#l & co fanfic

[siapom]

Okay, people. I need to soapbox for a hot minute.

My favorite fandom worlds are imploding on their own people, and it’s fucking ridiculous.

1) Lockwood and Co.

I hate to point this out, but I’m gonna anyway. There is no Locklyle WRITTEN ship in the books. There is an implied ship. The author confirmed that it was intentionally implied. But it wasn’t written. So you know what? There is NO canon ship.

You know what that means? People can ship whomever the fuck they want without “breaking canon”. If you write Locklyle, fine. But that makes you no better than people who are enjoying other ships. And even then, it’s a fandom. It’s imaginary shit. The way to keep the fandom alive and thrive is to NOT PUBLICALLY CASTIGATE AND PUT DOWN other shippers and their ideas, works, or conversations. If you do that, it’s YOU who is poisoning the fandom.

2) Stray Kids

Holy fuck, people! Can’t we all just be adults?

a) Do not attack people who interact with our boys in a professional capacity. It’s not helpful to the group to give them a reputation for having an out of control fanbase. It could cause their opportunities become limited just because others are scared that Stay may get offended by something.

b) If you don’t want to support the new song, don’t. Don’t buy it. Don’t stream it. Don’t get it off of a secondary site just because you can listen without supporting the collaboration.

DO keep your choices to yourself. Your choices are not supposed to apply to other Stay. We can make our own decisions. Other Stay are not lesser, wrong, unethical, Zionists, pro-genecide or any other thing you want to call them. They are simply supporting SKZ their own chosen way.

In closing, this is simple. Do what you want for yourself. Stop thinking your decision has any bearing on other people. Your ego is showing. You aren’t that fucking special. Check yourself.

Thank you.

*steps down*

[lockwoodandcobigbang2023]

Lockwood and Co Big Bang 2023!

We're excited to announce the first post-show Lockwood and Co Big Bang event!

A Big Bang teams up authors and artists to create new content for the fandom, and cheerleaders to help them along the way! Artists will create accompanying art for each fic, authors will write a fic of 5k words minimum (there are stages to this, more info to follow!) and cheerleaders will beta read and provide encouragement. We will also be accepting signups for reserve agents, who will be able to step in at the last minute should something happen and a team be left incomplete.

Signups will start on the 20th June and end on the 7th July, and we're looking forward to seeing what you all come up with!

The link for signups can be found here (but the form won't be open before the 20th), and if you want more information about the event our rules and schedule will be posted asap, and asks are open if you have any immediate questions!!

The posting date for all the works is pencilled in to start on the one year anniversary of the show, 27th January, 2024.

We're so excited to finally be able to share this announcement with you. Feel free to reblog it to spread the word!

Signed, L&Co Big Bang 2023 mods :))

[worldofkaeos]

WARNING: Spoilers for the whole series!!!

It’s funny to think that sometime after the fall of the Fittes House, I started to believe that the Problem was no longer causing so much suffering to the world anymore. But it is times like these, when death resurfaces and slaps you in the face, hard, that really grounds you to reality. Every day, the Problem robs the lives of innocent children who are just doing their best to protect others. Countless lives lost, the terror and sorrow it would cause to families and friends. Sacrifices. It was always going to be this way.

A day before Halloween, Lockwood and Co. is suddenly tasked with one of the most arduous and dangerous cases they have ever encountered.

A group of missing agents, an ancient tale of a peculiar girl, and a sudden outbreak of supernatural Visitors in the midst of order, when things seemed to have already calmed down.

The stakes are sky-high; will they succeed in their quest and save these agents? Above all: will they make it out alive?

-----

(set after the events of the Empty Grave)

there'll be lots of locklyle and interactions with the gang, and a halloween party at the end :D

This is my first fic ever, hope you enjoy it!!

[itripandfallalot]

The wonderful genniearts created this wonderful sketch of Chapter 1 of my Lucy and Lockwood fic!

[sunnyisinsane]

seven several-sentence sunday. Day

Thank you @bcbdrums ! :D I uh . Got carried away . Whoops .

The sound of creaking is occasionally heard through the silence.

My view is focused on one thing though, that man, hand gripping the screw in his head. He's gotten taller since I last saw, Spirit was the tallest man in the "group". I was always forced to be around his friends, what luck that they're all faculty of this damned academy. The sound of a leg bouncing is also here, it's familiar and annoying. I'm not focusing on that though, I can see him in the corner of my eye and I wish I didn't, I've grown to hate the color red because of him. My focus is on the freak nonetheless. Nobody has said anything, just sitting silently at this table. There's stitches all over it. Suddenly, to my right he clears his throat.

"Maka's been good, she's top of her class, she's becoming a great meister!" The man exclaimed nervously.

"I don't care." I glare at my ex husband, he bites his lip, making those stupid panicked noises before looking down, nodding. I was hoping that'd be it until a different voice speaks up.

