Lockwood & Co Daily

[id: a two panel comic with dialogue being tumblr reblog branch. Holly and Lucy (Lockwood and Co books) stand in Portland Row's library, Lucy talking to skull in the jar at a mantepiece, Holly on the foreground is saying judgingly: "listen i consider myself an empathic person but after a certain point i get sick of other people’s problems. my friend is always talking about how the jewel-eyed skull on their mantlepiece is tormenting them w its sinister beauty and im over it. like dude i don’t want to talk about this anymore. get rid of the fucking skull". in the second panel Lucy and skull turn towards Holly with angry expressions, Lucy's saying: "you’ are biased against my skull", to which Holly, looking to the side indiferently, is saying: "i’m not having this argument again man"./end id]

fourth book

'Nothing's got you,' I said. 'Your coat-tail's caught on a gooseberry bush.' A snort from George. 'That coat! It's too long! It almost killed you the other night as well.'

Several weekends of work and a couple of burned fingertips later, my 35 Portland Row bookend is finished. 🥳

Made of mostly styrofoam, cardboard, acrylic paint, and copious amounts of hot glue.

It lights up and is a little higher than the height of an A3 piece of paper.

Little details include:

The front door area with the company sign, lavender garden, and the iron line

Skull looking out of the attic window (Post TEG)

[id: two fanarts of Lucy Carlyle and the Skull from Lockwood and Co books. in the first one Lucy’s holding a silver-glass jar in front of her at an eye level, her head is tilted as she's looking at it. Skull's jar emits light, it washes over Lucy's hands and face. the second one is Skull's point of view of the previous image, he's standing in front of Lucy, who's silhouette is pure light, her hands extended to seem to hold his face. he hesitantly reaches out with his hand to her face. both drawings copy the style of an ink drawing./end id]

I had a lot more to say, but now wasn't the time. I took a deep breath. 'Well, don't get into trouble,' I said. 'Last time you went wandering off during a case, you got yourself locked in the toilet.' 'A ghost shut me in, I keep telling you.' 'So you claim, but there was not a shred of evidence that—' But he was already gone.

A smiling boy, no more than ten years old, held out a little cone of chestnuts as we approached. 'Gift courtesy of Rotwell's,' he said. 'Go safe tonight.' 'We're not having any,' Lockwood growled. 'George, I want you to just walk on by.' 'But I'm hungry.' 'Tough. You're not walking down the street with one of those cones in your hand. It would be a crime to advertise a competitor.'