Just wanted to suggest ways I think could help Lockwood and co.
1.) if you give reviews on the show such as on Netflix giving it a double thumbs up, or other sites such as IMDb, Rotten tomatoes, even google reviews!!! (Hell you can even go to good reads and give a review for the books and mention the show in the review about the book and why you loved both) they help to show that you love the show.
In your reviews explain why you loved it and your disappointment for Netflix not renewing it (in a nice way like you’re talking to your friends sweet grandparent)
I also suggest NOT copy pasting your review, but changing the wording a bit!!! Doesn’t have to be crazy just make it seem like it’s not a carbon copy!!!
2.) Sign this petition and any other petitions or voting of rankings you see
Save Lockwood & Co
3.) join the watch party on May 20 & 21st and keep streaming it in the background (if you want to mute it DON’T touch Netflix the volume, or mute the individual site as I don’t know if it will count as watching it. Keep Netflix at full volume and mute your device’s volume or put it at 1) and turn auto play on and check every so often that it’s playing or just watch it if you can as often as you can!
!!! REMEMBER TO ALWAYS WATCH IT TO THE CREDITS !!!
4.) KEEP THE HASHTAGS AND FANDOM ALIVE! It’s so important to keep talking not just about the cancellation but reblog or make memes, text posts, GIFs, favourite or edited images, fan art or video edits. Make content of Literally anything to show that the Lockwood and co fandom is still thriving and that there is a fan base
5.) keep commenting kindly about the show on all Netflix social media’s you can (so not just Netflix UK) and other networks that you want them to pick up Lockwood and co. (Think places such as Amazon Uk, BBC, places that would pick up a UK filmed show)
6.) THE MOST IMPORTANT THING OF ALL IS TO NOT BE RUDE OR THREATENING
No one wants to listen to someone who sounds like a Karen, or is just an asshole. Be polite but get your points across. Make noise but in a way that people hear you not ignore you and your message.
7.) Mention the show to everyone you know and see if they’ll watch/support it, or even take some of these suggested steps that I’ve given or others have!!!
At the very least we will make noise, grow the fandom, and make Jonathan, Ruby, Ali, Cameron, The Crew & Cast and Complete Fiction proud!!!
content: suggestive content and like a bunch of silly jokes bc… theyre teenagers
word count: 3.5k
summary: the one where george wishes he could time travel
notes: the final part!! she’s here!! i do hope u like it lolol
Lucy claimed she had done something to fix you and Lockwood, and somehow, it had worked.
(Perhaps a little too well, Future George notes.)
George loved you, of course, but in the week you had been ignoring Lockwood, you had been using him and Lucy as an outlet for your need to give affection. As a result, he had probably received more hugs in that single week than he had in the past two years of his life. Your affection was always nice, but George wasn't sure how many more surprise hugs he could take.
After that week, his respect for Lockwood had grown tenfold. He wasn’t sure how anyone could like spontaneous touches and impromptu hugs, but Lockwood had welcomed their return with open arms. It was nice to see him not moping, and George thought it was nice to see you two back to normal, but it was also nice for the heat to be taken off of him for once. He made sure to thank Lucy by letting her sneak an extra biscuit during the usual rotation, and that was that. You and Lockwood were glued back together again, and all was right in the world.
But it seemed that whatever Lucy did had done nothing but make you and Lockwood ten times clingier. Gone were the nights where George could enjoy his alone time with you, as Lockwood always seemed to be on your tail.
Once a week, you would offer to help George with dinner. It was a big help, and was a great way to spend time with you. Lucy and Lockwood were helpless in the kitchen, and he would much rather have a literal elephant help him crack eggs into a pan than either of them.
“Alright, George,” you said, pulling on one of his aprons. “What would you like me to do?”
The apron you put on was the one you wore every time you cooked with him, and it was basically yours now. Lucy had gotten it for him last Christmas, and ‘Kiss the Cook’ was printed along the front next to a cartoon lipstick stain. It was your favorite apron, solely for the reason that Lockwood would pepper kisses on your cheeks whenever he happened to catch you wearing it.
