#*stares at unwound future*

[darkartistyt]

it is entirely possible that this does exist and i just have yet to see enough of it, but i feel like a fairly underutilised part of hershel's character is how he can be kinda manipulative at times without even realising it

[merquplex]

does anyone else think he looks terrifying in the 15th anniversary art or is it just me

[altho-arto]

Here's my piece for Our Shared Past by @hauntedhikingsociety , a story about the Professor visiting Dimitri after the events of Unwound Future, and interesting discussions they have together as the months go by :) i really recommend it !! 🎩🔬 This was drawn for the @proflaytonbigbang 2024 event, and it was a joy for me to participate in a fandom event around this dearly beloved franchise <3

The image description for this is under the read more, feedbacks on accessibility more than welcome btw.

Also check out the other piece made for this story by @kirbro here ! ✨

[ID : Professor Layton fancomic where Hershel Layton visits an incarcerated Dimitri Allen. The comic layout shows a big establishing panel on top of the page followed by two rows of three panels each under it. The big panel shows Hershel taking a chair to join an already seated Dimitri, the two men in the middle of a discussion around a prison table. A jaded Dimitri says "Fine, since we've established we're both busy men, I'd suppose it'de be a waste of time to spend out whole day arguing." Hershel answers "I thought we established that I'm a busy man", the "I" part of his sentence in highlight. Dimitri hand-waves the remark with a sparse "Details". Panel 2 shows a relaxed Hershel sitting down, gamely answering "Besides, I can think of bigger wastes of time than arguing with you". In panel 3 Dimitri leans back in his chair and rolls his eyes at him, answering with a smirk "Good lord Hershel, what a romantic you are." Panel 4 is shaped like an exclamation bubble and showcases a surprised Hershel sputtering "R-romantic ?", his face a shade pinker than before. The three bottom panels show Dimitri going from surprised to panicked to mortified in response to Hershel's embarrassment, the both of them realizing their banter developed an unintentional flirting tone. Dimitri's blank stare of surprise transforms into a flustered look in the penultimate panel as he starts clarifying "I-I only meant !", before interrupting himself. The blush appearing on his cheeks finally spreads to his face and neck in the last panel, where he slouches over the table and hides his face in his hand, sighing and adding "You know I'm no good at talking". End ID]

[cliveposting]

Unwound Future Replay Part 3

part 1 / part 2

Spoiler Warning!!

this post is long and some of these pictures are low quality, sorry about that!

I love his sprite so much

scaring the locals with his stare, the average day in the life of clive

funny... in a previous chapter, luke had to remind clive that helping others is a gentlemanly thing to do after he tried to get out of helping the man by the thames. i imagine layton definitely picked up on this sudden change in clive's attitude.

so blunt

I walked past this location so many times, but it was only last time where I realised he's probably the one writing the reviews!

he's probably really struggling to think of things to say about future flora

pavel...

in curious village we encounter him in the sewers

in diabolical/pandora's box we encounter him in the mines

here we encounter him in future london

hmm... just a little food for thought...

curious village: every villager wants you to solve puzzles as this is all a test to see who is the best man to take care of the baron's daughter

every game after that: yeah sure. there's a puzzle counter. completely normal object btw. don't question it

part 4 coming soon!

[waywardwizzard]

The room was dark, faint halos of light reflecting in the window.

Layton stared down at his cup of tea, watching as thin tendrils of steam curled through the air.

In the distance, Big Ben struck eleven, the heavy gongs echoing through the clouded night sky.

Sighing, the professor stood up and went to stare out of the window, the quickly cooling cup of tea cradled in his hands.

Who was he?

He knew he was Hershel Layton, a professor of archaeology and a gentleman but who was he really, underneath it all, if not an accumulation of all the people he had let down?

Hershel had been his brother's name, a name and the accompanying fate freely given to him, undeserving as he was.

A professor in archaeology all because of Randall, a way for him to keep his best friend's (could he still call him that?) memory alive.

A gentleman because that's what Claire believed him to be.

But who was he at his core?

Theodore Bronev, a scared child, letting go of his brother's hands without speaking up (it should have been him!)?

Hershel Layton, a name thief, a shy broken child of 17 who was running away from home because he killed his best friend?

Professor Layton, always unfailing polite, the ring burning a hole in his pocket, trying not to cry as smoke filled the air because a gentleman never made a scene?

Or was he just a nameless specter, gathering pieces of people that mattered to him in the hope of becoming someone?

How long would it be until he stole pieces of Flora and Luke? How long until they fell victim to his curse?

Shivering in the winter darkness, Layton clutched at his teacup, willing the last bit of warmth to leech into his chilled skin.

