#anthony lockwood's parents
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my essay on lucy's usage of "Anthony" in romantic/tense interactions with Lockwood (Spoilers for Lockwood's past!)
ok so a couple of hours ago I made a post that said "after reading so many first kiss locklyle fics and seeing so many people write a part where Lockwood says he likes it when Lucy calls him "Anthony", I've come to the conclusion that he likes it because he hasn't heard his first name said with obvious love and adoration since his parents and Jessica died- until Lucy came along. In this essay I will..." and while that idea was something I was legitimately thinking about, I wasn't really actually intending to write an essay until people showed interest in it so here's the full "why Lockwood likes it when Lucy calls him Anthony" essay.
BIG DISCLAIMER: I haven't finished reading the books yet (I don't really care about spoilers, I already know a lot just from being a part of the fandom online), but if I get anything wrong or don't include anything that might be big, please let me know!!
Ok, so we all know that Donald and Celia died when Lockwood was 6. They were (obviously) the ones who named him and the ones who gave his name meaning for the first 6 years of his life. they were the ones who said his name softly when he was a baby and trying to lull him back to sleep, they were the ones who called "Anthony!" when it was time for dinner, they were the ones who introduced him to others as "my son, Anthony". They were the ones who gave his name meaning in the first place.
I also don't know if this is stated or not, but I feel like his name probably had some significant meaning to Donald and Celia. Through a small google search, the name Anthony shows up as associated with meanings such as "He who adds", "He who stands out", "The Deep Thinker", "Very Strong", "Magnetic", "Unconventional", and "Idealistic". It's also said to come from the name of Hercules's son, Anton. Even in trying to grasp for the smallest shreds of symbolism in this, it's very obvious that his parents were trying to raise a strong, caring, and brave son.
After his parents died, the only person he really had left that called him Anthony and gave it meaning was Jessica. She was the one who would say his name with exasperation when he was being annoying, she became to one who called his name when it was time for dinner, and she was the one who would call out his name when she needed help or wanted to ask him a question. I bet she even used his name when she asked him to help her unpack the crate that contained the artifact that would end up killing her.
The common trend isn't only that the people who made his name mean something were his family- it's that the people who made his name mean something were all people who prioritized taking care of him. After the deaths of his family, he had only person that he could trust to take care of him: himself.
He isolated himself both consciously and unconsciously when he became an agent- I feel like it probably became a way to make sure that he occupied himself with an activity he never had while he was growing up (something that could be possibly devoid of possible hurtful memories of his past).
I can imagine that people started calling him by his last name because of Gravedigger Sykes- he just seems like the type of guy who would call everyone by their last names even if you asked him not to. And that was probably an escape for Lockwood- he was able to become a different person (Lockwood) and differentiate himself from the "helpless" child that he used to be (Anthony). Lockwood became not only his name, but it was a mask for him to hide his grief behind and he just forced himself to grow into it.
The closest thing that he gets to being called Anthony is when Kipps calls him "Tony", or when one of his past employees called him "Big A", which implies that either he has made it explicitly clear that he doesn't want to be referred to as Anthony whatsoever, or he took time to rebuild whatever reputation he had and rewrite the impression that people had of him, turning their idea of him as a person from being filed under "Anthony" to "Lockwood". Either way, it's something that would take time. Even if he blows off the name change as Anthony being "something only his family called him", it doesn't change the fact that for the first 10 years of his life, that was the name he responded to. I feel like if his family had lived, he'd still go by Anthony- he wouldn't need to differentiate between the persona that Lockwood provides and the core personality that Anthony offers.
Having all of this in mind, when Lucy walks into 35 Portland Row, he is immediately drawn to her. We later learn that she reminds him of his sister and how feisty and headstrong Jessica could be. This puts his recklessness when it comes to putting his life in danger to save hers, and the "you know I'd die for you" quote into a different perspective- she has become his family in more ways than one. He already blames himself for Jessica's death- he'd do anything to save Lucy, first because of her similarity to Jessica and then because he's started falling in love with her, because he doesn't want to lose someone else because of his negligence or his arrogance.
When Lucy calls him "Anthony", it's going to mean a lot to him- the last people who called him that and put any meaning behind it were his family, who loved him unconditionally, valued him beyond belief, and tried to take care of him the best that he could. And now, he has the opportunity to experience that again through this young girl who has never been taught love in her life, but somehow gets it right just by saying his first name. It's the fact that she feels like she doesn't know how to love properly, but that small gesture for someone who has loved and lost is more than enough.
