[warmthandwaves]

I've spend 3 years in this hell what's 3 months more

*hysterical crying* and screaming**

[warmthandwaves]

It's a week left for one of the biggest exams and I already wanna jump out the window

..

..

..

..

But my house is on 1st floor🧘

[warmthandwaves]

Hehe so it's over and I'd appreciate help in making me become a person with good personality again

[warmthandwaves]

I'm gonna be rich just to spite some people I swear

[oceanspray5]

THIS SCENE IS SO MULTI-FACETED AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH AND I HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT!

Anthony being touch starved and Lucy touching him so tenderly like that affects him so much from the get-go obviously cuz it fulfills that need. It also highlights their quickly burgeoning feelings/connection with each other but in the CRUELEST way cuz the reason she's touching him is not because she wants to but because she's possessed.

But, its not only just that she is acting in love with him (making the connection between them so hard to ignore) when its not really her that hurts but she's acting as if she loves him while he (his role) is HURTING her. With Anthony's past being so traumatic, you just KNOW he internalizes that shit even though its not really even Lucy talking and its not even him she's talking about. It hurts him to have Lucy act in love with him but also she's acting as if she has to FIGHT to believe he's not hurting her. She's acting as if loving him is causing her physical pain and that's horrifying for him cuz the one thing Anthony absolutely believes is that he hurts the people he loves. So to be slapped in the face with his growing feelings for Lucy but in a way that pulls at all of his trauma strings in the harshest soul twisting way?

Right after that you have Lucy reliving how Annabel choked to death to seal the traumatic incident with a cherry on top, finalizing Lockwood's internal fear that he kills the people he loves and is left alone.

Not to mention as the series goes on we see that Anything absolutely cannot STAND the idea of having hurt Lucy or her being unhappy with him even though he makes stupid decisions. Almost as if this incident triggered in him a crippling desire to never hurt her... So she'd never look at him like that again. Like he's everything... But also as if he destroyed everything in her to the point she fears him.

So in quick summation we have:

Lucy acting in love with Anthony under possession of a ghost while he very much does have growing feelings for her; and the love the ghost in her playing out being an abusive kind, the kind you have to convince yourself isn't harmful, forcing Anthony to relive his trauma and self-depreciate even more about the fact that it's hard to love him because all he can leave behind for his loved ones is hurt. Combine that with the traumatic way she relives Annabel's death and Anthony's genuine worry of Lucy's possession being... well... dangerous as is.

This scene is so beautifully acted. Ruby and Cameron's chemistry is insane. The way they portrayed that much range of emotion in such a short but impactful scene early on.

EDITED TO ADD: I also forgot to talk about the costuming cuz its the softest we've seen Lockwood in the whole series. All three characters are in their pajamas but Lockwood specifically is in a simple gray hoodie. Something that invokes comfort and relaxation. He's tense during the scene because of the situation but he's completely vulnerable as well. There's absolutely nothing for him to hide behind. No witty quips will work when Lucy can't hear him and he's fearing for her life, no physical force can be used to fight her either... And his emotional barriers are all down too. Not only because of the unexpectedness from the multi-targeted assault on his emotions but because he didn't exactly have time to prepare for such a thing occurring either. @locklyleiscanon pointed this out i think but Lockwood uses his suit as an armor. And he's not wearing it. There's no weapons near him. He's completely defenseless when it comes to Lucy in this moment as well as all the warring emotions that are overtaking him.

The first time I watched the scene my first thought was literally how soft and vulnerable Anthony looks. I didn't even have reference for the rest of the show (that he wears suits almost always) but it was a striking detail. Not just the vulnerability on Lockwood's face but in his body language and clothing as well.

Here's an edit I saw that made it all easiest to visualize and word for me:

Props to the person who made the edit cuz the close up scene and the slow motion at Just the right moment makes this so plainly visible to see.

This incident is simultaneously the best and worst thing to happen to Lockwood regarding his feelings for Lucy. It shows him early on just how much he needs her, but reminds him of all the reasons why he can't have her.

[carat10library]

My favorite Locklyle moments in TWS

I mean who wouldn't?? Especially when he uses that smile.

THIS. I admire the level of trust they have in each other. Also Lockwood's so far gone and doesn't even know it.