"Figures you wouldn't care, I mean...when was your last visit?" He smirks, the stitching on his cheek gets pulled back freakishly from the movement. I stand up from my seat.

"You have no right asking that! I needed to get away from this asshole over here! Mothering isn't easy!" Spirit gulps, looking at me after I say this loudly. Stein just stands up as well. "How could you know? You've never done it." He says, blankly, still smiling. As if this is funny.

"Oh, please, you couldn't even take care of a mouse! Honestly it's a wonder Spirit moved back in with you! He only did it because he needs someone to give his pathetic ass a purpose! He's only here because I left!" I slam my fist against the stitched table. .

Stein scoffs, "Spirit's a grown man, he does what he wants. You should know, you clearly couldn't please him or keep him in line."

I gasp, horrified, before I can say something Spirit stands up, embarrassed.

"Stein!"

We both don't acknowledge him, continuing on.

"Spirit is a spineless whore!"

"Kami!"

Stein snorts, but shrugs.

"Like I said, he's a grown man, he can do what he wants. It's his choice to stop acting like a child though." I cross my arms, glaring at Stein as he says this. "Okay guys you're just being mean to me now." A sad voice says underneath everything.

At this point Stein and I have gotten closer, emphasizing our words as we speak, both of our hands on the table as Spirit looks at us pitifully.

"Well he chose me over you! You're just a danger to everyone! I'm the one with the daughter with him!"

"how's that going for you?" Stein grins, looking around the room, as if to emphasize the point that Spirit lives with him again.

"I can see your soul, Stein. You're anxious, you're getting defensive and worried! You act so high and mighty but I can read you, way better than anyone could!" I say, grinning, looking at his soul, my words are true too. Stein may be able to give quick responses but he's always been threatened by me. The man's smile drops, he glances away, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Guys! Please, let's try getting along! Why don't we try resonating?" Spirit says, putting a hand between us. We both get caught off guard. It's silent for a moment before I move away from the table.

"You're so naive, so stupid, if you think I'd ever resonate with Franken Stein!"

"I'd say the same about you," Stein says as he lights his own cigarette. Spirit frowns, pouting. "That has to be the stupidest idea you've had yet." The stitched man shoots a look at Spirit as he says this.

I get up, towards the door. "For once, I agree with Stein here." Spirit's about to cry and Stein just smokes his cigarette quietly.

Then I leave.

Yeah I went a bit overboard there .thanks for the @ again bcb :D I didn't proofread this btw anywho uh

@takeyourcyanide , you . You write . Hi. I am TAGGING you btw you don't have to actually . Do these .

[killerfrostisme]

I was quite surprised to see that there weren't many fanfics where Lucy gets her period. It's a normal part of most uterus bearing people's lives, and to be honest I'd like to see it represented in YA books too. It's 2024, let's not act like we don't bleed.

Hence, this is my humble attempt to change that.

This one takes place between TSS and TWS and follows book canon:)

Lucy could always tell when she was about to get her periods. Besides the fact that she always felt like death, she also started to resemble one of the Visitors she and her team desperately tried to snuff out. Rarely could she not predict the time when Auntie Flo would come traipsing into her life. Whenever she saw the telltale signs of a period fast approaching, she'd prepare well. She would pack her kit bag with extra tampons and loads of chocolate. She'd also make sure she'd carry a plethora of painkillers. She almost always got it right.

Almost.

It was a light case and Lockwood and Co was feeling quite relaxed. The owners of the house had informed them of a benign spirit-a probable Type One-whose only job in death was to float on the top of the landing and exude forlorn energy. Upon further research, George uncovered a news article which stated that an old couple had died within a week of each other. The man first, of natural causes and the woman next, of a broken heart. Even though, the spirit was supposedly a Type One, Lockwood had been quite adamant about taking extra iron fillings and even an iron chain, which was typically not required for a Type One case. Lucy had to admit, he'd really stepped up the leadership game after the mishap at Mrs Hope's house.

It was just as well since there wasn't just one ghost but two!

The containment of the sources (a pair of delicate satin slippers for the wife and a pair of silver wire rimmed glasses for the husband) were an easy affair. After dropping George off at Portland Row (he'd had a nasty fall on the stairs in the haunted house and just wanted to sleep the pain away) and with both sources safely ensconced in silver nets, Lucy and Lockwood set off for the furnace.

They sat in a comfortable silence for the entirety of the ride to the furnace. The kind of silence that's brought on by a sense of not knowing each other well enough, but with a desire to change.

Lucy was feeling quite woozy after the case, and chalked it down to just plain fatigue. They had been going on an awful lot of cases after the success of Combe Carey and she hadn't really had enough time to sleep. When they got out of the cab, Lockwood flashed her a tired grin, and she momentarily forgot about her wooziness. Strange. Maybe she's not as tired as she thought.

-------‐‐--‐----------------------------------

"Feeling alright, Luce?" He asked, after handing in the sources. They were standing outside the building, waiting to hail a cab to go home.

