Changing it up a little bit! Saw this stand this past summer and had to take a picture! How does lavender get to the people in the Lockwood universe??
You have 48 hours to write something inspired by this photo! Or feel free to use one of our previous prompts! Post it here on tumblr and/or on our ao3 collection!
L&Co Flash Fiction Challenge 13: Just in Time for Christmas
Written for @lockwoodandcoff's December 19 Flash Fiction Challenge
aka finally an excuse to bang out a holiday sickfic… after all previous attempts started in November have failed
––
"Lockwood?" Slowly, Lucy eased open the door to his bedroom, steaming mug in one hand. While she doubted he was actually asleep, the last thing she wanted was to wake him if he was.
But the lump on the bed shifted, and coughed.
"I've brought you more tea, with lots of honey for your throat."
A long arm emerged from the blankets, fumbling on the bedside table for a notepad and dull pencil. As she crept closer, Lucy could make out his shaky handwriting in the dim light, Thanks, Luce.
"Oh, babes." She brushed his fringe back from his forehead as he shuffled to sit up just enough to take the mug with both hands. To her dismay, his forehead was still noticeably warm, but compared to the last couple of days it qualified as an improvement.
She sat on the bed next to him as he sipped the tea. They didn't speak– he needed two hands to hold the mug and she didn't want to make him try to talk. The last time she'd heard his voice had been two days ago, and even then it sounded horrible– raspy and croaky and breaking every other word– and after that it disappeared entirely.
It really had been quite a month– a long case outside in a mixture of sleet and freezing rain had left Lockwood with a stubborn head cold, which then mutated into a horrible sinus infection, before traveling south to deal a final blow in the form of laryngitis. After initially working through his discomfort, Lockwood had eventually submitted to their pestering and retreated to bed, where he'd remained for the better part of five days. During his convalescence, she, George, and Holly had broken out all three boxes of Christmas decorations from the attic to turn the living room into something out of a holiday catalog in the hopes he'd be well enough by the day to enjoy it.
But now it was December 24th and that morning Lockwood had informed her, via pencil and paper, that his throat was still killing him and his head ached with every little change in altitude. While his steadily lowering temperature indicated he was probably over the worst of it, he had yet to stay awake for more than a couple hours at a time, could barely sit up to drink or eat, and had absolutely no voice.
"Try to get some good sleep tonight," she said, rubbing his knee through the quilt. The mug of tea about half empty, she took it and handed him one of the ever-present boxes of tissues so he could wipe his streaming nose.
After he finished, he picked up the pencil and paper and wrote, I'll do my best. He paused, and then added, happy xmas eve.
Lucy sighed and rubbed his shoulder, longing to draw him into her arms and wrap him in a tight hug but knowing that would probably only hurt his head. "When you're all better we'll have a redo, promise," she said. "George has said he'll remake the roast."
Lockwood reached for the notepad again, probably to write something along the lines of, That's not necessary, but she gently took it away, exchanging it for the mug of tea instead.
"Don't even try to tell us not to," she said. "It wouldn't be a proper Christmas for the rest of us if you couldn't enjoy it, too."
He gave a little sigh in between sips, as if to say, Of course it would, but didn't reach for the notepad and pencil again, and allowed Lucy to help him lie back down after finishing the tea.
After pressing a kiss to his forehead, she turned out the bedside lamp and left him to, hopefully, get a good night's rest.
The next morning, Lucy slept in, as she felt was her right on Christmas Day, but all too soon the urge to check on Lockwood took over, and she brushed her hair, pulled on a garish red jumper and her softest leggings before padding down to the kitchen.
To her mild surprise, George was already up, scrambling eggs in bacon fat, a pot of porridge on the stove to his left. "Christmas brunch, Luce?" he said. He tapped the porridge with his spatula. "That's for Lockwood, if he's up for it."
"I'll bring it upstairs," she said, starting the kettle.
Ten minutes later, she climbed the stairs with porridge and a mug of tea, tapping the door to Lockwood's room twice before entering. "Sorry if I've woken you," she said as she entered.
Lockwood shook his head, and to her satisfaction pushed himself up with a bit more energy than the day before. He took the tea first, grinning as she wished him a merry Christmas.
After a few sips, he cleared his throat (she frowned, he wasn't supposed to be doing that), and said, "Merry Christmas."