It's her way of saying that she values both the person he is for the rest of the world, her boss, and her best friend (Lockwood) but that she also loves the child inside of him who just wants to love someone as fiercely as he had been loved, the promise of the person he could've been (Anthony).
holy shit I just wrote all of that. hope yall enjoyed my rant. sorry for any emotions that may come as a side effect. <3
@lucy-j-carlyle @atatanya @xamdsona @losticaruss @incorrectlco @syfygirl1998 tagging everyone who seemed interested in the essay :)
#locklyle brainrot is real#renew lockwood and co#anthony lockwood#lockwood and co#locklyle#quill kipps#lockwood x lucy#lucy carlyle#lockwood and lucy#jessica lockwood#anthony lockwood's parents#lockwood netflix#ty everyone who liked my original post <3
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Lucy’s mother: I don’t remember raising you like this
Lucy: I don’t remember you raising me at all
#I MEAN where’s the lie#That woman was many things but a parent was not one of them#Locklyle#Lucewood#lockwood#lockwood and co#lockwood & co#lockwood & co brainrot#lockwood & co shitpost#lockwood & co incorrect quotes#Incorrect Lockwood & co#shitpost#incorrect quotes#anthony lockwood#Lucy Carlyle#ruby stokes#cameron chapman
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gotta hand it to the writers they really did an excellent job of communicating exactly what type of posh brat anthony j. lockwood is through his dialogue. the defense that his london townhouse is 'mortgaged to the hilt, george, i'm practically a serf! is a personal favourite, as is the description of the night watch as 'real salt of the earth types'. as if anyone other than the insufferably middle class have ever used that phrase in the history of ever. bonus points for the fact he has, naturally, never had an actual conversation with his platonic ideal of the working man. hysterical. i know like twenty of this exact same Type.
#interactions that have absolutely happened at some point off screen:#lucy (under her breath): tory#lockwood (mortally offended): my parents voted lib dem!!#george: not the comeback you think it is lockwood#is this funny to anyone else but me? ive no idea. don't care#anthony lockwood#lockwood and co#iona.txt
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Barnes finding out about Lucy and Lockwood dating
Lucy: *leaning against Lockwood*
Lockwood: *has an arm wrapped around his shoulder*
Barnes: *looking back and forth between them*
George: *from the kitchen* Lucy, could you help me with the tea?
Barnes: *waites until Lucy's gone* listen boy, if you ever hurt her, I will make your life a living hell *glares at Lockwood*
Lockwood: yes sir *grins*
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later
Barnes: *about to go, says goodbye to Lucy* you could do so much better
Lucy: *smiles* have a nice evening, Mr. Barnes
Barnes: *grumbles as he leaves*
#we stan Barnes hesitant parenting and reluctant love for the trio and especially for Lucy#I swear he'd adopt her if he could#lucy carlyle#lockwood#anthony lockwood#lucewood#lucy x lockwood#lockwood and lucy#inspector barnes#barnes lockwood & co#george cubbins#george karim#lockwood & co#lockwood and co#incorrect lockwood & co#incorrect lockwood quotes
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Fluff
No, seriously, this fic will literally make the teeth fall right out of your gums, completely rotted. So much fluff.
3.4k words
First of all, thank you so, so much to @books-and-pumpkins for double-checking and correcting my French. I’m super duper grateful for your contribution to this.
Basically I seen a hc where Lockwood is fluent in French and spiraled from there. So here is an aged-up, married Locklyle.
Very long post ahead.
!BOOK SPOILERS!
french translation at the bottom if you’re curious
“Anthony, dear, could you bring me my sketch pad before you come down?” I shout absentmindedly to my husband. I hear his footsteps halt on the stairs before turning back.
I seldom use “Anthony” so casually, or even “dear”, but events that occurred while getting dressed made me want to milk my condition. The condition (which at the moment is relentlessly tapping on my inner rib) that in no way makes me incapable of going upstairs to grab my sketch pad for myself.
I position my chair in a convenient ray of light streaming in through our window, sitting with my body turned sideways to illuminate the swell of my sundress. I had discovered this morning - quite irritatingly, at first - that my usual skirts no longer sat comfortably at my waistline. Dresses and leggings were going to have to be my wardrobe for the next five months. Upon putting on one of the only two dresses I own, a plain blue one that cinched just above my rib cage, I was taken aback by how obvious my stomach had become. I no longer looked as though I had eaten twice the amount of biscuits I should’ve (although the cravings did often cause that), I look as though I am carrying a baby. Cause I am.
The kitchen door opens, and I look up to greet my husband, but instead I see George.
“You don’t have to look so disappointed, Luce.” He says.
George had moved out almost a year ago to live with Flo, but he still has a key. Honestly, I see him just as often as when he did live at Portland Row, since he comes around whenever he feels like.
“Good morning, George!” I smile warmly, because although I was a bit disappointed he wasn’t Lockwood, the hormones caused me to be quite overly fond of him. He looks at me oddly.
“Morning, Lucy. You look very pregnant today. Where’s my mug?” He begins opening cupboards and pulling out tea supplies.
