’t necessary. He was carrying you effortlessly toward what had better be his bedroom.

It was a room and there was definitely a bed in it. Honestly there were probably other things but at the moment, your brain refused to register them. All it cared about was the bed and the man lowering you into it. Your empty cunt was in full agreement. Under that influence, you reached down and started undoing the buttons of your blouse.

Your eagerness made Matt chuckle as he hooked his fingers into your skirt’s waistband. “Lift your hips for me, sweetheart,” he said and when you complied, yanked your skirt down until it slide off of your legs. Your panties swiftly followed the skirt to a pile on the floor. It seemed to you that you weren’t the only one here who was eager.

His hands wrapped around your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed. An action that surprised you but what surprised you even more was when Matt sank to his knees in front of you, his hands sliding down to rest on your knees. You raised yourself up on your elbows. Was he going to do what you thought he was going to?

Apparently so. He used his grip on your knees to spread your legs wide and slide between them. You looked at Matt between your legs, the hungry look on his face, with mild disbelief. As his hands slide up your thighs to your hips, you had to ask.

“You’re going to –” You started and stopped, your face once again feeling like it was on fire. You couldn’t say it. It seemed amazing that, lying here in a man’s bed while dressed only in your bra and your half-opened blouse, you could still find something too embarrassing.

“Eat you out?” He asked. Hearing your answering hum, he said, “Yes. Unless you don’t want me to.”

You wanted him to but . . .

“You don’t mind?” you asked.

“No?” he said, sounding and looking confused. Like that was a silly question. “Been looking forward to it, actually.”

“You have?” you said, unable to believe your ears. Jo had hinted there were rumors about Matt and oral sex when teasing you. Matt had hinted at it when flirting with you. But past experience (as limited as it was) had taught you that, while some men would do it without outright complaining, none of them actually liked it . . .

“Hmm, yes,” he said, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. It was gentle, almost chaste, but the heat in his eyes made it feel like a brand. “Since the night we met, I’ve been dreaming of burying my face between your thighs.”

He started kissing up your thigh. The gentle press of his petal soft lips, followed by the rough scrap of his beard scruff across such sensitive skin already had you squirming. His hands on your hips easily kept you right where he wanted you. Which honestly only made you more aroused.

“Don’t be afraid to get loud, sweetheart,” he said, nipping at your thigh. It wasn’t a hard bite, just the barest hint of teeth but it was enough to make you cry out.

“Yes, just like that,” he praised, then resumed trailing up your right thigh. Alternating between soft kisses, gentle nips, delicate sucking on the skin until you couldn’t have contained your moans if you wanted to. You whimpered when he blew air against your cunt and then whined when he move away in order to give your left leg the same treatment. Including the teasing puff of air against your aching cunt.

“Ma-att,” you whined as you tried to arch up, desperate for his mouth. But he held you down. “Please. Please, pl–”

A long glide of his warm, wet tongue across the entire length of your slit cut off your begging with a strangled groan. Another long lick, then smaller licks as he explored every inch of your folds. This exploration was languid, punctuated by those pleased rumbles that you felt just as much as you heard. He looked blissful, like he would happily spend all day doing this.

Finally, finally, his tongue started giving your swollen clit some attention. He started with those same teasing licks, then give a firmer press of his tongue that made you moan loudly. Every sound you made, especially if it was loud, was rewarded with firm laps. Trying to keep quiet was punished by teasing licks. Then he wrapped his lips around your clit and gently sucked. The sound that erupted from you was closer to a scream than a cry, loud enough that some distant part of your mind that wasn’t being drowned in pleasure hoped that the walls diving his apartment from his immediate neighbors were thick. Especially when the vibration of his resulting moan pulled an equally loud cry and nearly sent you over the edge.

You fell back, unable to hold yourself up under such an onslaught of pleasure. Your hands scrambled for something to hold onto. That something ended up being his hair but he didn’t seemed to mind the tight grip. Or that every suck on your clit had you tightening that grip into a pull. Considering he groaned each time and only sucked harder when you tugged on his hair.