“Could you please cook the rice?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the pantry. He blew an unruly curl out of his eyes as he continued to stir the contents of his pot. His hair was getting much too long.
“Yes, Chef,” you teased, heading to retrieve the rice. George could hear you humming quietly to yourself while you scooped a few cups into the pot. “What are we eating tonight?”
“Ghormeh sabzi,” he said, moving to fetch the cilantro and parsley as you headed to the sink.
He could practically hear the smile bleed into your voice when you spoke. “Lockwood’s going to be so happy. We haven’t had it in a while.”
George hummed an affirmative as he moved to get the knife and a cutting board. Your words were definitely true, but he wondered if you ever stopped thinking about Lockwood. He didn’t doubt that the boy was the same way about you, though. For every ten thoughts he had, you made up about nine of them.
You rinsed off the rice, making sure to wash it well before you headed over to the rice cooker. You popped it in the pot and took over the chopping for him while he started preparing the meat.
George loved cooking with you. It was nice to not be alone in the kitchen for once, and although it was mostly quiet, it was nice. The two of you were perfectly in tune, and you were able to understand exactly what he needed you to do despite your lack of cooking knowledge.
“It smells great, George,” Lockwood said, appearing out of thin air.
George flinched, his wooden spoon gaining a life of its own as it jumped out of his hand. With terrifying aim, the spoon arched upwards before hitting you hard in the shoulder. The sauce splattered against the ceiling and all over your unsuspecting self as the spoon clattered sadly on the floor.
Lockwood whistled, picking up the now dirty utensil before dropping it in the sink. He got a towel from the rack and opened the faucet, dampening it slightly, and you immediately drifted over to him. You let him pull your face into his hands, allowing him to wipe off the remnants of the sauce from the side of your face and neck.
“Sorry,” George said genuinely to you, but you just waved him off, much more interested with the way Lockwood was standing so close to you. “Lockwood ought to be more careful with who he sneaks up on.”
The boy laughed at his words, but still did not take his eyes off of you. “I’ve been in the kitchen for the past thirty minutes, George, you just didn’t notice. Even though you refuse to believe it, I am capable of not talking.”
George rolled his eyes. It was like he was a dog with separation anxiety. He couldn’t leave you alone for an hour so you could help cook?
Neither of you cared, but Lockwood was still lightly wiping at your skin with the towel even though it was clear there was nothing left. You were mumbling something to him about the vegetables, and he was listening with rapt attention. George soured upon seeing that distracted look in your eyes you got whenever Lockwood was around.
“Alright, Lockwood, now stop distracting my sous chef if you even want to think about getting a second helping of ghormeh sabzi.”
The threat seemed to sober him up immediately, because he planted a parting kiss on your cheek before backing away. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” he assured. “Had to kiss the chef first, of course.”
George wondered if you would hate him if that apron somehow went missing.
“Get out of here,” you said laughing, still clearly in a Lockwood induced trance. He winked at you before slinking from the room.
Things settled back down after that, you helping him wrap up the meal in your usual silence. But George would sometimes look over and see a little smile on your face, and he knew exactly who you were thinking of.
George picked up a clean spoon from the drawer before scooping some of the stew onto it.
“Try this,” he said, pulling you away from where you were readying the plates on the table. You tasted it eagerly, always excited to try his cooking. Almost immediately, you brightened up.
“This might just be the best ghormeh sabzi you’ve ever made,” you said, moving to get some more.
George swatted your spoon away from the pot. “Not until later. And you say that every single time I make this.”
You laughed, throwing your head back. “And I mean it every single time!”
George smiled, moving to take your spoon from you before you made any speedy dives for the pot. But his eyes caught the exposed skin of your neck and he frowned.
“Did I do that to you with the wooden spoon?”
“Do what?” you said, still smiling as you reluctantly gave up the utensil.
“Give you that bruise on your neck.”
You froze, the grin sliding right off your face. “What? What do you mean?”
He picked up a shiny pot that was hanging on the rack, flipping it over so you could see yourself in the metal. “When I accidentally threw it, I think I might’ve bruised you.”