"Yes, I think so." she replied, wincing a bit when a sharp shooting pain pierced her lower back. "Why do you ask?" she asked, in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner.

"No particular reason." He responded, keeping his eyes on the road in front of them, searching for an empty cab. "It's just- you've been a bit quiet today. Not to mention, I've seen you wincing here and there. Are you hurt?"

Oh. So he'd caught that. He was a lot more observant than she gave him credit for, she supposed.

"Oh no, I'm fine."

They lapsed into silence yet again. This one seemed more pregnant than the easy one they'd shared in the cab on the way over. Lucy was desperately trying to recall her cycle dates and was drawing a blank. She knew she hadn't packed her period kit with her, and her emergency pad-she mentally berated herself-was safely sitting on her dresser in the attic at Portland Row. She was completely defenseless. Her only option? Freebleed and try not to stain everything under the sun. The silver lining was that at least she was going home.

She fidgeted uncomfortably. When was that damn cab going to arrive? How much longer was she supposed to suffer in agony? Why were women cursed with this abomination every month? Why did men get off scott-free for literally everything in life? Why was the patriarchy-

A delicate cough roused her out of her mental rant. "Is it-is it" Lockwood began, one hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "By that I mean, do you-are you-"

"Oh, just spit it out!" she snapped.

Lockwood looked over at her in a mix of shock and surprise, which immediately made her feel guilty. She didn't mean to speak to him in such a belligerent manner, but he was really testing her patience. It was late, she was tired and her hormones weren't being very cooperative.

She tried to tone down her aggravation, (she still seemed to be glowering at him) and spoke- "What were you trying to say, Lockwood?"

He swallowed and continued in a wary manner, as if he were scared of her biting his head off at the next opportunity. "I was just wondering, are you feeling okay?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Is it your time of the month?"

"Just because I'm annoyed that doesn't mean I'm on my period. It could also imply that I'm just in a bad mood or someone has done something to piss me off."

"Okay. Noted."

A pause. And then-

"But, yes. I am on my periods."

"Ah."

Silence.

"My condolences." He cleared his throat, very evidently in the excuse of doing something."Oh look, there's the cab." He said in obvious relief.

‐------------------------------------------

Who the bloody hell says "my condolences" in response to "I've got my period"? Was he absolutely mental? He too had apparently thought it was an incredibly daft thing to say to someone, because he'd kept up an imperceptibly long stream of chatter throughout the cab ride. In the one year that she'd worked at Lockwood and Co, Lucy had never heard him to be as loquacious as he was that night.

What did Lucy think of the company? (it was good) Were she and George getting along? (yes) What were her thoughts on the Kuriashi Turn? (it sucked) Did she think that Karina from Tendy's and Hussain from Bunchurch were shagging? (no comments). He wanted all the answers tonight!

"Ah, we're here." said Lockwood, with an air of forced positivity, as the cab screeched to a halt outside Portland Row.

Lockwood paid the driver and they got out of the car. They shuffled into the house quietly. The air was palpable with tension. The kind of tension brought on by two people who don't know who to bridge the chasm between them.

"Listen Luce," he said, catching her arm and gently pulling her towards him. They had reached the landing outside Lockwood's room. "I'm sorry for acting like a knob. I don't want you to feel as if you can't talk about your periods. I know it's a slightly awkward topic but they're natural. I want you to feel safe enough to talk about whatever you want because this is your house too, Luce."

Lucy gave him a slow, hesitant smile. "It's all right," she reassured him. "I wasn't exactly being very nice either. I'm sorry about that. I'll work on it."

Lockwood smiled at her, and she felt it shoot straight to her heart, warming up her insides and making her forgot all about her menstrual cramps. Of course, it had nothing to do with Lockwood though. Her body was probably happy about being home. Definitely nothing to ponder over later.

"Is there anything I can do?" He said, in an earnest manner.

"Yes," she said, surprising them both. "You can tell me more about Hussain and Karina's supposed antics over a cup of hot cocoa."

"Deal," laughed Lockwood, "there's much to share with regards to that particular subject."

------------‐---------------------------------------------------‐---------------

They stayed down in the library chatting for ages. Lucy had changed into clean clothes, worn a tampon and downed a painkiller with her cocoa, but what really made her feel better was laughing with Lockwood. He made her happy. And George, of course. And her job. And Portland Row. And London.

Lucy smiled. Whatever it was, she wasn't going to dwell on it much. For now, she was just going to take comfort in his company. For now, she was just going to chuckle at Barnes' love life with a floppy haired boy. For now, that was enough.

This was supposed to be a funny, slightly awkward story. But somehow, it turned into one laced with poignancy. Especially towards the end. It just sort of ran away from me and took shape on its own.

