#also his rivalry with lockwood???

[ironyscleverer]

Lockwood reread commentary pt. 2:

Now that I’m closer to Kipps’ age than Lucy’s, I find the idea of him at 20-22ish having to babysit manage a team of roughly 15-17 year olds kind of hilarious. He’s really just a young adult trying to figure out his life and then there’s this team of grimy children pulling insane stunts and roasting him at every turn. But at the same time he’s the closest thing to an adult they’ll trust and they’re also his only friends so he has to stick around and try to keep them alive.

Lockwood & co: *does something outrageously illegal*

Quill Kipps, old enough to have a consciousness: this is fine

#also his rivalry with lockwood??? #man held a grudge against a 12 year old #idk I love book!quill #he’s MY harried petty young adult #anthony lockwood #george cubbins #george karim #lockwood and co #lucy carlyle #quill kipps #holly munro #bring back lockwood and co #renew lockwood and co #the hollow boy #the creeping shadow #the empty grave #flo bones

[novelizt]

EXPECTO PATRONUM (MASTERLIST) ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ HOGWARTS AU [slytherin! lockwood x fem! ravenclaw! reader]. rivals to lovers (and a dash of 'everyone knows but them'). fluff and angst.

WC ➺ 30.8k

SYNOPSIS ➺ after a six year rivalry with lockwood, your patronus suddenly matches his when it didn't before.

DISCLAIMER ➺ reader is implied to be shorter than lockwood. appearance of harry potter next gen characters and a few ocs. lockwood calls reader 'sweetheart' and 'my dearest vexation' (+'my girl'). prefect! lockwood. jessica lockwood lives!! (i also headcanon lockwood being a cunning-flirt, so lockwood might read slightly ooc.)

WARNINGS ➺ strained family dynamics (for reader), love potions (misuse of magic), dragons on the loose, wizard duels, boggarts, and a lot of unpolished dialogue. QUILL KIPPS. blood and injuries (tending to wounds). mentions of kids and marriage at the end.

SWEETHEARTS ➺ @kiyasoup @toddandersondupe @locknco @onecojg @avdiobliss @mentallyillsodapop @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @bella-rose29 @wordsarelife

NOTES ➺ it's been a long time coming. i got lost in the sauce. can you tell? this was originally a oneshot but tumblr's block limit was exceeded lol we can still pretend it's a oneshot!

i hope this finds you when you need it. this is for the girlies who are forever spellbound by london boys 💙 happy nanowrimo !!

CARDINAL STORYLINE — COMPLETE!

PART ONE ! 13.7k

PART TWO ! 17.4k

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄ #lockwood hogwarts au #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood and co fanfiction #anthony lockwood fanfiction #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x y/n #lockwood x you #anthony lockwood angst #anthony lockwood fluff

[burningvelvet]

more rambling thoughts about wuthering heights now that i've finished my re-read

1 wuthering heights is basically the looney tunes if the looney tunes were goth. 90% of the novel is people arguing, dying, and running around threatening to kill each other, and often all three of those at once.

2 love how it's filled with dark humor. "he's such a cobweb, a pinch would annihilate him" is such a camp thing to say about the terminally ill child you abhor and who you spend weeks trying to set up on dates with your dead lover's child so you can steal her property when your son finally dies. heathcliff lecturing his son on Seduction 101 right in front of cathy 2.0, trying ridiculously to play cupid and compel them to fall in love with each other before giving up and just kidnapping her instead... surely he's the most insane brontë man?

3 i can't remember what i had for dinner last night but nelly dean can remember what the weather was like on any given friday twenty years ago (love her and her snarky comments)

4 love how after nelly finishes telling the story to lockwood she's like "any way. so you know cathy 2.0 is single right ;)))" and then cathy 2.0 shows zero interest in him. so then he's like "oh i just remembered i have somewhere to be :/" then fucks off to london for nearly a year then when he comes back nelly is like "nvm as it turns out cathy and hareton are actually soulmates lol who knew! gee, it's a good thing she didn't like you!" and he's just silently suffering. emily was just fucking around here. hindley was the only linton/earnshaw/heathcliff who was wild enough to marry someone who didn't share either his gene pool or his neighborhood.

5 i imagine joseph to look like smeagol from the lotr films but taller

6 [heathcliff, after stabbing his alcoholic arch nemesis and then pushing his servant into the puddle of the blood] "Wash that stuff away; and mind the sparks of your candle—it is more than half brandy!” LMAO

7 this opinion list is just turning out to be a list of the most insane heathcliff moments but truly the novel should've just been called "heathcliff"

8 heathcliff's weird paternal feelings for hareton, saving hareton's life, him saying he would truly love him if only he wasn't hindley's child, basically giving hareton his blessing to love cathy 2.0 toward the end... so oddly endearing

9 heathcliff walking out just before the "i am heathcliff" part of her speech. why WHY

10 hindley protecting isabella from heathcliff before she flees was nice and i wish we saw more of their dynamic around the heights. honestly aside from the child neglect (which is par for the course in wuthering heights) hindley is a pretty sympathetic character; his rivalry with heathcliff was fueled by both sides and truly the fault of their father for pitting them against each other by letting heathcliff usurp hindley's place of favoritism as a boy. hindley's gambling and drinking, his general dissipation and failure to secure his son's future, are all tragic.

11 i think hindley/edgar/heathcliff are all interesting foils for each other; they each lose the women they love and are left to be single fathers, and each responds to the task totally differently. if we include mr. earnshaw, all the fathers in the story essentially fail their children after all the mothers die. hindley and heathcliff have a special parallel through their lifelong brotherly competition, the women they love both dying in childbirth, and in their own deaths. hindley slowly kills himself while ignoring everyone around him; heathcliff also kills himself, but only after trying to systematically ruin the lives of everyone around him. they also say that they want to kill each other but fail when they try; heathcliff nearly kills hindley but ends up saving his life at the last minute.

12 heathcliff jr. is so terrified of heathcliff sr. and so traumatized and petrified by fear and he doesn't deserve the hate he gets for being annoying. he's been sheltered his whole life, his mother just died, he was sent to his uncle/cousin only to be immediately torn away from them to be abused by a stranger who treats him horribly, he's terminally ill, he's still a kid, he's threatened into marrying someone he barely knows, etc.

13 if any of you have seen the british comedy show "the young ones" that's literally hindley's household in wuthering heights when joseph/hareton/hindley/heathcliff/isabella all live together. the filth, the slop for dinner, the petty games, the violence, the fierce hatred yet weird loyalty to each other, etc.

14 i really wonder how cathy would have reacted to heathcliff's treatment of everyone else if only she had known the full details (ie his harsh abuse of isabella, his son, cathy 2.0, etc.)

15 heights was my first brontë novel but i think i like jane eyre and tenant better now that i've read them all back to back! next on the list is likely agnes gray. anne, my underrated queen!

#literature #english literature #wuthering heights #emily brontë #book opinions #bookblr #bronte sisters #heathcliff #books #book thoughts #book review #classic literature #lit #litblr

[hisnamesdylan]

Lockwood/Kipps rivalry analysis:

In the show and the books Kipps mentions something along the lines of how “everyone leaves him in the end”. In the books we get the added note of Lucy hearing something in his tone that she “couldn’t quite understand” or something like that. As well as in the show Kipps’ comment about Lockwood in that “big empty house”.

I think they were close as kids, but given that he was closer in age to Jessica he was probably closer with her. Maybe they were dating. Regardless, I bet Kipps was on good terms with all the Lockwood’s. Anthony Lockwood probably even looked up to him. He might have even wanted to join Fittes because of him.

So (spoilers), when Jessica died although he was older, Kipps was still a kid himself. Again, if Jessica and Kipps were dating, I doubt they broke up. Not that I know what it’s like, but not being in a relationship anymore, not because of anything you or the other person decided, but because one of them died, well, I’m sure that sucks.

Basically in his grief I don’t think Kipps knew how to handle everything. Especially his anger. So he took his misplaced anger and directed it on Lockwood. Kind of messed up, but people are like that sometimes.

As for Lockwood I’m sure he didn’t know how to handle it either. What could he do?

But I’m sure what makes it hurt even more is that after losing his parents and now his sister what would probably have been good for him is having someone to talk to. Or check up on him.

That could have been Kipps. They both lost someone, but grief isn’t fair. And if Kipps was there for Lockwood, who would be there for Kipps? They could lean on each other for support, but given the age difference it would be on Kipps to be the strong one. But that didn’t happen. And the way they both handled it probably made them hurt more.

I imagine that over time, Lockwood started to feel angry towards Kipps too. That he felt like death took his family from him, but Kipps just left.

So when Kipps shows up in the library and says “everyone leaves him in the end.” I think that if Lockwood was a different type of angry he could’ve said “what? Like you?” Cause he was the only one who actually left. Everyone else died.

I think over time they worked through it on their own and maybe they have yet to have a proper conversation about it, but I think they’re doing better with room for growth.

I also think their rivalry has nothing to do with Lockwood poking Kipps in the butt with a rapier.

#lockwood and co #save lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #quill kipps #book analysis #show analysis #saw a post that made me think of this #jessica lockwood #lockwood & co #spoilers

[maraschinomerry]

hi lovely, adore your writing <3 i was wondering if i could get a lucy x fem!reader where lucy thinks she’s jealous of the reader cause she always thinks the readers so pretty and it’s just a lot of pining and everyone’s trying to make lucy realise she’s in love, and then one day she sees someone flirting with r and is like oh i’m not jealous i’m gay and just a lot of fluff and things thank yoy so much <3333

Chance Encounters

Pairings: Lucy Carlyle x fem!reader

Content: oblivious flirting, pining, self-esteem issues, kissing

A/N: what a way to get back into writing, this is one of my longest fics yet! Thanks for being so patient with me, hope you enjoy it 💙

Word count: 3.8k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea (let me know if you want adding or removing!)

Lucy flopped into her seat with a stack of books and a dejected huff. "Do Fittes have a secret beauty quota for new hires or something?"

Lockwood and George both began speaking at the same time from the other side of the table - Lockwood to assure her that she'd be a shoe-in if that were the case, George to protest that Kipps would never have been hired.

The team were in the British Archives researching a particularly tough case, when Kipps and his crew strolled in with their newest member. If Lucy had thought Kat was pretty, this new girl was on a whole other level. Girls like that always got the best jobs, the most attention from boys, all the perks. It just wasn't fair.

You kept close, tucked behind Kipps' shoulder, as your team strode with far more confidence than you through the maze of shelves. You'd only joined Fittes a week ago and were still getting used to all the rules, both written and unwritten. Kat had at least warned you in advance about the odds of running into Lockwood & Co, how fierce the rivalry was between their leader and yours.

"Ah, Tony," Kipps said ahead of you, and you almost ran into him with how little you'd been concentrating.

Whatever you'd been expecting the members of the infamous agency to be like, this wasn't it. The one scowling most intensely at your colleague must be Lockwood, not the older man you'd pictured but a thin, smartly dressed teenager with bags under his eyes almost as dark as his hair. He was only accompanied by two other people, a curly haired boy who was only visible down to his glasses over the top of an enormous stack of books, and a pretty brunette girl who hadn't taken her eyes off you from the moment you walked in. Her gaze was unwavering and unreadable, and you had to resist the urge to squirm.

You tuned back in. Kipps was speaking again. "Allow me to introduce (name), one of the most prestigious agents the country has to offer." It would have been embarrassing enough had he just called you prestigious, but the way he emphasised it made you wonder if it was some kind of dig at them. You tried to shrink further behind him, cheeks growing warm.

"I'm Lucy Carlyle," the girl suddenly blurted. Her eyes widened as though she was surprised by her own actions. The boys also looked at her, a little stunned. "I mean," she fumbled, "obviously just call me Lucy. This is Lockwood and George."

Learning her name finally made it click where you'd heard of the other agency. "Oh, you solved the Annabel Ward case! I remember seeing it on the news, you're amazing!"

Kipps elbowed you without subtlety, but you didn't miss the way Lucy's face changed. It was only brief, but there was a flicker of pride and something like awe.

"I was going to say the same to you!" Clearly she hadn't noticed Kipps' reaction, nor the unusual look her boss was shooting her. "I'd give anything to have been there when you fought that Rawbones, it sounded so impressive."

"Well," Lockwood chipped in at last, "when you get fed up of Kipps you know where to find us to exchange stories and advice." The flash of a glare he shot your boss was sharp as a rapier, but he smiled warmly at you.

You returned the smile. "Either way, I'm sure we'll run into each other again."  Lucy met your eyes again, but where before she'd stared intensely, now she quickly averted her gaze. Odd. Kipps led you away before you could address the matter further.

—

Nearly two months went by without so much as a glimpse of Lockwood & Co. Part of you wondered whether Kipps was intentionally avoiding them, but you knew that was irrational - even he couldn't predict their movements all the time.

This proved true one Saturday afternoon, when you were sent on a last-minute errand to Satchell's. Your team was out of flares, Kat had said, and Fittes wouldn't get an official restock until Monday. Armed with your rapier, a wad of petty cash, and firm instructions not to return empty handed, you hailed a cab across town. It was a pleasant enough day, but you didn't much feel like walking. Best to get the supplies and get back to whichever task Kipps no doubt had lined up for you next.

Kipps wasn't a bad team leader, not by any stretch of the imagination. He was fair, mucking in on tasks and never asking anyone to do something he wouldn't be willing to do himself, and caring enough to always check in after a case. Nonetheless, it was clear this rivalry with the other agency had had an impact on him and made him so desperate to push himself, and by extension his team, to higher and higher standards. Frankly, it was a little exhausting.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't realise you were running on autopilot until you reached for the handle to Satchell's door and another hand came to rest over yours. A streak of blue appeared in the corner of your eye, and you looked up to see a familiar brunette.

"Lucy, hi!"

The other girl jumped a little. "Oh, (name) I'm so sorry, I was in my own world there." You waved the apology away with your free hand, glancing briefly at the other under hers. She noticed, following your gaze, and quickly snatched hers back with a nervous chuckle. No longer at risk of accidentally smacking her with the door, you opened it and gestured for her to go ahead. She stepped in, reaching back to hold it open from within for you.

Inside was a maze of weaponry. Shelves upon shelves of neat packaging stamped with the Satchell's logo; you recognised many of them, of course, salt bombs and Greek fire and lavender water, but there didn't seem to be much logic to how they were laid out. Turning one corner brought you face to face with floor-to-ceiling silver-glass. Where did you start?

You'd frozen on the spot, and Lucy was a little way ahead of you before she faltered. She must have realised you were no longer behind her.

"Everything okay?"

You nodded unconvincingly. "Fine, I just… haven't actually been in here before."

"Oh, it's easy enough to find your way around once you know. They sort of organise by intensity so you can't get someone popping in the door and making off with an armful of bomb flares." You both giggled at the thought. "But, um, I can show you around a bit if you know what you're looking for?"

You felt your smile ignite, but she continued hurriedly without noticing. "Only if you want, I mean, the staff are super helpful here and they probably know more than me. Not that you can't figure it out on your own, you seem like one of those cool independent types so-"

Finally, you cut her off with a gentle hand on her arm. She stopped talking instantly, like you'd managed to find a secret 'off' switch, and actually looked as though she'd short-circuited entirely. Cautiously, shyly, you slid your hand down and through until your arm was linked with hers. 'Off' no longer pressed, she sprung back to life with a fierce blush.

As Lucy led you round the shop, she chatted away about the different types of defences on offer. She’d taken you to the flares you were looking for first, of course, but when you made no move to leave she took you along to gather her own supplies. She’d seemed so jittery at first, you almost worried she was uncomfortable having you there, but the more she spoke about her experience making her own salt bombs and the run-in she had with a bunch of ghostly monks and a bomb flare, the more confident she became. Something about seeing her so in her element helped you to relax as well. It broke the ice.

“So what’s it like at Lockwood and Co?” you asked eventually. You’d been curious about the other agency ever since that first meeting - nothing about them had been expected, and you wondered if maybe the impression Kipps had given was more biased than you thought.