You were staring wide eyed at your reflection, your hands zeroed in on the discoloration around the area where the spoon had landed on you.
“Sorry about that,” he said, moving the pot of stew to the center of the table. “I should really ban Lockwood from the kitchen.”
Snapping out of your weird daze, you nodded hurriedly. “You should really get on that, George.”
You clamped a hand down over the bruise, nodding in the direction of the door. “And I’m about to get on— Uh, I mean,” you stammered, oddly horrified at your words. “I’m going to go get Lockwood. And Lucy. I’m going to go get them for dinner,” you said, as if George needed clarification.
“Okay,” he said, tilting his head at you. He went to get the forks from the drawer as he waved you out. “Bye?”
You smiled awkwardly, and quickly turned on your heel to flee the room.
When you returned back downstairs, the bruise on your neck was gone. George assumed you covered it up with makeup, and he immediately felt bad about the accidental injury. The guilt only worsened when you dutifully did not make eye contact with George throughout the rest of dinner.
He gave you a weird look that you didn’t notice, because you absolutely refused to look at him. Girls could be so weird.
—
Whatever had happened in the kitchen that day had clearly rattled you.
You were always on edge, giving George wary looks from across the room that you thought he didn’t notice. Every few minutes, he would look up and you would stare off in the distance, pretending you hadn’t just been staring at him.
He didn’t understand what your issue was. You had been perfectly fine until he had pointed out the massive bruise he had given you, and although it had been an accident, you seemed pretty upset about it. Just after your week of ignoring Lockwood had been over, it seemed that your week of ignoring George had begun. He couldn’t even believe he was saying it, but he was… missing you. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he went to the one other person in the house that could help.
“Lucy, you better prepare yourself. After this week, you’re next up on her chopping block.”
She snorted. “As if she would ever ignore me.”
“You never know,” he grumbled. “I didn’t think it would happen to me, and look where we are. I doubt Lockwood expected it either, but he’s a victim, too!”
Lucy was clearly amused. “Why don’t you just ask her if she’s okay? That’s what I did last time, and it fixed everything between her and Lockwood.”
George frowned. “That’s it? That’s all you did to fix it?”
“Yep.”
“You made it seem like you had done something actually helpful to get them talking to each other again.”
She glared at him. “Don’t make fun of my methods until you test it out yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah, thanks, Luce.”
“Of course,” she said, ushering him from her room. “Let me know how it goes.”
Shutting the door of the attic quietly, George began the trip down to your room.
“I’m sorry, please forgive me,” George mumbled to himself, practicing his apology. Suddenly, he frowned.
He wasn’t even one hundred percent sure what you were mad at him for, what was he even apologizing for?
He was about to find out, though, because he was now at your door, his hand raised in a fist to knock. George could hear you shuffling around inside, which meant you were definitely in your room. He rocked on his heels, nervous for what your reaction might be to him outside your door. Would you scream? Slam the door in his face? Probably not, but it was always a possibility.
There was more rustling inside, and George felt him grow impatient. Were you ignoring him?
He knocked again, much louder this time. There was no way you didn’t hear him. His raps against the door increased in speed and volume as he continued, but there was still no response.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash, like something heavy had fallen to the floor. He pressed his ear to the door, trying to listen to see if you were alright. After a second, he could hear a muffled curse from inside. The concern he had for you outweighed his fear of your anger, and he pushed the door open.
As the door swung inward, the contents of your room were revealed to him one by one.
He could see your box of trinkets had fallen off your desk, spilling your knick knacks everywhere.
And then he could see you, sitting on your desk, the papers and other belongings that were usually kept neat now strewn about messily, like they had been pushed to the side.
(If Future George could intervene on a single point in his life, it would be this very moment. Future George would tell Past George to slam the door and just let you ignore him. But unfortunately, Future George could only look back and cringe.)
Because the moment he pushed the door open an inch further, he saw Lockwood. And he really wished he didn’t.
He was standing in between your legs, his arms wrapped around you, which wasn’t anything new to George. What was new was the way he was kissing you. On the mouth, and down your jaw, and down your neck.