It was hoarse, croaky, and a good octave lower than it should've been, but undeniably there, and miles better than it had been for days. Lucy felt her face split into a wide smile and leaned forward to hug him, careful of the mug between him. Simultaneously, she was pleased to find that his temperature was finally almost normal, and perhaps could be chalked up to the warmth of the room, and the number of blankets currently piled around him.
Leaning back again, she caught the ridiculously proud grin on his face and said, "I hope this means you really are feeling better."
He nodded eagerly, taking the bowl of porridge she handed him and eating with more enthusiasm than he had in a while.
"Maybe you'll be up to open presents downstairs later today," she said.
"Yes, I have–" he coughed into his fist. "I have presents for you and George, although I never got a chance to wrap them." He paid for this little speech with more coughing, and Lucy rubbed his back.
"It's alright. You know it doesn't matter how they look. George's can barely be considered wrapped under normal circumstances."
He rolled his eyes.
"And try not to overexert yourself, yeah? Why don't you take a nap while George and I have something to eat and get the living room all set up?"
He pouted, and might've protested the order to go right back to sleep so soon after waking up, but Lucy could see he was already listing a bit to the side, and his eyelids were growing heavier by the minute.
Tugging the quilt over him, Lucy slipped out of the room to join George for a rather late breakfast.
When she returned later that afternoon, she was somewhat disappointed, although not overly surprised, to see Lockwood up and about. He hadn't gotten dressed, thank goodness, but he was standing in his dressing gown over the dressing table that had once belonged to his mother, applying sellotape to the second of two parcels.
"Oh, Luce!" He started as she opened the door, stumbling back a few steps. "You didn't knock."
"I did, your ears are still gummed up," she said.
He sniffled, and wrinkled his nose.
"I thought you were going to stay in bed." When had he been able to sneak into the basement for the wrapping paper, anyway? Or did he somehow have his own personal stash?
"Well, I couldn't very well let these go under the tree naked, could I?"
Lucy rolled her eyes. "But should you really be using your energy on wrapping something that will just be unwrapped twenty minutes from now?"
"Yes," Lockwood said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world, although as they were talking he'd sat down heavily in a chair, rubbing his forehead.
She pursed her lips. "Do you still think you can make it downstairs?"
"Yes," he said immediately, lifting his head too quickly and screwing up his eyes at the change in pressure. "Just… maybe give me a few seconds."
"Do you want to get back in bed?"
"No, that'll just make it harder." All the talking was growing hard on his throat, and he coughed a few times into his elbow.
Lucy sighed. "Alright…"
"I'm fine, Luce." With a visible effort, he sat up straighter and pushed himself to stand with shaking arms.
Lucy hurried forward and took the two parcels under one arm, offering the other to support him on their way out of the bedroom.
By the time they made it downstairs, Lockwood was breathing heavily through his mouth, but the smile on his face when he saw the tree and decorations made it all worth it. The sight seemed to give him the boost he needed to make it the few more steps to the sofa, where Lucy and George had gathered the warmest and softest blankets they could find and arranged them into a giant nest, so that when Lockwood sank down onto the pillows Lucy could wrap them around him three layers thick.
She was just placing his presents under the tree with the rest when George arrived with a tray of tea and biscuits. "Hey, look who made it!"
Squirming, Lockwood disentangled his arms from the blankets to do a rough approximation of jazz hands. "Ta-da."
George winced. "You know, just because you can talk doesn't mean you should."
"Well, I left the pencil and paper upstairs so…" Lockwood shrugged, looking not at all sorry.
Lucy swatted his arm and shushed him. "So save your voice. George, would you like to be Father Christmas this year?"
"Sure." George knelt by the base of the tree and began pulling out parcels– three for each of them. Holly was spending the holiday with her own family but the week before had left three impeccably wrapped gifts to put under the tree.
Once distributed, the unwrapping proceeded over two pots of tea and an entire sleeve of biscuits– consumed entirely by Lucy and George. To everyone's surprise, Lockwood actually nibbled on the corner of one, before declaring with a dejected sigh that, like everything else for the past week and a half, it tasted like sawdust.
Besides the usual book from George (this year it was an illustrated edition of Anne of Avonlea), she received the softest blue cardigan she'd ever held from Holly, and a brand new walkman from Lockwood. The price tag had been carefully removed, but she'd been eyeing this model in the shops for weeks, and knew exactly how much he would've had to spend on it.
"Where did you even find the time to buy this?" she said, hiding her blush in an awkward hug, doing her best not to disturb the pillows propping him up.
He gave a rough chuckle. "I have my ways."