Lucy glanced at you, arm deep in a shelf stocked to the brim with vials of lavender water (they stock from the back, she’d advised, so the fresh ones are the hardest to reach). She hadn’t expected the question, but the answer came naturally. “Great, actually. I came to London hoping to get in with one of the big agencies like Fittes, but I didn’t have any of the right papers so I ended up there as sort of a last resort. It was difficult to get used to at first, they’re not exactly by-the-book as you’ve probably heard from Kipps, but now I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Lockwood and George are like family.”

The final part hit you like a ton of bricks. That was what you’d felt missing in your team. They were all good people and had quickly grown to be your friends, but they didn’t feel like family. Fittes didn’t feel like home. And here was this girl, who before today had barely had a full conversation with you, guiding you round the shop like it was nothing and telling you how this funny little agency was just that. Home. A weight you didn’t even realise you’d been carrying shifted, working its way up from the pit in your stomach to your chest where it settled, resolute yet comforting.

You realised you were now the one staring when Lucy waved a fistful of vials at you. “I think that’s me sorted,” she nodded to the smartly dressed man at the till. You picked up your basket of flares from the ground, wrapping your other hand around the wad of cash in your pocket, and followed her lead.

—

The rosy hues of evening were beginning to drift across the sky when the two of you emerged onto the high street. You hadn’t realised how long it had been; Kipps would be wondering where you were. The weight in your chest and the smile on your face told you that you didn’t much care. Now that the temperature had dropped a couple of degrees it was much more pleasant, and a gentle breeze ruffled your hair, carrying a soft floral scent. There were no flowers nearby, and you wondered whether it came from the girl beside you. It was lovely, whatever it was.

“Thanks again Lucy, I’d still be lost in the first set of shelves if it wasn’t for you.” The laugh that got from her was as fresh as the breeze, and you couldn’t help but smile wider. It gave you the courage to continue and ask, “Could I walk you home?”

Lucy frowned, and you worried it was too forward. You’ve only met her twice, for goodness sake. “Isn’t Fittes the other way? I don’t want to drag you all the way across town for no reason.”

That was hopeful - she wasn’t concerned about your intentions but for your wellbeing. “I don’t really want to head back just yet,” you admitted. “Besides, you’ve got more bags than me, the least I can do is give you a hand after all your help in there.” She tried to protest, but you held out a hand and with some reluctance she handed one over until you had two each. “There’s something I need to ask Lockwood too, so…”

This was turning out to be a day full of surprises, because you couldn’t possibly have predicted what Lucy said next. “Oh, he’s single, if that’s what you want to know.”

All the breath in your chest rushed out at once, the weight pressing hard on your lungs. “What?”

Your shock was mirrored on her face. “I just… after you were both talking about meeting again in the Archives… and since he’s a bit of a charmer and you’re gorgeous, I figured-” The words died in her her throat as the blush returned, this time reaching up to the tip of her ears and down past the collar of her playsuit.

You fought to keep your smile from breaking into a full-blown grin. The poor girl looked like she wanted nothing more than for the pavement to open up and swallow her whole, and while it was so tempting to tease her a little and see how far that blush could spread you resisted. Plenty of time for that, if you’d read things right. For now, you gave a light chuckle. “Thanks, but I don’t think I’ve been charmed by him.” You tried your best to give the right amount of emphasis on the fact it wasn’t by him, but it didn’t seem to help. Maybe you’d misunderstood. You hoped not. Maybe she was just embarrassed and not thinking about it properly. At any rate, she didn’t shy away when you tucked in close for the walk back.

—

Lucy paced anxiously through the library. George was curled in one of the armchairs with a comic; you and Lockwood were away in the living room, discussing goodness knows what. She hadn’t dared to ask any further on the walk home. She’d eventually plucked up the nerve to talk to you again after what she’d said (why on earth had she said it in the first place, she wondered) and found you to be so easy to talk to. You’d told her about life at Fittes, she’d told you about life in Portland Row. It sounded fun, chaotic at times but in a good way.

“Will you please sit down before you wear a hole in the carpet,” George groaned. Lucy sighed dramatically, but obeyed and slumped into the other chair. The lamplight cast unusual shadows across her face - it was well into the evening now, curfew had descended, so clearly whatever you had to discuss was of vital importance or you’d have gone back to Fittes by now.

“What do you think they’re talking about?”

George didn’t look up. “I really couldn’t say, I don’t know her well enough.”

“Exactly, and Lockwood doesn’t know her very well either, so if she is trying to ask him out then-”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” George interrupted, dropping his comic with uncharacteristic urgency. “You really think that’s why she’s here?” He studied Lucy for a moment - the way she kept glancing at the door like she expected them to walk in hand in hand, the way her index finger tapped rapidly where her hand rested on the arm of the chair, the way her lip wasn’t curled with disgust or outrage but quivering with upset. “Oh my god, you’re jealous!”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Obviously I’m jealous, George. I know what it’s like with girls like her, they’re always one step ahead or one move beyond me. Just because they’re pretty it means they get everything.”

George’s comic was thoroughly neglected now, this was far more interesting. He had his suspicions about why she was reacting like this, but knew her well enough that he couldn’t just come out and say them or she’d deny it. She had to realise for herself. “Riiight, you’re jealous that she gets Lockwood and you don’t.”

Her nose wrinkled, the first confirmation of his theory. “Ew, no. He’s like my brother. I just don’t think it’s fair, is all. She’s been so sweet all day but as soon as there’s a better option I fade into the background again.”

Second and third confirmation: Lucy thought you were sweet (and he remembered she’d said pretty before, a fourth point on the tally) and, whether she realised it or not, had just called herself an option. George was getting more certain by the minute. God, as much as it hurt seeing her think so low of herself, he had to admit it was amusing trying to make her see that perhaps the ‘better option’ was the person you’d gushed over and pointedly said you hoped to see again and whose arm you’d been hanging off the whole afternoon, not the person you’d barely said five words to. “Got it, so you’re just jealous on principle, not of her specifically.”

“Right!” she said confidently.

“And it's nothing to do with you having feelings?”

“Right,” she said less confidently.

George didn’t say another word, just pushed himself up from the armchair and left the room.

Five minutes later, he returned with Lockwood in tow. The taller boy didn’t fully enter the library, just leaned round the door with an excitable twinkle in his eye.

“Ah, Luce, I was just about to give (name) a demonstration of the training area, if you want to come and help? I’m not sure her mind’s really on training at the moment.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively, but Lucy only looked more disappointed than ever.

George grumbled under his breath, low enough that Lucy wouldn’t hear. “Is that your best attempt at acting coy?”

“Coy?” Lockwood hissed back. “I thought I was helping her realise that (name)’s crush isn’t on me, it’s on h-” A sharp elbow in his side cut him off. He returned to normal volume. “Anyway, she’s also going to stay over tonight, if you’re okay sharing your bed? Or I can always put her in-”

Lucy shot up. “No, no, I can share.” Her gaze flickered to George, who gave her a triumphantly smug grin. “And don’t worry about the training, I’ll go with her.” Lockwood matched the other boy’s grin, and ducked out again.

George made his way back to the armchair, Lucy’s eyes following him the whole way. Her expression was a conflicted mess - irritation at proving him right, amazement at her newly discovered feelings, worry and hope all blended together.

“So you were jealous that she might like Lockwood, but not for the reason you thought?” he asked gently. It wasn’t you she was jealous of, seeming to get his attention, but him for getting yours.

She shook her head, tears beginning to well as her lower lip wobbled. “Okay fine, you win, I have feelings! Still doesn’t change the fact she went straight for him. She doesn't like me the way… the way I like her.”

There was no more amusement to be had from this, and it broke George’s heart to see one of his closest friends so upset. He stood and pulled her into a hug, feeling her sniffle into his shoulder. “You know it was you she was talking to when she said about running into us again, right?” Lucy pulled back and looked at him incredulously, puffy cheeks bearing the telltale streaks of tears. She reached up and wiped them away vigorously with her cuffs. “And when Lockwood said she’s too distracted to train it’s not because she’s flirting with him, it’s because she didn’t shut up about you the whole time she was asking to join the agency.” Immediately, Lucy stopped scrubbing at her face. In fact, she stopped crying all together.

“She what?”

“Something about you showing her how much she was missing having a family, and she wants to be part of yours. And she has a bag of flares which technically she’s now stolen from Kipps to sweeten the deal, if you’ll have her. Lockwood said it’s your call.”

Lucy’s frantic rubbing resumed, trying to erase any evidence of her crying even as she hastily made her way to the door. George called after her, “Does this mean you finally acknowledge that I’m always right?” He laughed at the chain of expletives he got in response.

—

You were alone in the basement, admiring the collection of rapiers and trying not to overthink what was taking Lockwood so long, when Lucy came barrelling down the stairs. She skidded to a halt in front of you, breathing heavily and as flushed as she had been earlier.

“You were flirting with me?!” she gasped.

“I… yes?”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“That’s generally how flirting works, love.” Her face grew redder at the pet name. “You only just realised?”

She cast her eyes upwards. “George helped. I thought you were just being nice to get to Lockwood.”

“I told you it wasn’t him I was charmed by.” You wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She folded willingly into you, burying her incredibly warm face in the front of your blouse. The heat sparked something in your chest.

“You didn’t say it like that!” she whined.

“Well you know what I just realised?”

“What?”

“How cute you are when you’re flustered.”

“Really?” Her hands ran slowly down your back, coming to rest on your waist, and her eyes met yours before gliding down to your lips.

“No, of course not - I realised in the Archives.”

She smiled shyly, melting your heart even more. “I can’t believe you think I’m cute.”

You dragged her even closer, reaching up to boop her nose which made her scrunch her whole face up in the most adorable way. Your hand continued to the back of her neck, gently bringing her face towards yours. Perhaps you could make her even more flustered.

Lucy had other ideas. Her hands on your waist gripped tightly as she bounced up to meet you, lips soft and sweet yet firm and passionate. Her intensity took your breath away, and you felt your knees buckle. She held you strong, backing you up against the wall for support. You gasped a little into the kiss, trying to regain some air, and she did the same when your hand wound its way into her hair. When you both ran out of ways to breathe, you broke apart, but her hand found yours and yours never left her waist.

“Kipps is going to be absolutely fuming when he hears about all this,” she murmured with a grin.

“Oh trust me, I can’t wait to tell him myself. I quit, I’ve joined a better agency, and I get to be with one of the most amazing agents - one of the most amazing people - I've ever met.”

“I could say the same.” She puffed up her chest, pulled a face and lowered her voice in a silly impression of your now-former boss. “Allow me to introduce (name), one of the most prestigious agents in the country and my girlfriend… if you want to be?” Her voice returned to normal and she bit her lip nervously.

“There’s nothing I’d want more,” you smiled as you leant in to kiss her again.

#lockwood & co x reader #lucy carlyle x reader #lucy carlyle #fem!reader #save lockwood and co #lockwood & co fic

[insidethekaleidoscope]

Ok, saw a post by @hernameslucy, and it activated alll the Kipps brainworms. Turns out that I have a loooot of thoughts about the idea that Kipps had a relationship with the Lockwoods/Jessica and at least in part blamed Lockwood for Jessica's death. I find it compelling, but also when you draw out all of the implications it is so incredibly, utterly devastating. Anyway here's my very long analysis of how the Lockwood and Kipps rivalry might have come about (in addition to the cannon poke to the bum with a fencing foil...). After Jessica's death, I could see Kipps in the moment as a grieving teenager blaming Lockwood, and that would be painful for Lockwood on multiple levels. He’s losing out on whatever support Kipps might have offered him otherwise, and it reinforces Lockwood’s own shame around his culpability in Jessica's death. That brings this really complicated edge to Lockwood’s feelings towards Kipps because you have both a very real and very deep grievance (he would be very rightfully angry at Kipps for blaming him for something that really wasn't in his control) and also a reminder of his biggest regret (not being present when Jessica broke the vase).

This second point is where you have Lockwood projecting some of his own emotions onto Kipps. At the beginning of the series Lockwood does blame himself, and he's also very much running away from that feeling. When he finally shows Jessica's room to Lucy and George he lies about where exactly he was at the time because he's not ready to confront that shame, and there's likely a small part of him that is convinced that they will blame him as well (since there's a part of him that believes they rightfully should). Before Lockwood tells Lucy his full account of the day and in part acknowledges his own feelings of culpability, he's still very much trying to bury and push away those emotions. If Kipps really did blame him, that would make Kipps a very difficult person to be around because his very presence reminds Lockwood of the shame he's been avoiding.

On top of that, I think at that point in Lockwood's emotional arc there's likely a part of him that sees Kipps as the person that has the most clear-eyed view of him. The fact that Lockwood blames himself for Jessica's death and has acknowledged that fact to no-one would likely leave him with this feeling that he's actually lying to the important people in his life (among other things, this is supported in the show by Lockwood's line to Lucy that "there are things that I haven't told you about myself that are probably for your own good").

With Kipps being the only person who knows what Lockwood believes to be a terrible truth about himself, he could very easily become a place for Lockwood to externalize his own shame. Any attempts to prove Kipps wrong could be read as just as much an attempt to prove wrong his own worst judgments of himself. As for Kipps, I think an initial response of anger towards Lockwood is difficult to take but understandable. What's harder for me to reconcile is that over the years Kipps would continue to hold onto the belief that Lockwood really was at fault for Jessica's death. He's enough older that I think after the initial intensity of the grief passed, he would likely feel a bit ashamed for having blamed a child for something so clearly out of their control. As for why he would continue to antagonize Lockwood years later, I can think of a few possibilities.

The saddest of them is that he simply allowed his shame to curdle. Instead of acknowledging his fault, he doubled down on externalizing his emotions onto Lockwood. Clearly Lockwood had to be at fault because otherwise Kipps would need to fully acknowledge what he had done in placing the weight of blame onto a grieving child. I don't like this explanation as much because 1. I think Kipps is more compassionate than that even from the beginning (we stan one (1) Quill Kipps in this house) and 2. I don't think that this is a kind of hurt that could just be gradually smoothed over without some kind of reckoning between the two of them.

I think what's more likely is that sometime before the events of the series, Kipps did try to repair his wrong and Lockwood lashed out at him. Again, I think that Kipps would still be in the wrong in this situation both as the older of the two and as the party that added insult to injury. However, Kipps is also still a grieving teenager too, and in this instance he's coming to Lockwood with some vulnerability, admitting wrong and also likely seeking out company and commiseration in his grief. He's doing a difficult thing while also nursing his own grief, and he's met with coldness and anger. That would be hard to take.

This kind of hurt I could see slowly fading over time as they develop a relationship, since it places them on something closer to level footing. I still think they would have to acknowledge it at some point, but it also seems possible that that's just something Lucy was never privy to.

#lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #quill kipps #jessica lockwood #quill kipps and jessica lockwood #book analysis #show analysis #lockwood and co spoilers

[this-is-mycrisis]

the FORCE in the shoulder check that kipps and lockwood have in episode 5- and the look on lockwoods face omfg

also lowkey- the way the kipps calls lockwood "tony", like no one else calls lockwood anything other than his last name, he even reenforces that that's what he's called ("her names lucy, im lockwood, etc etc") and i know that in the books there's an old rivalry there, so i wonder if it's just a chink in the armor that lockwood constructs around himself (the suit, the last name, pushing george and lucy away) that kipps likes to exploit or if there's something more emotional tied to it?

but also i just love the way that jack bandeira says tony lol

#shitpost #crisis_speaks #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #george karim #george cubbins #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #locklyle #lockwood and co headcannon #lockwood and co details #quill kipps

[darklinaforever]

Okay. I have nothing against Holly's person. To tell the truth, I adore her, and I even pity her for some of Lucy's reactions to her remarks, which are sometimes far too exessive. But, I have you that certain aspect of the behavior of Lockwood towards Holly annoys me. For example, I don't think it was necessary for Lockwood to be leaning over Holly over the desk to "put her at ease", although yes, he did that with George… I don't think so. more than the trick of Lockwood lending Holly one of his old sweaters, as well as Lucy's gloves (without asking her first) was necessary. Like… Doesn't she have any sweaters or gloves of her own ? Wasn't she able to go get some at home before the mission ? It looks like a banal plot by the author to push even more tension / discord between the two girls. Especially since it's pretty useless to do the same, because we know perfectly well that there will never be anything between Lockwood and Holly, so much he and Lucy are obviously to the point of (as George says) being annoying. Besides, the series is on such a scale on this point that I would certainly not like to be in George's place to live with these two… But in short, without mentioning the fact that Holly is essentially a lesbian. I'm sure that if we had had the series sequel to adapt, all these scenes would have been quite / see very different, given the context and larger point of view of the series, especially with the couple Lockwood & Lucy so much more explicit. Or else these scenes would have been completely changed. In fact, I even hoped the Lucy / Holly rivalry was toned down. Maybe not removed the whole jealousy aspect about Lockwood, seeing as Lucy was jealous of Flo before in season 1, I doubt this wouldn't have happened, but rather removed the general /overall rivalry aspect that the two girls had in volume 3… Also, sorry, but I'm sure that the Lockwood of the series would never have forgotten the type of orange juice that Lucy likes (volume 4). Seriously, this guy is making her those toasts ! Unfortunately, we won't see any of this on screen. Sadness.

