"I Love You , I'm Glad We're Friends"

Yet another thing I find absolutely wonderful about how Jonathan Stroud wrote Lucy Carlyle is how he betrays her with the narrative.

In The Screaming Staircase, at the start of her story, Lucy gives us an idea of how she wants to be perceived; unaffected, unbothered, unburdened by fear or particularly revelatory emotions. She drops horrifically painful realities about her childhood on us as if she were describing a dull gray rock she found on the ground. She tries very, very hard to school her emotions around Lockwood and George. And if she had been written by anyone else, she might have fallen prey to the "strong independent female character" tar pit of a stereotype.

But then along comes Annabel Ward's ghost.

And the narrative looks at Lucy and says "I know how you wish to present yourself, but that's not who you are."

And Lucy is repeatedly shown to be incredibly Sensitive in so many ways. She is under the influence of the ghost of Annie Ward, but the emotions are still partly Lucy's. And most of the time she has the emotional intelligence to differentiate which feelings are hers and which ones are Annie's, and where they overlap. She chokes up with empathy on multiple occasions in the process of uncovering what happened to Annie Ward. She becomes enflamed with the desire for justice for someone who was murdered decades before she was born. She's shown that by her very nature, her emotions are her strength and not her weakness. Because she has a narrative that loves her and isn't lazy about her. She is the narrator and she tells us who she is, but the narrative shows her and us who she really is.

I’m sorry, but Dean is the king of bisexuality.

Only a true king would date the king of hell, the vampire of the purgatory and the angel of the lord.

me core…

creds: @locklylestan on TikTok

Lucy, skull, and lockwood my faves!

Cas - ‘A Nephilim has come into being.’

Deans facial expression - *are we pregnant?*

The evolution of Quill F. Kipps:-

The screaming staircase: "I hate him." "What a loser" "poser"

The whispering skull: "he's tolerable" "I pity him" "Poor man"

The hollow boy: "he's ok" "like a pitiful Chihuahua" "he's fine I guess"

The creeping shadow: "I am starting to like him" "he cares about them" "New member!"

The empty grave: "MY SONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!" "<3My little orange vengeful chicken<3" " Is this what love feels like?"

DEAN + WINE

Late nights and soft saviors

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Genre: Comfort? Fluff?

Summary: Dean has a nightmare but a soft little something comes to the rescue

Warnings: none, has one curse word

A/N: somebody hold this man and tell him it’s all gonna be ok 😭

Dean and y/n had a bit of a rivalry going on to say the least. When she first moved into the bunker, on account of Bobby’s recommendation, her and Dean clashed almost instantly. She was smart and mouthy and absolutely loved correcting him and back-talking him. But Dean being the sassy man he is, often retorted with a clever comeback, building a small fued between the two hunters.

It wasn’t like they hated each other or anything. They were more like frenemies, though they’d never admit it. Some would even say there were other types of tension to be lingering between the two hunters.

It wasn’t long until y/n found out about Dean’s frequent nightmares, considering that their rooms shared a common wall. She would hear his mumbling late at night, or the sound of the tv he used to drown out his thoughts. She felt a bit sorry for him, even if she never let it show.

She was almost like Dean in that sense. Hesitant to show emotion, to show people she was vulnerable. Her heart was locked away, surrounded by a wall, just as fortified as that of the city of Jericho— impenetrable, or so she thought.

But unbeknownst to her, Dean was slowly chipping away at her walls, starting to weasel his way into her heart with every snide remark, or witty comeback, but especially the stares she pretended not to notice or return.

***

One night she was up especially late, trying to finish a book she had started a few days prior. She did in fact finish the book, and as she was returning it to the lofty stack in the corner of her room, that’s when she heard it— the pleas, the mumbles, the groans.

Dean was having another nightmare. A bad one. Y/n stood there of a moment, conflicted. She could pretend she didn’t hear anything, act oblivious, and just go to bed… or she could go try and wake Dean, maybe comfort him, make sure he was ok.

After one instinct won over the other, she began to head for her door, picking up a small stuffed teddy bear she had on her bed, one that had a lot of meaning to her. She padded over to Dean’s door and knocked. It wasn’t loud enough to wake him so she knocked louder. She heard groans and cusses on the other side of the door as the man woke from his sleep. She heard him make his way to the door so she quickly set the bear on the floor and rushed quietly back to her room.

When Dean opens the door he didn’t see anyone and was rather confused as he looked down the hall. That’s when he noticed it, the bear. “The fuck?” he mumbled as he bent over to pick it up. He recognized almost immediately, even in the dark, as he made he way back into his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, just looking at the bear in his lap, playing with it a bit, moving its paws around, as he fell deep into thought.

Why’d she do that? Does she know about the nightmares? Could she hear me through the walls? Does she hear me every time? Does she pitty me? Does she care?

He sighed deeply and lied back down in bed, propping the bear up next to his face. He continued to stare at it for a bit before he hesitantly took it into his hold again, even going as far to bring it up to his face and smell it. Amber and vanilla. Smells just like her, He thought. And with that he closed his eyes pulling the bear closer to his chest, setting his masculinity to the side for a while and indulging in the comfort of a soft stuffie, something he seldom experienced in his childhood.

Before he knew it a single tear was sliding down the side of his face and dripping onto his pillow. Not long after he was reaching for his phone and typing out the simple message,

“Thank you”

before attempting to surrender himself to sleep once more. She read the message and smiled into her own pillow and she drifted off to sleep soon after.

FRIENDS. HEAR ME OUT. LOCKWOOD FAMILY FANCASTS

So, I was watching @oceanspray5 's marvelous "Wait For It" Lockwood edit on YouTube, in which Kiera Knightly and Matthew Goode are fancasted as Celia and Donald.

Now, I have seen a few different Jessicas in the past, and they haven't meshed with me, but a recent thought that had some staying power is Natalia Dyer. She works pretty well, because she could feasibly be related to Lockwood but also has a face shape sorta similar to Ruby Stokes, so the whole "out of the corner of Lockwood's eye" thing works. And then I got emotional and edited the family together and well:

Lockwood is the spitting image of his father. Jessica gets her face shape and jawline from Celia. I just—