Yeah, right. The invitation arrived days earlier. You have time to look for the necklace.

Welp I just love this part. Lockwood always coming at the right time. Lucy always seeing him as the hero.

[lucy-j-carlyle-deactivated20231]

everyone always is thinking about how lockwood reacted when lucy left, but like what about george? i mean he was obviously upset because he barely talked to her when they saw each other again and he tried to hide that he was sad with anger instead and lashed out at her, but just as lockwood hides his emotions with humor and charm, george hides his emotions with sarcasm and biting remarks. but lucy was one of his closest friends. i can’t really imagine him having really any other friends outside of the team at 35 portland row, and just when he was really starting to warm up to her, she leaves without any explanation as to why. so whatever you do, don’t imagine him blaming himself for suggesting to hire holly, because just like everyone else, i’m sure he thought it was holly being hired that caused lucy to leave. don’t think about him having to watch his one other friend pull away and become even more reckless and suicidal because lucy was gone. and definitely don’t think about how even tho he was angry at lucy, that maybe there had been some silly part of him that hoped that even tho she had gone her separate way and was making a name for herself alone, there was still a chance that working with the team again would make her realize how much she missed them and things would go back to the way they were before she left.

[contagiousgrace]

There’s a complex cocktail of things happening here specifically designed to make me feel crazy

[lockwoods-coat-and-reids-vests]

Okay Lockwood and Co fandom. I have to ask. I’ve read the books and seen the series and it is immaculate. But I have to ask other fans of the books because I have been thinking about something since the series aired. And I want to know if I’m just crazy or “clinically insane”

Cameron Chapman’s smile. First off, SWOON. Any time I see him smile I grin like crazy. Which does not happen to me. At all!

Anyways…

Secondly, his smile IS LOCKWOOD for me.

Idk if that makes sense, but his toothy (bottom lip kinda under his front teeth) mega watt smile is Lockwood, and I can’t explain why. Particularly it’s the one at the end of ep 2 when Lucy pulls out the necklace. His other smiles/grins as well, but that one smile just stands out.

So, I have Aphantasia (which basically means my inner eye is blind(I can’t imagine/see sh*t even if you held a g*n to my head)), but Cameron Chapman’s smile. For some reason I just feel like it is Lockwood.

Like.

This man is Lockwood.

No questions needed. He came straight from the page.

Please tell me I’m not going crazy.

I mean. Look at him. (I couldn’t find the scene where Lucy shows the guys the necklace in the end of ep 2, but that smile in particular is also fantastic)

I might have a crush on him… 😅😀

[thoughts-of-the-unheard]

"dont force it, they'll be some kind of trigger" and lockwood continues trying to force it

[thoughts-of-the-unheard]

i understand the urgency of jumping into the water but like, there was a crane there, they could've climbed down like three or four stories and Then jumped and honestly its the same with the hope house, that was only second floor but they could've climbed over the railing first, save a couple feet

at the very least, this does prove that lucy is willing to follow lockwood basically anywhere, in case we had any doubts

[czenzo]

Consequences

[ao3]

summary: After Lucy wakes up one morning to find a dark red lovebite blooming on her neck, she frantically looks for a way to cover it up – and eventually drags Lockwood into helping, too. After all, he is the one who left it there.

words: 2335 rating: T

note: I fell SO in love with the netflix show then got so overwhelmed with lockwood content that writers block snuck up on me, but I have defeated it at last!! huzzah enjoy these kids being stupid and foolish and deeply in love

Lucy stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Her eye bags were slightly less pronounced than usual, which was a nice change. Only a few spots dotted the skin of her face – a small one on her chin, one on the side of her nose – but they were fairly calm and bound to fade soon. If she squinted and covered one eye they almost passed as freckles.

Her lips were alarmingly chapped, thanks to the hours upon hours spent in freezing cold haunted locations with little to no motivation to bother moisturising them; Holly had picked up a habit of commenting on it, and every time, Lucy responded by peeling off a bit of the flaking skin. It was always effective in cutting the conversation short.

Her jawline was soft as usual, thanks to the round face and thicker-set build inherited from her mother, but she’d grown to not mind it so much. After all, her appearance was never a hindrance to her work, so it had never mattered.