#lockwood x lucy #lucy x lockwood #lockwood and lucy #lucy and lockwood #locklyle #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george cubbins #george karim #holly munro #lockwood and co #jonathan stroud #the hollow boy #the creeping shadow #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood and co season 2 #lockwood and co canceled

[avalonianrising]

LORE ASK. i love the emperor elimination task force. is there any rivalry between members? i also noticed a shadetouched corruption meter on a few dragons. thats so cool! is there protocol if someone becomes completely corrupted?

I LOVE THEM TOO, THANK YOU SO MUCH.

Okay, so you're going to laugh at the rivalry thing: yes--but it's purely fun rivalries!

Members of the Task Force are embroiled in--get this--epic rap battles. This was purely inspired at one point by Devilman Crybaby because I was enthralled by their use of rapping/beatboxing in the series.

A lot of the members actually have voice claims showcasing some examples if you want to check them out--Seojun's voice claim comes right from that show as stated!

They'll get together in either large or small groups and showcase their talents any chance they get (during downtime of course!). No one has beaten Masato yet, but by god to they try!

And thank you for noticing one of my favorite little things that I've added to some dragons. <3 That's been there for a l o n g time, before there was a whole crap-ton of Shade related lore. (Ergo, I made my own, darn it.)

So, what happens if they become completely corrupted is...not pleasant. As peaceful as Lockwood is, he doesn't fool around with something like the Shade. Nemesis was the closest to total corruption (at one point 95%) and it showed. Think Primal eyes, but way worse. It dripped from his mouth, his eyes, sometimes his nose if he was stressed out or angry enough. He was skinny, sickly looking, but DEADLY strong. It wasn't a pleasant sight! But Grimshaw was the one who perfected a purifying technique and pulled it all out of him--using it to actually fortify Vasilios' grave site! He was almost unable to do it due to the sheer severity, but he managed. Did it take a lot out of him? Definitely. Would he be able to do it with a full corruption? Most likely not. Ergo: a fully Shade corrupted creature or dragon is ended quickly as possible as not to prolong their suffering.

#The Emperor Elimination Task Force #FR Askbox Games #THANK YOU VERY MUCH THAT ONE WAS SO FUN #I love my Task Force they're just /clench fist So good

[xserpx]

SO Lockwood & Co. the TV show is definitely doing more for me than the books so far (just finished the first one), since the book seems to be positioning him *as* a sort of sherlock holmes and the show is ... doing that but in a way that emphasizes how very young and dumb he is in a way I personally find both hilarious and feels-inducing. But the book definitely is giving more worldbuilding details! I'm impressed with how much they managed to include in the show when they were so very dedicated to NOT infodumping about the world, tbh tho.

anyways you're reblogging lockwood stuff and I am a fan of getting curated stuff of media I like on my dash, ty for having great taste <3

Ahh I'm glad someone is enjoying it 😂 Judging by how few notes my L&Co reblogs are getting it's still not that popular amongst my followers.

I am now half way through book 2 and I also commend the show on doing an amazing job of following the books so faithfully. They managed to put all of the first book in the first 2-3 episodes, barely missing out anything (except the well scene!), it's incredible.

One thing that I much prefer about the show is that all the characters are so much nicer & more sympathetic than their book counterparts. Book!Lucy has a "not like the other girls" streak that is completely rectified by Show!Lucy & her amazing relationship with Norrie. In the books, Lucy is quite judgemental of George,which I guess is part of the whole "third wheel" plotline?, but in the show any hurt she causes him comes across as more unintentional. They have a few arguments here and there but there's no actual derision or dislike on a personal basis. George isn't silly comic relief.

And Lockwood just seems more thoughtful in the show, as you say he's young and dumb. There are definitely notes of that in the books, but the show really leans into the darker aspects of him, the loneliness & his need to hold it together. Though I'm excited to finish this book in particular to see if that's just me going into the books with certain expectations having seen the show. I also think the show probably benefits from being able to incorporate later character development into the earlier stories, whilst the books still feel like they're finding their feet at this stage.

I am enjoying the books for sure but I am such a huge fan of the show. It manages to feel more mature (aged up characters! Mild swearing!), while at the same time maintaining the fun of the books. The found family aspect and the slowburn romance is just impeccable. I love Kipps & Barnes in the show - making Kipps an agent rather than a supervisor was a great choice, love the secrecy of his failing sensitivity! - and Flo is amazing in the show compared to the book. If there is a season 2 I just hope they keep the sense that there are no real rivalries, just people doing the best they can, trying to find familiarity.

#lockwood and co #thank you for visiting my inbox w lockwood 😭❤️ i love this show

[beachblue37]

SPOILERS FOR THE HOLLOW BOY

I have another post on here about what they plan on doing about the Lucy and Holly dynamic

But I am also curious to how they plan on doing Lockwood and Lucy’s dynamic as it relates to Holly. Because book Lucy seems to have these rose colored glasses for Lockwood and it’s not until the end of The Hollow Boy when they start to come off. While show Lucy does have feelings for Lockwood she doesn’t hesitate to call him out on his behavior. So it would seem really out of character to me. If he’s pushing her away and Lucy is just thinking that it’s because of Holly. I feel like the Lucy we know in the show would say how she’s feeling she would confront Lockwood about it.

Also I don’t think that they have time to do the Holly/Lucy rivalry. There’s so much in The Hollow Boy: The Chelsea Outbreak, Lucy wanting to connect to visitors and her growing powers, Lockwood’s backstory and his growing distance from Lucy in order to protect her

I personally think that there should be tension in season 2 but instead of having it be mainly Holly and Lucy. Have it be Lockwood and Lucy. Have it be where the tension is rising between them because of both of their growing feelings for each other and because of Lucy wanting to connect with visitors and Lockwood demanding that she doesn’t. That’s a good conflict. I can see why Lucy wants to connect. I can see why Lockwood doesn’t want her to. I get both sides. The conflict also show cases both of the best and worst aspects of their characters. For Lucy one of her biggest character flaws is her her stubbornness and her overconfidence in the field. Lucy is incredibly talented, but she just because she’s talented doesn’t mean she’s invincible. But it also shows her best quality and that’s her empathy. For Lockwood one of his biggest character flaws is his tendency to expect people to go along with his way (he doesn’t consult George and Lucy about going to Combe Carey, he hires Holly without Lucy and the just expects Lucy to get along with her, he doesn’t want to team up with Kipps during the outbreak. Lucy makes the decision to. I don’t have the line but she says something about Lockwood having too much pride. And in the show he makes a bet with Kipps which Lucy and George have objections to). He tells Lucy to stop and when she doesn’t. He’s angry and it’s understandable but he refuses to listen to why she’s not stopping. But this conflict also shows how much Lockwood cares for his friends and how much he wants to protect them. Especially Lucy.

Then instead of having Holly and Lucy fight in the department store. It’s Lockwood and Lucy. They get into a fight and cause the poltergeist. Then Lucy falls down and she stumbles upon the fetch. Fetch tells her that she’s the reason Lockwood’s gonna die. Lockwood comes in and kills the fetch and they’re both just so relieved that the other is ok. Lockwood says the infamous line “Come off it you know I’d die for you.” Lucy makes the decision to leave. Lockwood thinks that it was because of their fight. George feels bad because he can’t leave Lockwood because he’s a mess. But he’s also worried about Lucy and he feels betrayed that she left him. Holly feels betrayed because she and Lucy were friends. Holly opened up about her past to Lucy. And she left and didn’t speak to any of them for months. Everyone is hurt and confused. They know that something happened between Lockwood and Lucy they just don’t know what

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lucy carlyle #the hollow boy #anthony lockwood

[novelizt]

EXPECTO PATRONUM I ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

⚜ PART 2 | SERIES MASTERLIST

GENRE ➺ HOGWARTS AU [slytherin! lockwood x fem! ravenclaw! reader]. rivals to lovers (and a dash of 'everyone knows but them'). fluff and angst.

WC ➺ 13.7k

SYNOPSIS ➺ after a six year rivalry with lockwood, your patronus suddenly matches his when it didn't before.

DISCLAIMER ➺ reader is implied to be shorter than lockwood. appearance of harry potter next gen characters and a few ocs. lockwood calls reader 'sweetheart' and 'my dearest vexation'. prefect! lockwood. (i also headcanon him being a cunning-flirt, so lockwood might read slightly ooc.)

WARNINGS ➺ strained family dynamics (for reader), love potions (misuse of magic), dragons on the loose, wizard duels, and a lot of unpolished dialogue.

NOTES ➺ it's been a long time coming. i hope this finds you when you need it 💙 happy nanowrimo !!

this was originally a one-shot that got split in two. please read part two after this to see their happily ever after 💙

For every Gryffindor came a Slytherin waiting to trouble them. You thought you were in the clear after you'd been sorted into Ravenclaw four years ago. So, you questioned how you had the misfortune of being vexed by a serpent such as Anthony Lockwood.

He boasted the status of being the sole muggle-born Slythern in your year, as well as a colossal thorn in your side. He made it routine to test you. You knew his M.O. well enough to recognize the sound of his footsteps before he even reached you.

"We're learning advanced protective charms in Defence today," he announced like you didn't speed through the syllabus already.

You didn't have to look at him to know he was sporting that lilted smile of his. If you were in a bitter mood, you might have even slung a hex at him.

Luckily for him, you just wanted to get through the day. You quickened your steps. He followed like a parasite.

He even had the gall to bend at the knees to be at eye-level with you, the right side of his mouth curved higher than his left. "Come on, sweetheart. Not even a nod of acknowledgement?"

"If it will get you to leave me be..."

You granted his request and even offered a stiff nod, hoping that would suffice.

You hoped too much because all he did was grin and return to his regularly scheduled goading by matching your stride.

"Away with you," you shooed.

You threw your arm out, aiming for his shoulder. He caught your hand before it even made contact—giving your knuckle a quick tap just to aggravate you.

"I know that trick, sweetheart." He unfurled fingers from yours, slow and deliberate. "Let me walk you, at least. I am a gentleman. Oh– Don't make that face. I really am!"

"If you are such a gentleman, you'd pay attention to my request and leave."

"Suddenly, I'm a barbarian." He shot you a wink that made you wish the floor would swallow you whole. "I could do much worse, you know. Have you heard of oobleck—the stuff muggles are raving about? Bet you'd have a jolly time finding out how to get a non-Newtonian fluid out of your hair."

He feigned a yawn, dropping an arm over your shoulders and giving your arm a subtle squeeze to drive home the fact that he had no intentions of letting you go.

"Arse," was your gracious response.

"Oh, don't be like that. If you are going to play that game, I do have a divine rump. So do you," he said without missing a beat. He played a fool to your slack jaw and widened eyes. "And would you look at that! We've arrived to your classroom. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

If only looks could kill.

Your systems stalled when he dipped his head and planted an ever-cheeky kiss on your temple.

It was futile to throw out a fist to dent that pretty face of his, because he caught your hand before you could even land a hit.

"Cheeky," Lockwood crooned. He tapped your nose before letting you go. You made a show of flicking off the invisible mites he gave you. "Nice try though, sweetheart."

"You—" When you tried to stomp on his foot, he veered out of the way, finessed as a Chesire.

At that point, you knew you were fighting a losing battle. You lifted your chin and crossed the threshold into Potions, ignoring the exorbitant waves and kissy faces he made at you.

Your classmates levelled you with looks of intrigue but you ignored them, too.

Of course, Lockwood had to have the last word. "Remember not to mix up your asphodel and lavender. Wouldn't want another smokey incident, would we? You basically handed me that perfect score."

You tried not to shrivel when a ripple of giggles disrupted the stillness of the classroom.

You threw a nasty look over your shoulder and turned sour when he left, his laugh echoing down the hall. You estimated that he'd be a few minutes late to his class, even if he had to run to make it. Poor chap.

Finally, you were rid of him, but the newly realised smell in the room replaced his slot as your morning vexation. The smell of old parchment, clipped grass, and (much to your bereavement) the Lockwood Stench viscerally assaulted your senses.

You blanched, falling into your seat. "Heavens, did he leave his perfume in here? It smells awful."

As if seeing his face wasn't bad enough, he managed to be the subject of your irritation even if he was absent from the room.

James Potter II, your seatmate and friend, laughed. Eyes crinkling like he knew something you didn't. "He, meaning Anthony Lockwood?"

Your lip curled at the name. Even while preoccupied by your review notes, the smell clouded you. Your attempts to wave away the stench only made it stronger.

It wasn't the worst smell in the wizarding world but you'd rather go through the only class you don't share with him without the incessant thought of him. A huff left you as you came to peace with the fact that your nose would lose its sense eventually.

James's most devious grin stretched across his face. "That's Amortentia over there."

Your breath caught. He jutted a finger at the cauldron that sat at the end of your two-seater desk.

Surely enough, the brew had a pearlescent sheen with curls of peach smoke spiralling into the air, infecting the room with its fragrance. Now that you'd been made aware, your ribs felt too right for your lungs.

Your laugh came out stiff. You coughed, hoping it sutured the cracks in your façade. "I was mistaken then. I only smell the Quidditch Pitch."

James hummed, unconvinced.

—

Time passed slower when you were dying to forget the incident at Potions. Your eyes kept jumping to your watch before the middle of the day had even passed.

Classes had come and gone, and a certainly foul smell clung to the walls of this classroom—as was always the case for Defence Against the Dark Arts. For a moment, you missed smelling the amortentia, then jolted at what other thing that implied.

You knew class started when your peers fell silent, listening attentively on tipped toes. It was every man for himself on days the tables and chairs were pushed to the side of the room.

"On this fine day, we are covering a very tricky, but very utilised charm." The Professor circled the room, inspecting posture and wand grip as she passed.

For a moment, her eyes fell on you, and you stiffened under her gaze. Her lip quirked, like she found comfort in scaring you.

You were made aware that she was a rival of your grandmother's, back in their heyday. You surmised that because she couldn't get one up on your grandmother, she transposed her efforts onto the next best thing: You, and she wasn't afraid to show it.

Her heels clicked, grating your ears as she went on to terrorise a few more unfortunate souls in the way. The vast majority were daft to her impartiality.

She went on a lecture about the charm's importance in the Battle at Hogwarts. You were about to doze off when she slapped her wand against her palm. "Now that the lot of you are in your fourth year, I feel that it is important to know how to cast it in light of grave circumstances."

She waved her wand and muttered a few words before a silvery line jumped from her wand, spinning in the air and illuminating the room before taking on the shape of a rabbit.

The silvery manifestation hopped along with great speed, passing you briskly and making you stumble.

A hand caught your arm before you hit the floor. You were quick to retrieve yourself when you realised that it was Lockwood. You tuned out his mild laugh as you turned away without thanks.

The patronus then skidded to a halt at James's side, speaking in the Professor's voice. "I expect you to know this, Mr. Potter."

It dispersed and a vicious applause shook the room. Even you found yourself wide-eyed in exhilaration. Fighting the fact that the professor was rude, the patronus charm was something you'd been dying to learn way back when.

In the midst of the celebration, your eyes caught Lockwood's, only to find him already staring. There was a pinching sensation in your gut. It forced you to look away. You missed his smile completely.

The Professor ordered the class to break into pairs. Lockwood glued himself to your side before you could blink. He was shooing people away before you could even shoo him away.

"She's got a nasty temper, that one. Wouldn't want her patronus to lunge at you."