You felt so good already that the finger circling your entrance barely registered. So when that finger actually slipped inside you, you gave another loud cry. You had been moving closer and closer to that edge this entire time but the gentle thrust in and out of that single finger brought you right up to it. When he added a second finger, it threatened to send you over. Your head was thrown back against the sheets, your legs started to tremble.

Close, you were so close.

“Please,” you begged, somehow managing to find your voice. “Please, please, please . . .”

He lifted his mouth to purr, “Let it go. Come for me, sweetheart.”

Then his mouth was back on your clit and sucked hard at the moment as those two fingers thrust in hard, curling to brush against something inside you. And that was it. With another almost scream of a cry, you came hard. Faintly you heard him moan as your inner walls clenched tightly around his fingers. Which were still moving, drawing out your orgasm until you were panting mess. Only when your inner walls stopped fluttering did those wonderful fingers slip out of you. To be replaced by his mouth, which lowered down to lap noisily at your entrance and enthusiastically attempted to lick up every last drop of your slick until you were whining from oversensitivity and attempting to pull his head away from your cunt by his hair.

If you had any doubts about how much he had enjoyed himself, one look at his face as he rose back to his feet, licking his lips, dispelled them. That was the happiest cat-who-ate-the-canary expression you had seen in your entire life. Your attention was soon drawn away from his face as he took his pants off, your eyes immediately focusing on the large bulge in his black boxers.

Especially when he started peeling off those boxers. As his hard cock emerged, your eyes widened and you let out a gasp. You had fantasized about Matt’s cock, had hoped that the reality matched the promising size hinted at by the bugle in his sweatpants, but this . . . your imagination had underestimated him.

Wow . . .

“Sweetheart?”

His voice brought your mind back to the present and made you force your eyes away from his cock. Apparently realizing that he had your attention now, he asked, “Still good?”

“Yes,” you said. Then blurted out, “You’re so big.”

And immediately felt blood rushing to your cheeks. Really, that blood should just stay there since you can’t seem to stop blushing for longer than five minutes. Besides it wasn’t like it was being used to power your brain. Not with lines straight out of cheesy porn coming out of your mouth.

His expression shifted from mild concern to smug teasing. “Am I?”

“You know the answer to that question,” you muttered. Which only made him laugh.

Then in a more serious tone, he observed, “You’re nervous.”

The flush in your face intensified. “It’s been a while since I . . . and you aren’t small.”

He smiled as he held out his hands, wriggling his fingers in a beckoning gesture, “I’ll be gentle. Come ‘ere.”

While part of you was content to remain right where you were in a puddle of post-orgasm bliss, the rest of you was feeling the building anticipation of having that cock inside you. So you raised your arms enough to place your hands in his and let him help you sit up, curious to see what he would to next.

The answer was take off your blouse. He didn’t bother fiddling with the remaining buttons, just took advantage of its loosen state to pull it over your head. Soon it had disappeared to wherever the rest of the clothing had vanished to. His hands started to skim over your breasts when he paused, tracing the lace with those long, clever fingers.

“Matching bra?” he asked. At your nod, he flashed a wicked grin. “Sweetheart, you’re going to spoil me if you keep being this sexy.”

You laughed. “I’m not sexy.”

“Objection. Witness is assuming facts not in evidence.”

You swatted at him. “Overruled. No one besides you and Jo has ever called me sexy. Everyone else says that I’m cute.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive, sweetheart,” he said, sliding his palm around to your back and unhooking your bra clasp. “And I say you are both cute and sexy.”

“But as sexy as you are in this bra,” Matt purred, hooking his fingers in the straps and drawing them down your arms. “I want to touch your soft skin more.”

And with that, the bra was tossed aside and his hands were cupping your breasts. After getting a feel for their full weight, he started squeezing and kneading the flesh. The thumb of his right hand was the first to find the nipple. It had already stiffened to a peak but that didn’t stop him from rolling it in his fingers.

It felt good. But not so good as to fully distract you from the feast laying within range of your hands. You weren’t bold enough to immediately grab his cock but running your hands over his chest and stomach? That you could do, once again enjoying the feel of his warm, soft skin under your hands. You marveled at the solid muscle as your guesting fingers moved downward. You made a mental note of every place you touched that made him react whether it was twitch, a soft groan, or a harder squeeze on your breasts.