Aside from the blooming dark red bruise on her neck.

That was sure to stir up some commotion.

“Talk about unprofessional,” was the first thing out of the skull’s mouth when she flipped its lever that morning. Still half-asleep and brain somewhat foggy, she hadn’t registered his words and simply opted to ignore them as she padded over to the bathroom. She’d been at 35 Portland Row for so long that her morning routine was all muscle memory: haul herself out of bed, drag her body a few feet across the room before stepping to the right to avoid that oddly squeaky floorboard, then to the left to miss that nail haphazardly sticking out, then enter her bathroom, shiver as her feet hit the cold tiled floor, and grimace as her eyes fall onto the bright red hickey on her reflection’s neck.

Hold on.

Shit.

A strange, strangled noise escaped the back of her throat. The skull must have heard it, because he let out a cackle and called out, “Don’t tell me you’ve only just realised. He must’ve been sucking on your neck like his life depended on it!”

“Oh, shit,” she hissed, trying to tune out the skull’s taunting. She lasted less than a minute before stomping back out of the bathroom and flicking the skull jar’s lever with more ferocity than she ever had, before returning to the mirror to stare slack-jawed at her neck some more.

Her makeup collection started and stopped with mascara, and she hadn’t the foggiest of where to even start finding a product to cover the hickey – no, lovebite – no, god, how she hated all of its names. If only it was a bit lower, she could’ve hidden it with a thick turtleneck, but she knew just from looking at it that it still would have peered out over the top.

She desperately rummaged through the back of her wardrobe anyway, and heaved a sigh of relief upon finding something that would cover the offensive red splotch for the short term.

By the time she finally emerged from her room and followed the smell of toast into the kitchen, most of Lockwood & Co. were already there, either busying themselves making breakfast or, in George’s case, already in the middle of scoffing it.

“Morning,” Lucy said as she entered, making a beeline for the kettle to make herself a hard-earned cuppa. Holly paused from slicing a healthy-looking thing (it might’ve been an avocado, but Lucy didn’t care enough to look closely at it) and stared at her.

“Are you a bit chilly, Luce?” George said, lowering the last slice of half-eaten toast back to his plate.

“Hm?” Lucy replied, scooping up some sugar.

“I mean – I’m glad you liked my Christmas present, but you’re aware it’s July, yeah?”

Lucy paused, hand halfway to the kettle’s handle. “We live in England.”

“Climate change renders that a poor defence, really. I swear every other week’s a heatwave.”

“What’s this about heatwaves?” Lockwood said as he entered, newspaper in one hand and a mug in the other.

“Lucy’s wearing a scarf in the middle of summer,” Holly oh-so-politely explained.

Lockwood’s gaze darted to the scarf in question.

Then to Lucy’s eyes. And very, very briefly – for such a small fraction of a second Lucy almost wondered if she’d imagined it – down to her lips.

Then back down to the scarf.

“An… interesting fashion choice,” he said slowly.

“Indeed,” Lucy replied matter-of-factly, finishing making her tea and taking a long, scalding sip.

The room was silent for a long, excruciating moment, until reality suddenly restarted and Holly resumed chopping, George resumed chomping, and Lockwood snapped himself out of his trance to turn on his heel and head towards his favourite armchair to catch up on the news.

Slowly but surely, the rest of them followed, migrating into the living room and making themselves at home on the sofas in wait of an informal morning briefing. Holly was fully dressed and ready to go for the day, but the rest of them still lounged in their pyjamas while lazily sipping their tea, not quite yet ready to begin their working day.

“Okay,” Lockwood said after skimming through the newspaper. “Our priority tonight is to close off that case with Mr McShane… Holly, if you could give him a ring and look into why on earth he decided to not show up and give us the keys so we could get to work last night, that would be great – I can trust you to make it sound polite and professional. Maybe we should consider some kind of no-show fee… it could help us recover faster from that recent bulk order from Sunrise. Or is that too harsh? I don’t know. Something to think about later.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy spotted Holly jotting it down on a notebook she’d seemingly produced out of thin air. Lockwood continued his briefing; a client was due later that afternoon, George was to get a head start on the background research, and Lucy was to join him to visit a different client at their home in a couple of hours.

“We’re a bit busier than usual,” George mused from his deep, sunken-in spot on the couch.