"I will have it bite your head off," you murmured, watching a nice Hufflepuff back away. Thus, leaving you alone with the bane of your existence.

"You're too nice for that," Lockwood replied, tapping your side with a half-smile.

"You just said I have a temper."

"With me, yes. But I can handle you."

You had a lot to say about that. The Professor spoke before you could.

"Now," Professor mused. Her voice bounced off the walls in higher vibration. "Using the instructions in your books, attempt to cast your patronus. Remember! The lighter the memory, the more efficient the patronus."

A chorus of turning pages echoed. You and Lockwood withdrew your wands, already knowing which spell to use.

His lips quirked. "Did some advanced reading, did you?"

"You know me so well."

You shook in anticipation, but, after shortly regarding your partner, you refrained from looking too eager.

"Dunderheads first," you urged with false cheer.

The insult flew over Lockwood's head. "Gladly. I like to think my patronus would be a lion."

You couldn't help but snort. "I assume yours would be a housecat with a lot of overgrown hair."

"That would be you."

You had an inkling that he found joy in watching you frown.

After a long while and a generous amount of griping, his wand moved, and he muttered, "Expecto patronum."

A silvery burst of light exploded from his wand. Wisps spun in the air before the dust settled, revealing a crane. It stretched, showcasing several inches of its incandescent neck and wingspan before Lockwood waved his wand once more. The motion sent it in a circle around the room.

It was so majestic, you couldn't pry your eyes away. Other students stared in envy as the crane weaved past other patronuses, nipping at them playfully before soaring back to you.

Wait, not to you... At you.

You found your feet, ready to duck before the silvery bird crashed into you, but it never did. It dispersed before it even touched a hair on your head.

It was an explosion of silver sand. It brushed your cheek with unexpected warmth. The cold seeped into your robes as the darkness veiled you.

"Shame." Lockwood clicked his tongue. "Thought I could freak you out a bit. I couldn't hold it for too long, though."

"Truly a shame," you simpered.

Professor's applause rang out from the other side of the room. Likely for Lockwood's expert execution or his taunting you. Mayhaps both.

"Good work, Mr. Lockwood! Keep practising and your patronus could glide over the Atlantic one day."

"Hear that?" He brightened at the compliment, standing taller as he leaned toward you. "It's your turn, dunderhead."

The number of hexes you could have used . . . You didn't need them. You needed happy thoughts to conjure up a patronus. It was hard enough standing in the same room as Lockwood and Professor Loathes-Your-Guts.

Your inspirations were of holidays and golden scores; your parents' approval; Lockwood falling on his face during Quidditch (your lips twitched at the memory); and the muggle fantasy novels you hid in your room.

A warm feeling shot down your arm, heartening you to mutter the enchantment. The feeling wrapped around your body like a blanket, and when you opened your eyes, your own patronus stared back at you.

It stood metres above the rest, towering over students and patronuses alike. Wisps of silver waved to and fro its body. The only apt description for it was 'colossal'.

"Is that a giraffe?" Lockwood muttered.

"No, It's a pelican." You smiled at his frown. "Of course, it's a giraffe, Lockwood."

You'd never seen one so pretty.

It glowed so bright that Lockwood looked blue in its light. He spared you a look of resignation.

You win.

A swell of pride came to the surface before the patronus wilted away. The space it stood turned black.

Hollers rung out, shaking the bricked walls. A new wave of excitement seized the room. You didn't even glance at the Professor but you could feel her heated gaze on the back of your head. That was victory enough.

—

Three years following that day, you're harrowed by the thought of leaving this place behind. Hogwarts felt like home, more so than the one you shared with your parents.

It was difficult to imagine life without the sky above the dining tables or the constant presence of Prefects scolding lower years.

Soon, your rivalry with Lockwood would fade to the black, too. As far as you knew, the fool was gunning to be an auror. Becoming one yourself wasn't a path you were inclined to take.

You passed the hourglasses of House Points and watched as more trickled into Slytherin's glass, and you felt nothing. The fact that you came to peace with having less points should have been concerning. Your mother would scorn you if she ever caught you thinking that way.

Not wanting to linger, you turned for the dining hall.

You didn't flinch when a weight fell over your shoulders and Lockwood's pretty face invaded your periphery. You should have known he couldn't leave you alone for too long.

"Lockwood."

He grinned. "My dearest vexation."

Your nose scrunched, irritation injected with the smallest feeling of familiarity. "Don't call me that."

"Copy that," He smiled, dragging you closer by the arm around your shoulders. "sweetheart."

It was a lost cause to correct the priss.

"I thought you would've matured by now. Disappointing, really."

"I could be mature, or I could point out the fact that we have fifty points above Ravenclaw."

"I don't mind."

He stalled, and you stopped with him. You didn't really have a choice when he had you under his wing.

He searched your eyes, bewildered. Unsettled, even. "What's on with you?"

You tried to shrug him off but he held fast, fingers practically melded to your arm. "I'm fine, thank you very much. I just don't see the point of upholding this... this–" What was this? You didn't finish the thought before swaying the conversation elsewhere. "We're graduating this year. Might as well set an example for the first-years."

"Our squabbles make it fun for them." On the brink of being offended, he insisted, "They have plenty of examples as is. Kat Godwin sucks the life out of everything, George is best friends with Moaning Myrtle, and Lucy is off talking to the illusive Gray Lady."

You groaned. "That isn't the point."

You made an attempt to shove him, but he caught your hand.

"You have got to start thinking of better ways to express yourself other than hitting or shoving. You should know I always see it coming."

"I can express myself just fine," you respired, yanking your hand away. "But do go ahead. Indulge me. What, pray tell, does that make us?"

Lockwood flourished his free hand as he spoke. "We are 'the arch rivals who makes their problem everyone's problem'. The lower years adore it!"

"Do they?"

In time for your asking, a group of second-years waved at Lockwood, and then to you. He waved back whilst you offered them a terse smile.

One of the girls elbowed her friend. As whispery as her tone was, everyone still heard her. "See? Told you they suit each other."

"They are a couple. Of course, they do," the friend replied.

"Not a couple," you corrected swiftly.

They scurried faster. Before they left the hall, one yelled out, "Just kiss already!"

Despite his matching flush, Lockwood turned to you with a cheeky grin. "You heard them. Let us kiss." He advanced, lips puckered.

You blocked the way with your palm, spreading your fingers until you could push his head back by his forehead. "Yeah– No."

You pried yourself free from his grip to sit with your friends. He didn't fight it, but you weren't surprised that he shouted after you. "But I was right! We have to give the audience what they want!"

"Mr. Lockwood!" Professor McGonagall stood to reprimand him.

You turned away to hide a laugh.

—

The day was lovely. The previous day's rain left a dewy haze in its wake. It was chilly but not cold, and the sun and clouds looked remarkably friendly that morning.

Even then, you didn't know what it was. Your stomach churned for a reason unseen. In the stillness, you could hear a pin drop. You could hear yourself think for once.

Not long after the nagging feeling arrived, you came to the horrific conclusion that Lockwood's absence felt off-putting. You were walking to potions class alone, for the first time in years.

There was no Anthony Lockwood galloping behind you, throwing his arm around you and messing up your hair when you shrug him off. There was no warning as to what your class would be covering that day or a passive-aggressive jab about the most recent Quidditch match.

And, bizarrely, you missed the chaos. You shuddered as the thought struck you.

You held your books tighter and quickened your pace to get to class. When you arrived at Potions, Lockwood-less, your classmates stood to verify the emptiness of the doorway for themselves. Even they were puzzled.

James cocked a brow as you sat and laid out your items without a noise. "Where's lover boy?"

"Using his brain and finally leaving me alone," you responded, wincing at the hint of exasperation in your tone. You didn't mean to sound so dejected, and you definitely didn't intend to slam your things on your desk either. There's a lot of things you didn't intend to do today and 'mentioning Lockwood' was now at the top of that list.

"Mhm," James leaned back in his seat, eyeing you warily. "You don't look too happy."

"I stayed up late doing that essay about counter-potions," you reasoned, having a hard time getting the words out.

James looked pained when you mentioned it. Seconds later, you stifled a laugh when he admitted to forgetting all about that assignment.

Contrary to what you'd promised yourself, Lockwood remained in the back of your mind the entire period.

—

When had Anthony Lockwood ever been interested in Oriana Cai?

That's the first question that popped into your head as you watched him kneel before her with a bouquet of the reddest roses you'd ever seen.

The display was so unexpected, it knocked the air out of your lungs. Your jaw fell slack. James had to pick it up off the ground before you came back to your senses.

In that time, Oriana squealed and clapped, throwing herself forward and strangling the bane-of-your-existence in a hug he enjoyed a little too much. The flowers ended up discarded on the floor.

You had more sense than to gawk. Your chest constricted when Lockwood didn't even acknowledge you as you passed. You shook off the feeling along with the sense of dread you felt from earlier.

His affairs were none of your business, yet, you found yourself thinking about it when you didn't intend to. It's a stake to the heart that his scheduled banter and crude comments were put on hold for whatever that was.

Lockwood had forsaken his seat across from you in favour of sitting with Oriana and her clique. They laughed all through lunch break, his teeth on display, stuck in an unmoving smile.

He looks like a clown, you thought as you skewered a floret of broccoli onto your fork.

You glanced at the professors' table to see if they'd caught onto Lockwood's bizarre behaviour, but they were daft to it.

To any normal person, Lockwood was being a silly boy with a crush. To you, it was abnormal.

Lockwood didn't have the balls to be that forward. How could you say that without sounding obsessed with him?

"If you stare any longer, you might actually burn a hole through his head." James nudged your side and you returned it with a harder shove. "Woah! Cool down, smarty pants. I'm on your side here. I'm just saying, glaring daggers at him won't do much."

"He's being odd," you whispered petulantly.

"I know!" James set his elbow on the table. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Me? Why would I do anything?"

Your eyes landed on Lockwood again. You sucked your teeth before looking away.

James snapped his fingers, forcing you to look up as he pointed an accusatory finger at you. "That. That's why you would do something."

"I don't meddle in Lockwood's affairs. He can do whatever he wants," you said tersely. "If he's so immersed in his romantic life, I might as well get ahead and score more points for my house."

"It bothers you, doesn't it?"

"No." Another unfortunate vegetable faced the wrath of your fork. James flinched. "It doesn't bother me in the slightest."

"If you need me to help, just give me a bell." James vacated his seat, gave your shoulder a firm pat, then went off to check on his cousins, praying none of them caught whatever Lockwood's got.

You stewed in your own thoughts before you gave into temptation and looked at Lockwood for the last time. For lunch, at least.

He blinked rapidly, like there were stars stuck in his eyes. The distorted look on his face dissipated when Oriana popped a wad of gum into his mouth. He chewed and chewed until the colour returned to his face. Redder than before.

You tried to shovel your conspiracies down with your lunch. You even chewed slower to put your focus elsewhere, but you couldn't shake off the dread that roiled in the recess of your mind.

—

"I can extend my essay by three paragraphs," you said to Lockwood in the library, attempting to coax him out of his stupor. "I'd beat your record."

"Yeah." He sighed, daydreaming. He hadn't written anything in his scroll. His competitive spirit died somewhere between his confession and now.

You slid into the seat across from him and waved in his face. He looked right through you, staring at the wall. When you followed his gaze, your expression fell flat.

He wasn't staring at the wall, he was staring at Oriana Cai, again. She wiggled her fingers at him, giggling behind her hand.

The moment she saw you, she didn't even attempt to hide her disdain. Suddenly, the library felt colder than before. For the first time in forever, you couldn't find the right words to explain it.

—

You watched Lockwood's change of behaviour with a scrutinising eye. You managed to pick up on a few things that changed.

First, he was infatuated with Oriana Cai. You caught them snogging the other day and you had to hold your breath to keep your lunch down. So much for decorum.

Second, he'd lost all interest in everything other than his girlfriend. He hadn't mentioned Quidditch in the past week, and he didn't have a modicum of concern for his plummeting scores. It was a scenario you never thought possible.

Lastly, Lockwood had a newly acquired addiction to bubblegum. Not just any type of gum. It was Bombarda of Flavour: Berry Kiss.

With a bit of research, you discovered that BOF was a brand run by Oriana's family. Any sane person would assume that Lockwood was an avid fan of his girlfriend's family business, but you were everything but sane.

When you presented the facts to James, he continued to chew on his liquorice. "And? Where is this going?"

"The sweets are infused with Amortentia," you concluded.

James stopped, stared at his liquorice with distrust, then threw it into a bin. "How can you be so sure?"

"Cai's family runs a gum business. Lockwood's been acting weird since he started chewing the gum Cai brought him. It can't be simple coincidence."

"So, not only are you accusing Cai of spiking gum with amortentia, but her family of being an accessory to misuse of magic as well?"

"They've got to be aware of what she's doing, at least! And they're not stopping her, are they? They're just as guilty," you said fervently.

"Fine," James relented. "How are we going to prove that and save your guy?"

"He's not my guy."

"Sure."

You cleared your throat before sitting down. "We need to steal from the potions classroom."

"You are... insane."

There was a bated silence that followed. You raised your brows at him.

He cracked a smile. "I'm in."

—

Potters had a speciality for breaking rules. You came to that conclusion after James, Albus (James's younger brother), and Scorpius Malfoy managed to steal the ingredients you needed without being caught. They looked quite proud of themselves too.

You wasted no time laying out your theory scrolls and recipe book.

"What's she doing?" Albus asked.

"Saving Lockwood," James answered as-a-matter-of-factly.

"I knew something was wrong with him," Scorpius rasped. "Knew something was up with them too."

You silenced him and ordered James to escort the boys back to their dorm. They didn't go without a fight, but James was experienced enough to wrangle them away.

—

"Lockwood—"

He passed you without a second glance.

Your heart flatlined, but you fought against the feeling and recalled why you were there. You steeled your resolve.

With shining eyes and pulled shoulders, you pivoted and captured his arm. The indifference in his eyes was an arrow passing straight through you.

You had to swallow the lump in your throat to find your voice. "Could you try this for me?"

There was no readily available remedy for amortentia, leaving one with the mere hope that its effects diminish over time. The problem was that Oriana Cai had a continuous supply of bewitching gums intentionally keeping him under her enchantment.

You used all your potions knowledge to concoct a solution that would—cross your fingers—work. It was blended into a scrumptious looking cookie thanks to the expertise of culinary enthusiast, George Karim.

You were worried that he wouldn't even give it a try, but he took the package from your hands.

"Thanks."

He walked away without a second thought. It tore your heart in two, but he accepted the cookie! You raised your arms in triumph, stopping short when he tossed the cookie and its cute wrapper out of the nearest window.

Your excitement plummeted along with it.

—

You took a chapter out of Lockwood's book and persevered. He no longer competed with you to answer the professors' questions, but you took every chance to goad him into a debate. All for naught. He barely did anything anymore.

You tried to cure him several more times with the same anti-Amortentia solution. Three times to be exact: ice cream, soup, and—your most desperate attempt yet—gum.

In the end, he'd throw them all away.

All he would put in his mouth was anything Cai spoon-fed him. It made you want to throttle him.

Lockwood was a capable wizard, and the witch had reduced him to something short of being a man-baby.

On your worst days, you'd reluctantly admitted to missing the banter. Even his annoying grin; the one that rose higher on the right side. The same one that had eluded you since the beginning of term.

The seasons changed. Oriana Cai still had Anthony Lockwood under her thumb.

You melted into the velvet blue couch, sighing to the starlit window of Ravenclaw turret. Even the sheer beauty of the common rooms did little to console you.

You draped your arm over your eyes. "Who knew things were this boring without that pest?"

James, who wasn't even supposed to be allowed into the tower, grasped his chest. "Ouch. What of the rest of us?"

"Rowena!" shouted George. You jumped when he slammed his book shut. "I thought your raving about your books was bad enough. Just tell him you miss him already,"

He was done with you sneaking James in to concoct whatever else you were thinking up. He had lost the plot. At that point, even he was versed in anti-amortentia theory.

"She doesn't miss him," James sighed, bored. "apparently."

"I don't," you said promptly. "Karim, you should be more concerned. Your friend is being spelled into being a muppet."