Anyway, hope you guys liked it! Let me know if you guys did:)

[biscuitrule]

The dry spell on ao3 between the Halloween “-tober” fic challenges and the Holiday “25 days of” fic challenges truly is a trying time

(But also to all fic authors out there: I love you, take all the time you need, you always deserve a break, you’re doing great, and anyone who acts entitled to content out of you can go fuck themselves)

(And consider this a reminder to use this time to go back and reread and give a little love and support to some of your old favs)

[beautifulmakkaris]

lockwood & co appreciation week | day two: favourite scene from the show/books

“You’ll live.” She announces, dropping his arm into her lap so she can reach for some antiseptic and gauze.

He can’t help himself. “Is that in your professional medical opinion?”

She responds by pressing a little too firmly on the gash with the soaked gauze, making him hiss and reflexively try draw his arm back. Lucy doesn’t let him move, however, lacing the fingers of her free hand through his to pin his arm down across her knees.

“Yes.” She says shortly, casually, dabbing away like she’s not setting his arm on fire with pain. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches but if it starts bleeding again, we’re going to A&E- don’t argue with me.” She adds as if she can sense him opening his mouth in protest, or maybe he’s just that predictable.

read on ao3

[yveni]

Fluff

No, seriously, this fic will literally make the teeth fall right out of your gums, completely rotted. So much fluff.

3.4k words

First of all, thank you so, so much to @books-and-pumpkins for double-checking and correcting my French. I’m super duper grateful for your contribution to this.

Basically I seen a hc where Lockwood is fluent in French and spiraled from there. So here is an aged-up, married Locklyle. 

Very long post ahead.

!BOOK SPOILERS!

french translation at the bottom if you’re curious

“Anthony, dear, could you bring me my sketch pad before you come down?” I shout absentmindedly to my husband. I hear his footsteps halt on the stairs before turning back. 

I seldom use “Anthony” so casually, or even “dear”, but events that occurred while getting dressed made me want to milk my condition. The condition (which at the moment is relentlessly tapping on my inner rib) that in no way makes me incapable of going upstairs to grab my sketch pad for myself. 

I position my chair in a convenient ray of light streaming in through our window, sitting with my body turned sideways to illuminate the swell of my sundress. I had discovered this morning - quite irritatingly, at first - that my usual skirts no longer sat comfortably at my waistline. Dresses and leggings were going to have to be my wardrobe for the next five months. Upon putting on one of the only two dresses I own, a plain blue one that cinched just above my rib cage, I was taken aback by how obvious my stomach had become. I no longer looked as though I had eaten twice the amount of biscuits I should’ve (although the cravings did often cause that), I look as though I am carrying a baby. Cause I am. 

The kitchen door opens, and I look up to greet my husband, but instead I see George. 

“You don’t have to look so disappointed, Luce.” He says. 

George had moved out almost a year ago to live with Flo, but he still has a key. Honestly, I see him just as often as when he did live at Portland Row, since he comes around whenever he feels like. 

“Good morning, George!” I smile warmly, because although I was a bit disappointed he wasn’t Lockwood, the hormones caused me to be quite overly fond of him. He looks at me oddly. 

“Morning, Lucy. You look very pregnant today. Where’s my mug?” He begins opening cupboards and pulling out tea supplies.

I smile again, glad to know that the strategic arrangement of myself, my dress, and the utilization of the early afternoon light was working. “Should be in the same place it always is, Georgie. While you’re at it, could you make me a tea as well?”

I hadn’t made my own yet, I was planning on having Lockwood do it. George will do just fine, although his cup of tea wouldn’t come with the forehead kiss that always accompanies Lockwood’s cups of tea. 

George stops and turns in his tracks, his gaze moves from the window, to me, and then to my belly. He scoffs. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He reaches for another cup.

“Then why did you pull that face just now?”

“I’m always pulling a face.”

“Yeah, but not usually at me.” I grumble. 

He drops the tea bags in the steaming cups as he shrugs, “I see exactly what you’re doing, Luce. You could probably get away with it on Lockwood, but you forget that I have brothers, who all have wives, who have all been pregnant. You are perfectly capable of making your own cup of tea.”

“Seems to have worked a little bit.” I grin as he places my mug before me.

“Yeah, yeah.” 

He sits down in his usual spot at the table, then pulls some papers out of his bag and begins rifling through them. 

“Another gate found?” I ask.

The past few years, the Problem had significantly reduced, although the occasional gate would surface and stir up trouble; some were remainders of the Orpheus Society’s work, but usually they were attempts at recreating what the Society had done. DEPRAC was hard at work trying to figure out who was leaking the information about source gates; Lockwood and Co. provided whatever help we could. 

We hadn’t taken an actual psychic case in over a year. Holly’s talents had faded a few months after the destruction of Fittes house - Kipps had offered to share the goggles, but she refused for fashion’s sake, and stuck to secretary work for the company. It wasn’t for another three years that Lockwood’s talents followed, and then George. At that point, we hadn’t really had use of our talent anyway, as opportunities for cases were not as frequent as they used to be. I wasn’t sure when my own talents faded, but I assumed they did by now; I hadn’t been in a situation where I had to use them. We work alongside DEPRAC now, giving them whatever insight we could about what Marissa Fittes had said of her involvement in the Problem. Lockwood was very influential in the cleaning up of the gates, and the removal of the nets blocking the spirits from moving on. 