By the time you reached it, you were feeling bold enough to grip the base of his cock. You were rewarded with moan that encouraged you begin to stroke the length of him. You kept glancing up at his face as you moved your hand, to see if he liked what you were doing. That and you enjoyed watching his face contort with pleasure, hearing him moan knowing that you were making him feel good.

A bead of pre-cum was forming at the head of his cock. In a moment of impulsive boldness, you bent down and licked it away with a swipe of your tongue. Matt hissed with pleasure, his hand on your shoulder tightening. It tightened to a near-bruising grip when you did it again. If you had been in another position, one where you could comfortably do it, you would started sucking him off. But bent over, from an upright seated position? Forget it. But a hand-job with occasional teasing licks to the sensitive head of his cock? That was doable.

That it was turning Matt into a panting mess was just a bonus. Turnabout, after all, was fair play.

“Fuck sweetheart, I won’t –” Matt panted out as he used his hold on your shoulder to pull you back upright. “I won’t last much longer if you keep doing that. May I?”

The question made you aware that your previously sated cunt was aching, clenching around the empty air. You hummed agreement and started scooting yourself further onto the bed. To your surprise, he didn’t immediately crawl in after you. Instead he was moving toward a small bedside table that your brain suddenly realized was there.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Getting a condom,” he said. You must have made some of noise or something because he stopped moving and tilted his head in your direction.

“Problem?” he asked.

“Uhm,” you said. “W-we don’t have to use a condom. If you don’t want to. I’m on the pill. And clean. Are you – ?”

“I’m clean,” he confirmed. Then asked, “Are you sure? I promise I don’t mind using one.”

“I’m sure,” you said, blushing again. Logically you knew you should let him use the condom. You had always insisted your partners wear one. But part of you was curious about how it would feel to have sex without one, to have someone cum inside of you. Another part didn’t want barriers of any description between you and Matt.

He was silent and still for a moment. Probably listening to your heart to hear if you were being honest. Or only saying what you thought he wanted to hear. He must have been satisfied with what he heard (and whatever else he used to detect such things) because he nodded and turned away from the table. You finished moving yourself up against the pillows as he got onto the bed and started crawling toward you.

You spread your legs to make room for him and he settled between them. His hands landed on either side of your head, boxing you in. He kissed you and this one was no chaste thing. It was hungry and got hungrier as he reached down with one hand to grab your leg and open it wider. That same hand guided his cock to your cunt. He rubbed his length through your folds, coating himself in your slick before lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

Matt sunk his cock into you, pausing everytime the stretch started to hurt and letting your cunt adjust before pressing in another inch. Then another. And another. Until he was all the way inside you. You moaned. You had never felt so full. No one’s cock had ever felt this good inside you.

Then he started to move. Slowly at first, barely pulling himself out before pressing all the way back in, but building and building until they were long, fluid thrusts. Everything else began to fade away. All you could feel was his cock thrusting into you. All you could hear was his pleasured grunts, your own breathy moans, and the sound of your bodies joining. All you could see was him on top of you, his blissful expression as he fucked you.

Good. It felt so good. And it got even better when your own hips started to match his pace, allowing him to sink in just a little deeper. You feel your second orgasm rapidly growing but you needed more.

“Please,”you begged. “Please, please –”

“What do you need, sweet girl?” he asked, his voice rough and breathy.

“Harder. I need you to fuck me harder,” you whined, too out of your head to be embarrassed by anything you said.

“As you wish.”

The next thrust was harder and it pressed into something inside you that had you crying out. The next thrust came fast on the heels of the first, Matt shifting himself so that each thrust hit that spot. Again and again until you could do nothing but moan, your nails digging into his shoulder.

He slammed into you even harder, then held himself there, impossibly deep inside with your cunt clenching tightly around him. You let out a guttural moan, arching your back and your toes curling. Suddenly you were teetering on that edge for the third time tonight.

“Matt,” you whimpered, sounding so high and breathy that you almost didn’t recognize your own voice. “Matt, Matt, Matt –”

He slammed into you again and you shattered, screaming his name as you came.