"I am concerned," George retorted hotly. "But I am so sick of staying up 'till Merlin knows when to find out what you're going to spin into a dish next. I can't even study in peace!"

"We're not that bad, are we?" Looking for backup, you propped your chin over the back of the couch, shooting your most precious smile at your youngsters, Lorcan and Lysander Scamander.

Lorcan shook his head, and Lysander nodded his.

"It's a draw," James chuckled.

Frustration poured from George. "Can you please just find somewhere else to scheme? I want to study and not hear 'Lockwood' every bloody second."

"Fine." You hugged your pile of recipe pages to your chest. "We'll go somewhere we're appreciated."

"Oh, please. Don't go too far. The end of the world doesn't actually exist," George nipped.

James snorted, amused.

You closed the door behind you, finally giving Ravenclaw Tower some much deserved silence.

—

Another crumpled up piece of paper rolled on the rim of the bin before unceremoniously falling out.

You knew your onions, but this was getting tedious. After wasting hours relishing in the staleness of your coffee and the soreness of your fingers, you were just about ready to throw in the towel.

James had left you a bit ago, something about helping Lucy with setting up the flying lesson for the first-years.

They were probably done with it by then and you were still there, trying to brainstorm a method that would knock some sense back into the tosser you called a rival.

About a metre of wasted scroll and dried ink were the results of your efforts. Even then, you didn't reach a plausible solution to your problem.

When you succumbed to your headache and glanced at the clock, the lateness kickstarted your bloodstream. When you stood, you swayed from the dark spots that danced in your vision.

You didn't allow yourself to stay in a haze for too long. You had already missed two and a half classes by the time you broke out of your reverie.

The halls were all empty. You were bound to be in trouble.

You were a punctual student, an excellent student. You were miffed that all it took for you to slip was the absence of a boy. Pathetic. Then again... The boy was what made winning fun.

Your brisk walk quickened to a jog, dreading the inevitability of explaining your tardiness.

"Sweetheart?"

You paused, opening your ears.

Silence.

You scoffed and picked up your stride. Then you heard him again, saying your name. It was odd — odd enough for you to realise that it wasn't a figment of your imagination.

His voice was a trap and you submitted to it too easily. You spun back around to trace the voice and stopped short of the bend. Anyone would have stalled at the rare sight of Oriana Cai angry, her nails sinking into Lockwood's cheeks.

Bile rose to your throat.

Lockwood's back was pushed flush against the wall, he was fervently shaking his head like he was shaking the daze out of his system.

"Quiet!" she commanded him. "Darling, I'm only doing this for us."

His hand closed around her wrist but whatever the potion had done to him left him fatigued. "No, my—" He licked his bottom lip, correcting himself. "She's—"

"Not here! How many times am I going to tell you?"

To your relief, she retracted her nails from him. Your heart started back up when she produced a pack of gum.

"You're better off with me, Ant. I love you, not her. She's nothing but a bitter wench who didn't realise what she had until someone took it from her. See how she only looks for you when we're together? She's selfish!"

"You don't understand," he tried to slap the gum from her hand but she was more sober than he was. For the first time in a long time, the right side of his mouth tipped up. It wounded you. "She needs me. She just won't admit it."

Oriana didn't take it well. Her face bursted in shades of red. Her beautiful features twisted into a grizzly scowl. "None of her!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Your hand quivered as you casted, but your magic did what it was meant to. The gum flew from her hand.

Her glowering face turned to you with killer intent.

"You!" She flew at you. Her billowing robes a thing plucked from your worst nightmares.

Your hand flicked instinctively. "Expecto patronum!"

She shrieked. Your silvery protector crashing against her face.

None of you saw what form it took, but the burst of silver straight into her eyes stunned her long enough for you to run around her and take Lockwood by the arm. His hands quivered; less from adrenaline, more from pure exhaustion. You could almost feel his pulse under your palm.

You coaxed him to muster his strength. "Come on, you barbarian. We need to get help."

The chuckle he let out was pathetic, but it's familiar enough to make you crack a smile. There's your Lockwood after all. He wasn't all gone.

"Knew you'd save me," he rasped. You held him tighter when he stumbled. He held on with what strength he could muster. "You always do."

Not the time to disarm you with a statement like that. An angry stupefy soared overhead, quickly followed by what you assumed was the cruciatus curse. You grunted when an angry zap nicked your side.

You held onto Lockwood and he held onto you, both clattering down the longest steps of your lives. An inspired, deranged girl at your heels.

"Give me my boyfriend back!" She shrieked, casting a fury of spells at you. The echo of the halls amplified her bellows. "He's mine! I earned him!"

He tripped on a lifted tile, leaning on you as you rushed for the landing.

Your heartbeat made it's way to your ears. Every breath felt forced. You pushed ahead, dragging Lockwood's weight down every winding twist in the moving steps.

A very explosive bombarda forced you to stagger back and reconsider your escape route. Only, there was no escape route. The changing stairwells had you and Lockwood trapped on a landing.

Oriana descended like an angel made from her own delusions.

Your lungs struggled to take in air with an unbearable stitch in your aide. Lockwood collapsed to his knees, drained of energy. As his eyes fought to stay open, he clung to your hand like it was his lifeline.

You shifted to hide his crumpled form from Cai.

"You've had your chance, Scarecrow." Cai laughed, on the brink of tears. In her eyes, she was as innocent as a girl who simply had something swiped from her. "He was at your knees for years! Why can't you let him be happy with me? Give him to me, please..."

Your jaw tensed. The lick of anger in your chest stoked to a fire the longer she spoke.

"He's not an object," you managed without spitting flames. "He can feel what he wants, when he wants. If he wishes to walk away from me after all this... I wouldn't blame him. But casting a spell on him? That's not love, Cai. It isn't love. You're trapping him."

Cai's nose flared. "What a saint! Sorry, should I let him grieve something he never had with you? You're blind to not see it. You ruined him! This is the only way. I can help him if you just let me—"

Something moved in your periphery. A mop of black hair, the best wingman in Hogwarts.

You were on the verge of a smile, feeling your adrenaline decrescendo. "Your family, they know what you're doing?"

She grinned. "My family supports my decisions. Contrary to yours, I hear. They agree that you're a heartless witch, and a dose of amortentia should fix him for me."

Your breath hitched. Lockwood clenched your hand, bringing you back.

"For your information," your lip twitched. "I'm an Eagle, not a Scarecrow. Get your house representatives right."

You collapsed the moment a barrier surged around her, her screaming muffled by the incantations.

James came down the steps in stride with Professor Flitwick.

"Not 'your guy', huh?" James taunted, crouching beside you. You offered him a tight-lipped smile.

Professor Flitwick fortified his barrier before he addressed you. "Splendid patronus. You're the first to project your voice and have it travel as far as it did. I expected no less from our ace student. As for Ms. Cai..." He looked at her with pinched brows.. He wasn't sure what to do, really. There had never been a situation that drastic before. "She will be penalised accordingly."

The weight on your shoulders lifted, but a new one came just as quick. You straightened your back to support Lockwood's limp weight.

The warmth of his breath fanned your neck, a feeling that made your stomach churn for all the wrong reasons. He still smelt like the berry-flavoured gum that got him into this mess in the first place.

The same mess that had made you miss a few classes for the first time in six years.

With the last of your energy, you raised a trembling hand. "Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Are we considered tardy?"

He pushed his glasses higher up his nose before replying. "That should be the least of your troubles, you." Professor Flitwick turned to your friend. "James Potter?"

James saluted. "I've got them, prof."

"Please refrain from calling me 'prof', Mr Potter."

"Yes, prof."

—

Madame Pomfrey had a lot to say about the unforthcoming mess that was Lockwood, post-Amortentia.

For the better part of the appointment, Madame Pomfrey concluded that Lockwood wasn't severely altered by the prolonged exposure to love potion. For the worse part, he was advised to sit out of anything too physically demanding until he felt like himself again.

"But how can I feel like myself without Quidditch?" he agonised, as if you beheld all the answers.

You were forced to hear it, seeing as you were roommates until Madame Pomfrey declared you both stable enough to go free.

You buried yourself into the stiff pillows of the medical ward. "A week of rest and observation isn't as bad as the months you were bewitched, honestly."

"Pray, how can it be worse?"

You lifted your head. "Ever read out a lengthy love poem in the middle of the dining hall?"

"No..."

Your lips tipped up. "Yes."

He shut his eyes and splayed his hand over his head, trying to wash out the visualisation of actually doing that for all of Hogwarts to see.

"End me," he rasped.

"If you insist," your smile stretched. "You recited one for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Every. Single. Day."

He slapped another hand over his face. "Oh... what have I done to deserve this?"

"Caught the eye of a loony, apparently. It was horrid. I felt sorry for you."

"Don't patronise me."

You jerked a finger at him. "I earned the right. I got a nasty laceration in my side for you. Unwillingly, might I add."

His arms fell away, honeyed eyes set on you. "Please, if you were unwilling, you wouldn't have tried so hard to save me."

"If I left you for dead, I would be a monster."

"A very pretty one," he chimed.

"So you can still pull that drivel out of your arse. Good to know we didn't lose you."

"Say what you will." He crossed his arms behind his head, smiling like a jester. "I know you have a place for me in that shrivelled, darkened heart of yours."

"My heart isn't shrivelled or darkened," you said defiantly.

He quirked a brow, smirking. "You correct that but not the fact that I have a place in it?"

"You—" You opted to chuck your emptied juice carton at him.

In classic Lockwood fashion, he caught the carton in his hand and waved it triumphantly. "Try again, sweetheart. I know your habits like I know the back of my hand."

You raised a not-so-friendly finger and slid your curtain to hide yourself from his view. Still, you heard his laughter, loud and alive.

You weren't aware of how much you'd missed it until you caught yourself smiling.

—

Anthony Lockwood was the kind of child who would climb up the slide. Not because it was fun, but because he liked the thrill of breaking the rules.

Some things never changed, because he had convinced you to accompany him on a night fly while Madame Pomfrey was off collecting herbs from the green house.

You had flown through the worst weather while playing Quidditch, but it struck you that you'd never been out this late. Not one-on-one with Lockwood, at least.

It was a terrible, unsafe idea, but he had a way with words. He made it seem like a once in a lifetime opportunity. You weren't sure whether that was true, since he did use his prefect status to sneak into places he wasn't allowed into.

You knew that turning around was crossed off your list the moment he broke into the closet and extracted your broom for you.

"I have a hard time believing you've never done this before," you whispered as you took in the sight of the Quidditch Pitch, void of life and light.

It was a haunting sight, but Lockwood had been right about it being a once in a lifetime scene. The moon was the only guiding light, drowning everything in a seductive mauve colour. It brought out the beauty of sparse light and silhouettes, you almost believed you stepped into one of your fantasy novels.

He flashed his teeth at you before he vaulted over the partition and traipsed across the grass. His trusty broom already levitating by his side. "I've never done this with you before, if that's what you're asking."

It wasn't, but you didn't want to know who else would join Lockwood in his idiocy.

You followed suit and mounted your broom, allowing yourself to rise several metres to feel the bite of the nocturnal chill.

"It's an amazing feeling, isn't it?" Lockwood shouted, his two feet still on the ground.

"I'm not going to admit that I enjoy breaking the rules," you responded, flying modest circles while taking in the scene.

While the wind whistled in your ears and tousled your hair, he wheeled a box out of storage and flipped the latches.

You squinted, trying to see what he was doing but his back was covering the contents of the box.

"What's that?"

A golden streak of light veered away from him. Even as the breeze bellowed in your ear, you could hear its tinkling wings.

The Snitch.

"Can't have fun without a challenge," Lockwood said. His boisterous laughter echoed in your ears as he hopped onto his broom and zoomed up, up, and up, already chasing the golden menace.

He passed you, his robes grazing your elbow. You didn't think twice. You gave chase, following the direction you had seen the Snitch blitz to.

Lockwood's curls fought against velocity. You were almost tempted to comment on it before you saw a glimmer in the corner of your eye.

You and Lockwood swerved at the same time. Waves of black, blue, and green flagged through darkness as you bent forward, urging your trusty broom to overtake Lockwood's. You were closing in on the Snitch, stretching your hand to reach for it.

It's buzzing crescendoed in your ears, forcing your blood to pump as Lockwood did the same.

Oh, so close.

The Snitch brushed your fingertips before it zagged. Spinning in the air before rushing right at you.

You bent your body, narrowly missing a Snitch to the nose. The same couldn't be said for Lockwood.

You heard the thump of the collision before you saw him clutching his mouth. It was futile for you to hold in a laugh.

"You alright?"

His glare only made you laugh harder.

"Ouch," he hissed, taking his hand away from his mouth.

You snorted after seeing the damage.

Luckily, nothing was broken, but there was a faint pink smudge across his bottom lip and cheek.

You raised a brow. "You wear lipstick?"

"It's lip balm," he said haughtily, wiping away the smudge. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No," You held a laugh long enough to reach across to wipe the smidge he couldn't quite swipe away. He stiffened at your touch. You did your best to hold in a reaction of your own. "I just didn't expect you to be a lip balm sort of guy."

"Do I look like a lipstick guy?" he inquired, regaining himself. "Thank you for thinking so, but you can keep your pigmented cosmetics to yourself. They look better on you anyway."

"Complimenting me now? You're sure your noggin's alright, chap?"

"Don't 'chap' me, sweetheart. It makes me feel old."

"I thought you liked the seniority," you taunted. "'Being in seventh-year means the youngest look up to us' and all. Your words, not mine."

"You're a real ray of sunshine, aren't you?"

You gasped, clutching your chest. "How can you say that when the moon is out?"

"Oh, bother." He bristled. "You've shown greater concern for the moon's feelings than you have mine for the past six years. You wound me."

"That's because the moon listens. You never do," you pointed out.

"I do," he replied. "Only for things that matter."

"So, the camel-llama debate didn't matter?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "You're still on that?"

"I always will be. What muggle can't tell those animals apart? You should be ashamed."

"We were eleven!"

"Old enough for you to have admitted defeat, but no! You kept getting them wrong and saying you were right." He pinched his nose as you went on. "Then you started bothering me because you couldn't admit defeat. Now look at us. Six years later and I'm still right."

His eyes met yours, creased with an impending smile. "When we passed the hourglasses, Slytherin was ten points above Ravenclaw."

"You prat—"

Your head was thrown sideways as a flit of gold smashed into you. Your lip pulsed. Luckily, you had the mind to stretch your hand and catch the golden bugger.

The Snitch fought in your grip. Eventually, its wings tucked in. Then, a bated silence. Only for a moment. Lockwood snorted as you massage your jaw.

You gave him a nasty glare. "Not a word."

"I wasn't going to say anything," he lied. "Except, your lipstick smeared."

"Rowena..."

"Here, let me."

He sported a boyish grin as he reached across, mirroring your actions from earlier. You swatted him away and he simply laughed in response.

—

With your feet on the grass, you were glad to be done with your excursion; More relieved that he let you take the win.

You're not sure a bleeding lip was worth it though, but, at least, it was over.

After packing up the Snitch and putting away your brooms (plus making it seem like you two had never been there at all), you started the walk back up to the castle's medical ward.

Somewhere on the cobblestone path, Lockwood had drawn a curious notebook and quill from his robes. "So," he flipped to a page that had been sectioned into two, scored by stick lines. "What have I missed while I was bewitched?"

You eyed the notebook. "Is that... a tally?"

"Yes," he replied. "Now, what did I miss? I had one up on you before my memories went hazy."

"Just start a new one," you urged him.

Thinking of what you achieved while he was out of it was in the same league as winning a race against a slug. There was no fulfilment.

"C'mon," Lockwood cajoled, stepping closer to you. "I've been tallying since fourth year."

You raised a brow. "Fourth year?"

"The class on the Patronus charm inspired me," he replied. "Since we're always butting heads, having a tally made it feel official."

"How do I know you haven't picked your wins and excluded mine?"

"Have you no faith in me?"

"Do you want a real answer?"

He pursed his lips, earning a laugh from you.

"I respect you, you know. Even if you are the way you are," he told you, turning the notebook to show you the tally.

The first column was his score. The second one beheld 'vexation' instead of your name. The scores were neck-and-neck, save for the singular tick on his side that put him in the lead.