George nearly keeled over. “What the fuck?”
Your senses of hearing immediately returned, because the both of you jumped away from each other in shock. You snapped your head in the direction of the door, seeing George standing there with his mouth opening and closing over and over.
“What the fuck?” George repeated in shock. He wasn’t sure what else there was to say.
“George,” you gasped out, sliding off the desk and moving in his direction. Grabbing him by the wrist, you tugged him into your room before shutting the door. “What’re you doing here?”
From up close, he could see that your lips were swollen from kissing, and your hair was looking particularly messy.
“What am I doing here?” he echoed in disbelief. He jabbed a finger into Lockwood’s chest. His usual neat white button up was now wrinkled, the tie missing and top two buttons undone. “What are you doing here?” He turned back to you. “And are you not even going to address what I just walked in on?”
“You’re asking me what I’m doing here?” Lockwood asked, offended. “In my girlfriend’s room?”
“Girlfriend?” George nearly screamed. He felt dizzy all of a sudden. Had he fallen down the steps on his way down here? Was this all a dream?
You shushed him immediately, pointing in the direction of Lucy’s room. “We were going to tell you both, I swear! But then it got so hard to bring up, and the timing was never right, and—”
“There’s no way,” George managed, shaking his head. “This is a prank.”
Lockwood laughed. “Far from it.”
You threw your head back as you groaned, exposing the skin of your neck to the light in your room.
George couldn’t help it. He screamed again.
“What happened to your neck?” he shrieked.
Splattered all over the skin were small bruises, starting from your jawline and continuing past the collar of your sweater.
“I threw wooden spoons at her,” Lockwood joked. “What do you think happened?”
George’s jaw dropped at the reference. He whirled on you, and you inched closer to Lockwood. “That bruise on your neck… It wasn’t from me accidentally hitting you,” he said slowly. He narrowed his eyes at Lockwood. “It was from you?”
“Congrats, George, you have it all figured out,” Lockwood deadpanned.
You planted your face in your hands, humiliated.
“Is that why you were ignoring me?” George asked, frowning. “‘Cause you were embarrassed?”
“I thought you knew, and I got scared!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “What kind of wooden spoon leaves hickeys?”
George gave a full body shudder.
“Have you never seen people kiss before, George?” Lockwood jested, leaning forward to leave his chin on your shoulder.
“Of course I have,” he grumbled. “But this is the first time I’ve seen someone kiss like they were possessed by a vampire, so forgive me for expressing surprise.”
“That’s not my fault. What happened to knocking on people’s doors?” he asked boredly, like he hadn’t just traumatized George for life. “Did we just forget how to do that?”
“I’ve been knocking for the past minute. You probably couldn’t hear over the sound of you going at her neck—”
“Okay!” you said, clamping your hands over your ears. “That’s enough, please.”
George wasn’t done. He reached over to prod at one of the marks on your neck like he was poking at a laboratory experiment.
“If she’s your girlfriend, shouldn’t you be nicer to her? These look like they hurt.”
Lockwood laughed, and George regretted saying anything.
His mouth pulled into a wide grin. “Trust me, I’m always more than nice—”
You firmly clamped your hand over his mouth, your jaw hung open. Swiveling around to face George, you shook your head repeatedly, like you were begging for him to believe you. “That was a joke, George.”
“Sure it was,” he answered, trying to suppress his mortification. “My room is just down the hall, do you better keep it down when—”
You hit him with the closest piece of fabric you could find, which happened to be Lockwood’s discarded tie.
George backed up, pressing himself to the door. “Don’t touch me with that thing.”
Lockwood rolled his eyes. “It’s just a tie, George.”
“I can tell that much,” he scoffed. “Who knows what that thing has seen? Especially with…” He gestured at you. “You know.”
“Do you really still believe in cooties?” you huffed, crossing your arms in front of your chest.
He pressed his lips in a thin line. “That’s not what I was talking about.”
Lockwood laughed at that, but you seemed to find it anything but funny.
“You’re terrible,” you groaned.
