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@recklessxenough
Hi I’m Noodle. This is my blog for Antony Lockwood from Lockwood & Co. I’m over 25 and have been on tumblr for an embarrassed mumble number of years. Below you’ll find my links.
Biography
Rules
Verses
Memes
Beta Editor - no access to legacy
Lucy raises an eyebrow at his behaviour, but let's go off the jar anyway, the hint of a smile on her face before she heads out towards the phone so she could order some pizza. She knows all of their favorites, and orders one for George as well, just in case he does get up and feels better later on. Once she's done, Lucy returns to the kitchen to find Lockwood still there. "Should be here in half an hour."
"Great," Lockwood grinned. He tugged his jacket off of his shoulders, going to hang it up in the mean time. It had been a long day, and once he made sure Lucy didn't attack everyone out of hanger, then things could be a lot better. "What did you order?"
"Please don't ironically join a cult." - ( Lockwood ) @recklessxenough
"Okay. Well. YOU are one to talk," Alex says, rolling his eyes at the other. He's at Portland Row, sitting back in his seat, feet up on the coffee table. "You're literally the FIRST person who'd join a cult. Maybe not ironically, but for like...research purposes or something." The corners of his lips twitch upwards then, "So I guess we're two peas in a pod!"
"Yes. At one time I did go to a meeting where everyone was wearing cloaks and hoods, but that was a work thing," Lockwood insisted. Well, this was just ridiculous, wasn't it? "It was a one-time incident."
He tilted his head, considering Alex. "You think we're two peas in a pod?"
Lucy LAUGHS, and it breaks the tension a little bit, which she assumes is a good thing. It’s been...quite a few days, and it’s time for a little bit of joy to come back to Portland Row. It’s always like this, she knows, and yet she wishes it would get easier over time. “I was talking about ordering like...pizza. Now.” She then adds, one eyebrow raised at him. “Not that I don’t think shopping is important, but I haven’t eaten anything since last night, and if I actually have to eat these pickles, I might cry.”
He laughed at himself. Right - that made a lot more sense, now, didn't it? They'd run out of George's stress cooking by now, and Lockwood busied his mind too much to notice the hour.
"Of course. Why don't you order whatever you want? My treat." He said. Lockwood carefully pulled the jar away from her, playing like he was afraid she'd bite. "How about I just put these away while you do?"
hey (wildeyed and covered in blood and viscera) thought about my character again. yeah the one i like
❝i'm here to make sure you are taking it easy.❞ she grabbed the pen out of his hand ❝you are impossible. here let me do this. you can tell me what to write, but you need to rest your arm. god forbid it gets worse.❞ knowing lockwood, he'd over due it and tear something ❝why is it so hard for you to let someone else help you? we are a team❞
"Uh!" He protested with just a small noise as the pen jerked from his hand. "I hardly think a bit of writing will make it any worse. I can barely imagine an easier task!"
True there was some movement involved, and tugging on some of the cuts, but that was barely anything.
"If you must know, I was basically done anyway," He grumbled, shifting in his chair. Though that felt a bit cheap - a bit too close to what she was saying. "I let you help!"
@recklessxenough liked this for a starter {{&&lucy&anthony}}
lucy knocked on anthony's door. she was concerned with his heeling. he had injured his arm, and knowing him, he was still working, and close to using it. she rolled her eyes, but in an affectionate way. he was a good guy, and wanted to help people, as well as prove his own worth. she slowly opened the door, because she wasn't sure if she heard him. ❝lockwood? are you in here?❞
"Come in," Lockwood said. He was still on his paperwork - a bruised arm, or whatever one would like to call it, wasn't going to stop him. He was filling out some forms, there were always forms and more forms piling up high on his desk. He liked to think himself organized, but that didn't stop the business, did it? He smiled, picking up the folder he was getting ready to use as she did. "Hello, Luce. What is it?"
So they’re just going to PRETEND this hasn’t happened, right. It’s a thing for Lockwood, Lucy’s known him long enough by now to not be surprised, and yet...she takes the now open glass form him with a nod. “Thank you,”
“Well, people seem to still want to buy them no matter what, so I doubt the companies really care about making it more accessible.” Lucy pauses, and then a slight groan slips from her lips. “Lockwood, can we please order some food?”
"No problem," He said with a smile. Lockwood dusted his hands off slightly, not for any good reason, but the motion felt right. "Sure. I'll head to the shop this afternoon. If you've got anything, you can put it on the list."
He nodded once towards the paper clipped to the front of the fridge. It started with mostly standard things, bread, deli slices, fresh milk, et cetera. Then came George's scrawlings, as a few times he'd woken up from his concussed nap, ran downstairs, and wrote something random on it before going back to bed. Well. Lockwood was the landlord, he took pride in trying to keep up with those sorts of duties. It was probably just one extra store he'd have to go to in order to get everything. "But if you've got something that isn't at the corner store or the one on Fourth Street, it may take an extra trip - just as an advisory."
“I'm not running away from some cut rate wanna be poltergeist.” Crowley told him before turning to bare his teeth at the ghosts, both of who seemed to falter at more at the attention. A level 3 or maybe even 2 might have been less intimidated by the threatening feeling he was sending their way, but a level 1?