He quickly drew one more stick under your column, putting you two at a draw once more. "I'll count this impromptu Quidditch match, on the condition that you won't tell a soul that it was me who snuck out first."

"You must be dedicated," you chortled. "Just count from here on out. I haven't done much, honestly."

He quirked a brow, speaking slowly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Why are you talking like that?"

"Nothing. I'm just surprised." He closed the notebook and pocketed it with his quill. "You're usually more competitive."

"That's when I don’t spend an afternoon running for my life, Lockwood."

"You make a fair point."

You were making your way into the thresh of the castle now. The torches warmed the air, thawing the chill as you flounced forth.

There was a peace in the silence and a sweetness in the solitude. You felt Lockwood's hand brush yours and found that you enjoyed it more than you thought. Not that you would say anything about it.

You're not sure whether he caught on to the lilt of your lips before he threw his arm over your shoulders, just like old times.

This time, it felt different. The heat he let off was a juxtaposition to the bite of the night, and you found yourself melting into him even more.

You would have been fine in the quiet, but Lockwood had never been friends with it.

"George told me you were scheming to cure me. How were you planning to do that exactly?"

He kicked a pebble out of your way. You withheld the urge to smile.

"It was an amplified version of a regular love potion reversal. Same one we did research work on last year."

"What did you change?"

"Thrice the dose of rosemary and dried salamander. I also added a touch of pig tongue."

"Wouldn't doubling the wormroot do the same thing?"

"No," you scoffed. "That would expel the fragrance, but it wouldn't counteract the effects of the love potion."

"Doesn't the dried salamander do that?"

"Rosemary thins out the viscosity of the love potion and the dried salamander washes down the magic that messes with your thought process."

He smiled but there was no commitment in it. "Apologies, I'm no love potion whiz."

"Next thing you know, you'll be telling me crushed jasmine will cure insanity."

"I get it, sweetheart. That doesn't explain the pig tongue."

"I was hoping the horrid taste would wake you up from your delusions."

"I think it would have worked."

"It would have," you boasted, "if you had any sense in you to try."

He chuckled, apologising in smiles. Lockwood closed the distance by ruffling your hair. You waved him away, but that did little to stop him.

"You got the higher mark on that research paper," he recalled.

"I did." You glowed with pride. "As is always the case for Potions, and Transfiguration, and Charms—"

"What are you planning to do when we're done with Hogwarts?"

His expression turned dire, like he had been agonising over when to ask the fated question. It might have been a trick of the light, but his eyes glazed.

You considered his question for a moment. "I'm expanding into healing magic." Just envisioning how far your knowledge could go brought a smile to your face. "I'm good at the cardinal subjects for healing. I enjoy them enough to see myself heading in that direction."

"That's serious," he said, genuinely taken by your answer. "You have to be recommended by a professor to take on a role at a hospital or ward, don't you?"

You tried to keep your smile humble. "I already have a recommendation."

He tilted his head so you could see the surprise on his face. "Really? Who?"

"Madame Pomfrey. I'll be her apprentice next year. Hopefully, I'll move to St. Mungo's in a few years."

"Funny," he jested, bumping your hip with his. "What would she say to the bludgers you've batted at me?"

"Your insults about me are tantamount to nothing in her eyes. She adores me."

"Because you're a kiss-up?"

You stopped, jabbing a finger at his chest. "Because I have wit."

His lips lilted into that smile you knew so well. The right of his mouth rose higher than the left, short of turning into a smirk. "You have a lot more than wit, sweetheart."

Your heart did unspeakable things. For a heart-stalling moment, you forgot to say something back.

You looked at him, he looked at you. He was closer than you'd thought. Lockwood was unfairly dashing in torch light. Windswept hair, sweat on his brow, and everything.

He seemed to drift closer and closer, but it's you who inched forward. The lesser the distance, the more honest you felt.

His eyes dipped to your lips and—

A shriek, high and shrill, broke the spell. Both you and Lockwood leapt apart. You dusted off your cloak and he rubbed his nape.

The shrieking voice returned. "Dragon!"

Dragon?

You lurched for the entrance. You couldn't see much in the mouth of the castle. Neither could Lockwood, but you felt it. The buzz before the chase, the stacking of adrenaline and the thrill of trouble creeping up on you.

Your eyes locked with his, and you knew you're thinking the same thing.

When the winds of a Romanian Longhorn flattened the trees and blew out the torches, it was the flag at the beginning of a race. You and Lockwood were running for it.

—

You found that sprinting in the dark was akin to swimming upstream. You'd tripped over several roots and rocks, and you still haven't found which pocket you hid your wand in. It was a humbling experience, being in the throes of losing something with extension charms in your robes.

After furiously tapping himself down, Lockwood found his. He flicked his wand and yelled into the air, "Accio Brooms!"

"Why didn't we do that earlier?"

Lockwood flashed a smile. "We have an excuse to destroy the storage room door now."

You were on the verge of yelling. "How would we explain why we're out here?"

"Don't think too hard, you'll hurt yourself." He made another gesture with his wand before a glow illuminated from the tip of it — lighting up the path. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there, sweetheart. We have a dragon to catch."

As the Lumos rose in intensity, the path turned treacherous. The cobbled walkway was turning into pointed stones and angry branches. The trees began to move, contorting into all sorts of grotesque shapes and snares.

Lockwood had taken the lead, taking the brunt of their greedy clutches. You had to grab the back of his robe to make sure he didn't get snatched away by the foliage.

You would have buckled at the wooden stakes that bent toward you if your brooms hadn't snapped through their grappling, snapping inferior splinters before you found your grip.

The uptake was sharp, desperate to get away from the furious trees. You clung to your broom and swallowed down the urge to retch.

Lockwood, who had levelled beside you, looked fine. You would have thrown a rock at him if you weren't turning green.

He set a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles as he surveyed the area. You appreciated the gesture.

"It's heading for the Quidditch Pitch. If we get there fast enough, we can trap it there. Easier to manage in a controlled area."

"It's a dragon, Lockwood. It would burn the place down." You straighten up ever so slightly. "On top of that, it's a Romanian Longhorn."

"I know. Endangered species. We'll have to be cautious. She could turn us into a kebab." His lips tilted into a smile. "I wager we can tame her in less than an hour."

You exhaled the last of your nausea. A grin forming on your face. "Think half."

"Ambitious, aren't we?"

You flew forward, seeing the whiskers of fire curling in the distance. "Scared, serpent boy?"

There were flames in his eyes as he sped ahead, robes soaring behind him. "Never!"

—

"You distract her. I stun her," Lockwood prompted as soon as the Quidditch Pitch came into view.

Metres above you, the Longhorn huffed plumes of smoke down on you. You tried to be quiet, but you did have qualms with Lockwood's plan.

"You're the faster flyer, why am I the distraction?"

He pointed at his chest, like that was the answer. "I'm still recovering."

"That's rich!" You still haven't found your wand and the tosser was playing sick. "You dragged me out here to fly thirty minutes ago. Don't give me that."

"What? I can't hear you!" He veered further from you. "You're the most capable witch of our age. There is no one else I'd do this with!"

He was gone from sight before you could bump him off of his broom.

Then again, you'd rather die fighting than die a sitting duck. You angled your broom up, zooming into the beast's sight before it spotted Lockwood.

Its breath was sulphur against your skin, fighting the chill but lighting a spark of fear. Its pondering yellow eyes circled on you before its mouth creaked open.

"Lockwood, work quickly!"

In a dragon chase, one must remember three things: your size advantage, the dragon's breath hurt as much as its fire, and the dragon can and will play dirty.

You were an agile flyer, ducking whenever the strokes of its inner fire hurled for you, but even you had to exercise all of your flyer's knowledge to evade its claws. A swipe, a lick of flames, a swipe, another swipe — it was practically toying with you.

The only good thing that came with it playing with its food was the fact that you had lured it right where you wanted it.

The Quidditch Pitch was gargantuan compared to the juvenile specimen. You just hoped the place wouldn't go up in flames.

You hadn't seen Lockwood in a good minute, almost believing he'd shirked you, but then you glimpsed a flicker of serpent green in your periphery and ease up.

Before long, the dragon grew tired of the play and decided that she wanted to sink her teeth into something real.

You felt a nip at the end of your broom and zagged in the air. You steadied your mount before feeling your blood rush faster.

She was snapping at you. You chanced a glance and found the black in her eyes flattened to slits, hunger dancing in the embers of them.

"Lockwood!" you cried, narrowly dodging an eager claw. "Double time!"

"I found a soft spot! Give me a minute!"

"We don't have that much time," you surmised based on the increased momentum of the beast's strikes.

After a full turn-around to swing her tail at you, you dove. Nose aimed right down to the grass. You didn't even want to look back and see how close she was.

Gravity would be on her side but pulling up now could mean flying right into her furnace of a mouth. You didn't know which gruesome death was the lesser of two evils.

In the distance, you heard Lockwood. "Stupefy!"

The dragon nipped on your broom once more before you felt a tug on your robe. Your grip slipped, your broom flew in the opposite direction. Leaving you to crash and roll into the grass, ignoring the pain of carpet burn as you helped yourself onto your feet.

You didn't get far before your legs collapsed, your whole body weight crashing on your shoulder. You were never the type to go down without a fight. You kept kicking in a desperate attempt to escape the giant.

"Lockwood!"

"Wait for me!"

You felt its breath. Molten and fear-rushing, melting the hair on your legs as you watched your own reflection in its eye.

And then, its head hit the ground and its jaw lulled. Craning open but never snapping, just barely missing your foot as you pulled your limbs towards yourself.

The lines on Lockwood's face were deeper when you laid eyes on him. When he saw that you were alright, his expression flipped like a switch. A smile formed on his face, like you didn't almost lose your life.

He hopped off of his broom and approached.

"I didn't know you could look scared."

"I was almost a dragon's dinner," you spat.

You didn't fight him as he hooked his arms under yours and hauled you up. He kept an arm around you while the feeling returned to your legs.

He chuckled in a way that could make anyone believe he was faultless. "Sorry. It was a bother finding a soft spot. This big girl has pretty solid armour for a juvenile."

"That is the last time I ever follow your instructions. I knew getting mixed up with you was a death sentence."

"Yet," he chirped, brushing off the soot remains of the edges of your hood. "you're standing here, alive."

"I regret trusting you."

"No, you don't." He flourished a hand at the slumbering beast. "Just look at what putting your heads together did."

"It won't stay asleep forever," you whispered.

Just standing there, right at the alcove of its jaw, felt like standing on the tightrope of death. Suffice it to say, you wanted to be elsewhere.

You tasted the sweet, cool air as you replenished the oxygen in your lungs. Annoyance crept in as you realised that, despite your best efforts, you were still heaving. Adrenaline refusing to crest.

You tried to shove Lockwood but he had caught your arm. "Had to wait 'till the last minute, didn't you?" you nipped.

"I just told you, it's not easy to look for a chink in a dragon's scales. Be optimistic. I could have let her take your legs."

"You wouldn't."

"You're right, I wouldn't, but it's nice to imagine that I could be spiteful."

You snorted, trying not to flinch as the beast blinked its bleary eyes at you. "Let's put the big guy to sleep. Whoever takes care of him must be worried."

"She's a lady," Lockwood corrected.

You forced a smile. "My apologies, I didn't have the time to check in the midst of my near-delimbing."

"Easy mistake." He shrugged. "How about we tie up those loose ends?"

"We would've had it done by now if you stopped chattering."

"Last I checked, you were chattering back."

"You—"

The dragon blew out a warm breath, chilling you. You would've crumpled if Lockwood wasn't holding you up.

"Never you mind," you rectified. "You know the Sleeping Trance Charm, don't you?"

He balanced you on one arm, his hold snaking around your waist. With his free hand, he raised his wand at the dragon. "How to Pacify A Dragon 101. Of course, I do."

"Semi-circle motions," you reminded as the giant gold eyes blinked at you.

"I know that already, sweetheart. You know," Lockwood trailed off. His eyes landed on you. You ignore it for the sake of your already racing heart. "We make a pretty good team."

You allowed yourself a smile. "When you're not being insufferable."

"You always think I'm insufferable."

"So, you are self-aware."

"Oh, shut up." He didn't sound like he meant it.

The world must have been pitted against you, because the drowse in the dragon's eyes disappeared before Lockwood could even mutter the spell.

Its jaws widened, and Lockwood pulled you back just before they snapped. Half a foot from taking a chunk out of you and Lockwood.

"That's not good," Lockwood grunted. He accioed his broom closer. By how hard he was pulling you, you assumed he was trying to get you to clamber on as well.

That would be dooming the two of you. Being a singular target was like turning yourselves into a barbeque.

You pushed him away, catching the panic in his eyes for a moment.

You threw your arms out, signalling him away. "Go!"

Lockwood stalled, hand on his broom. "But—"

"Go!"

He mounted reluctantly. Taking off to grab the Longhorn's attention while you were squabbling for your broom.

When you found it, your worst fears were confirmed. The world really did want you dead.

Your broom was snapped clean in two after colliding with the base of the highest hoop. Mourning your trusted companion wasn't an option, because the dragon had spotted you. Its neck craned, rearing like a snake before it struck.

You tapped your pockets, desperate to find your wand. Not in that pocket, not in that one—

At long last, you fished it out of your most unused pocket. You pointed its end at the beast but a flash of green and silver disrupted your vision.

A tug on your arm and the feeling of rising winds brought you to the present. Lockwood had grabbed you and given you a seat on his broom, saving you from a very fiery end. The patch of grass you were standing on was charred to a crisp.

"Calm down, sweetheart. I can feel you shaking." His mouth was at your ear. You shrunk even more to hide from his view.

Your heart lurched as the Romanian Longhorn roared. You leaned closer to Lockwood, feeling the steady lub-dub through his shirt. It sang your anxieties to repose.

"We need a new plan," you told him, trying to keep your mind in one place. "I don't think she'll fall for another one of our two-person schemes."

"We're one broom down, so, how do you suggest we do that?"

You two watched as the Longhorn stretched its wings, kick starting your panic.

Lockwood leaned forward and tapped your leg. "Hold on tight."

Your hands on the broom fastened until your knuckles turned bloodless.

With renewed determination, he said, "We have to try the Sleeping Trance Charm again."

"While it's wide awake?"

"I'm sorry, would you like to ask her to sit and make it easier for us?"

You pinched his arm in response. The gesture was returned with Lockwood twisting his broom to have you two dangling upside down. One hand jutted out and grabbed Lockwood by the cloak.

"Lockwood, you prat!"

"Say sorry."

"You — Gah! Sorry!"

He smirked as he righted the broom.

Given a new perspective, you wheezed. "We have to do something before it burns down the whole pitch."

"We could summon the rest of the brooms," Lockwood suggested.

He flew higher as the Longhorn swiped for your legs.

"That would just make a mess. She can burn them. Then we'd have a bigger mess to clean up, plus a debt to whoever owns those brooms."

"Well..." Lockwood looked down at the dragon. "I could offer a special deal on pens to rack up enough pounds to pay it back."

"Pens?"

"A muggle writing device. Better and cleaner than ink and quill," he quipped. "I sell them to earn a few pounds. Don't give me that disapproving look, I gave you one for your birthday."

You reeled. "That's what it was? I didn't think 'pens' looked like that. They're supposed to be made of metal, no?"

"The archaic ones, yes. Now, there are plastic, ballpoint pens."

"Why are we talking about this? We can be turned into crispy bacon at any second now."

"Sweetheart, it's either we sacrifice the brooms or we turn into bacon, as you so nicely put it."

Your heart lurched. "My mother would kill me if we fell into debt, Lockwood. Thinking about it now, she'd behead me if she finds out about this mess."

He was genuinely perplexed by the fear that laced your voice. "I thought you were from a pureblood family."

"I am!" You trilled, sounding like you needed to prove something. "But things aren't that easy. Things are earned."

"They would understand. This is a life or death situation here!"

"No, I– Just– We can't."

"Okay..." He did his best to calm you down. It didn't help that he could practically feel the dragon's breath at this distance. "We ditch that idea. How's a firework charm?"

"Yes! Good idea."