How long until he had to watch them die?

Lightning cut through the sky, throwing shadows onto the walls.

The cup of tea, now cold, sat abandoned on the window sill as Layton slid down to the floor, thunder drowning out his quiet sobs.

***

Author's note -

What's this? Finally something that isn't Firefly fic? (Don't worry, I'm shocked too)

I know this kind of sucks but I just really wanted to post it (I'm still feeling out how to write these guys, so sorry!).

I'm finally doing my yearly replay of Unwound Future, and this idea hit my over the head last night (heh)

*insert 'english isn't my native language yada yada' here*

Hope y'all enjoy!

[quantomeno]

My ranking of the 'And that person is you!' scenes from Professor Layton

Ah, the iconic 'finger point' scene. They are Layton's trademark and it's so much fun when you know it's about to happen. You can feel the tension build.

But these moments are not all equal. Which scene will reign supreme?

Because these scenes involve big revelations and plot twists, this list will be rife with spoilers for both trilogies and the movie.

7. Azran Legacy

Firstly, the audience already knows who it is and no one else in the room could be it even if we didn't know. The other issue is that it's just got no build-up: Layton gives his spiel and then does the point. The room is cramped and there's not much drama or flair. By far the greatest problem though is that this felt like a side story. Bloom himself felt like wasted potential in some respects, but this whole mystery didn't seem all that important in the grand scheme of things. I honestly don't remember it that well and I am pretty sure he only stole a few artefacts that weren't plot relevant. It feels like they just wanted a pointing scene and this was the only logical place to put it.

6. Lost Future/Unwound Future

It is far too short, but the reveal has much more heft than Azran Legacy's. It is somewhat obvious that it's Future Luke once you realise what's happening, because only Don Paulo could be the other option, but the Clive revelation is still a massive twist. I give this scene bonus points because I like Clive's reaction to the accusation too.

5. Eternal Diva

I like this one, but it also feels a bit tacked on. The 'who has the key?' thing feels like it doesn't need deduction because they could just check everyone's pockets (and she's literally just holding it), but what saves it is that it ties into the bigger mystery and the revelation of Janice/Melina's identity. It feels impactful by the end, even if the initial tension feels overblown.

4. Miracle Mask

This one feels a fraction lacking in drama, but it makes up for it with its position/significance in the story. The wind blowing at the pivotal moment adds some nice flair. I would say it's also quite a shocking twist. It is what I would consider the baseline 'finger point' scene because it contains all the key features that make a good one, but I just don't think it has the same sensation of suspense that it needs to rank higher. Its execution is not as great as some.

3. Curious Village

This one lacks the trademark phrase, and it is also obvious who's the 'criminal element', but it makes up for it with the atmosphere of the room: it gives a classic murder mystery vibe, where all the key players have been gathered to learn the truth. It is scenes like this that makes me wish CV was a more traditional murder mystery because it has all the hallmarks of it. I am tempted to put this one below MM, but I feel this one is a touch more elegant and I value that.

2. Spectre's Call/Last Specter

This is one of the few times the game manages to surprise you with the revelation and has actively worked to make it seem like it was someone else. The foreshadowing of Doland, out of focus, standing behind Clarke, and Luke staring at his father, fully believing his own dad has been terrorising the town... and then how the camera pans from Clarke to Doland. It is a cleverly laid out scene and it has a great feeling of drama.

Pandora's Box/Diabolical Box

I could watch this scene on repeat forever. It is gorgeous. It also gives classic murder mystery vibes which I love. The suave coolness of Layton stirring his tea and calmly telling Chelmey he's go thee wrong man: perfect. Everyone's shocked reactions are fun and add to the tension. The pause after Layton's reasoning, and the shots of those involved leaves us with a delectable moment of suspense. Every shot is framed perfectly. And the revelation: it is not really surprising given we see Flora get kidnapped and she just made the comment that gave Layton the proof he needed, but it is still such an outrageous idea that Flora killed Dr Schrader and stole the box. The shots of everyone during the aforementioned pause at least try to create the illusion that it could be someone else. It also resolves one of the earliest mysteries of the game. The cherry on the cake is Luke's reaction (I love him so much). It is moments like this that make me want to put PB as my favourite game, but alas... I love LF too much.

[perplexedflower]

Running Out Of Steam

Fandom: Professor Layton.

Category: F/M.

Relationship: Hershel Layton x Female Reader.

Type: Mini one shot.

Words: 979.

Summary: Working as Hershel's assistant is challenging, and when exhaustion finally catches up to [Y/N], her sleepiness leads the two of them to share a very special moment inside the Laytonmobile.