“Why are you guys being so loud?” another voice said, joining the already noisy room. Before you could warn George to shut the door, Lucy had already pushed it open, knocking him out of the way. “It’s nine in the— Woah, what happened to your neck?”
You hid your face against Lockwood’s front and he patted your back in sympathy. “This is a nightmare.”
“Ouch, Luce,” George groaned, pushing the door back in her direction. “Couldn’t have knocked as a warning?”
“George Karim, I never want to hear you ask about knocking ever again,” you hissed, spinning back around. His retort was cut short by Lockwood clapping his hands together once.
“Alright,” Lockwood said authoritatively. “Can everyone just kindly get out of my room?”
“Your room?” you scoffed. “This wasn’t your room when I asked you to help me clean up the crumbs that you left—”
“Did you lose a fight or something?” Lucy continued on, her question aimed at you.
George snorted. “If the fight was against Dracula, then yes.”
You snapped your head in his direction, moving forward to probably strangle him, but Lockwood caught you around the waist.
“Lockwood, please control her,” George said, now pressed even closer against your door.
You tried lunging at him again, but didn’t make it very far. “I’m his girlfriend, not a feral animal.”
“Girlfriend?” Lucy gasped. She squinted at you and Lockwood. “You’re dating?”
George snorted. “Who did you think the vampire was?”
Lockwood was not quick enough to stop you from throwing the nearest object at his head, which happened to be an eraser. George pushed Lucy out of the way and fled the room before you could reach for the stapler on your desk.
Lucy laughed, finally getting the memo that leaving the room was probably for the best. “You better tell me everything later,” she said pointedly to you.
You waved her out, disgruntled. “Whatever.”
The door swung shut and Lockwood finally released you from his grasp. You groaned, walking over to your bed to collapse into your pillows.
“I can’t believe you forgot to lock the door,” you complained.
“Didn’t have time when you were dragging me inside,” he teased, settling down next to you.
You let out a strangled noise. “This is so embarrassing. I can’t believe this happened.”
He rubbed a circle into your back, humming in agreement. “At least we don’t have to tell them now. The worst part is officially over.”
You flopped over onto your back, giving him a sad look. “Do you think they’re ever going to let us forget this?”
He smiled. “Probably not.” Lockwood pressed a wet kiss to the spot under your jaw, and you pinched him lightly.
“Woah, you really are like Dracula.”
“If George was dating you, he’d understand why,” he said, pulling you deeper into the warmth of your bed. You wrapped your arms around him while he rested his head on your chest, letting yourself relax. Suddenly, he shivered. You tilted your head in question, and he said, “Sorry, I just imagined you dating George and got scared.”
You laughed, and Lockwood thought about how lucky he was to be able to hear it. Ever since you started dating, he had been thinking a lot about how lucky he was.
From his spot on your chest, he stared up at you with the most lovesick look on his face. Usually, you would tease him about it, but now, you just smiled back as you pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.
For the next few minutes, you sat in silence, just resting on your bed. George had effectively ruined the mood with his inability to knock, but you didn’t mind when it meant you could play with Lockwood’s hair and try to get him to catch up on well needed sleep. Breaking the silence, you finally spoke.
“Do you think they’ll believe us when we tell them we’ve been secretly dating for the last few months?”
Lockwood hummed, pretending to think about it as he shifted over you. He pressed another kiss to your left collarbone before the kissing turned heavy, and there was another mark blooming on the untouched skin there.
“Nope.”
notes: i hope u enjoyed the final part! surprise lol they’ve been dating for a while, i imagine they got together sometime between the events of barnes and kipps’ parts. this series was so much fun to write!! i loved getting the chance to write shorter works bc i so rarely write anything under 4k lol. lmk what u thought and thank u for the support!!
@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @a-candle-maker @2guysonascooter @amo-a-los-postres @anxiousbeech @dontstopxx @wordsarelife @cassiopeiia24 @cupiidsriot @philliam-writes @criesinlies @writtenontheport (just ask to be removed/added!!)
Oh damn... If he weren't so attractive, I would probably stay away from him with the thought that he's a mobster with those old-timey phones satellites apparently can't trace or track or whatever.
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