All of my Labryinthia AU designs so far, with a few tweaks! I’ll eventually be drawing Ace Attorney characters, too, but for now, I’m going to continue drawing PL characters, since I’m replaying the whole series.
A line-up of some of the major character from my gf @chyouxart and I’s expanded Layton universe, focused on older Clive and his friends and family. Read on for lil character bios!
Starting from the top left:
Bernard - He’s Clive, Amelia, and Gemma’s old friend from boarding school. Bernard is now a psychologist who practices at his own private clinic. He’s sometimes roped into baby-sitting Gemma’s four rambunctious kids.
Gemma - Gemma has four kids and a himbo husband named Alejandro. She keeps busy ensuring her kids don’t burn down the house, volunteering at a local theatre, and planning parties.
Amelia - Although she still enjoys competing in tournaments, Amelia has shifted her focus to teaching a new generation of chess players. She’s married to Clive after years of slowly rekindling their friendship. They volunteer at orphanages around London and our working on writing a children’s book together.
Clive - If you want to know how Clive eventually leaves prison and becomes an investigative journalist with an adopted daughter you’ll have to read my gf’s upcoming PL fanfic, Puzzle 3301! Clive’s a keen investigator and loving father, but sometimes struggles with how the world has changed since he’s left prison, especially technology.
Justine - Created by my gf. I can’t say too much about Justine because I don’t want to spoil anything, but I can tell you she’s Clive’s adopted daughter with a passion for science. She’s sometimes exasperated by her dad but still loves him.
Blaine - Blaine is originally a character from LBMR who was discarded. My gf and I have vicariously adopted him by having Clive and Amelia adopt him as a teen. He grows up to be an inspector, though he can be uptight, which has earned him the teasing of his co-workers.
Alex - A character my gf and I created together. Alex works in forensics at Scotland Yard. He loves aliens and flirting with Blaine. He can seem like a procrastinator, but is actually a genius in his field. Gemma and her husband have unofficially adopted him.
Fayne - Created by my gf. Fayne is Justine’s old friend who works in computer science and is known for being laid-back.
For the mini fics, what about Gemma and Bern with J. When words aren’t enough.?
Sorry for the wait! I’m dealing with serious writer’s block right now, but this definitely helped me combat it. Not really a mini fic anymore, haha, but hope you enjoy! This is set sometime in the summer during L^3, after Gemma and Bern are better friends but still getting to know each other.
In the back of her head, Gemma has always imagined Bernard’s home as an enormous library. Maybe even one with a moat to keep out unwanted visitors.
She never expected him to live in a cluttered flat near Bowlyn Hill.
There are clothes and take-out boxes strewn on the sofa and heavy blinds that block out the windows. The dim light makes it easy to stumble, which she does twice before Bernard switches on a lamp.
“Mind the boxes,” he mutters as they pass through a short hallway.
Some are partially unpacked; others are still sealed with tape. From what Gemma can tell, they contain old textbooks and stacks of paperwork that spill out onto the musty carpet.
When they enter the kitchen, it’s as if they’ve entered another flat entirely.
“It’s so cosy in here!” Gemma can’t help but say, pausing to take in the sagging shelf full of old cookbooks and the neatly stacked dishes in the cupboard. It’s the tiniest kitchen she’s ever seen, but the slice of warm afternoon showing through the curtains keeps it from feeling cramped.
“Dad doesn’t come in here much,” Bernard admits with a shrug.
“What’s this?” Gemma spies an open book by the sink. She steps closer, her finger running down a carrot cake recipe before Bernard slams the book shut.
Yanking her finger out a second too late, Gemma lets out a suitable curse (her friend is, admittedly, a terrible influence).
“Sorry.” Bernard’s ears have caught fire. He slips the book into the nearby shelf. “I—er—I didn’t mean to hurt you. That was supposed to be put away.”
“It’s okay.” Gemma winces as she sucks on finger. “Whose cookbooks are those?”
“Erm. You’d better run that under cold water.”
Bernard lifts the handle of the faucet, but—apart from a dry creak—nothing comes out. He tries it again more forcefully, cursing under his breath when he achieves the same disappointing result.
“Something wrong with it?”
“Dad’s wrong with it. I’ll be back.” Bernard stalks out of the kitchen and into the dark den.
The pain in Gemma’s finger is already fading, but she jiggles the faucet handle a few more times, just to make doubly sure it’s not working.
She doesn’t know anything about plumbing, so she feels a bit useless. All she can think to do is shuffle her feet and glance around the kitchen. Her gaze inevitably wanders back to the mysterious shelf of cookbooks. If Bernard’s dad never goes into the kitchen…
Gemma’s eyes widen. Could it be that they used to belong to Bernard’s mother?
Bernard grumbles about his dad a lot, but he never mentions his mum. Gemma wonders if she might’ve died when he was young. Are these books his last remaining keepsake of hers? Are they full of all the recipes he likes best? Perhaps they even contain secret messages from his mother just for him.