Chronology: Post-Unwound Future/Pre-New World of Steam.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, my dear, I must thank you. Your suggestion to get acquainted with the neighbouring village was brilliant, it has provided us with crucial information regarding this case."

Sitting in the passenger seat, [Y/N] blushed lightly upon hearing Layton's praises.

"Thank you, Professor. I am more than delighted to know we have made significant progress."

Not long after the words had left her mouth, she quietly yawned, followed by a sigh.

"So am I, [Y/N]." He said with a smile. "But there is yet a lot for us to uncover, let us not forget."

As the engine of the Laytonmobile purred gently, she rested her head against her seat and closed her eyes.

"The clues we were able to retrieve today are evidence of it, in fact." He continued. "Both cities are intricately connected in ways one could not have imagined... How fascinating. Surprising, too. I hadn't considered such a possibility and failed to detect it upon our arrival in this town, yesterday. But, in retrospect, it should have been obvious. I must be getting rusty: there once was a time I would have taken notice of a piece of the puzzle this important within a matter of only a few minutes."

[Y/N] listened to him ramble on to himself and found comfort in his voice, in his words, wrapping around her as she began to doze off.

"I am well aware there are still many dark corners of the neighbouring village left for us to explore, but do not fret: we shall continue our investigation there in due time. For now, I wish for us to return to the town. You see, there is something I would like to show you... I wonder, [Y/N], do you—"

But the Professor suddenly cut himself short when he felt her head drop on his left shoulder, and for the first time since the ride had started, his eyes left the road to look down at her, but only for a split second.

It seems she has fallen asleep...

He tried his best to keep his composure, despite the faint blush spreading over his cheeks.

It would not be proper of me to continue driving under such circumstances... The risks of distraction are too high.

The car started to slowly lose speed, until he reached a part of the country road that allowed him to pull off to the side: with his foot off the gas pedal and the ignition key turned, the inside of the vehicle turned silent. Hershel looked down at [Y/N] and felt his face redden further as he listened to the calm and slow sound of her breathing. Then, in a quiet and steady but hesitant motion, he brushed her hair out of her face to tuck it behind her ear, his fingertips gliding over her skin.

For a moment, he stared at her tenderly, admiring her peaceful expression as he succumbed to her charm the longer his eyes stayed on her.

[Y/N] never ceases to invest a lot of herself in every adventure she partakes by my side, and I know things have not been easy for her since Luke has left the country. Now that she is my sole assistant, she feels she needs to take on every task that comes her way... but it pains me to see her overwork herself to the point of exhaustion. Once we return to the town, I will wake her up and take her back to her room in the inn for her to continue sleeping. But for now, I shall let her rest just a little longer, though I need to readjust her on her seat if I want to ensure I drive safely.

Delicately, he rested his hands on her shoulders and gently moved her body in an attempt to make her sit straight; but before he could do so, she seemed to have woken up just slightly, just enough to feel Layton's hands on her, and she instinctively leaned forward, her head now against his chest and her hands just barely clinging to him.

Not knowing what to say or do, Layton remained quiet as he stared down at her, eyes wide open, his cheeks overheating.

"Hmm... Professor... why did you stop?" She asked in a mumble, half-asleep.

"Well, I pulled the car off to the side of the road because you fell asleep, [Y/N]..." He replied awkwardly.

"No... I mean... Why did you stop talking?"

Puzzled by her unexpected question, he struggled to come up with an answer while she snuggled closer to him.

"I love to hear your voice." She said softly with an endearing smile, her eyes still closed. "It's soothing... and calming... and charming. I feel the same way when I look at you, too..."

A flustered, blushing mess, Layton found himself at a loss for words and sensed his breath quicken.

"... You're very comfortable, Professor..." She said in a sleepy voice. "I know... I shouldn't... but I want to sleep here... for a while..."

Although flattered, he could not help but feel bashful at her words.

"[Y/N]... my dear... Would you perhaps not be more comfortable in a bed?"

Slowly, she shook her head against his chest, and, finally, she opened her eyes slightly, her gaze hazy but affectionate.

"No... As long as you are beside me, I will always feel comfortable, and everything will always feel... just perfect..."

He stared down at her, at her face, into her eyes, and his own illuminated with the same loving glow; with a shy yet tender smile taking shape on his lips, he circled her body with his arms, keeping her close in his embrace, lulling her back into sleep.

"... Then, I will hold you in my arms for as long as you need me to... and I will always watch over you, [Y/N]."

[mangledscrimp]

this is a response to your twitter post im on priv and also shy: i would literally love to see you talk about ranlay. any and all text related to ranlay is a valuable resource.