I smile again, glad to know that the strategic arrangement of myself, my dress, and the utilization of the early afternoon light was working. “Should be in the same place it always is, Georgie. While you’re at it, could you make me a tea as well?”
I hadn’t made my own yet, I was planning on having Lockwood do it. George will do just fine, although his cup of tea wouldn’t come with the forehead kiss that always accompanies Lockwood’s cups of tea.
George stops and turns in his tracks, his gaze moves from the window, to me, and then to my belly. He scoffs.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He reaches for another cup.
“Then why did you pull that face just now?”
“I’m always pulling a face.”
“Yeah, but not usually at me.” I grumble.
He drops the tea bags in the steaming cups as he shrugs, “I see exactly what you’re doing, Luce. You could probably get away with it on Lockwood, but you forget that I have brothers, who all have wives, who have all been pregnant. You are perfectly capable of making your own cup of tea.”
“Seems to have worked a little bit.” I grin as he places my mug before me.
“Yeah, yeah.”
He sits down in his usual spot at the table, then pulls some papers out of his bag and begins rifling through them.
“Another gate found?” I ask.
The past few years, the Problem had significantly reduced, although the occasional gate would surface and stir up trouble; some were remainders of the Orpheus Society’s work, but usually they were attempts at recreating what the Society had done. DEPRAC was hard at work trying to figure out who was leaking the information about source gates; Lockwood and Co. provided whatever help we could.
We hadn’t taken an actual psychic case in over a year. Holly’s talents had faded a few months after the destruction of Fittes house - Kipps had offered to share the goggles, but she refused for fashion’s sake, and stuck to secretary work for the company. It wasn’t for another three years that Lockwood’s talents followed, and then George. At that point, we hadn’t really had use of our talent anyway, as opportunities for cases were not as frequent as they used to be. I wasn’t sure when my own talents faded, but I assumed they did by now; I hadn’t been in a situation where I had to use them. We work alongside DEPRAC now, giving them whatever insight we could about what Marissa Fittes had said of her involvement in the Problem. Lockwood was very influential in the cleaning up of the gates, and the removal of the nets blocking the spirits from moving on.
George proved himself in the research field, as we all expected, and was often giving lectures about the Problem, properties of sources, and how to prevent outbreaks from spreading. Lockwood and I found ourselves traveling outside of London, going to small villages, helping smaller agencies not only train their agents, but also provide insight into their most prominent hauntings. A few times, our guidance helped them find source clusters that were almost as powerful as a gate.
Much to everyone’s relief, the terrible headlines of ghost-touch and hauntings were becoming fewer and fewer. The Problem was on its way out, and whatever attempts to bring it back in were becoming easier for DEPRAC to squash. Agencies still trained, iron wards still hung, and lavender gardens still flourished, but the world was beginning to feel safe.
Safe enough to stop living everyday like it could be our last, safe enough for George to move out, safe enough to get married… safe enough to have a child. I smile and instinctively place my hand on top of my belly.
“Yeah, some nitwits in the country. It was caught after a week, but it was enough to stir up a poltergeist and a few changers it sounds like.” George says, looking at files over the top of his glasses, “They might benefit from you and Lockwood paying them a visit. They’ve only got six agents.” He flits his gaze back to me, and smirks, “Although, Kipps can go instead, since you’re not even feeling up to making your tea.”
I sit up defensively, “I can work and make a baby at the same time!”
“I thought you already went through the trouble of making a baby, surely you’re more professional than to do that while you’re working.”
“George, you must know, the professionalism part is ensuring you don’t get caught making a baby while you’re working.” Lockwood says from the doorway. “I see you’re helping yourself to my tea.”
He leans against the doorframe, my sketch pad in hand, regarding George and I. As always, he looks immaculate; a crisp, white shirt tucked into a dark pair of slacks, showing off his slender frame. Regretfully, my careful stance against the sunlight had been ruined during my conversation with George. Lockwood’s view of me does not include my sundress or my stomach, which was now hidden by the Thinking Cloth. Instead, I am hunching over my tea, glaring at George, cheeks slightly flushed at the implications of making a baby at work. I impulsively grab a biscuit and throw it in George’s direction, almost making it into his tea cup.
George picks it up and takes a bite, speaking as he chews, “Helping myself to your biscuits as well, courtesy of your wife.”
Lockwood grins at that. We’ve been married seven months, and we both still thrill at hearing others refer to us accordingly. Granted, George had been doing it since the first time he caught us snogging in the library, but it still sends a shock through my body when I hear it.
“You’re not feeling well, Luce?” My husband deposits the sketch pad in front of me and studies my face.
My eyebrows furrow, “I feel fine.”
“I overheard George say you’re not up to making tea.” Lockwood strides across the kitchen, heading straight to the kettle and tea supplies George had left out. I immediately take the opportunity of his back being turned to reposition myself, sunbeam, dress, stomach, and all.