George proved himself in the research field, as we all expected, and was often giving lectures about the Problem, properties of sources, and how to prevent outbreaks from spreading. Lockwood and I found ourselves traveling outside of London, going to small villages, helping smaller agencies not only train their agents, but also provide insight into their most prominent hauntings. A few times, our guidance helped them find source clusters that were almost as powerful as a gate. 

Much to everyone’s relief, the terrible headlines of ghost-touch and hauntings were becoming fewer and fewer. The Problem was on its way out, and whatever attempts to bring it back in were becoming easier for DEPRAC to squash. Agencies still trained, iron wards still hung, and lavender gardens still flourished, but the world was beginning to feel safe. 

Safe enough to stop living everyday like it could be our last, safe enough for George to move out, safe enough to get married… safe enough to have a child. I smile and instinctively place my hand on top of my belly.

“Yeah, some nitwits in the country. It was caught after a week, but it was enough to stir up a poltergeist and a few changers it sounds like.” George says, looking at files over the top of his glasses, “They might benefit from you and Lockwood paying them a visit. They’ve only got six agents.” He flits his gaze back to me, and smirks, “Although, Kipps can go instead, since you’re not even feeling up to making your tea.”

I sit up defensively, “I can work and make a baby at the same time!”

“I thought you already went through the trouble of making a baby, surely you’re more professional than to do that while you’re working.” 

“George, you must know, the professionalism part is ensuring you don’t get caught making a baby while you’re working.” Lockwood says from the doorway. “I see you’re helping yourself to my tea.”

He leans against the doorframe, my sketch pad in hand, regarding George and I. As always, he looks immaculate; a crisp, white shirt tucked into a dark pair of slacks, showing off his slender frame. Regretfully, my careful stance against the sunlight had been ruined during my conversation with George. Lockwood’s view of me does not include my sundress or my stomach, which was now hidden by the Thinking Cloth. Instead, I am hunching over my tea, glaring at George, cheeks slightly flushed at the implications of making a baby at work. I impulsively grab a biscuit and throw it in George’s direction, almost making it into his tea cup. 

George picks it up and takes a bite, speaking as he chews, “Helping myself to your biscuits as well, courtesy of your wife.”

Lockwood grins at that. We’ve been married seven months, and we both still thrill at hearing others refer to us accordingly. Granted, George had been doing it since the first time he caught us snogging in the library, but it still sends a shock through my body when I hear it.

“You’re not feeling well, Luce?” My husband deposits the sketch pad in front of me and studies my face. 

My eyebrows furrow, “I feel fine.” 

“I overheard George say you’re not up to making tea.” Lockwood strides across the kitchen, heading straight to the kettle and tea supplies George had left out. I immediately take the opportunity of his back being turned to reposition myself, sunbeam, dress, stomach, and all.

I ignore George’s snort into his mug. “George doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I’m right here.”

Lockwood looks in our direction, probably with some clever comment to reply with, but catches sight of exactly what I’ve been wanting him to catch sight of. His eyes begin to glow as they fall on my figure, a smile lighting up the room more than my sunbeam. “More tea, Lucy?”

I quickly down what’s left of my cup, “If you insist.”

He walks over, but instead of making for my mug, he grabs my hand and pulls me out of my chair, stooping a little to place both his hands over my stomach. His grin gets even wider, “When did this happen?”

“Overnight, I think.” We both beam down at the bump. He lifts his gaze to mine, our faces level, and goodness, those brown eyes in the sunlight could make me melt.

He places a finger under my chin, guiding me into a kiss. 

“I’m taking my research to my desk.” George states loudly, I’m only slightly aware of the sound of him grabbing his papers and disappearing into the basement.

I wrap my arms around Lockwood’s neck, going on tiptoe so he can stand up straight. He drags his hands down my back in return, letting them settle at my hips. Probably disturbed by my quickening heartbeat, the tapping on my ribs starts up again.

I slightly pull away from Lockwood, he gives a little whine of complaint, trying to close the gap between us again. 

“No, feel.” I grab one of his hands and place it back on my stomach, approximately where I feel the tapping.

“Lucy, every time we try, I can’t feel it.” Lockwood dismays. “It just makes me think it doesn’t like me.”

I shake my head, “Of course the baby likes you. Just try again, the taps feel a lot stronger today.”

I grab his other hand and place it on top of my belly, trying to position his fingers in the main spot of the movement. He allows it, but his face says that he still doesn’t feel anything. 

He presses his lips together, waiting. After a moment, he sighs, almost moving his hands away. 

“No,” I force them back in place, “They’re moving. Just talk to it.”

He obliges, “I want to feel the baby, mon amour, but -” he stops. I gasp at the same time, a kick right underneath my ribs had caused us both to hold our breath.