You readied your wand. Only to stop short as silver-blue figures circled the dragon. It didn't take a genius to spot a patronus, a handful of them. You spotted a silvery cat crash into the dragon's side.

A non-corporeal patronus materialised at your side, speaking with the voice of Professor Flitwick. "Do your best not to use explosives. Her caregiver's orders."

More patronuses rose like shrouds of smoke and magic, disorienting the dragon in the midst of them. Some were fully manifested, some were faint — like they had been casted by a novice.

One look down confirmed your thoughts. Students and teachers alike were casting patronuses to keep you and Lockwood from turning into Dragon Dinner. Others were busy casting a large-scale protego to isolate the creature.

The Romanian Longhorn's only choice was to fly higher and higher. Lockwood followed, strategically hiding behind patronuses as they passed.

"You have your wand?" Lockwood inquired as the air began to thin. Breathing was a task you had to do consciously to stay awake.

"Of course, I do."

"This is our chance," he told you. He poised his wand.

You raised yours, too. "I'll cast a patronus to hide the glow of the Sleeping Trance Charm."

"Here's to hoping we keep all of our limbs."

He eased closer. You readied yourself, going through all of your best memories. You didn't go back to thoughts of your favourite books or your academics—No. Your mind kept circling back to your earlier moments with Lockwood: the sneaking out, the snitch, that moment at the threshold...

Blue sand trickled from the tip of your wand. Kicking up magic that twisted into the form of a crane. Your brows furrowed as you muttered the enchantment again, only for the patronus to stretch its wings and soar towards the dragon.

You threw a glance at Lockwood from over your shoulder. "I told you I would cast the patronus."

"You are," Lockwood quipped. He did a terrible job of hiding his smile, voice pressed like he was using the last of his air to say it. "That's your patronus."

"No, it's yours." Your tone lacked conviction, and substance — seeing as the crane did burst from your wand.

Lockwood chanced a glance at you, giving you a glimpse of that smirky smile that you'd recognize even in another life. "Have something you need to tell me, sweetheart?"

"Piss off," you said. You pulled his cheek forward, forcing him to face the winds of the dragon he was supposed to be charming. "Focus on what you have to do!"

"We'll get back to this."

He aimed at the dragon and muttered, "Dormitus."

Its eyes were locked on your patronus, following its path, unaware of its eyelids drooping and its waving wings slowing.

Slowly, the dragon began to lose altitude. Closer and closer to the ground as students and professors scuttled out of the way.

The winds dissipated as it laid its scaled head on the grass, finally quelled.

You expelled a breath you were holding in. Lockwood did the same, you felt his chest flush against your back as he laxed.

Lockwood landed a ways away and dismounted first, helping you off but never actually letting you go. Your connected hands dropped between you as you both took the time to calm your heartbeats.

A deranged laugh slipped from your lips. "If you weren't such a danger magnet, you'd have a promising future as an auror."

He looked at you, a confusing mix of disbelief and hope on his face. "You mean that?"

You shrugged with a lipped smile. Not even his habit of looking at the floor could hide his smile from you. You could see it clearly as the sun rose higher.

The moment of peace was interrupted by the furious shuffling of boots on grass. You raised your heads and spotted the unmistakable figures of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Hagrid.

"There you are." Lockwood said charmingly, casting a smile to match. "We were just about to come and ask what we should do about this—"

McGonagall called you both by name. Even you flinched at her vehemence.

"Why, I never!" She looked between you, clear aggravation carved into the lines of her face. "In all my years, I have never seen such a display of recklessness! You could have died. How could we ever explain that to your parents?"

You watched Lockwood's smile widen. A precursor to him saying, "Professor, with all due respect, my parents are dead."

Professor McGonagall was speechless, momentarily at a loss.

You took the chance to fill in the silence. "And I do believe Mr. Harry Potter has done worse."

Her eyes hardened as she wound her cloak tighter around herself. "I apologise for my earlier statement, Mr. Lockwood, but this kind of disobedience and endangerment cannot be tolerated. I expect you both to know where this is leading."

"Cleaning the toilets?" you two said in sync.

"Worse," Professor McGonagall looked quite proud of herself. "Detention."

You and Lockwood sobered.

"Professor, I'm a prefect," Lockwood reasoned. "And still in recovery."

"And I'm your best student," you chipped in. "Certainly, that means something."

McGonagall tipped her chin. "Then you'll be pleased to hear that the pair of you are the first to make it to detention with those accomplishments." Her tone turned frosty. "Friday evening. You know which room. Good day."

You were still reeling when Professor Flitwick motioned to his mouth. "You two should clean yourselves up, lest some misunderstand the smudges on your lips."

Hagrid flashed you two a friendly smile as you and Lockwood disconnected arms to swipe at your lips.

—

Detention didn't last too long. After a good three debates where you and Lockwood vaulted between being friends, being enemies, and being on the brink of committing murder, the kind, ghostly professor in charge let you free for his own sanity.

—

By the time you two returned to your regularly scheduled programming, Cai had been expelled and given a fancy room in St. Mungo's. Lockwood was properly compensated by the BOF company, and the pair of you received an additional fee to assure your silence. You gave your word, but one, James Potter, never made the pact. He reported the happenings to his father and promptly had the company shut down for misuse of magic.

Best wingman, indeed.

In the aurora of a half-realised friendship, you allowed Lockwood to keep his arm on your shoulder as a form of gratitude. He took every chance he got to practise his privilege.

He pulled you closer, practically nuzzling your hair. "You do appreciate me, after all."

"Barely," you replied.

The admission was enough to bring a smile to his face. If you got too soft, he'd assume you transformed into someone else entirely.

Lockwood, himself, had returned to his usual self; disputing you in class, outdoing your word counts, and (a recent development) stealing your quills to replace them with pens. How the professors didn't notice was beyond you.

You missed the banter and the thrill of the competition, but not the dingy smell of the DADA classroom. It was as pungent as always.

"Seventh years." The Professor's tone was different compared to the hundred lessons you've had before this. Dare you say she even sounded melancholic. There's a gaggle of students that laughed about it but she was more lenient, she said nothing to them. "This is your last year in Hogwarts and your last year under my tutelage. This year, we focus on practicality and efficiency. Using your knowledge against another witch or wizard."

She flicked her wand and the crowd parted, pulled in opposite directions by invisible hands.

Gasps rang out, friends clung closer to each other, and you grabbed Lockwood's sleeve when you were shoved aside. His arm dropped to support your weight by the small of your back.

You looked up and he was smiling down at you, the right side of his smile higher than the left. Familiar. Though, he was rather close.

You opened your mouth to complain, only to shudder at the sound of glass breaking. The chandelier above fell, and Professor proceeded to transfigure it into a glass cage of sorts.

She looked pleased with herself as the crystalline cage settled into a dome shape, resting both hands on her wand as she beamed at the parted crowd. "Today, we duel!"

You covered your ears at the sheer volume of your classmates' bellows. Several students looked forward to this day. They could finally let loose and cast spells like they were meant to. The girl to your right bit the end of her wand, looking a lot like a panther ready to lunge.

You grimaced and sent your prayers to Rowena Ravenclaw to save you from the hungry ones.

"Looking forward to it?" Lockwood asked, glueing himself to the spot next to you, chivalrously blocking you from the onslaught of moving bodies.

You could barely see him because the lights have been dimmed to bring all eyes to the duelling cage. You didn't know why you were even searching for his eyes in the first place.

"No," you finally answered. Your eyes landed on the cage, catching the faint veins of blue shift in and out of existence around it. Kind of like the webs of light at the surface of muggle pools. You would have missed them if you weren't squinting. "I aspire to be a healer. This is the type of thing I advise against."

He caught on to the magic, too. "Don't stress too much. The cage is enchanted to snuff out all malignant magic to avoid injury."

"How do you know?"

"That's a large-scale protego charm. Knowing the professor, she tweaked it to limit anyone who goes too far." He nudged your side. You heard the smirk in his tone. "Not bad for an aspiring auror, right?"

"Right," you agreed.

You didn't expect him to sputter. You shushed him when several heads turned your way.

"What was that?"

He patted down his robe, like it would help him collect himself. "That was surprise, sweetheart. I didn't expect you to agree with me."

"Are you suggesting that I'm unnegotiable?"

"No," he answered. "You simply... oppose me most of the time—all of the time."

"You're very easy to oppose. I just pick the choice that has a lower mortality rate. You always seem to be doing dangerous things, Mr. Lockwood."

"I'm Mr. Lockwood now, huh?" That smile again.

"Yes, you are."

"Could you call me that more often?"

His smile made you conscious. You crossed your arms over your chest, like that would protect you. "Why?"

"I like how it sounds," he replied. "I'd do just about anything to hear it again."

"Hm..." Your eyes drifted to the sparks of spells being swished back and forth. The cage turned into a mirrorball. "Win your match."

Lockwood drew himself up to full height, rolling his shoulders back with a confident grin. "Easy."

"Really? Easier than being love-spelled by a fangirl?"

Your stomach turned. That's how you knew you'd said something wrong. Your stance changed. You almost hit yourself for saying something so uncalled for.

He opened his mouth to defend himself but the Professor's voice cut through his.

"Anthony Lockwood and James Potter versus Daria Thomas-Finnigan and..." She dragged the silence on, smirking as she finally uttered your name. Professor Loathes-Your-Guts clearly, still, loathes your guts.

The room divided into two once more; those cheering for Slytherin and Gryffindor, and those cheering for Ravenclaw. The energy could rival that of a Quidditch match.

"May the best team win," was Lockwood's cold farewell. He was gruff and unjesting—a complete departure from his usual visage that it scared you. He had never been so forbidding to you, even as rivals.

He and James entered on the right wing, and you and Daria entered through the left. The circle under you lit up blue. The Professor's magic gripped you, encompassing your whole body.

Lockwood had been right. Professor kept strict tabs on everyone in the cage, and you regretted stepping in when you looked across the way.

Both Lockwood and James were ready to kill. It was an exaggeration, but you'd never seen either look so deathly competitive.

Daria's hand on your shoulder reeled you back to the present. She graced you with a smile. "Gryffindor might have good fighters but we've got something better." You were tempted to say 'female anatomy' but she spoke over your thoughts. "We've got brain."

You drew your shoulders up and gripped your wand fiercely. You faced forward as the Professor yelled, "Start."

⚜ PART 2 | SERIES MASTERLIST

SWEETHEARTS ➺ @kiyasoup @toddandersondupe @locknco @onecojg @avdiobliss @mentallyillsodapop @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @bella-rose29 @wordsarelife

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄ #lockwood hogwarts au #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x you #anthony lockwood fanfiction #anthony lockwood angst

[tiny-mudking]

no gems on kipps’ rapier?

Greetings. I’m apparently not done being legitimately bothered by the lack of fake gemstones on the guard of Kipps’ rapier, so I’m making another, longer post about it.

SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK AND SHOW AHEAD

ATTENTION: I HAVE NOT SEEN THE LAST TWO EPISODES. I have been informed by my friend that there are situations in the last two episodes that might alter or affect the opinions and analyses expressed in this post. Please be conscious of this and do not respond with spoilers for the last two episodes; I will post an update when I have seen them. 

So in the books, we get the detail that Kipps’ rapier handle is studded with fake gems very early on, I believe as soon as we meet Kipps in the first book. At the same time, we are also informed that he is short, and we are shown that there is very clearly strong animosity between Lockwood and Kipps. It’s unclear, to me at least, how strongly this animosity is returned; it’s very clear that Kipps harbors a lot of it, but not clear how much Lockwood returns it. From the text, it’s very clear that Lockwood finds him irritating, but from my understanding, much of Lockwood’s animosity is derived from his ego and his pride being injured, rather than from Kipps himself. Lockwood sees Kipps as an annoyance, and in some cases as a case vulture, but mostly he sees Kipps for what he is: an adult supervisor who has lost his talent and now has a chip on his shoulder the size of Big Ben, which he has decided to take out on Lockwood specifically.

But mudking, you say, isn’t this post about the fake gems?

Yes, dear reader, you are correct; this is a post about the fake gems, and not an analysis of Kipps and Lockwood’s animosity and potential rivalry.

Now, as is clear to those who have seen the show, Kipps’ rapier does NOT, in fact, have any fake gems on the handle. In point of fact, it looks like a functional rapier, one that is intended to be used on the daily, and not just a symbol of his employment. At first, I simply assumed that it was a detail the adapter chose to leave out, and left it at that; after all, not everything can make it into the show and I could understand why this was left out. Except the more I thought about, the less I found I could understand.

But in order to understand my confusion, we need to look at what the fake gems tell us as a reader.

The fake gems work twofold as a visual symbol. First, they are a sign of vanity, which, when combined with Kipps height and behavior, gives the reader a sense of an inferiority complex. Second, it tells us that Kipps is overcompensating for the fact that he, as an adult supervisor, no longer serves much of a function at all -- in short, he is washed up and simply collecting a paycheck, and he knows it. (A point that in fact factors constantly into Lockwood and Co.’s own business practices and directly into Lucy’s past -- no adult supervisors to interfere and potentially get people killed.) And besides, a rapier covered in what I assume are cheap plastic gems (and let’s be real, they are) is not a particularly... secure setup; the amount of upkeep necessary to keep the gems in place would be its own headache. An argument could also be made that the gems symbolize Kipps’ own inflated sense of self as well -- no one else has any gems on their rapier, and it certainly would seem to point to Kipps holding an authority position. I feel this argument can hold its own, given that the text is from a British author and the monarchy is known for, among other things, their copious amounts of bejeweled symbols of authority. All of these things can be inferred by the reader, and all of them factor directly into why Lockwood and Co. do not take him seriously as either an agent or an authority figure, and why Lockwood is so arrogant around him in particular.

So, the gems do a lot of heavy lifting in terms of both characterization and setting the scene for future interactions between Kipps and Lockwood and Co. In my opinion, these gems serve an incredibly important purpose.

And yet they were not included in the show, a show which has been very good at its adaptation so far. Now, we can of course chalk this up to a simple difference of priorities and opinion between me and the brains behind the show’s operation. This would not be a completely illogical conclusion; I often have differences of opinion with people.

But since the gems do so much work, especially on a characterization front, what does it say that they weren’t included?

Dear reader, I am so glad you asked.

First, let’s see what the show gives us in that first meeting scene. Aside from the glorious banter, a very satisfying bout of one-upsmanship, barbed remarks, and a clever quip about needing a ladder, we get surprisingly little about Kipps’ character; the gems in the handle could have done much of that work.

As far as I am aware, the show has not explicitly stated Kipps’ age and his role in his group. It is clear from his appearance that he is meant to be somewhat older than Lockwood and Co., but by how much is unclear. It is clear from his team’s demeanor and deference that Kipps is in a position of authority, one that is similar to Lockwood’s. It is clear from the actor’s body language that Kipps considers himself an important member of his team who does work on par with the agents under him.

Now, what do these analyses have to do with each other? Let’s set them on the table side by side for comparison, shall we?

Kipps in the show is not portrayed as insecure at all, at least to my eyes. He is cool and confident in ways that are very similar to Lockwood. There is never any mention, to my memory, of whether or not Kipps still has any Talent or what kind of role he serves in his group. The lack of insecurity is a drastic shift from Kipps in the book, whether or not he does in fact still have Talent or is an adult supervisor, and constitutes a fairly drastic change in terms of the tone of the animosity between Kipps and Lockwood, as much of it does in fact have to do with Kipps being an adult supervisor who has lost his Talent. (We will return to the point of the change in tone of animosity momentarily.)

The vagueness in terms of Kipps’ age is also a problem for me. We know from the books that Kipps is supposed to be around twenty-two years old. I suspect that his age is left up in the air in the show for two reasons: one, that there is no neat way to explain it in the show, as the pacing is tight and Kipps does not factor that much into the first arc, and we do not have the luxury of prose to convey this information to us, the audience; two by leaving it vague, instead of naming an age, it allows the writers to structure a potential love triangle, a theory that is supported by Kipps asking Lucy on a date*. That being said, the lack of clarity in his age again changes the tone in Lockwood and Kipps’ animosity.