I ignore George’s snort into his mug. “George doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“I’m right here.”
Lockwood looks in our direction, probably with some clever comment to reply with, but catches sight of exactly what I’ve been wanting him to catch sight of. His eyes begin to glow as they fall on my figure, a smile lighting up the room more than my sunbeam. “More tea, Lucy?”
I quickly down what’s left of my cup, “If you insist.”
He walks over, but instead of making for my mug, he grabs my hand and pulls me out of my chair, stooping a little to place both his hands over my stomach. His grin gets even wider, “When did this happen?”
“Overnight, I think.” We both beam down at the bump. He lifts his gaze to mine, our faces level, and goodness, those brown eyes in the sunlight could make me melt.
He places a finger under my chin, guiding me into a kiss.
“I’m taking my research to my desk.” George states loudly, I’m only slightly aware of the sound of him grabbing his papers and disappearing into the basement.
I wrap my arms around Lockwood’s neck, going on tiptoe so he can stand up straight. He drags his hands down my back in return, letting them settle at my hips. Probably disturbed by my quickening heartbeat, the tapping on my ribs starts up again.
I slightly pull away from Lockwood, he gives a little whine of complaint, trying to close the gap between us again.
“No, feel.” I grab one of his hands and place it back on my stomach, approximately where I feel the tapping.
“Lucy, every time we try, I can’t feel it.” Lockwood dismays. “It just makes me think it doesn’t like me.”
I shake my head, “Of course the baby likes you. Just try again, the taps feel a lot stronger today.”
I grab his other hand and place it on top of my belly, trying to position his fingers in the main spot of the movement. He allows it, but his face says that he still doesn’t feel anything.
He presses his lips together, waiting. After a moment, he sighs, almost moving his hands away.
“No,” I force them back in place, “They’re moving. Just talk to it.”
He obliges, “I want to feel the baby, mon amour, but -” he stops. I gasp at the same time, a kick right underneath my ribs had caused us both to hold our breath.
“Do it again.” Lockwood utters.
The baby does nothing, leaving us both standing still in anticipation. Abruptly, Lockwood’s stance changes, his expression one I recognize from so many years of casework and ghost hunting. He has an idea.
“…bébé?” He whispers cautiously. A kick, not a tap, responds. I gasp again, Lockwood lets out a breathy laugh, “Oh, tu aimes le français?”
The baby continues to move, causing Lockwood to stoop down again, practically on his knees to be level with my stomach. “Vraiment!”
“Keep talking!” I sniff, surprised by the heaviness in my voice. His eyes are glistening as he pulls a chair away from the table, sitting down to comfortably return his hands to the spot of the kicking.
“Je pourrais parler français, quand tu veux.” He continues, “Je pense que ta mère est très belle, j’espère tu lui ressembleras.” He looks up at me, still beaming, then back towards the baby. “Ceci dit… mon sourire t’ouvrirait beaucoup de portes.”
That part he whispers, as though he doesn’t really want me to hear. He’s begun talking too fast for me to keep up; to be honest, I lost him after “Do you like French?”, but his tone sounds suspicious. It doesn’t help that the baby is now going crazy, I not only feel it kicking, but it’s practically doing somersaults.
“What are you saying?”
He doesn’t acknowledge me, “On va causer des ennuis partout, même si maman nous crie dessus, si tu hérites de mon sourire. Et sinon, je t’apprendrais d’autres combines…”
“Anthony, what are you saying?” I nudge his shoulder.
“I forgot my tea!” I hear George announce loudly before he enters the room again.
I look up as he enters, not turning my whole body so Lockwood could still face my stomach. George halts at the top of the basement entrance, taking in the situation.
“Can you feel it?” He asks, more directed at Lockwood than me.
Lockwood nods enthusiastically, “Oui! Et il aime le français!”
“George, tell me what he’s saying.”
George moves closer, “Il?“
Lockwood shrugs, “Just a guess.” then leans down again to speak directly to the bump, “Peu importe.”
“Can I try, Luce?” George asks, now next to Lockwood and I.
I grab his hand and place it next to Lockwood’s, who adjusts accordingly so George can feel. “Just tell me what he’s saying.”
Immediately, George’s eyes widen. “T’aimes le français.“
“Lui, c’est ton oncle, il est un peu étrange.“
“Mais tu m’aimeras d’toute façon.” George says. He doesn’t sound as elegant as Lockwood, but it still annoys me that I’m the only one not understanding what’s being said. “Je t’apprendrai tous les gros mots, dans tout plein de langues.”
“Lockwood, I want to know what you’re saying.” I complain.
Finally, he looks up at me, “Oh, we’re back to Lockwood now? What happened to ‘Anthony, dear?’ from earlier?”