Matt groaned as your cunt tightened around his cock like a vice. He buried his face in your neck with muttered ‘fuck’ before he started rapidly pumping into you as he chased his own release. It was sloppier than his previous thrusts, lacked the steady pace, but it still had you making high pitched whines and whimpers from how good it felt.

One more hard thrust, a guttural moan of your name, and he was coming inside you. Your cunt twitched and fluttered around him as he filled you with warmth. The sensation was unfamiliar but pleasing in a way you couldn’t articulate. Especially not with your brain fogged by two orgasm.

Less pleasing was how empty you felt after he pulled himself out of you. But there was nothing you could about that. He couldn’t be inside you all the time. No matter how pleasant that sounded.

But you had to admit, as you drifted off a short time later, that falling asleep in his arms was a pretty good alternative.

Ending Notes:

Reader's meeting with Jo, the Wardrobe Incident, and the food stuff are very loosely based on things that I've experienced. The Fifth Amendment (1791) is the one that says (1) you do not have answer for any capital or other infamous crime without an indictment from a grand jury, (2) cannot be placed in double jeopardy [tried for the exact same crime after being acquitted for said crime], (3) testify against yourself, (4) cannot be deprived of your life, liberty, or property without due process, and (5) private property may not be taken for public use without payment of just compensation. Please note that as with every Amendment (and law) there are nuances, and asterisks and sometimes rather fierce debate what how exactly it is meant to be interpreted. International readers, when an American says they are taking the Fifth, this is what they are referring to, specifically the right against self-incrimination. And why the Miranda warning that you've probably seen on crime dramas includes that "you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law" line.

[thethinkingcloth]

quill f. kipps

L&Co Appreciation Week, Day 3: Favorite minor character

Quill Kipps (Moodboard/Phone Background)

[historicalpixelpeople]

Fall 1894

Author's Note: TW - mention of colonialism, boarding schools.

Fall 1894- Edmund Stallings

At first, Edmund struggled to get along with Nivi Kipp. Making friends was always difficult Where Kellan was warm and affectionate, Nivi had a sharp wit and intense personality that caught him off guard. She was confident when she spoke and she spoke often, sometimes competing with him. Edmund often fumbled with his attempts to bond with her. One night, feeling emboldened by the amount of alcohol he had drank, he decided to try and ask a question he had always wondered.

"What was your school like growing up?" He asked. "My sister and I went to school together and I hated it, which is weird because now - "

"I was forced to go to a boarding school," Nivi cut him off, her tone suddenly serious. "It was not the same experience you had but school was difficult for other reasons. I was told to forget my home and who I was. I was only a good person if I looked and acted like you. I learned your history, not mine. It is hard to want to be a good student when it means forgetting yourself."

Edmund couldn't think of words big enough to fix everything. "I'm sorry," Edmund said.

Nivi nodded, took a few deep breaths, and ordered another drink for herself. She frowned as he sat there awkwardly across from her, waiting for her to speak.

“I know you didn’t personally do it, sometimes I forget that not everyone that looks like you thinks the same way. ” She held up her hand as Edmund began apologizing again. She continued, “Sometimes I find myself wishing that everyone was as kind as you or Kellan. I wish that I didn't have to go to boarding school and that I could be as proud of my ancestors and practices my traditions. I wish that others would treat me with respect. I know I deserve it but I know that no one will give it to me here. I am at college because I am "civilized" enough, which just means that I look more like you. However, I am not treated that way no matter how I act or dress. It is not fair."

Edmund could not find the words to express his sorrows or how to make her feel better, so they finished the night in silence.

After their evening ended and Edmund went home, he stayed up all night doing hours of research in his newspapers and books about the schools Nivi attended. He read about current policies and old treaties with different nations, making notes about what to ask Nivi about.

The next week, Edmund felt more comfortable addressing the topic again but hopefully with more tact.

asking more specific questions for Nivi to answer. Without questioning his intentions, she explained all she could to him and he listened to the stories and traditions she knew. Each word painted a vivid picture, a world he had never truly known but wanted desperately to understand more about.