"Which are that he asked me last week to run out and pick it up for him," George chimed in from behind one of the comic books Lucy had gotten him.
Lockwood shot him a dirty look, while Lucy laughed. She picked up the fleece-lined wool beanie from Lockwood's lap– a gift from Holly. "This looks warm."
Lockwood huffed. "I feel like it might've come with an ulterior motive." He jerked forward to sneeze into a tissue, and groaned. "As if a hat would've prevented me from catching this."
"Well, we wouldn't know, you always refuse to wear one," Lucy said, holding it out for him to try on.
"They mess up my hair," he whinged.
"Come on, isn't the stylishly rumpled look coming back in? I hear girls find that very charming."
He narrowed his eyes. "What girls?"
"Present company included." Privately, Lucy liked Lockwood's perfectly neat hair, if only because that made it all the more fun to ruffle, but she wasn't about to say that now.
"…Okay, fine." He allowed her to slip the beanie over his head. "How does it look."
"Very adorable." Wisely, Holly had chosen one without a pompom, just simple black and dark green stripes, and Lucy could easily imagine it matching quite well with his dark grey coat and red scarf. In the present moment of course, it was a tad incongruous with his blue and white striped pajamas, red nose, and rather pale face, but somehow that managed to contribute to its charm.
He sighed. "I don't know if adorable is really what I'm going for, generally."
"Well it can't hurt to change it up once in a while," she said.
"Hm." He still looked skeptical, but adjusted the hat over his brow, and reached for his mug for another sip of tea.
An hour or so later, while Lockwood was fiddling with one of the puzzle boxes Lucy had gotten him, she cleared the biscuit tray and disposed of the wrapping paper while George put the finishing touches on his Christmas roast.
As they returned to the living room with two plates of mostly meat and one plate with mostly mashed potatoes, Lucy stopped short and said, "Shh."
"What–? Oh." George said.
Wool hat on the floor beside him and half-open puzzle box still clutched in one hand, Lockwood was fast asleep in his blanket nest, hair indeed adorably rumpled and snoring softly.
"What should we do?" Lucy asked, just as George whipped out his new polaroid camera (ironically, courtesy of Lockwood) and snapped a picture.
"What?" he said as Lucy smacked his arm. "You never know when you might need blackmail material."
"George…"
Balancing his plate of food in one hand, he shook the paper until the image resolved. "Come on, I think that's one for the photo album, don't you?"
Honestly, it was rather sweet, but Lucy didn't want to give him the satisfaction quite yet. "Why don't you ask him that when he wakes up?"
Rolling his eyes and muttering that she was no fun, George pocketed the picture as he turned back to the kitchen, where they would be able to eat without disturbing Lockwood. But Lucy carefully placed her and Lockwood's plates on a side table and stole forward to look closer.
A bit of a fever flush had returned to his cheeks, and he was still breathing entirely through his mouth, but he appeared to be deeply, peacefully asleep, and she tugged the blankets a little further up his shoulder, whispering, "Merry Christmas, Anthony."
And a (very late) fill for @lockwoodandcoff's December 29 Flash Fiction Challenge
Dedicated to @themetaphorgirl as a very late birthday present– ily so much!!!
––
Every year since the fall of Fittes, DEPRAC had put on an annual New Year's Eve broadcast, featuring a fencing tournament for select junior agents, performances by once-popular bands, and a live countdown just before the final moment complete with close-ups of various couples in the crowd kissing to ring in the new year.
The inaugural year of the production, Lockwood had been asked to emcee one of the musical stages, and they had all attended to support him, but since then it had become a Lockwood and Co. tradition to follow the event on television, which Lucy at least found that far preferable. Warmer, for one, and could be accomplished in pajamas, with better access to a bathroom.
Of course, this year it was an even lower-key affair than normal, and Lucy was happy to keep it that way. Normally, Holly and/or Kipps might've come over, but Lockwood was still recovering from a nasty sinus infection and despite his insistence that was feeling better every day was not yet up to hosting. So it was just the three of them watching the DEPRAC broadcast over biscuits and spiked hot cocoa– well, two of them, as Lockwood had dozed off against her shoulder ten minutes ago.
"Geez, The Cold Maidens haven't been on the radio in ages," George said as a group of men in their late thirties wearing an odd combination of leather and white, gauzy cloaks took the stage. "Couldn't they get someone current for once?"
Lucy shrugged. "They were popular at one point. You remember this song, don't you?"