“That McShane fellow knocked us off our schedule. We have a bit of catching up to do, but it’s doable.”

“I suppose we’d better get started then,” Holly said, closing her notebook. Lockwood solemnly nodded. Still, it was another fifteen minutes until they were all able to haul themselves back onto their feet, and another twenty for everyone to get dressed and make themselves look presentable.

Lucy spent most of that time checking her mirror. Each time she moved to look into it, part of her hoped and prayed the mark would have somehow magically begun to fade, though deep down she knew she was only setting herself up for disappointment.

The scarf was itchy and garish; realistically, she knew it couldn’t stay, but her limited wardrobe left her with – well, not a single other option.

She’d pulled on a jumper, skirt, and tights by the time there came a soft knocking at her door. In the seconds that followed came an intense internal debate as to whether the scarf was to stay on, or if she could get away with only facing whoever it was at a specific angle.

A voice softly called from the other side. “Luce?”

Lockwood.

The scarf was promptly thrown across the room. Lucy opened the door, and before she could even give him a scalding look, the sheepish grimace on his face said he knew what was going on already. Slowly, quietly, he shuffled inside, and took his time in closing the door behind him.

“So…” he said, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. “No more scarf?”

“I don’t know what to do, Lockwood. You did this, you should be paying the consequences – not me!”

He followed the sharp point of her finger, and the second his eyes fell on the deep red blotch on her neck he let out a whistle, long and slow. “It’s starting to go purple.”

“Thank you for that observation.”

“Perhaps Holly has–”

“I’m not letting Holly catch wind of this,” Lucy sighed. “Besides, our skin tones don’t match in the slightest. Her makeup would make it more obvious.”

“Oh– er, yeah. That’s true. What about–”

“Don’t even think about suggesting asking George. He’d never let us forget about this.”

Lockwood’s gaze drifted across the room and onto where the scarf had fallen, draped half on the bed, half on the floor. “Scarf it is, then.”

Lucy looked at the scarf witheringly. Before she could turn back around to face Lockwood, she felt a pair of hands settle gently at her waist.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her ear. “I got carried away, I didn’t think it through. It won’t happen again.”

Lucy sighed and replied with as much nonchalance as she could muster, “I never said I wanted that.”

“Hm?”

“It can happen again,” she said slowly, “as long as I have a reasonable way of covering the aftermath.”

“Oh,” Lockwood said. And then, a few moments later, “Oh.”

He backed away, his hands left her waist, and before Lucy could register the loss of his warm breath against the shell of her ear, he’d gone, leaving the door to swing shut behind him.

Lucy frowned. She turned to the skull jar, wondering why he hadn’t been incessantly ridiculing her throughout the whole fiasco, until she remembered she’d flicked its lever in a fit of rage earlier that morning. It was probably for the best that it stayed that way for the time being.

“Okay,” Lockwood said as he backed into the room, turning to reveal his arms full of medical supplies – plasters of varying shades, bandages, cleaning alcohol, the same supplies he’d uncovered after she’d slashed her wrist at Kensal Green – which he unceremoniously dumped onto her unmade bed. “We’ll just make it look like a minor injury. We were practising rapier techniques and I accidentally nicked your neck with my blade. That sounds reasonable, right?”

She sat on the edge of her bed, watching him rummage through the small pile. “I’d never let you nick my neck.”

“Well, you certainly let me do something else to it.”

For that, he received a swift whack to the back of his head. “Shut up and sort out my rapier wound.”

Lockwood tucked her hair behind her ear, gave one last dramatic wince at the mark on her neck, then fell quiet with concentration as he carefully placed a plaster over it. He took far longer than was necessary, but Lucy found she couldn’t complain. It tickled as he smoothed out the adhesive with his fingertips, and once he was satisfied with his work, his hands glided up to tenderly cup the sides of her face.

“Thank you,” Lucy murmured, feeling a smile creep onto her lips.

“Told you. I’m a fully qualified doctor. No wound is too much for me to handle.”

“Codswallop,” she scoffed. “This one scared you.”

He smirked, amused. “Only very briefly, before my fantastic intellect kicked in.”

