- Her being super affectionate all the time.
- Lots of kisses everywhere, all the time.
- Hours of laying on the couch, wrapped up in each other’s arms, either talking about anything and everything or watching cartoons and occasionally making remarks and jokes about stuff.
- Her tickling you to wake you up if you doze off.
- Or letting you sleep so she can doodle on your face.
- Loads of PDA.
- Her constantly making puns.
- Her waking you up to tell you her newest joke or pun.
- Her making up adorable nicknames for you. Based on something personal to you.
- Not Puddin’. But equally as adorable.
- It probably being an open relationship. Some as her and Ivy.
- Or maybe a poly relationship between all three of you. If Ivy approves.
- You having to be patient and supportive of her. Giving her lots of space while letting you know your there no matter what.
- There’s a lot going on in her head and her heart and you’ll only make her feel trapped if you push her to hard. Which means she’ll act out or down right leave.
- The most random dates possible, I can’t even begin to conceive.
- But also smaller simple stuff too. Roller blading around Gotham, or making cakes at home.
- Your decor is probably just things Harley has drawn all over the walls.
- Her walking around the house in your clothes first thing in the morning.
- Maybe pretending to be you while wearing your stuff.
- Getting drunk and dancing around your home naked while singing along to the greatest hits of the 90s.
- I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I WANT WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT
- SO TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT WHAT YOU REALLY REALLY WANT
- Whole days clothes shopping and feasting on fast food burgers.
- Visiting her in arkham, probably seeing her at her worst.
- Bringing her lots of gel pens and crayons when you visit.
- Letting her do you hair and make up for fun.
- Tree climbing.
- Disneyland holidays.
- Reading, doodling, tumbling in bed with Harley snuggled up and snoozing in your chest.
- Or reading along with that your doing, asking lots of questions or making jokes.
- Coming home to find out she’s adopted a ridiculous amount of pets.
- Waking up one morning to find her gone, only to switch on the news and find her gallivanting around Gotham, hammer in hand, joined at the waist with The Joker.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, my fellow Locklyle trash :)
“Lockwood!” Lucy gasped, tumbling slightly as she rushed forward towards him. Her hair was a mess on top of her head, and she smelled like she’d been using the River Thames to wash up everyday since she was born. There was a long rip on her leggings that started from her ankle to her knee. She had a small gash on her cheek that had just stopped bleeding. “Thank god I found you! You wouldn’t believe - What’s the matter? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Anthony Lockwood stood just a few metres aways from her, hair as dishevelled as always, the ends of his long coat dipped in the dark water of the sewers. Before Lucy could say anything else, he gave her a huge, playful grin that took her by surprise, but sent warmth flooding in her chest. All was right in the world again because Lockwood was here and everything is possible and nothing can stop them now, not really. And so Lucy found his next words confusing. “Remember that Annabel Ward case that we did? The one where we burned the client’s house down?” he asked pleasantly.
Lucy felt a bit wary. Something’s wrong. Is he trying to send her a coded message? Is there someone with them here in the sewers? “Yeah…?” she said slowly. “What about it?”
“Remember what you said,” he continued, and Lucy felt cold wrap around her like an oppressing blanket, “about the necklace?”
“Lockwood, what’s wrong?” Lucy asked, her chest constricting because suddenly she knows what this is all about but she wants to un-know. Maybe it was in the way he just stood there. Without his rapier. Without any injuries despite the explosion that had sent them sprawling in the safe confines of the London Sewage System. The murky water around his ‘submerged feet’ not rippling at all. How his chest stayed dormant, neither rising nor falling. How his hair, always so windswept, is ruffling along with a breeze that does not exist.
Anthony Lockwood smiled at her, waiting still for her answer.
With shaking hands, Lucy reached for the torch in her workbelt, pointed it at him and -
The light passed his chest. Almost as if he was just mist. Almost as if he was not really there.
“Oh my god,” Lucy whispered, the torch falling from her hands and they were once again plunged in darkness. “Oh my god,” she repeated over and over as Lockwood flickered in and out of her sight. Just like a ghost.
“What you said, Lucy,” Anthony continued patiently, seemingly oblivious to the river of tears Lucy is making for herself, “is that people wear necklaces with inscription on them so they can have their loved one’s messages next to their hearts.”
A sob wanted to escape from the deep recesses of her soul, but Lucy swallows it. And held her rapier in front of her. “Where is it, Lockwood?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly at his name. They’d talked about this, Lockwood, George and her, that if one of them had died, the others would take care of the Source. Immediately. No matter what.
Lockwood walked - no, floated - closer to her, one hand outstretched. His fingers pointed at the little slip of jewellery around Lucy’s neck. “Did you believe what you said, Lucy?” he asked quietly, and around them the air grew colder still.
Lucy didn’t say anything as tears fell silently down her cheeks and she backed away. Lockwood did not follow.
“Because I did,” he continued, quieter than before.
“Where’s the Source, Anthony?” Lucy asked, a bit firmer this time. They were an arm’s breadth apart.
Anthony Lockwood smiled at her. Sadly. Regretfully. Wistfully. “I don’t have one, Luce,” he whispered - or maybe he’d spoken aloud but was just starting to slip away.
The long weekend of Martin Luther King Jr. Day helped “Hamilton” hit the number one spot at the Broadway box office in a week that saw overall sales hold steady following the post-holiday tumble posted last week.
“Hamilton,” of course, has been the hottest ticket on Broadway since it opened over the summer, but that doesn’t guarantee a No. 1 perch on the Top 10. For one thing, “Hamilton” plays in a theater (the Richard Rodgers, at about 1,300 seats) that’s on the low end of mid-size for a musical house, so even at top capacity and sky-high demand, it can be tough to compete against longrunning titles with family-friendly tourist appeal and heftier ticket inventories (such as “Wicked” and “The Lion King”).
But as the buzziest show in town, “Hamilton” ($1,769,360) has retained its heat even in the chill of January, when every single show on the boards, even the most successful, weathers an annual dip in demand. So the founding-father hip-hop musical managed to outpace longer-running successes such as “Lion King” ($1,660,171), “Wicked” ($1,590,318) and “The Book of Mormon” ($1,496,509). (It marks the second time “Hamilton” stood at the head of the class, following a week in November when an extra benefit performance, complete with an appearance by President Obama, helped push the show to the top of the chart.)