“Anthony wasn’t excluding me from a conversation with our child, Lockwood is.” I attempt to give him my best pout, but he frowns down at my belly, where the movement has stopped.
“Il aime pas quand ses parents se disputent.” George says, making the kicking start up again. “Besides, Luce, you had years where you were the only one that understood the skull, let us have this for a bit.”
Lockwood grins at that. Frustrated, I step back, causing both their hands to fall, and multiple groans of complaint. It even feels like the baby twists in disappointment. “This is nothing like the skull.” I say, “Besides, I filled you both in on what it was saying if you asked.”
“Not all of it,” George says, “It was pretty obvious you’d leave bits out.”
“The only bits I’d leave out were either hurtful to you guys, or unnecessary.”
“On the contrary, if you’d mentioned all the times the skull would tease you about me, we might have gotten together sooner.” Lockwood states.
George pulls an annoying face to show his agreement. “It would’ve saved me a lot of frustration.”
“So this is payback?” I splutter.
“Ooh, this is the first time a so obviously pregnant women has been angry with me.” George says, “Odd, considering you’ve been so nice to me lately.”
I glare at both boys in front of me, mouth open ready to scold them, but suddenly all the baby’s movement hits me, “You two are lucky I have to pee.”
“Always the lady.” I hear George say as I walk out.
George and Lockwood left Portland Row not too long after that, off to investigate the matter of the gate they had found in the country. When he returned, Lockwood informed me of what Barnes told him on the matter, and that we were welcome to visit the six agents and their supervisor, but Kipps had already made plans to do so. Beyond that, I didn’t speak to him.
I knew I was being a little unreasonable, and I wasn’t super angry anymore, I just wanted to avoid him getting on my nerves again so I wouldn’t shout.
I’m lying in the library, having just returned from a trip to the shops to buy a few more dresses, when Lockwood finds me.
He kneels beside the couch I’m at, brushing a piece of hair out of my eyes. “Je suis désolé.” He says, with a pleading smile, “It means I’m sorry.”
I sit up, allowing him to take the spot my head had just been, “I know what that means.”
He puts his arm around me and presses a kiss to my temple, “I wasn’t sure.” He murmurs into my hair.
I turn to look at him directly, “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have gotten angry, I ruined a really good moment.”
“I should have told you what I was saying.” His forehead leans against mine, instinctively I close my eyes and gently press my lips against his.
He sits back against the arm of the sofa, pulling me so I’m laying against his chest. It honestly isn’t very comfortable with my stomach, but I don’t move yet. “What did you say?”
I hear the lazy smile in his voice, “Just talking about how I hope the baby looks like you, and then when George showed up, I told him how weird he is.”
“Him?” I ask. We haven’t found out if the baby is a boy or a girl.
“Just a guess.” He says. “Quite worryingly, George promised to teach him all the bad words in every language.”
“Hmmm, that’s a problem we’ll have to deal with when it comes around.” I mutter.
We’re quiet for a while, only moving when I shift myself so I could be a little more comfortable. I almost fall asleep to the sounds of our breathing, but the baby starts its tapping again.
“Lockwood.” I move my hand, which is already interlaced with his, onto my belly.
“Is it moving?” He asks.
“Yeah.” I say, a little disappointed that he couldn’t feel the tapping anymore.
“Lucy?”
“Hm?”
“Je t’aime.”
Kick.
-
Bonus:
I’m sitting at my desk in the basement, staring at the bulge underneath my t-shirt. Technically, Lockwood’s t-shirt, but I’d been stealing it for years, it’s perfect for the days I don’t have to be anywhere.
I hadn’t felt the baby move all day and I was bored of my paperwork. I wanted some company.
The past week and a half, Lockwood was having fun with the baby’s fondness of French. Every night, I fell asleep to him muttering to my stomach. He was speaking to it so much, I was beginning to catch him slipping into his second language absentmindedly, mumbling as he went about his day, or referring to objects in French by accident. It was pretty cute, to be honest.
Still, French was the only thing that caused the baby to riot. It would gently tap and move around casually, just for me, but only get excited enough for others to feel the movement when that language was spoken.
“Hi, baby,” I whisper towards it. “How’s your day been?”
Nothing moves. I sigh, rubbing the spot that I feel the most pressure at, trying to disrupt the baby’s sleeping. “It’s just me right now, no need to stay quiet. I’d prefer you do that when I’m actually trying to sleep. Although your father hasn’t really been letting me fall asleep without feeling you move.”
A flutter starts at the mention of Lockwood, causing me to smile, unsure how he ever thought the baby didn’t like him. “Yeah, yeah, Lockwood’s great. Him and his français.”
I say the word mockingly, but it still is met with a series of kicks. I sigh, “I’m afraid I don’t know too much French, baby.”
The baby gives a little turn, as if it is readjusting itself to hear better. A motherly bolt of sympathy goes through me, and I give in. “Erm… bonjour.”