"Why the sudden interest, Stallings?" She asked him after a few nights of him asking.

"You know how I am. Always eager to learn," he said as he ordered another drink for her.

Nivi raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced at his words.

"Okay, that's not the only reason. Recently, I have felt...lost in the world of politics and while it sounds selfish, learning more about these treaties and policies makes me more determined to do some good in the world. It has given me a purpose, something to stand for. Not that I'm using you or anything, just...you inspire me?" Edmund said, passing her the drink.

Nivi glared at him. "Stallings, I appreciate the sentiment, but-"

"God, no! I mean, uh, you're a very nice person, Nivi but you're not...someone I'm interested in. I see you as a sister.," Edmund said, cutting her off. His face felt like it had been burnt by a hundred suns.

Nivi nodded, seeming relieved.

"You are more interested in Kellan," Nivi teased, causing Edmund to choke on his drink. She did not bother to help him as he coughed for a few minutes, trying to regain the ability to breathe.

After he had finished coughing, he stared at her, flabbergasted.

"Kellan, I mean, uh..."

"You are not as subtle as you think you are. That and Kellan told me," Nivi said. She smirked at him as he felt more and more uncomfortable.

Now he felt like he was being burnt by 1,000 suns as he took another sip. Edmund desperately hoped he was able to mask his panic from anyone nearby.

Edmund coughed again, this time from a mix of embarrassment and surprise. "Kellan talks too much," he mumbled, trying to regain his composure while avoiding her gaze.

"You are simply not good at hiding it, Stallings."

"Well, I'll take your advice on that later, but that wasn't the point. You have given me a new purpose and I want to help in any way that I can. But I need your help, I am limited in knowledge and I am sure that without any guidance I will offend more people. You could help me bridge that gap and in that way, you guys can use me as an ally. I won't do anything the people do not want or say anything without it coming from you."

Nivi considered his words, her face scrunching. "I guess that could work..."

"Think about it. Nivi, you are more intelligent than me, you can argue circles around me. But, I can legally access these spaces. We need both to make this work so working together is the best option," Edmund said. His excitement was hard to contain as he imagined finally being able to offer something good to the world.

"This is a big responsibility, Stallings. You need to be genuinely committed to this," Nivi said.

"I am! I want to learn and understand everything. I want to be an advocate for you and others. Nivi, I can't....I can't advocate for myself, the world isn't ready for that, however I can for you. There are other people trying to do something like this, I promise you I will try everything I can," Edmund said.

"And if I feel like you are overstepping or being a bad representative?"

"I give you full permission to yell at me and fire me from the role. Please, Nivi."

Nivi stared him down. "I’ve seen too many people come in claiming to help, only to cause more harm than good."

"I understand that...just give me a chance. I know you want change and I do too. We can start small," Edmund begged. He felt desperate, almost seconds away from getting on his hands and knees and pleading with her.

"Since you are so determined, I will agree to starting small. If you handle it well enough, I will consider re-evaluating this agreement," Nivi said.

Edmund expressed his gratitude for the remainder of their time at the bar. He covered the cost of her drinks, a gesture of appreciation. As he settled back in his bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, a wave of relief washed over him. For the first time in a while, the future felt bright and filled with possibilities, a stark contrast to the loneliness and aimlessness he had been feeling for a while.

[thebiscuitrule]

Lockwood & Co. Appreciation Week Day 4: favorite ship

———

“If you asked Kipps, he would say that the phrase “love is blind” came about the second Lucy and Lockwood first looked at each other.

Or: Kipps notices things. Lucy is in denial. And Lockwood’s just a friend, right?”

(aka: outsider pov of the locklyle relationship but the outsider is none other than Quill Kipps)

[oblivious-idiot]

Lockwood and Co Appreciation Week: Day Seven - Free Day!!

To be fair I wasn't sure what to post for today (and I totally didn't almost forget oops) but I thought today I would say a little bit on the cast!!