“Oh, is that what you’re calling it?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Maybe,” Lucy said, lips no more than an inch away from his. The air between them was warm and smelt faintly of Lockwood’s cologne. “Maybe I do.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Shut up,” she said breathlessly, closing the gap between them. The pile of plasters and bandages were left forgotten beside them as they became wrapped up in one another, hands roaming and mouths gasping for air between kisses. Lucy was sure they could have stayed there for hours if it weren’t for George shouting from downstairs.

“Lockwood!” his muffled voice called.

Lockwood took a moment to catch his breath. His forehead still pressed against Lucy’s as he called back, “What?”

“Can you come here? I need to check something with you before I head to the archives!”

“Is it urgent?”

“Er–” George paused. “It pertains to ghosts, which can be pretty fucking lethal, so, yes!”

“Be there in a tick,” Lockwood replied. It took considerable effort to untangle himself from Lucy and, once he’d hauled himself off the bed and onto his feet, to then smooth out the creases that now tarnished his outfit.

George shouted up to them one last time, “Bring Lucy, too!”

***                           

It hadn’t been that urgent. Just a minor query from an unremarkable case that he wanted to clear up before leaving because, well – he was George. And George found joy in leaving no question unanswered, no stone unturned.

Next to a bad drawing of a Rawbones, he’d jotted down a to-do list for himself on the thinking cloth. He contemplated his scribblings for the millionth time, and then peered up at Lucy over the rim of his glasses. “No more scarf, then?”

“No.”

“Shame. You were about to kick off a new fashion trend.”

Holly entered the kitchen. She’d been busy cleaning the living room, if the three apple cores she held at arm's length before throwing in the bin were anything to go by. “I thought it looked quite quaint.”

Lucy gave her a look. “You don’t need to lie, Hol.”

Lockwood rested a hand on her shoulder and lit up the room with his grin. “Lucy was only hesitant to admit I bested her during our rapier practice last night. I do feel quite bad for catching her neck with my blade, though.”

Holly and George exchanged looks, and for an uncomfortably quiet moment, Lucy feared they’d seen right through the cover story.

“Don’t feel bad,” George eventually said. “She’d be ecstatic if she managed to do that to you.”

Holly nodded in agreement, and Lockwood turned to Lucy with an almost wounded look. “Would you?”

“Of course. Better watch your back the next time we practice. Might get my revenge.”

[alexiethymia]

You gave her a free pass just ‘cause you like the way she looks at you.

At first she looks at you in wonder, with slight awe, a country bumpkin in wonder of the big city, and you admit to being flattered. That shine fades away the more she gets to know you, George, the more all of you get to know each other, but it doesn’t disappear entirely. 

Instead, it’s tinged with exasperation, a slight roll of the eye here and there, a gobsmacked expression at your nerve (she calls it recklessness, you call it daring), and most times she looks at you like she wants to wring your neck. You admit you are amused. You throw her a roguish smirk and part of you can admit you want to rile her up (-but mostly, mostly you just want to make her laugh, the same way you can’t help but laugh, smile, because of her from that first defiant “I’ll wait”, eyes dark and feral). She looks at you with challenge, demanding if you’re good enough for her, and you admit it’s irresistible. 

You’ve always been drawn to dangerous things, and the more you get to know her, you realize Lucy Carlyle is far more dangerous than any Visitor. 

Later, under a spell, a ghost’s hold, she looks at you like she loves you - ‘You love me, don’t you?’ It’s not her words, it’s not her actions, it’s not her, just Annabel speaking through her, but - her face, her smile, her eyes as she looks at you are sweet. You don’t know who’s really under a spell between the both of you. ‘You love me, don’t you?’ - the ghost asks through her. It should be an easy enough question to answer, so why can’t you?

She looks at you in pain - I am drowning - and you want so much to save her, even if you are the cause of it. Her tears make you feel as if you’re suffocating along with her, and you’re back to being a little boy again, helpless to save anyone who’s ever mattered. The moment those words leave her mouth, fear grips your heart. Better off dead? Her of all people? You didn’t matter, but she was Lucy Carlyle and that was not the way it was going to be. 

She looks at you with eyes full of understanding, absent of the blame you so richly deserve. With apologies falling from your lips and your hand in hers, you can’t help but draw the comfort that you hardly deserve. 