A delighted flurry of tumbles starts up, making me giggle a little bit. “Comment allez-vous?”
I search my brain for all the French I had picked up from Lockwood, trying to form a sentence out of the random words and phrases I could remember. Nothing makes sense. After a moment, I lean back and sigh. “Sorry, baby, I think that’s all I got.”
The movement in my stomach lessens, like it’s calming down after being riled up. Which is kind of what happened.
Breathing in a smile, I say, “There is one thing I will always tell you, in whatever language I can say it.” The baby stills, anticipating, “Je t’aime.”
An excited lurch causes me to sit up, almost laughing, “Yes, I love you so very much. More than I understand yet.”
The kicks and tumbles continue, and I don’t get any more paperwork done that day.
Bonus Bonus:
“Lockwood…” I stare at the polish in my hand, breathing in the lemony fumes. “I think I want to drink the shelf cleaner.”
I don’t hear him get up, but I feel him behind me. Gingerly, he takes the bottle from my grasp. “Please don’t drink the shelf cleaner.”
~
Again, thank you so much to @books-and-pumpkins
As promised, here are the French bits translated:
Lockwood: ...my love...
Lockwood: ...baby?
Lockwood: Oh, you like French? You do!
Lockwood: I could speak French, whenever you want. I think your mother is very beautiful, I hope you look like her. Although... you could do a lot with my smile.
Lockwood: We’ll cause lots of trouble, even if mom yells, if you get my smile. If you don’t, I could teach you other tricks.
(after George reappears)
Lockwood: Yes! And he likes French!
George: He?
Lockwood: (Just a guess) It doesn’t matter.
George: You do like French.
Lockwood: This is your uncle, he’s a little weird.
George: But you’ll love me anyway.
George: I’m going to teach you so many bad words, in so many languages.
George: He doesn’t like it when his parents fight.
(in the library)
Lockwood: I’m sorry.
Lockwood: I love you.
(bonus)
Lucy: ...hello.
Lucy: How are you?
Lucy: I love you.
#lockwood and co#anthony lockwood#lucy carlyle#lockwood and lucy#george cubbins#george karim#locklyle as parents#lockwood and co fic#lockwood and co fanfic#l & co fanfic#l&co#lockwood and co book spoilers#locklyle#lucewood#edit bc i literally forgot tags#yveni writes
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did anyone else do a double take during Lockwood & Co when
“George Casper Karim, you bloody genius.”
Casper.
as in Casper the Friendly Ghost
#this show I swear#george's parents are either tone deaf or hilarious#lockwood and co#lockwood & co#anthony lockwood#lockwood#lucy carlyle#george karim#lockwood netflix#casper#casper the friendly ghost
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Lockwood: Barnes, can I...?
Barnes: No.
Lockwood: You don't even know what I was going to ask.
Barnes: I don't need to.
Lockwood (starts stomping off): Fine.
Barnes: Where are you going?
Lockwood: To ask your wife instead.
Barnes: She'll say no as well.
Lockwood: Oh no she won't....Oh, hi Mrs B.
Barnes (running after him: Carol! Carol, you are not to give him what he wants! I have already said no!
#lockwood#lockwood and co#anthony lockwood#montagu barnes#i dont know what Barnes wife is called#i just call her Carol#i want to see barnes and his wife having parental arguments over lockwood#locklyle#lucy x anthony#lockwood&co#cameron chapman
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I feel towards the idea of Lucy calling Lockwood by his first name just about the same way I feel about the idea of Kaz showing Inej love through physical touch. I don't think about it if I can help it. Feels like an invasion of their privacy
#I know it'll happen at SOME point for both couples. at SOME point lucy will probably call lockwood anthony#(whatever the buildup to that situation looks like.)#and at SOME point kaz will (i assume) see inej again and work up to. like. holding her hand#but i get embarrassed thinking about either situation the way i get embarrassed when my parents flirt in front of me#it ain't my business and i'm happy for them but it's not for me to see or something to that effect#songbird again#lockwood and co#grishaverse
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I think a lot about how Lockwood (and Lucy in the show) make fun of Kipps for having a high mortality rate on his team in the first book, like…
Lockwood and Co lost an agent before Lucy. Lucy lost all of her friends. Surely they’d be a bit wary of rubbing that kind of tragedy in someone else’s face.
Agents lose people: friend, teammates, and it’s never anyone’s fault, even if DEPRAC and the courts and the agencies are eager to place the blame on the agents themselves.
Like we see in book three that losing Ned Shaw was the breaking point that made Kipps decide to go against Fittes and DEPRAC. So, even though the Lockwood and Co crew acted like Kipps’s team were just miserable coworkers, obviously Kat, Kipps, and Bobby saw Ned as a friend.