So of course everyone knows about Cameron, Ruby, and Ali now, and I absolutely love them. To see this as Cameron's first role is just??? incredible, that man's talent is so crazy. I hadn't seen anything Ali had been in before and Ruby you briefly see in Bridgerton, so it was really amazing to see all three of these young actors having leading roles in a hit show, and I couldn't be more proud of them!!

The supporting actors were also so amazing, and it was so exciting to see people from other pop culture / fandoms in the show too!! Jack (Quill Kipps) was in an episode of Sex Education - which I actually recognised him from! Louise Brealey (Joplin) some of you may recognise as Molly Hooper from BBC's Sherlock (!!) and I was so excited to see her on my screen again, and Jeff Rawle (Saunders) played Amos Diggory in Harry Potter!!

Amongst others I was so excited to see in the show was Alice Lowe (Adelaide Winkman) who I grew up watching from Horrible Histories (British kids will understand), Paul Thornley (Cutter - the undercover agent) played Ron Weasley in the original Cursed Child cast, and Paddy Holland (Bobby Vernon) who I was so trilled to see cast in the show and start getting acting gigs!! (Yes, Paddy is Tom Holland's brother, but I think it's really amazing for him to get roles outside of the limelight of Tom!)

ANYWAYS, I really really loved the entire cast for the show. As someone who's grown up watching so much film and tv it always excites me to see actors I recognise in new things and also being blown away by new actors because they're just so good. Lockwood and Co was no exception and I cannot wait for season two and more actors!!

[this-is-mycrisis]

Lockwood and Co. Appreciation Week Day 3!!!

This is fully based off the ONE small interaction between Kat and Lucy in Death is Coming (I think??) - When Lucy and Lockwood have to rush to meet George at the crypt and Barnes and Kipps and everyone is already there...

But I fully believe that Kat and Lucy form a small little friendship. They're the only girls on their respective teams (for the moment). They both have....excitable boys as team leads. It's a lot, so it's my own little headcannon that they two of them meet up maybe once or twice a month and have coffee, get lunch, go shopping or something. Just to catch up.

Kat's scene with Lockwood where they fight off the thugs is wonderful and I want to see more interaction between her and Lockwood and Co. I think she and Lucy would make an even better team up than Kat and Lockwood.

[bubbl3zdaseaotter37]

Lockwood & Co. Appreciation Week

March 28th, Day 5

"Song/Poem/Quote" that you associate with L&Co

*THB & TCS spoilers under the cut*

I think this song is PERFECT for Lucy's POV at the end of THB and, of course, the development they went through in TCS. So get ready for an in-depth analysis!

"On some level I think I always understood / That a ship could never really love an anchor / So, I did the only thing that I could / And severed the rope to set you sailing from my harbor.

Lucy's reasoning for leaving in THB was to keep Lockwood safe. She thought that it was her who was keeping him from staying safe. (and somehow still remains in denial about why he would do something like that for her. UGH.)

"There are times when I still wonder about you / You are someone I have loved, but never known / And you'll never see the reasons I had / For keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you"

Even so, we see how often Lucy thinks about Lockwood even after she convinced herself that leaving the company was absolutely necessary. There were always secrets between them, as well, with Lockwood always putting on a mask and Lucy so unsure of herself. Lockwood didn't understand Lucy's reasoning, and it takes them a long time to properly communicate them to each other. It's the next biggest step in their relationship, however vaguely defined it may be.

I am selfish, I am broken, I am cruel / I am all the things they might have said to you / Do you ever think of me and my two hands? / And wonder they never soothed your fevers / And wonder why they never tied your shoes? / And wonder why they never held you gently? / And wonder why they never had the chance to lose you?"

When Lucy goes on the Ealing Cannibal job with her former colleagues, she realizes that her actions really only made him worse. Plenty of people had called Lockwood selfish, broken, or cruel (impolite, competitive, unfeeling towards ghosts) throughout the series. But it takes Lucy a while to figure out that she was also in the wrong here. She had been running away from her fears and, though Lockwood hadn't exactly helped, she made a bad call. For just him, or for the both of them, who can tell?