"Sure, when I was earning my Grade Two."
She chuckled, trying not to disturb Lockwood too much.
Still, he snorted and shifted away, wrinkling his nose as he slowly woke up. "What time is it?"
"Just about 8:30," George said with a knowing glance. "Perhaps you should just go to bed."
"No. No, I can stay up." Rubbing his eyes, Lockwood pulled a tissue from the box held loosely in his lap and blew his nose
Lucy winced. It was still a thick, horrible sound, and this was the second time he'd fallen asleep that evening, despite napping that afternoon. "I think we should go back to the clinic when things are open again."
"Why?" Lockwood grouched, taking a sip of tea. "It's a stupid cold."
"A cold you've had for weeks," George said. "That's been rather slow to improve."
"I've got my voice back, haven't I?"
He had, just in time for Christmas, although it was still rough in the mornings, and he'd only stopped running fevers in the evening a few days ago.
Lucy rubbed his shoulder and hummed. "But you're also clearly exhausted. Perhaps it is time to go to bed. We can pull the crackers now all together if you want." Per tradition, a row of brightly colored New Year's crackers were laid out on the coffee table, to pull when ringing in the new year.
Lockwood glared at them. "But there's still hours until midnight."
"Well, George and I can't very well pull them by ourselves." Not to mention we'd wake you up.
"I can stay up," Lockwood said, drinking a bit of lukewarm tea and staring firmly at the TV. "Who's on now? Is that Phantasm Weekend?"
George grimaced. "Regrettably."
"Oh come on, some of their early stuff was good."
George looked horrified, and Lucy grinned as Lockwood leapt to defend his (admittedly, highly questionable) taste. It kept him alert for a good hour, until a series of speeches by various important people in sober wool coats. At that point, George returned to his comic book, Lucy picked up her sketchbook, and Lockwood fell asleep again on her shoulder.
This time, she let him be for over half an hour, even as she felt saliva soaking through her jumper. Disgusting, perhaps, but after the month he'd had Lockwood desperately needed to catch up on sleep.
She was seriously considering guiding him into a more comfortable position lying across the sofa with his head on her lap when there was a hitch in his snoring and he woke up coughing.
She winced and rubbed his back as he hunched over, trying to keep in mind that it probably sounded worse than it was. He'd been so congested for so long, his body was finally clearing everything out. Still, the coughing fit ended with several new crumpled tissues on the coffee table, and Lockwood's eyes and nose streaming.
"Okay, that's it," Lucy said, setting her sketchbook aside and standing up. "You're going to bed."
"But Luce–"
"But nothing." She held out her hand to haul him up. "Getting better or no, you still sound awful and need to rest."
Lockwood glared, but she glared back until he finally crumbled, whinging and moaning as she guided him up the stairs.
"Brush your teeth, and I'll fetch a glass of water for your bedside table," she said.
"I'm not a child, Luce," he muttered, although he obediently shuffled into the bathroom.
Lucy rolled her eyes, but refrained from making a comment about his behavior proving otherwise. When she returned upstairs with the glass of water, Lockwood was crawling into bed, already looking much more comfortable lying down.
"Get some sleep," she commanded, running a few fingers through his fringe as he grunted a vague acknowledgement.
It was barely a quarter past 10 by the time she rejoined George in the living room, and The Cold Maidens had retaken the stage.
"I hope you assured him he isn't missing much," he said, wincing as the lead singer attempted a high kick. "Although I suppose this means we'll be foregoing the crackers."
"It would be wrong to pull them without him," Lucy said. "Not to mention we'd wake him up."
"Mm." George pursed his lips. "Next time we drag him to a clinic we're not leaving without antibiotics."
"Agreed."
Settling back in to enjoy the music, even Lucy found herself dozing off between has-been musical acts, but for the final countdown George joined her on the couch and they raised glasses of cheap champagne to the New Year.
They turned off the TV and retired quickly after that, leaving the mess on the coffee table to clean up tomorrow. Following George up the stairs, Lucy eased open the door to Lockwood's room, sighing as he stirred at the slight noise.
"Sorry," she whispered, creeping forward around the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you."
He shrugged, coughing into the blankets.
"I just wanted to see if you needed anything," she said, kneeling carefully by his side. "And wish you a happy New Year."
A shadow of a grin crossed his face. "Is it after midnight?"
"It is indeed." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "There's your kiss."
He pouted, shuffling forward so he could return one on her cheek. "Happy New Year, Luce."