If the team that Kipps supervises (at only 20 years old, mind you) has a high mortality rate even comparatively for Fittes, how many friends has he lost?
How many, not even friends, but young children that he was responsible for, has he had to watch die?
How many funerals has Quill Kipps attended by 20?
#anyway that’s an exchange I wish they would’ve cut from the show all together bc it’s just cartoonishly mean on both sides#like: “u get all of your friends killed’’ ‘well your parents are dead’ it doesn’t really make sense as an exchange for either locky or kipps#and also I don’t think LUCY of all people would rub agent mortality rates in another team’s face after losing Norrie#quill kipps#Lockwood and co#the screaming staircase spoilers#Lockwood and co Netflix spoilers#the hollow boy spoilers#anthony lockwood#the hollow boy#the screaming staircase
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Holly: that girl is without a doubt, the lowest, most awful creature to ever walk the planet!!
Lucy, impersonating Elvis: thank you, thank you very much.
#so I may or may not be watching the parent trap right now#lockwood and co incorrect quotes#lockwood and co#lockwood & co#l&co#holly munro#Lucy carlyle#anthony lockwood#George Cubbins#quill kipps
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Question: is the back of lockwoods shirt just never tucked in??? Like I saw it a couple times and then i kept seeing it? Obviously I would think its tucked in some of the time but had anyone else noticed this???
#like i even just saw a fanart of him and his shirt wasnt tucked in#lockwood#lockwood and co#anthony lockwood#lucy carlyle#george karim#george cubbins#before this boys parents died i wouls think they at least taught him how to tuck in hia goddamn shirg#fic idea of someone calling him a duck when this happens#netflix
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Locklyle Week Day 3
Skipping out on my main fic for one day to splurge and write this oneshot because I couldn’t help myself. The prompt was DOMESTICITY! I had to. Anyway, here’s a taste and link:
The alarm was going off far too early again. Sure, they were only twenty-nine, but Lockwood and Lucy were really starting to feel their age.
Lockwood smacked his phone to quell the racket. He sighed.
“Did you sleep? Feels like I didn’t sleep.”
“Mmph.” Lucy replied, burrowing into her pillows.
“Alright, game plan: I’ll go get the baby up and wake Margaret, you go rouse the boys, meet in the kitchen.”
Lucy rolled over and scowled at him without much menace. “Convenient you get the kids in the rooms that don’t require going up any stairs.”
“Yes, but I might have to do the diapers.”
“Fair point.”
The two of them rolled out of bed on their respective sides threw on the necessary garments. Once the kids were off to school they could dress properly and get themselves looking ready for society. Lucy tugged on a ratty blue cardigan George’s mother had knitted for her years ago, Lockwood berated himself once again for slipping into a pair of sweats. But he could look good later. It was impossible to look fancy and handsome at 7am with four kids. He had to make some allowances.
They hadn’t meant to end up with four kids at twenty-nine. But that was another story.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/45957463
In other words, epilogue AU where Locklyle have a bunch of adopted kiddos.
#locklyle week 2023#locklyle#anthony lockwood#lucy carlyle#fanfiction#parents au#domestic#tooth rotting fluff#background angst
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New Ao3 fic! Portland Row remembers Celia and Donald Lockwood, and patterns repeat. Also, flowers tell a story. 🌻🌼
https://archiveofourown.org/works/48500479
#lockwood and co#save lockwood and co#anthony lockwood#lucy carlyle#george karim#Celia Lockwood#Donald Lockwood#Lockwood’s parents#portland row#flowers#sunflowers#daisies#heliotropism
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Lockwood - Cherry Blossom
Lockwood right before meeting Lucy, remembering his parents. (continuing my series of one-shots "Tulips and Other Flowers"). Hope you enjoy reading!
Lockwood sat in his usual large chair and stared out of the window at the street 35 Portland Row belonged to, the house where his parents had lived in, the house where a family spent their days and evenings sitting on the couch reading books. Lockwood glanced around. Many of those books where still lying around on the floor or on the shelves. He had never touched them again. His elbow rested on the armrest and his head leaned slightly on his hand. Looking for a new agent had been more exhausting than he had thought. Most of the ones who applied were simply too scared, superficial, had no talent at all or didn't even say a word. Lockwood ran his hand over his frowning forehead. Maybe it was all useless and he wouldn't find anyone who would fit in here and work together with him and George. They could do it on their own anyway. They were a great team. George continued to surprise him with his knowledge and research skills, Lockwood didn't have a single sense for. Maybe they would find someone who would complement them just like that, someone who would want to live with them.