The idea intrigues her. She wants to take another look, but restrains herself. Bernard seemed keen to keep the books private and, besides, she’s his guest. She doesn’t want to spoil their time together by being nosy.
Without warning, Bernard returns, a cheque clenched in his hand. “Dad forgot to pay the water bill. Again.” He says in response to her confused look.
“You mean, they turn it off if you don’t pay on time? That’s terrible.”
“That’s reality.”
“Are you going to give it to your dad?”
“No. Dad’s teaching until eleven. I’m going to give it to Mr. Bushwick.”
That’s right. During the summer, Bernard’s dad teaches classes at a nearby university, which means Bernard is home by himself for long stretches of time. Gemma doesn’t know how he survives. She would be awfully lonely with no siblings or parents to bicker with. Maybe that’s why he decided to invite her over (after only a teensy bit of prodding on her part).
“Do you want me to come with?”
Bernard keeps his eyes fixed on the cheque. “No. Stay here. Mr. Bushwick doesn’t like when we have guests.”
“Oh. Well, if you’re sure… Good luck!”
With a terse wave, Bernard slips out the door, leaving Gemma alone in the kitchen once more. She doesn’t want to leave. This room is a breath of air compared to the rest of the flat. Bernard must spend a lot of time in here when he’s home.
Gemma starts to pace. He looked so miserable when he left. She wonders how many bills he’s had to pay by himself. If only she could cheer him up. But what can she say, really? This is Bernard’s home—his everyday reality— and she’s starting to realize she knows very little about it.
Gemma’s attention returns once more to the shelf of cookbooks.
Maybe she doesn’t have to say anything at all. Maybe she can make Bernard something to eat, instead. He must be tired of having take-out all the time. Something sweet and homemade to lift his spirits. Something like carrot cake…
Gemma almost grabs the cookbook Bernard put away, but she stops herself. She‘ll have to try and make the recipe without it.
She opens the refrigerator and is pleased to find a basket of carrots. They’re the most important ingredient. Probably. The tricky part will be figuring out what to mix them with.
Gemma spends the next ten minutes searching for ingredients. She decides eggs, flour and sugar are a must, though she’s not sure which sugar to use (Bernard’s kitchen is stocked with three separate kinds). She ends up pouring in a cup of each, alongside a pinch of bicarb.
After mixing everything but the carrots together (and accidentally cracking one egg onto the floor), Gemma pauses. How is she supposed to blend the carrots in? Should she chop them into chunks? Toss them in whole? Try to juice them?
She’s starting to wonder how a cake could even taste good with vegetables in it, when Bernard steps into the kitchen.
He stops so fast he nearly trips, his twitching eyes rising up from the egg on the floor, to the countertop mess of flour and measuring cups, and, finally, to Gemma, who is suddenly sure she has more ingredients on herself, then in the bowl.
“Surprise,” she says weakly. When Bernard doesn’t say anything, she forges ahead. “I, er, wanted to make something for you. I got the idea from you’re mum’s cookbook.”
“My mum’s cook—“ Bernard strides over to her. “What are you talking about, Mudget? And what’s this? You’ve mixed everything into one bowl. You’re supposed to combine dry and wet ingredients separately.”
He's upset about that?
Gemma steps aside as Bernard examines the lumpy batter. “Oops. This is my first time making a cake. Gosh, I should’ve looked at the recipe. But I didn’t want to take your mum’s stuff.”
“Why do you keep bringing up my mum?” Bernard asks in exasperation.
“Those are her cookbooks up there, right?” Gemma nods at the shelf. “I promise I didn’t look at any of them. I mean, I was really curious. But I know it’s none of my business.”
Bernard’s expression shifts from annoyance to something else. He pinches his lips and wrinkles his nose, his brow digging deep furrows into his scrunched forehead. He looks like he’s in terrible pain, but what comes out of his mouth is a rusty laugh. He quickly hides it under a cough.
“You…” Bernard shakes his head. “You jump to conclusions faster than anyone I’ve ever met.”
The grudging awe in his voice makes Gemma feel strangely proud.
“Thank you.” Her face is warm and prickly. She wonders if it’s the wayward sugar on her cheeks starting to melt. “Erm, I’m guessing those cookbooks aren’t your mum’s, then?”
“No.” Bernard’s ears look prickly, too. “They’re mine. I was planning on making that cake.” He glares up at her, suddenly serious as death. “Cooking is no different from science. You have to observe, and measure, and test. Recipes, that is. It’s just as logical as psychology or—or chemistry." He pauses, his intense gaze wavering. "Right?”
“Sure.” Gemma laughs, feeling unqualified to answer since she’s terrible at both cooking and science. “To be honest, I think it’s kind of boring. Why follow a recipe when you can experiment? What do you think would happen if we mixed everything in your kitchen together?”
“You can experiment with cooking," Bernard says adamantly. “You just have to know the fundamentals. But before we do anything else, we ought to finish this cake.”
Gemma grins. “Still salvageable, is it?”
Bernard hands her a whisk, for once unable to hide his smile in such a bright room. “We’ll see.”