And here I would also say something angsty about Lockwood's lack of self-preservation and "weak ties" to life. But I think this one is fairly self-explanatory. With no family left, Lucy, George, Holly, Flo, and eventually, Kipps, are the only people Lockwood has left who are genuinely there for him. (One could argue for Barnes, as well, but I'm sticking with these for simplicity's sake.)

[elysianrey]

sᴏ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴍᴇ sᴡᴀʟʟᴏᴡɪɴ' ᴍʏ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ

sᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴ' ɪɴ ғʀᴏɴᴛ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ sᴀʏɪɴ' ɪ'ᴍ sᴏʀʀʏ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ

ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ɢᴏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

ɪᴛ ᴛᴜʀɴs ᴏᴜᴛ ғʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴ' ʙᴜᴛ ᴍɪssɪɴ' ʏᴏᴜ

ᴡɪsʜɪɴ' ɪ'ᴅ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ

ɪ'ᴅ ɢᴏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ, ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ

ɪ ɢᴏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

//

↳ day 5: favorite ship (rare pair): quill kipps x jessica lockwood

[lockwood-fic-recs]

What would you like to see this week?

For this week's Thursday rec (and Friday's NSFW one 👀) which would you prefer? We want to highlight some of the rarepairs in the fandom while also looking at one of our underrated characters! We're in the mood for some Quill Kipps appreciation, and we'd love for you to choose his pairing! Feel free to let us know in the replies why you made your choice, or drop the link to any suggestions you might have if one of the categories wins!

[artyandink]

helloo :) could you ship me with a lockwood & co. character pretty pls?

i use she/her prns, i'm 5'2", medium-length black hair and i have light brown eyes. I'm an ambivert, and i love to read, cook and play guitar. i'm in a band with a few of my friends, and i work part-time in a coffee shop. i'm a fine arts student, so i'm also very much a history and humanities nerd, as well as an art hobbyist. i'm kind of like the older-sister friend, where i give good advice but rarely take it. I've been obsessed with l&co for the past few weeks and this seems like such a cute idea. thanks so much <3

I ship you with...

KAT GODWIN

Kat is definitely a fine arts appreciator. That's the first thing you bond over!

She'll come to each of your band rehearsals and you'll go to every practice session of hers. Your love seeing her use her rapier with such precision and it's fun for her to admire your guitar skills.

I have a feeling she's 5' 5", so yes, there will be some teasing involved, but the sophisticated kind. You think her accent is unique and she thinks yours is so fascinating.

You could talk for hours on end about history or sing karaoke on a Friday night (Last Friday Night-) at the top of your lungs until either Kipps or Bobby came to yell at you to give them a good night's sleep.

Hope you're doing well,

Arty.

[beautifulmakkaris]

F, K, M for the ask game!💕

Eeee, thank you for your ask!!!

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

Ooh this is hard because I don't think I'm very good at writing dialogue lmao, but literally everyone commenting on the fittes!lucy au said they loved the banter at the ball so I guess I'm proud of that for making everyone so feral hahaha

“Who said anything about fraternising?”

“The fraternising was implied.”

“You’re very facetious, you know.”

“We train in it here at Fittes.”

“You brought George and I tea that one time.”

“Only because you both looked so very pathetic.”

“Was that not fraternising?”

“That was pity.”

K: What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

Ooh, most of my post-curse Nancy Drew fics/ideas are pretty angsty because the show really left us on a downer there with the state of Nace's relationship lmao, I think remember when you hits the brakes too soon is probably the angstiest thing that I ever published.

There's also definitely a draft of a scene in my documents somewhere of Lockwood just bleeding out in Lucy's arms that I'm still trying to find an actual fic idea to fit around. So annoying when you have a few lines of dialogue or paragraphs you're happy with and then nothing else to make it a full story!

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you'd care to share?

Weeeeeell, Locklyle Appreciation Week is rapidly approaching so that's seven new fics (help) coming v v soon. They're not all written yet but my favourite one at the minute is for the prompt 'Outsider's POV' which features George, Kat, Kipps and Flo all being so done with Lucy and Lockwood's shit because it was really fun to bring in so many side characters. Also, I've never actually written a locklyle kiss in a fic and at least four out of the fics for this week feature some smooching so people can stop telling me off for not letting them kiss LMAO