You’re still the cause of her tears, and though you don’t deserve it, deserve anything from her, after what you just put her and George through, she looks at you as if she wants you to live - just live. 

You’re tired, so very tired - of Kipps, Barnes, of everything. But you come home - to her, and though you admit to feeling a bit off-balance (even if Kipps does deserve it, the pompous prick), she just looks at you, bemused, and you can’t help but sigh. It’s not quite a smirk, not quite a smile, just a slight lift in the corner of her mouth that you are endlessly fascinated by. She promises you tea, and you would promise her anything and everything. 

Later on, you don’t know how it could have gone so wrong so fast but she looks at you like she hates you. And you feel like you could almost hate her too. There is bitterness, so much bitterness, that you wonder if you have another Annabel Ward at home, but this is all you - your insecurities, your vulnerabilities. You can admit that you only got that mad because she poked at the exposed heart of you, at open wounds that haven’t even scabbed over. 

No matter how you feel though - how she makes you feel - she is still your responsibility. She may prod at open wounds, but you’ll make sure hers are closed and have a chance to heal. She looks at you - she looks at you like she wants so badly for you to believe her. She looks at you like you could break her (which fair enough because you’re pretty sure she can break you too). She looks at you like what you think matters, like you - Anthony Lockwood, not just Lockwood - matter, to her. For the first time, your gaze isn’t fixed on her eyes. Giving in to instinct, it drops. 

We can’t let you go. 

Who are you fooling? 

You trade toast for a smile. Hardly a fair exchange in your opinion. Lucy frowns more often than not, and she keeps her smiles like a secret treasure stuck close to her heart. It is during quiet moments like these in the wee hours of the morning that you feel like an ungainly relic man who would do anything to claim it for your own. Rather than Lockwood’s dazzling acts of courage, it is Anthony who can coax those rare and precious smiles out of her. Pity that you find it so hard to be the boy you once were. 

You’re afraid, so very afraid. Once again you feel like that helpless boy, never good enough, never enough. What on earth could you have to offer against Fittes, when that had been her dream and you were just a last resort. You know you sound pathetic, close to pleading, hell you will plead if that’s what it takes, sod your pride - to get her to stay, just don’t leave, don’t leave (me). (Not again). But Lucy never does what you expect, does she? Because she looks at you, she looks at you like you are enough. She looks at you like home. You can’t help if your breath catches and the half-sob that rises along with it. But luckily, for all her Talent, she doesn’t hear.

You were naive. That earlier fear doesn’t even compare to what you feel now. That was juvenile, this is paralyzing. You don’t fear death, not anymore when you fight it on a daily basis for a living. Being ghost locked doesn’t compare to this - fear, paralysis, desperation. For Lucy’s life to be snuffed out and for you to be the cause - your fault, always your fault - sucks all the air out of you. You can’t breathe. 

You could almost hate how she looks at you because she looks at you like she’s willing to give you a second chance. You want to so badly - to unburden yourself, to her. But she doesn’t deserve the ghosts you carry (-is what you say to yourself because you’ve always been a narcissistic bastard who wants to look good. Kipps’ voice echoes, in the end she’ll leave and you’ll be the one to make her). Her disappointment is an easy enough pill to swallow because nothing else matters besides the fact that she’s - alive, alive, alive. 

She looks at you like you disgust her, as if you were worse than any Visitor. You’re worse because you’re a living corpse who’s already lost your heart. You’ve fallen far from that pedestal, but in a strange way it comforts you because you’re finally being looked at the way you deserve to be looked at. And yet, with tears in her eyes (of which you are once again the cause, it’s always you), she looks at you like she still cares about you. And oh, what a right and proper bastard you are for letting this happen. Because you’ve vowed that you were never going to leave anyone behind the same way you were left behind, but you don’t want her to leave you behind either. (You’ve always been a walking contradiction.)

You’re shaking, you can’t (-breathe, you can’t breathe), but you grip her hair like a lifeline, and she grounds you like a lightning rod, hands cradling your cheeks. You lean in to that warmth (it’s cold, so cold). Her voice calls to you and while you’ve always been a shit Listener, somehow you manage to open your eyes. She looks at you, frantic and half-crazed, but somehow you can finally breathe.  