“Do it again.” Lockwood utters.

The baby does nothing, leaving us both standing still in anticipation. Abruptly, Lockwood’s stance changes, his expression one I recognize from so many years of casework and ghost hunting. He has an idea. 

“…bébé?” He whispers cautiously. A kick, not a tap, responds. I gasp again, Lockwood lets out a breathy laugh, “Oh, tu aimes le français?”

The baby continues to move, causing Lockwood to stoop down again, practically on his knees to be level with my stomach. “Vraiment!” 

“Keep talking!” I sniff, surprised by the heaviness in my voice. His eyes are glistening as he pulls a chair away from the table, sitting down to comfortably return his hands to the spot of the kicking. 

“Je pourrais parler français, quand tu veux.” He continues, “Je pense que ta mère est très belle, j’espère tu lui ressembleras.” He looks up at me, still beaming, then back towards the baby. “Ceci dit… mon sourire t’ouvrirait beaucoup de portes.”

That part he whispers, as though he doesn’t really want me to hear. He’s begun talking too fast for me to keep up; to be honest, I lost him after “Do you like French?”, but his tone sounds suspicious. It doesn’t help that the baby is now going crazy, I not only feel it kicking, but it’s practically doing somersaults. 

“What are you saying?”

He doesn’t acknowledge me, “On va causer des ennuis partout, même si maman nous crie dessus, si tu hérites de mon sourire. Et sinon, je t’apprendrais d’autres combines…” 

“Anthony, what are you saying?” I nudge his shoulder.

“I forgot my tea!” I hear George announce loudly before he enters the room again.

I look up as he enters, not turning my whole body so Lockwood could still face my stomach. George halts at the top of the basement entrance, taking in the situation.

“Can you feel it?” He asks, more directed at Lockwood than me.

Lockwood nods enthusiastically, “Oui! Et il aime le français!”

“George, tell me what he’s saying.”

George moves closer, “Il?“

Lockwood shrugs, “Just a guess.” then leans down again to speak directly to the bump, “Peu importe.”

“Can I try, Luce?” George asks, now next to Lockwood and I.

I grab his hand and place it next to Lockwood’s, who adjusts accordingly so George can feel. “Just tell me what he’s saying.”

Immediately, George’s eyes widen. “T’aimes le français.“

“Lui, c’est ton oncle, il est un peu étrange.“ 

“Mais tu m’aimeras d’toute façon.” George says. He doesn’t sound as elegant as Lockwood, but it still annoys me that I’m the only one not understanding what’s being said. “Je t’apprendrai tous les gros mots, dans tout plein de langues.”

“Lockwood, I want to know what you’re saying.” I complain.

Finally, he looks up at me, “Oh, we’re back to Lockwood now? What happened to ‘Anthony, dear?’ from earlier?”

“Anthony wasn’t excluding me from a conversation with our child, Lockwood is.” I attempt to give him my best pout, but he frowns down at my belly, where the movement has stopped.

“Il aime pas quand ses parents se disputent.” George says, making the kicking start up again. “Besides, Luce, you had years where you were the only one that understood the skull, let us have this for a bit.”

Lockwood grins at that. Frustrated, I step back, causing both their hands to fall, and multiple groans of complaint. It even feels like the baby twists in disappointment. “This is nothing like the skull.” I say, “Besides, I filled you both in on what it was saying if you asked.”

“Not all of it,” George says, “It was pretty obvious you’d leave bits out.”

“The only bits I’d leave out were either hurtful to you guys, or unnecessary.” 

“On the contrary, if you’d mentioned all the times the skull would tease you about me, we might have gotten together sooner.” Lockwood states. 

George pulls an annoying face to show his agreement. “It would’ve saved me a lot of frustration.”

“So this is payback?” I splutter. 

“Ooh, this is the first time a so obviously pregnant women has been angry with me.” George says, “Odd, considering you’ve been so nice to me lately.”

I glare at both boys in front of me, mouth open ready to scold them, but suddenly all the baby’s movement hits me, “You two are lucky I have to pee.” 

“Always the lady.” I hear George say as I walk out.

George and Lockwood left Portland Row not too long after that, off to investigate the matter of the gate they had found in the country. When he returned, Lockwood informed me of what Barnes told him on the matter, and that we were welcome to visit the six agents and their supervisor, but Kipps had already made plans to do so. Beyond that, I didn’t speak to him.

I knew I was being a little unreasonable, and I wasn’t super angry anymore, I just wanted to avoid him getting on my nerves again so I wouldn’t shout.

I’m lying in the library, having just returned from a trip to the shops to buy a few more dresses, when Lockwood finds me.

He kneels beside the couch I’m at, brushing a piece of hair out of my eyes. “Je suis désolé.” He says, with a pleading smile, “It means I’m sorry.”

I sit up, allowing him to take the spot my head had just been, “I know what that means.”