“I was trying to go home and sleep after day drinking the last 12 hours away, now I'm trying to get you to listen to me when I say go to the car and I'll make sure the ghosts don't follow.” Maybe he should have parked closer to a light, the things were gaudy as hell though.
"This is my job, you do realize that, don't you? What are you talking about?" Lockwood said, something he was getting used to saying. Half the time, none of them knew what was going on in Crowley's head. He had to be the world's weirdest roommate. He lowered the flare slightly as Crowley turned on the visitor, and almost seemed to smile at it. ... Or, at least, he pulled back his lips and showed his teeth.
Lockwood had rarely seen a visitor reconsider like that. Fuck it. He carefully got in the car, watching in fascination as the Visitor fucked off.
"You should really be more scared. You don't know what you're up against; I've been having that thing play chase on me to get it away from everyone for the past... forty-five minutes?" He paused to consider the time. "Are you even okay to be driving if you've been drinking all day?"
REBLOG IF IT'S OKAY FOR ME TO BOTHER YOU IF YOU'RE MY MUTUAL
|| CLOSED || Crowley & Lockwood ||
@recklessxenough
“No sight, demon.” This is what he got for getting side tracked drinking with Aziraphale, he'd sobered up and headed back towards the house only to see Lockwood on his way back from a job being chased by 2 spectators. Apparently he'd gotten separated from George and Lucy, plan was to meet back home when that happened.
Him leaning out of the Bentley and yelling at the ghosts to fuck off, causing them to hesitate long enough for his teenage landlord to get in the car so he could drive off apparently prompted questions though. “Said it before, not my fault you lot didn't listen.”
"That is why I'm pointing. Run that way," Lockwood insisted. Crowley was freaking weird anyway, and he didn't like to think about what calling yourself a demon might mean for one's self-esteem. It was none of his business. He shoved his arm forward, trying to exaggerate the pointing in his form.
The specter screamed once, but Lockwood had it trapped. The ghost lights overhead did their job, and the glowing horror shrieked at the illumination. He shoved the flare forward, sparking up as it began to realize it needed to turn away.
"What are you doing out here? It's past curfew!"
flora was glad that this young man was here. ❝thank you, i need to get to my greenhouse, and i can't if there's a ghost.❞ the green house entrance was through her home. she was not stupid, she knew if she touched the ghost she'd be dead, or whatever happened to those who did. ❝i know this sounds silly, but do you need any help? ❞
"No, actually. It is best that you stayed out here - if you tried to help, we'd have to divide our focus between you and the Visitor." Lockwood promised. It was now, officially, quite early in the morning. "Like I said, it's all cleared up, so you should be free to go in. We do apologize for the mess but... if you'd like to help, I'd be thrilled to know if there is tea?"
“You leave me to my business I'll leave you to yours.” Crowley repeated again, hoping that emphasizing the words would make enough of a point he didn't have to keep saying it. “I don't, previous employer handled my accomodations and they ain't the type to give out references.”
He pointedly ignored the yoga comment deciding he didn't want to know. “I got 6 months up front though and slept through a decade of witch hunts till they tried to burn me alive, failed miserably. I think I can sleep though some teenagers fighting ghosts.”
"Right, of course - and what business is that?" Lockwood asked. That seemed like a pertinent question. Six months upfront was a lot of money. Aside from the utilities, it could put a bit of a dent in the debts of Lockwood and Co. That on the whole was... a lot to try and say no to. But the question remained, what would living with this guy be like? And what about after the six months of rent?
"Oh, of course. The Witch Hunts," He said bemusedly. Well, grown-ups had their own senses of humor, didn't they? He'd just have to humor this guy. "Look. I'm a very reliable landlord, if you tell me something needs fixing, I'll fix it. If something needs cleaning, I'll do that too, until George stress cleans about it anyway. The common areas aren't to be changed, but you would have a good closet and it comes with a bed and a chest of drawers for you to use anyway. But you haven't told me, what it might be like to live with you?"
Send a "What a cutie" In my inbox for my muse to be a child that your muse has to take care of
“Yeah well, that's my problem isn't it?” Crowley figured it wasn't worth mentioning that there was no way in heaven that he was sharing a bathroom with a couple teenage boys, shouldn't be to hard to turn a closet into a bathroom. “Like I said, I don't care what you do. You leave me to my business I'll leave you to yours,”
He got a grin on his face as he added on. “if I get to occasionally tell some asshole to shove it when they try to butt in? Thats just a bonus.”
"You understand that you can't come with us on jobs. They are highly dangerous, and we can't waste time protecting you." Lockwood pointed out. He'd been without 'adult supervision for ages now - the idea of one moving in seemed so disturbing.
"I just do not understand why you would want to live here. When I posted the advert, I was expecting another agent, not ..." He gestured vaguely to the man. "Do you have a previous rental history? A recommendation from a previous landlord? Tolerance for George's yoga? We'll be up at all hours of the night, as well, and ... I'm afraid I'd have to say that the basement is off limits."