Mega ramble incoming; Miracle Mask spoilers, Unwound Future spoils, Layton anime spoils

Some silly or sad hcs abt ‘em (most of these are shared hcs or hcs I got from other peopleee ) I know they’re cringe LEAVE ME ALONEEE

(๑･̑3･̑๑)([ ˃̶͈̀]∀[˂̶͈́])

Ok Let’s start with some silly ones :3

Randall and Hershel’s Garden

Since Hershel practically lives at the University, Hershel and Randall start a garden there and plant fruits and vegetables to cook a nice meal at home. Or even walk together in the garden for a nice distraction from life and work.

2. Dancing

I like to think Randall is a pretty good dancer. Though, Hershel has two left feet. Randall teaches Hershel some basic moves as they intertwine their fingers. Or just hold hands and stare deeply into each-others eyes.

(Doodles I did of it hehehe)

-Randall doesn’t mind if Hershel can’t dance, he still enjoys doing anything with him regardless. He enjoys Hershel’s light that he brings into his life.

a song that I think they’d dance to together in their free time; (posted like this so you can listen to it as you scroll through ‘em HEHE )

3. Pajamas and Sleepin

What would Hershel and Randall wear to bed?Hershel wears a sweater all the time no matter the weather (well obviously not summer) , He feels pretty insecure about his body since he hasn’t been with someone in such an intimate way since Claire’s accident. Randall teases him for that as he kisses him and tells him how beautiful he looks at any given moment. Randall would only wear boxers to bed or just…nothing at all if you’re brave enough LOLL. Randall has a lot of body heat so he doesn’t need any PJs. Often times, Hershel holds Randall while they sleep for warmth but Randall starts sweating like crazy because of the blanket + Hershel’s body heat, he doesn’t tell Hershel to stop hugging him tho since he loves the affection. Randall often wakes up to Hershel either spooning him or Laying close to his chest. HEHEHEEEE

4.Wings

One of my favorite hcs with Randall is him growing wings from the mask in order for it to not be damaged. I like to think that his wings kinda flutter when he’s doing anything with Hershel. He just starts hovering in the air when Hershel kisses him, bringing hershel up with him as he holds his face

5.Annoyance

Randall annoys Hershel at any given moment he can. Pinching his cheeks, interrupting Hershel when he does lecture plans, nuzzling all over Hershel like a cat (hehehee), or even kissing him straight on the mouth when they argue. Hershel doesn’t mind what Randall does, in fact, he loves it. He enjoys the attention Randall gives him since it makes him feel special, like someone actually cares about him with a passion.

6. Hairsss (Inspired by sweeetrandall HEHEHE)

The more time Randall spent away from Henry and Angela, the more his hair grew out. Randall wanted to be more of his own person than who he was before the fall, and Henry and Angela didn’t really help with that. During his time with Hershel, his hair grew back into that spiky style we see after he unmasks himself in miracle mask, with side burns and a bit of beard scruff (i love that hc so muchhh rahhggh) . He feels much more confident in who he is with longer hair and a scruffy beard. Hershel enjoys his confidence and scratchy kisses. Hershel also has the occasional Beard Scruff since he rarely takes care of himself.

7. Relaxation

Randall and Hershel’s ideal vacation spot is anywhere they can be together. Hershel often spends time on the couch reading while Randall makes them tea so that they can cuddle together with a cup of belle classic, though Randall prefers a cup of chai.

Going a bit away from that, whenever Hershel tries to relax himself in the bathtub, Randall hops in beside him (Ranlay bathing RanLay bathing RanLay bathingggg, they need to be squeaky clean, no mud in sight)

(slowly entering the sad territory, so sorry)

8. Comforting

Hershel has nightmares in his sleep about his past, replaying the worst moments over and over again. From him and Randall’s adventure in the ruins to Claire’s explosion accident. He often wakes up in a cold sweat from his nightmares. Whenever this happens or when Randall feels hershel squirming next to him, he’ll wrap his arms around him and whisper sweet words in Hershel’s ears with a tired but loving voice to try and calm him down.

9. Wishing

(This is during stansbury before the fall)

Randall would spend so much time together with Hershel. Going on expeditions or studying together for a big test at home. It would make Randall start to fall in love with Hershel the more he hanged out with him. Randall would often find himself wishing that Hershel was a girl. He knew that at home he would be shamed for ever finding interest in a man, none the less one of his best friends. Often going to their tree study spot under the stars, wishing and begging that Hershel would magically turn into a girl so that he could be with him. Randall still loved Angela a lot and would do absolutely anything for her. But his feelings were torn apart between his forbidden love for Hershel and Angela.