He puts his arm around me and presses a kiss to my temple, “I wasn’t sure.” He murmurs into my hair.

I turn to look at him directly, “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have gotten angry, I ruined a really good moment.”

“I should have told you what I was saying.” His forehead leans against mine, instinctively I close my eyes and gently press my lips against his. 

He sits back against the arm of the sofa, pulling me so I’m laying against his chest. It honestly isn’t very comfortable with my stomach, but I don’t move yet. “What did you say?”

I hear the lazy smile in his voice, “Just talking about how I hope the baby looks like you, and then when George showed up, I told him how weird he is.”

“Him?” I ask. We haven’t found out if the baby is a boy or a girl.

“Just a guess.” He says. “Quite worryingly, George promised to teach him all the bad words in every language.”

“Hmmm, that’s a problem we’ll have to deal with when it comes around.” I mutter. 

We’re quiet for a while, only moving when I shift myself so I could be a little more comfortable. I almost fall asleep to the sounds of our breathing, but the baby starts its tapping again. 

“Lockwood.” I move my hand, which is already interlaced with his, onto my belly. 

“Is it moving?” He asks. 

“Yeah.” I say, a little disappointed that he couldn’t feel the tapping anymore.

“Lucy?”

“Hm?”

“Je t’aime.” 

Kick.

-

Bonus: 

I’m sitting at my desk in the basement, staring at the bulge underneath my t-shirt. Technically, Lockwood’s t-shirt, but I’d been stealing it for years, it’s perfect for the days I don’t have to be anywhere. 

I hadn’t felt the baby move all day and I was bored of my paperwork. I wanted some company.

The past week and a half, Lockwood was having fun with the baby’s fondness of French. Every night, I fell asleep to him muttering to my stomach. He was speaking to it so much, I was beginning to catch him slipping into his second language absentmindedly, mumbling as he went about his day, or referring to objects in French by accident. It was pretty cute, to be honest.

Still, French was the only thing that caused the baby to riot. It would gently tap and move around casually, just for me, but only get excited enough for others to feel the movement when that language was spoken.

“Hi, baby,” I whisper towards it. “How’s your day been?”

Nothing moves. I sigh, rubbing the spot that I feel the most pressure at, trying to disrupt the baby’s sleeping. “It’s just me right now, no need to stay quiet. I’d prefer you do that when I’m actually trying to sleep. Although your father hasn’t really been letting me fall asleep without feeling you move.”

A flutter starts at the mention of Lockwood, causing me to smile, unsure how he ever thought the baby didn’t like him. “Yeah, yeah, Lockwood’s great. Him and his français.”

I say the word mockingly, but it still is met with a series of kicks. I sigh, “I’m afraid I don’t know too much French, baby.”

The baby gives a little turn, as if it is readjusting itself to hear better. A motherly bolt of sympathy goes through me, and I give in. “Erm… bonjour.”

A delighted flurry of tumbles starts up, making me giggle a little bit. “Comment allez-vous?” 

I search my brain for all the French I had picked up from Lockwood, trying to form a sentence out of the random words and phrases I could remember. Nothing makes sense. After a moment, I lean back and sigh. “Sorry, baby, I think that’s all I got.”

The movement in my stomach lessens, like it’s calming down after being riled up. Which is kind of what happened. 

Breathing in a smile, I say, “There is one thing I will always tell you, in whatever language I can say it.” The baby stills, anticipating, “Je t’aime.” 

An excited lurch causes me to sit up, almost laughing, “Yes, I love you so very much. More than I understand yet.”

The kicks and tumbles continue, and I don’t get any more paperwork done that day.

Bonus Bonus:

“Lockwood…” I stare at the polish in my hand, breathing in the lemony fumes. “I think I want to drink the shelf cleaner.”

I don’t hear him get up, but I feel him behind me. Gingerly, he takes the bottle from my grasp. “Please don’t drink the shelf cleaner.”

~

Again, thank you so much to @books-and-pumpkins

As promised, here are the French bits translated:

Lockwood: ...my love...

Lockwood: ...baby?

Lockwood: Oh, you like French? You do!

Lockwood: I could speak French, whenever you want. I think your mother is very beautiful, I hope you look like her. Although... you could do a lot with my smile.

Lockwood: We’ll cause lots of trouble, even if mom yells, if you get my smile. If you don’t, I could teach you other tricks.

(after George reappears)

Lockwood: Yes! And he likes French!

George: He?

Lockwood: (Just a guess) It doesn’t matter.

George: You do like French.

Lockwood: This is your uncle, he’s a little weird.

George: But you’ll love me anyway.

George: I’m going to teach you so many bad words, in so many languages.

George: He doesn’t like it when his parents fight.

(in the library)

Lockwood: I’m sorry.

Lockwood: I love you.

(bonus)

Lucy: ...hello.

Lucy: How are you?

Lucy: I love you.

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Finished TEG.