After your unexpected swim, you just want to draw her close, to cradle her as proof of life, but she pushes you away with everything she’s got. It shouldn’t sting as much as it does. You swallow your words. For all that you thought that you couldn’t handle the way she looks at you, at the way it rearranges everything inside of you, the absence of her gaze pierces worse than any rapier. The silence worse. 

You would take her biting words over this, relish it even, the chance to parry or to let it land and litter her marks all over your skin. You’d wear those scars proudly. 

But then she turns and looks at you, with rage. And even through the haze of exhaustion, you cannot help but think she looks glorious, fiery even as she trails water from the Thames. But with that rage is something that wasn’t there before - fear. She looks at you like she doesn’t know you and that’s worse than anything you’ve experienced tonight. You tell yourself that you can live with her disappointment, but for you to be the reason why this defiant girl cowers and curls into herself is the most unforgivable sin. 

You realize you are selfish because even though you’ve sinned against her so much already, you still crave her forgiveness. Even though to remain with you is to risk being dragged down to the depths, you still don’t want her to let you go. 

You’ve always known it, Lockwood. You’re a hazard to yourself and the people you love. This is proof. 

You apologize, and you await her judgment. She gives you salvation. She makes your heart pound and your blood boil. She makes you remember what it’s like to be alive.  And yet, she also quiets your mind and lets you breathe like nothing else. You can’t quite remember what it was like to live before her. She’s the adrenaline in your veins. She’s the great big gulp of air you greedily take in after drowning for who knows how long. She’s quite the walking contradiction too, his Lucy. 

With a bland look and a quip, she saves you anew, again and again she keeps saving you, and oh you finally get it. You speak softly because you don’t want to shatter this precious, tender moment. It’s not about how she looks at you, but it’s about how you look at her - how you’ve always looked at her. Her eyes are mirrors which reflect your own, and as you heave in a great ragged sigh, you realize you look at her like you love her - with ache, and tenderness, and gratitude, and awe.

You love her. 

Later you fight like you have a lot to live for - and you do - you fight for Lucy and George, and you fight for yourself, for the chance to see them again, for the chance to - just live. 

And in the dawning light, though she doesn’t quite smile that smile you adore, her relieved gasp is worth more than front-page news, all the tea in London, and chocolate biscuits combined, because it means that she - they are alive.

Just reckless enough.

And she finally looks at you like she’s proud of you. 

[alexiethymia]

Listen, book!Lockwood who is so repressed that it just translates to beaming smiles has a special place in my heart, but at the same time I cannot stress how much I appreciate the live action series for showing us unbelievably exhausted Lockwood who’s so obviously scared that Lucy and George will eventually leave (willingly or otherwise) but still has the gall to push them away. My boy was barely pulling it together. And ofc he would be so tired that the bags under his eyes are so prominent because we’re outside of Lucy’s POV now. Lucy who’s always had rose-colored glasses when it comes to him.

Speaking of Lucy, I really do love how she calls him out. She’s so aggressive with her love. It’s like she’s demanding that George and her will love and care for him and there’s absolutely nothing Lockwood can do about it so he just better shut up and take it. Peak found family right there.

How that scene where Lockwood comes to apologize to Lucy in the kitchen had so much ‘husband in the doghouse’ vibes, and how ultimately what Lucy is really mad about is just her wanting Lockwood to value his life more. And for Lockwood to outright admit that yeah he was a bit suicidal but it’s a bit like he found a new reason for living because of Lucy and George, again I say PEAK FOUND FAMILY, this is my jam. The ease of which Lucy being Lucy calms him down. (Ugh, again the domesticity of choosing egg cups). He can’t stand when she’s mad at him and he learns about apologizing properly this time around, but when she wordlessly forgives him, you can see on his face how he could fall so quickly and deeply in love with her. That’s one thing I love so much about the live action series. While the book showed us more of Lucy’s feelings for Lockwood, I actually think the series highlights Lockwood’s feelings more in that if I hadn’t read the books beforehand, I could have easily seen it as Lockwood falling first. His abandonment issues are so prominent in the series and while they play it with humor with Fittes and Kipps, you can just see that desperation behind the lighthearted tone, and for Lucy to say that she chooses Lockwood and George anyway….!