Overall, from the information we have now, this stands as a COMPLETE recharacterization of the relationship between Lockwood and Kipps. Rather than being pitted against each other narratively as two separate ideologies on how agencies should be run and how much agency (hah) should be given to the agents in the field, it instead rather looks like two peacocks preening at each other -- pure vanity and arrogance. Now, the arrogance we see from Lockwood in the show is in line with Lockwood’s actions and behavior towards Kipps in the books, but because of the change in Kipps’ characterization, we do not see it as Lockwood fighting for his ideology and principles (though make no mistake, there is arrogance and overconfidence there as well), but instead Lockwood taking unnecessary risks to prove something that doesn’t need any proving, putting Lucy and George in a tight spot at the very least. In addition to being unflattering for both of the characters, it simply does not convey the same narrative, and if the characterization remains the same, I will be very interested to see how they perform the shift wherein Kipps becomes a Lockwood and Co. tagalong later in the books.

As I said in the beginning of the post, I’ll update this again once I’ve watched the last two episodes. In the meantime, I’d love to hear thoughts and takes on Kipps, both in the book and in the show, as well as for the rest of Kipps’ team. I, for one, am somewhat disappointed that Kat is turning out to be more of a lackey in the show rather than cold and standoffish like the books, and I’m thrilled that Bobby Vernon appears to be just as much of a pompous shit as he is in the books. 

*If they are indeed intended to structure a love triangle between Lucy, Lockwood, and Kipps, which would be a monumentally stupid decision and which I hope the adapters were smart enough to not do (as they have done so well with the rest of the show, I have some faith in them in this regard), I can see why they would leave his age undefined; even with the main trio aged up from fourteen to about sixteen, twenty-two is still FAR too big of an age gap. Frankly, I wouldn’t even be comfortable with Kipps being eighteen and dating a sixteen year old, regardless of consent laws or anything of the like. Seeing the show is clearly showing us that Lockwood and Lucy are both very clearly infatuated (dare I say in love?) with each other and that Lucy turns Kipps down immediately (not to mention Lockwood voicing his concerns about Lucy leaving for Fittes and that whole scene in general), I again will reiterate that I am hopeful this is not the case, and is instead intended to show how much of an effect Lucy is having in the world of London agencies. (That being said, I will be apoplectic if they do decide to introduce a love triangle.)

#lockwood and co #lockwood and co spoilers #lockwood & co #spoilers #analysis #look the gems are REALLY bothering me #I just feel like we're missing so much without them #quill kipps #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #george cubbins #locklyle #fittes agency #love triangle? #lockwood and co show #lockwood and co show spoilers

[dolls-self-ships]

What about telling Hook she’s pregnant? Or if you’re not comfortable with that, what about Hook getting jealous of some idiot flirting with Catherine?

-selfshippery

since I can’t really see Hook and Catherine ever wanting or having kids, I’ll go with the second one ^^

“Long time no see, aye Miss Cathy?”

“Tch, not long enough”

The tall blond chuckled, leaning back and tugging his captain’s hat forward. He shifted his weight and stuck a hand in his belt buckle. “Always the feisty one you were.” He turned to the other pirates aboard the ship, tugging Catherine in close to him with ease by her shoulder. “Can hardly believe I managed to rope this one in huh fellas?” He boasted, grinning all while ignorant to Catherine’s annoyed glare that could bore holes into him like sun rays from glass.

There wasn’t a laugh or a joke of agreement from the crowd, if anything, they all looked nervously between them and the Captain, who’s scowl added 20 years to his face.

Smee anxiously fumbled with his words and tapped his fingers against his lips, eyes darting shakily between this new mystery captain and his boss. If that blond baboon knew what was good for him, he’d remove that hand from the woman’s arm pronto.

The captain- or shall I call them by their names, respectively- Hook, stepped forth, one ridiculously large-tongued boot after the other.

“Forgive me if you don’t mind me so humbly asking, sir, but, what is your name?”

Flynn was quick to answer. “Ah! My good fellow I am Captain Flynn Lockwood of the Barracuda ! Oh wasn’t she a beauty eh? Course, not more beautiful than Miss Catherine here heheheh!” He beamed with pride, giving her another good squeeze causing Catherine to scoff and roll her eyes. Always so in love with that damned ship, she swore he was more in love with it than ever he was with her.

Hook, with all his restraint, fought the urge to roll his eyes and kept his manners a float. “Well, Captain Flynn, you’d be pleased to know that you are welcome to stay on my ship for as long as you need… so long as you kindly remove your hand form me lady’s arm.” His tone became darker and more riding with every word, growing less and less patient at the sight.

Flynn jumped back, his arm flying off Catherine’s shoulder as he looked down at her in surprise. “Oy! You mean you two are-?” He glanced between the two, and then laughed. “Haha! Aww noooo you’re pullin’ my leg aren’t ya?”

Hook couldn’t help it, his brows angled and his teeth clenched, causing him to practically spit out every next word. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Catherine quickly stepped between them before the sword measuring contest she knew would ensure if she didn’t stop them was coming soon. “He’s just being an asshole, hon. Like always.” Catherine shot him another glare, earning Flynn’s hands raised in defence. “It’s his.. um.. way of joking around.”

Flynn’s smile returned once again. “Ahh see? Cathy gets it! Come on bring it in let’s hug this out-“ he outstretched his arms, but before he could even lean in, Hook, not only as touch-adverse as he is but also just generally disgusted by this man’s aura, put up his only hand and politely as he could, declined.

“Eh-ee that won’t be necessary.”

Flynn recoiled, but not before cracking another joke. “Not a hug guy, huh? Aww too bad, cuz if I remember correctly, Cathy’s a hug girl! Aren’t ya Cathy?” He gave her a playful few light punches on the shoulder and her rib cage, causing her to giggle a tiny bit. If there was one weakness of hers, it was the fact that she was ticklish.

However, Hook saw this stifled smile she had, and he didn’t like it. At least, not the fact that it came from him.

As Flynn’s chuckles died down, his smile he gave Catherine in all its shiny white glory surrounded by a perfect carpet of blond stubble, James felt… intimidated. Not in the way other handsome men made him feel in the past, no no, this was different, like a jealousy. A rivalry. A competition.

And as much as he hated to admit it, this.. Captain Flynn, was a handsome fellow. Grey icy eyes that matched the sea storms, an imperfect balance to his chiseled face that made approachable yet conventional, and beneath all that grey and black leather vest and weapon straps we wore, with his arms covered by his undershirt and long, thick leather gloves that looked two sizes too big to protect his hands, it was still easy to see he was relatively fit as well.

Curses.

Flynn stood back up, resting his hands on his hips and letting out a deep breath, looking back at Hook expectantly. Well, he was the boss here after all, it was his ship.

James, trying to push aside the impending awkwardness and bubbling of some other emotion he felt, cleared his throat and darted his eyes between the deck and the new pirate.

“Y-yes, well, I shall see to it that you get settled in with the utmost care.” After turning around, he bellowed, “SMEEEEEE!”

Catherine winced, he could be quite loud sometimes so that she was pretty sure he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. Like yelling the poor first mates name was a habit at this point, even though he was only standing 5 feet away.

The roll-polly old man jumped, scuttling with his stubby legs across the deck to stand at the captains attention. Saluting and with his back straight, comically short and stubby compared to Hook’s tall and slender frame.

“Yes Cap’n?”

Pointing to Flynn with his hook, he looked down at Smee. “Take this… young lad to our cabin boy’s room, it hasn’t been used in years I assure you.”

Smee nodded, though his small but wide eyes seemed to be constantly devoid of reviving any information.

“Aye aye sir! This way, Mr. Cap’n Flynn!” Smee gestured for Flynn to follow him along the ship. Flynn gave him a nod before strutting off with his hands tucked in his pockets. A smouldering grin never leaving his face.

Not even three steps past them, he turned to give Catherine a quick wink, before turning back around to disappear around the mast corner with Smee.

Catherine huffed, crossing her arms and looking up to check on her Captain. And… yeah, it didn’t look so good.

James was fuming, boiling red from his cravat to the tip of his feather. So much so you’d think steam would be coming out of his ears.

Now concerned, Catherine’s expression softened as she leaned towards him. “Hon, are you okay?”

Hook, with all the composure he could muster, grumbled back. “Yes! Fine, everything is fine me dear why wouldn’t everything be fine?”

Catherine shook her head, shrugging. “Nothing, it’s just.. you seem a little… tense.”

Hook wanted to tell her, he really did, but barnacles, it was just so fucking embarrassing. How does one casually tell their girlfriend “well you see, I am incredibly insecure and intimidated by the arrival of your ex-boyfriends perfect blond hair and chiseled face and body and playboy mannerisms that I’m afraid he could steal you back from me before I can say ‘shellfish’ ” No, he was Captain James Hook! Bold, dashing, sophisticated! He wouldn’t succumb to this petty jealousy, he refused. So instead, he sucked it up, took a deep breath in, and turned his back.

“I simply require a long nights rest, all that excitement from today has rather worn me out you know..” he fake yawned as he began striding away to his cabin.

Catherine hummed, looking down at the floor. She definitely didn’t buy that, but wasn’t willing to force it out of him. When he wanted to talk, he would, or.. so she hoped.

#ok I haven’t written anything in like 2 years this is the best I could do please don’t bully me #bees self ships #self shipping #self ship #self ship community #thank you so much for the prompt! I really enjoyed it #self ships #self insert #captain hook #you are my treasure

[faintingheroine]

how do you think the characters in wuthering heights would deal with the knowledge that they are in a book?

An interesting question.

I am imagining a situation where Lockwood publishes his diary entries concerning the Earnshaw/Linton/Heathcliff family drama and all the characters (including the dead ones) are able to react.

Heathcliff would be enraged that his private thoughts and weaknesses were revealed to the whole world; but he could also be secretly glad that the whole world now knows “Cathy and Heathcliff’s epic love story”: A final “fuck you” to Edgar Linton. He would scoff at the romanticized characterization of him in popular culture though.

Edgar would be ashamed and discontent, would be silently and gracefully enraged.

Elder Catherine could enjoy the attention though she would have a few words to have with Nelly I imagine.

Isabella would either be ashamed that the whole world knows about her shame or would not care at all.

Younger Cathy could be excited that she was a heroine in a book.

Hareton would be mostly indifferent but would find Heathcliff’s characterization unfair.

Linton Heathcliff would… not care about the book. Like, he can’t be bothered to give an opinion. He doesn’t care. He is tired.

Hindley would be enraged at the portrayal of his rivalry with Heathcliff.

Nelly would be proud that Lockwood cared enough to publish her words (her words, in a book!) but would also try to save herself from the other characters’ accusations.

Zillah would also want to have some words with Nelly concerning the way she talked about her.

Joseph doesn’t have the time for such devilish useless books. So he doesn’t read it.

Thanks for the question! This was fun to answer. Anyone who has other ideas can chime in.

#wuthering heights #asks

[teartra]

TOH x Lockwood and Co au

Because I’m bored and For The Future and LnC season 1 are going to air around the same time. I use wiki and article for the descriptions

Luz Noceda as Lucy Carlyle

Reason: personality wise? Nope! But they literally have the same name

Role: an agent with amazing Listening interconnected with Touch. She went to The Boiling Isle in search of a notable career, instead she found herself joining the smallest agency in the city, Blight & Co.

Amity Blight as Anthony Lockwood

Reason: I found her rich and business family background to match Lockwood a little bit (except the fact that Lockwood had great parents but dead). They also have great sense of fashion

Role: often called Blight by others, is the head of BLIGHT & Co., one of The Boiling Isle’s smallest and most ramshackle agencies. She is known for her elegant and mysterious personality, recklessness, calmness and enthusiasm during psychic investigations, good looks, gleaming smile, rapier skills, and the ability of Sight. Canonly the same height as Luz but wears high heels to appear taller.

Gus Porter as George Cubbins

Reason: both are smart, curious and resourceful. I’d see Gus’ fascination to human culture could be connected with George’s fascination with ghost

Role: a ghost-hunter and the deputy of Blight & Co. He is the brains of the agency and likes to have preparation time. He is the researcher of the group, preferring to do research and plan carefully before cases. Formerly worked on Wittebane Agency before he got fired.

With a talent for Touch, Gus also works as a field agent – and while he is careful with who he trusts, he is loyal to his dearest friends. He is said to be "fascinated by The Problem and obsessed with trying to understand its origins".

Hunter as Quill Kipps

Reason: Tired, angsty, oldest of the group.

Role: Hunter is a team supervisor of the Wittebane Agency (Fittes Agency in the series). Fostering a rivalry with Amity Blight for many years, he pushes this aside in emergencies and often teams up him and his team with Blight & Co, though not without some snide remarks from both sides. Hunter is still 16 here (younger than Kipps) and about to lose his talent due to his age

Willow Park as Flo Bones

Reason: both are the strongest and I believe Willow could take down Amity just like Flo did with Lockwood

Role: a former agent with exceptional skills who now works as a relic hunter. The profound trauma she experienced on a job led her to quit agency work and she feels disillusioned with how the ghost-fighting system "chews young people up and spits them out".

Willow is Amity Blight’s oldest friend, and they've gone through "their darkest days" together. She becomes a valuable confidante for, and ally to, Blight & Co's team.

King Clawthorne as Skull

Reason: I mean… literally. Also King and Skull both have strong connection with Luz and Lucy

Role: King was the name given to a particularly pernicious male Type Three ghost, whose Source is a skull. Stolen from the Wittebane Agency by Gus Porter, King came into the possession of the Blight & Co. agency. King sometimes provided useful information to the group, but also had a habit of being perverse, revealing dangerous secrets, making witty comments and nonchalantly suggesting casual murder as a solution to problems.

Vee Noceda as Holly Munro

Reason: both are like the mom of the group and probably have more braincell than the other

Role: Luz’s twin sister who came into the scene unannounced (personal hc). Vee is the additional assistant hired by Lockwood & Co. when the workload became too much for them

Lilith Clawthorne as Montagu Barnes

Reason: both are strict and the leader of government organization

Role: the head of DEPRAC (I don’t think I have to change the name since it stands for Department of Psychical Research and Control) and known for strictly abiding by the rules. She shows irritation towards Blight & Co. members since they do not follow DEPRAC guidelines too closely.

Caleb Wittebane as Penelope Fittes

Reason: Just because—

Role: Penelope and Kipps are not related in any way but for the sake of the story, I’ll make Caleb to be Hunter’s uncle. Caleb Wittebane is the current Chairman of the Wittebane Agency and an influential figure in post-The Problem (ghost outbreak) society. He is the grandson of Philip Wittebane, one of the two scientists who discovered the problem and the original founder of Wittebane.

Addional role because I have to put Eda but I don’t want her to be Tom Rotwell

Eda Clawthorne: was a shop owner and one of the most prominent illegal relic dealers. He bought stolen relics and auctioned them. His shop, The House of Owl Antiques Emporium, acted as a front.

The character itself was inspired by Julius Winkman… but not evil

Also some random casting (non fix)

Hunter’s teammate

Bria as Kat Godwin

Angmar/Gavin as Ned Shaw (or I’ll make another character)

Mattholomule as Bobby Vernon (I want him to be redeemed here tho)

Terra Snapdragon as Tom Rotwell

Leader of Snapdragon (Rotwell) agency, second agency on The Boiling Isle. Old friend of Philip Wittebane

Spoilers for later Lockwood and co books

Philip Wittebane as Marissa Fittes

Reason: both are evil person who’s willing to do anything to gain power

Role: the founder of Wittebane Agency, the first and biggest psychical investigation agency in the country.

Philip was considered a hero against the epidemic of ghosts plaguing the country. He wrote Wittebane Manual for Ghost-hunters which all agents use and carry around. He was a skilled Listener and had been the only known person, to talk to a Type Three ghost, until Luz Noceda.

The Collector as Ezekiel

Reason: the potential parallel between The Collector and Philip // King and Luz

Role: The Collector is the one who Philip Wittebane spoke to. He gave Philip Wittebane knowledge and understanding on ghosts, ectoplasm, seeming immortality, and many more that was only implied. Their motivations and background were not explored.

#the owl house #toh #lockwood and co #lnc #luz noceda #amity blight #gus porter #willow park #toh hunter #hunter noceda #edalyn clawthorne #vee noceda #king clawthorne #lilith clawthorne #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #george cubbins #holly munro #penelope fittes #marissa fittes #a skull in a jar