No thoughts, head empty, only love

[dangerously-human]

Suffice to say no agent was looking their best over the Black Winter, not even Anthony Lockwood. An exploration of Lockwood's hairstyle choices, in three drabbles covering the second half of the series and slightly beyond.

Written for Lockwood & Co Appreciation Week 2024, Day 1: Favorite Character in the Main Trio. I love all three of them with my whole heart, but when it comes down to it, I'm predictable, it's gotta be Lockwood.

(based on this post about Lockwood's TEG hair that I've been snickering over for weeks)

[fea21]

I can't stop thinking of how cute it would be if Lockwood stayed up late and his sleep deprived self started to doodle pictures of Lucy and her name in herts. He would scramble to cover his art with his plate when George came into the kitchen for a glass of water to third to notice Lockwood covering he's red face as he went back upstairs. The confusion of Luce and George when they see a chunk of fabric missing from the table and asking Lockwood about it but he's only response would be his deceptive smile and a shoulder shrug before turning around to hide his rosie cheeks hiding the cloths in his pocket. He would keep the clothes hidden in his room as a bookmarker as it is a permanent home .

-L

[lockwoodandcobigbang2023]

Sign Ups Are Open!

Signups are open for the 2023 Lockwood and Co Big Bang! These signups are for writers, artists, cheerleaders and reserve agents!

Feel free to sign up as many times as you want, just don't take on more than you can handle! Each role is a commitment, and your eventual teammates won't want you overworking yourself. If you want to sign up more than once, fill out the form again.

Rules can be found on the form, but a separate post will be up shortly! If you want a refresher on what the roles involve, read under the cut :)

For Writers

There are three types of bangs for this event: teeny bangs, mini bangs, and big bangs.

Teeny bangs: fics between 5–10k words.

Mini bangs: fics between 10–20k words.

Big bangs: fics 20k+ words.

The minimum word count for this event is 5k (5,000) words. If you find yourself over or under the word count you signed up for, this is okay, just please communicate with the event mods.

The rules are on the form and will be posted separately, but a brief run down (feel free to send an ask if you want more details):

No explicit (E-rated), RPF or incest fics allowed.

There are no limits on ships (besides what is stated above), genres, tropes, or universes.

No plagiarism will be tolerated.

Works must be labelled and trigger-tagged appropriately.

Works must be posted to AO3.

Fics submitted must be new to the public! The occasional preview/snippet is okay, provided it is after the teams have been announced, but they must not have been posted anywhere prior to or during the event.

Good luck!

For Artists

As you know, there are three types of bangs. For all fics under 20k words (i.e. teeny and mini bangs) you must create at least one piece of art. For big bangs (20k+ words) you must create two pieces of art.

This can be in any medium you deem fit, but unfortunately we are not accepting playlists as official artworks. Don't let this stop you from including them as additions if you want to though! Examples of appropriate art includes hand drawn/digital art, gifts, mood boards, video edits etc.

Remaining info:

Art must be relevant to the associated fic.

White-washing and orange-washing will not be tolerated.

Art must not be posted anywhere before posting dates, beyond hints/snippets. It must be new to the public!

We can't wait to see what you come up with!

For Cheerleaders

Your role is arguably the most important! It is your job to motivate and help your writer, whether that is by beta reading or simply providing encouragement! Don't be afraid to support your artist too, you're the only person they can fully share the art with (aside from their writer) before the posting day!

Brief rules:

Respect your writer and artist.

Do not share your writer's or author's work.

Please keep an open communication with your writer and artist! If for any reason you can't continue your role, please let them and the mods know as soon as possible.

Be encouraging!

We hope you're as excited as we are!

For Reserve Agents

You're the ones that have to be ready to step in at a moment's notice! (You'll probably have a fair bit of notice since this is a long event, but still.) Reserve Agents are on hold in the event that another writer or artist drops out of the event, so they can take their place in a team!

Don't worry, if you're called to action you won't have to do as much as someone who had initially signed up. As an agent reserve you:

only need to write half of the required words for a bang if you're a writer (2.5k for a teeny, 5k for a mini, 10k for a big).

will be accommodated by a later poster date if necessary if you're an artist.

That's all for now. We can't wait to kick this off!

Signed, L&Co Big Bang 2023 mods :))

[worldofkaeos]

Skullyle arc through the Black Winter and till the end of The Creeping Shadow

[itripandfallalot]

Summary:

I was frozen. My eyes were ghost-locked, my bloody swelling, blue and bruised like Briggs’ hand had been only awhile before. Lockwood was muttering to himself, but I couldn’t make it out. He was kneeling on the ground, his eyes glassy, as he reached out towards the me who was lying on the floor, motionless and pitiful.

[teatoastghostszine]

Something is brewing in London, and it's not just tea!

This is the official Tumblr for the Tea, Toast & Ghosts zine, a celebration of the Lockwood & Co book and television series.

We're so excited to explore what this world and its characters mean to the fandom with you all!

Follow for more information and updates in the coming days 👻⚔