She remained at his side until her knees started to ache, unable to tear herself away until she knew he'd go to sleep again, snoring peacefully with his hands wrapped around the sleeve of her jumper, holding it to his face so new patches of moisture joined the one on her shoulder.
Eventually, Lucy elected to remove it entirely, tucking the edges around his shoulders before she left to go to bed.
and we are back! as a reminder, this is a very lowkey, low stakes flash fiction challenge. you have 48 hours to write something Lockwood and Co based on this photo! or, if this isn't sparking any creativity, you can always use our previous prompts. you can post it to the ao3 collection and/or tag us here on tumblr!
time's up! thanks to everyone for participating!! feel free to keep posting and i will put a wrap up online soon!
the next round will be delayed a bit, as i have some irl life changes happening (all good things!) so stay tuned and i will let yall know when the next challenge will be when i know!
this was a request, so let's go! you have 48 hours to write something lockwood and co inspired by this painting! or, if this isn't sparking something, use one of our previous prompts!
Lockwood and Co Flash Fiction Challenge 15 Wrap Up:
To the Heights
Wherever you began the story, it was always about a fall.
Lucy's got a fear of heights; Lockwood has a habit of jumping recklessly. Five times they faced a leap, and how they learn to leap together.
L'erreur de l'escalier
“She’s the best client we’ve ever had. If only all our jobs were this easy,” George said.
“So what am I supposed to do all night?” she asked. “Sit around and pretend to Listen?”
His answering shrug was interrupted by a sound of pure jubilation upstairs. “George, Luce, come up here!"
Lockwood & Co. has a simple case for once. Not even they can screw it up... right?
“She’s the best client we’ve ever had. If only all our jobs were this easy,” George said.
“So what am I supposed to do all night?” she asked. “Sit around and pretend to Listen?”
His answering shrug was interrupted by a sound of pure jubilation upstairs. “George, Luce, come up here!"
***
Lockwood & Co. has a simple case for once. Not even they can screw it up... right?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Wherever you began the story, it was always about a fall.
Lucy's got a fear of heights; Lockwood has a habit of jumping recklessly. Five times they faced a leap, and how they learn to leap together.
Written for @lockwoodandcoff challenge #15, spiral staircase. Title from “Hotel Aquarium” by Falling Up:
Now I know that I'm alive
All the loneliness is filled by you inside
And as I finally breathe the air
You opened up my eyes, now I'm alive
To the heights, to the heights, there is hope
It's been waiting all along
To the heights, to the heights, there is hope, waiting
Loosely inspired by The Raven Cycle (in terms of structure, anyway) and thus a gift for @polithicc, a writing inspiration and the person who opened my eyes to how the themes of these two series complement each other.
you know the drill! you have 48 hours to write something Lockwood and Co inspired by this photo! or if this isn't sparking interest, use one of our previous prompts!
Lockwood and Co Flash Fiction Challenge 14 Wrap Up
happy new year everyone! thanks for writing such fun fics!
A Merry Metamorphosis
Lockwood & Co gather to make and send company Christmas cards, with contributions from their newest teammate.
(While this is part of a sort of "extended epilogue" series, as with all those works, it can be read as a standalone.)
Hold on to the Memories
Lucy shouldn't even be on her school's trip to New York City. She's taken Norrie's spot when she couldn't go, and she knows all her classmates know it. She wants to make the most of the opportunity her best friend gave her, and when she runs into a strange boy also a long way from home in the big city, she's presented with the chance to live out her own romantic comedy.
Modern AU for New Years Eve
time's up! thanks to everyone for writing in the last flash fiction challenge of 2023! feel free to keep posting your fics! the next challenge will begin tuesday, january 9!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Lockwood & Co gather to make and send company Christmas cards, with contributions from their newest teammate.
(Part of my sort of "extended epilogue" series, Restore the Years, but as with all those works, can be read as a standalone.)
For @lockwoodandcoff prompt #14, confetti. Inspired by me initially mistaking the picture for craft supplies and deciding to combine the two.
So very grateful to have spent the bulk of this year mesmerized by this series with you all. A cup of cheer to share and a prayer that 2024 is kind to us all in ways we can cultivate the mindset to see!
it's almost the new year! write something Lockwood and Co related using this photo! or use one of our previous prompts if this isn't sparking anything. then tag us here on tumblr and/or add it to the ao3 collection!
jbbartram-illu
germansingergirl
kaledo-art
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