This house was too big for only two people, the memory of his parents resting on every one of these wooden shelves, on the floors, and on the walls. He stood up again, suddenly restless in this old living room. He hadn't changed a single thing, not even this painting that caught his eye at that moment. An oil painting of cherry blossoms. The matt rose colours on white grounds, not quite as strong as in reality, the tree spreading its branches to every corner taking up the entire frame. A memory flashed before Lockwood's eyes, a simple distraction but it rested in his mind for a while, long enough that the feeling of a warm embrace started to surface in his soul. A calm rush of belonging and then the sound of her mother's soothing voice and the joy in her eyes as one of the flowers from the tree fell into her hair. It had been a day in the park, the short time of spring when the cherry blossoms were glowing in the sun and covering the whole road like a coat of protection. Lockwood smiled. His mother had turned to him while they were walking along that road.
"See these blossoms, they will soon stop blooming, but we will see them again next year. They always return."
Lockwood hadn't understood it at the time. It had just been a beautiful sight that he connected with bittersweet memories.
But he did now as he turned around to ask George for the next applicant. It was the last one and probably another disappointment. But if it didn't work out this time, another chance would soon bloom again. Short moments of happiness would appear. His agency would grow, and he would see those flowers again.
And he also knew why his parents had bought that painting. To remind him of this moment. To remind him of hope.
#lockwood and co#outside#nature#anthony lockwood#ao3 fanfic#flowers#spring#fanfiction#locklyle#Lockwood remembers his parents#Lockwood POV#POV Anthony Lockwood
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FINAL ROUND
Propaganda
Jean Discole: (Via @mistresshasty; tw kidnapping)
Saw his parents kidnapped. Violently. Then he was left alone with his kid brother to report this to the police when he's all of 8yo. This man's name isn't even Jean Descole. Descole is an alter ego for his other alter ego, Desmond Sycamore. Why? Because he GAVE HIS NAME AWAY to his younger brother so said younger brother could be adopted in his place after their parents were kidnapped. Like legit, people came and said they could only adopt one kid and Descole straight up said, yup, my kid brother, this is Hershel, not me, nope (shut up Theo, you're Hershel now.)
Then fast forward to adulthood where he's finally healing some of the Trauma, only for his wife and daughter to die mysteriously (though its heavily implied it was by the same people who kidnapped his parents.) Then, as he's getting his revenge on that organization, guess what? The leader is his long lost father who went crazy after his wife (Descole's mom) died in captivity. Descole has 0 chill because he has had 0 breaks in life.
Oh, and one last kick in the face. The titular character of the series, and Descole's arch nemesis, Professor Layton, yeah, that's the kid brother Descole gave up his future for. He deserves to be a dramatic bitch. He's earned it.
Lockwood:
#tumblr tournament#the sadboy tourney#jean descole#professor layton#anthony lockwood#lockwood and co
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━MARCH 2024; susan's recs
PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS
━━LUKE CASTELLAN
flatline @indecisivemuch
one year with luke castellan – august 14 with clarisse la rue @tangledinlove
mind over matter. @woodlandwrites
now or never @peachtarto
i’m an idiot @alipal97
a very common crisis @jab-we-drank-chai
you’re beautiful @ilycosy
parent trap @sayoneee
lighting the fuse might result in a bang @love-that-we-were-in
THE KILLERVERSE @tangledinlove — guys once again, go and read it!!!
EUPHORIA
━━ELLIOT
be quiet for me @itsoutrageouss
can’t fucking sleep without you @↑
LOCKWOOD & CO
━━ANTHONY LOCKWOOD
i love you so @aislinrayne
HARRY POTTER
━━GEORGE WEASLEY
confident @itstopplingdomino
━━MATTHEO RIDDLE
nightly terrors @crvptidgf
OUTER BANKS
━━RAFE CAMERON
(not) my girl @obaex
LIFE AS A HOUSE
━━SAM MONROE
first love/late spring @forever--darling
THE ONLY BOY LIVING IN NEW YORK
━━THOMAS WEBB
photographer @eymie
STRANGER THINGS
━━STEVE HARRINGTON
what’s wrong with being confident @munsonluhvr
you're gonna make me fall in love with you @dual1pa
romance is dead, isn’t it? @megxplryxb
season two of "come home" @stevie-petey — go and read it if you still didn’t
call it what you want @harringtonstilinski
snow storm @eddiemunsonw
━━EDDIE MUNSON
bright eyes; part2 @caxde
TOP GUN: MAVERICK
━━BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW
hotter than texas; part2 @tongue-like-a-razor
ANNE WITH AN E
━━GILBERT BLYTHE
truce; distracted @crvptidgf
BRIDGERTON
━━ANTHONY BRIDGERTON
(not so) simple; part2 @atlabeth
#susan’s recs#fics recs#luke castellan x reader#elliot x reader#anthony lockwood x reader#george wealsey x reader#mattheo riddle x reader#rafe cameron x reader#sam monroe x reader#thomas webb x reader#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson x reader#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader#gilbert blythe x reader#anthony bridgerton x reader
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