This is basically an excuse to ramble about the little things they add in the series that I love so much, which works because we’re not restricted to Lucy’s POV, in no particular order:

How Flo can immediately see how Lockwood feels about Lucy because of the effect she has on him. Prior to that statement, she’d only met Lucy once before, but that brief meeting told her everything she needed to know. She probably knew Lockwood in the aftermath of his family’s death, so for her to see Lockwood just buttering someone’s else toast for them and being all domestic and smiley, treating another person like a family member especially considering how guarded he is, she must have thought (and rightly so) that meeting Lucy made him have an appetite for life again.

We actually get to see Fittes’ and Lockwood’s side of the fight! And it was awesome. “I’m Anthony bloody Lockwood.” I can no longer remember if that line was in the book or not but idc I love it.

George and Lucy’s scene was in the book, but the acting in the series just really sold it for me. How Lucy’s heart just broke hearing George talk about himself, especially everything he said then were feelings I’m sure she’s also had about herself. I seriously loved that last episode. George and Lucy were adorable. Again I say, found family ftw.

The rise of the Flo x George ship! “You, me, and herons!” Again I say, adorable.

There are some elements that work better in book format, but in many ways the tv series really did elevate this beloved book series. It was a wonderful, wonderful adaptation. As a reader, I couldn’t be more satisfied. As a shipper, I couldn’t be more ecstatic.

[lucelockwood]

The best gift the tv show gave us was the confirmation that once we get outside of Lucy’s head it is clear that the entire world knows Lockwood loves her.

George has a front row seat and is far too practiced at calling it like he sees it in an effort to keep the suicidal maniac alive so ofc he knows, but even people who spend next to no time with them figure it out.

Kipps knows what he’s up against when he asks Lucy to the party. Flo sees them together a handful of times and tells Locky to his face he looks at her different. It is heavily implied that Barnes and Fittes both think something is going on between them. Even Winkman puts the dots together when Lockwood’s begging for her life.

Literally everyone except for Lucy and Lockwood themselves know what’s up.

[psychecreations]

the god tier trio dynamic

[thirtyfiveportlandrow]

George: So, what is Lucy to you?

Lockwood: The reason I get out of bed

George: Aww that's nice

Lucy, late last night, barging into Lockwood's room because she accidentally let Annie Ward's ghost out again: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP

[miraculouslycool]

dem hands. it's even better in the actual scene, when they don't take dem eyes off of each other but dem hands are automatically clutched together.

[pearlcaddy]

locklyle + hands

[bishh-kanya]

Things Desiblr made me realise & do :

That it's actually really cool to be a Desi .

Old Bollywood movies >>>>

Every Desi girl should wear saree and wear bindi and feel like a retro Indian movie star.

Indian history supports queer people , so whenever your aunt is being homophobic , proudly say her , she knows nothing !!!!! If you wanna know more read "Shikhandi " by Devdutt Pattanaik .

What as an Indian man are you doing if you aren't writing poetry?

That nothing can compare to Indian humour .

Indian goddess are the actual baddies .

Haseena's and brown munde's >>>>> rest of population.

Ittar >>> perfume .

Urdu & Persian poetry are top tier .

Kannada devotional writers like Akka Mahadevi are like diamond in the dust .

A gajra >>>french kiss.

Jasmine & lotus are not just flowers .

Pasoori rules the world right now .

Be free like Geet and bounce back like Bulbul .

Madhubala is the embodiment of being gorgeous and cute at the same time .

Rekha is a Siren .

Learning Sanskrit is a rich experience .

Draupadi's vengeance created wars , so can yours .

Kishore Kumar for rain , Lata Mangeshkar for prem .

Alka Yagnik for feeling confident .

Indian rap is richer and sounds more poetic .

96 sanskrit words for love >>>>> the word love .

South Indian movies have the perfect balance of romance and action .

Khanjar is mightier than a sword.

Ye Maharani banke kaha ja rahi hai >>>> you look beautiful honey.

The tension between me and a cute boy at a puja pandal >>>>>>> speed of the earth rotation .

Gold >>>> any other metal

Chandni raat is for romance .

Talk to me in ghazals and geets only !

And many more .......

Writing this made me love being an Indian more !!!!!

If you want add yours , I'd love to read.