10. Flowers

Before Hershel set off to find the relic treasure, he would often send flowers to Randall every week while he was out on an adventure. Bouquets with a mixture of trillium flowers and violets would always be at Randall’s doorstep with a hand written note attached possibly saying;

“My love, I’m out on another busy trip but i hope these flowers brighten your days without me. I will be back fairly soon. Enjoy the flowers, my darling.

-With love, Hershel Layton”

Randall would enjoy receiving these flowers in person or delivered to his doorstep. But a year after Hershel had gone to discover the secret behind the relic treasure, Randall received these bouquets less and less each passing month. He began to worry about Hershel’s whereabouts and question where and why he was gone for so long without a call or a letter. Randall grew depressed and longed for Hershel as he had no contact from him in years. After receiving a call from the hospital Hershel was staying at he immediately ran over and held Hershel’s hand with tears flowing out of his eyes happy to see his beloved partner return, gently kissing his hand. Sadly Hershel couldn’t feel it since he was trapped in an ice bath for so long. Randall didn’t care as he continued to kiss him.

Song that gave me inspo for this;

ok. my silly babies.

[malconnorsupremacy]

love is a ruthless game (unless you play it good and right)

Pairings: Kanej, mentioned Wesper

Rating: Mature

Summary: Inej is kidnapped, and it doesn't help when the abductor is the man she walked away from a year ago.

Chapter 1: never saw you coming

Inej woke up in an unfamiliar room, disoriented and with a headache the size of Ravka.

She blinked- once, twice. When her eyes adjusted to the pitch darkness of the room, she tried to gauge her surroundings. Someone had taken her shoes off, and her hands were bound by a rope.

She felt the ground beneath her with her bare feet. Cold, tiled, uncleaned for a while.

Before taking action, she unwound the happenings of the night before. Her mind decried for details she might have missed, with great difficulty. Hell, it hurt to think.

~~~

Inej had just finished her routine walkthrough of the ship, reminding everyone of their duties and giving pointed looks to those slacking off. It was then when she heard a knock on the door of her captain’s quarters and the head of a small brunette poked in.

“Sana! Beta, what are you doing here?” Inej offered her a pleasant smile.

Sana was barely 11 years old, and was intercepted by slavers on the streets of Ravka. Her parents had left her to fend for herself just two weeks before her abduction, too poor and sick to give her anything to meet a level of subsistence. They were Suli, too, and were driven to such poverty by the treatment of the horrible government. Inej wondered sometimes, if her parents would’ve ever abandoned her in times of such crisis. If they knew how bloody her hands would be in the future.

“I brought us some tea, will you have some with me?” Sana enquired, holding two cups of tea in her small hands. Inej was replete with a strange warmth and automatic affinity towards this young girl. Well, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do.

“Of course beta, tell me about your day.”

~~~

That tea.

That fucking tea.

Someone had put something in that tea, not enough to make her unconscious on the spot, but just enough to knock her out in another two hours’ time.

Oh Sana, Inej thought ruefully. What did you do?

Her hands had been working on the rope for a few minutes now, and with a sense of triumph, she finally wriggled free of them. Now, free and unbound, her eyes wandered around the room in the proper sense.

A faint glint caught her eye on the far left of the room. A lock.

Bending towards it, she pulled out a bobby pin from her hair and began picking the lock. A few clicks, turns and the lock gave in. With a satisfied smile, Inej got up to open the door when the air around her shifted. Her neck trickled with a trail of goosebumps as she heard a raspy voice speak behind her.

“You’ve gotten so much better at that.”

It was like glass shattering on a marble floor, like a stone scraping a jagged wall. It was the voice Inej had craved to hear for a year now.

Reflexive and nimble as ever, she turned, grabbing a knife on her thigh and holding it against his neck.

She stared at the mosiac of hard lines and sharp edges, and felt a strange sense of relief upon hearing his salt voice.

“Good to see you again, Wraith.”

~~~

The early sun, high and mighty in all its glory, shone down upon the sea and cast its light on a ship- The Wraith- bobbing its way along the glistening waters. Just ahead, were the beginnings of land; of a city most feared- Ketterdam. Inej stood at its hull, her posture stoic, her pride unwavering as she gazed at the Land of Sinners, as most called it. Ketterdam had countless names, all dark and unwelcoming just as the city itself.

But for all its imperfections, for all its flaws, for its abrasive cracks and irascible shortcomings, she’d found a place among its people. She’d found solace in the constant clatter of heels on cobblestones, in the clink of two kvas-filled glasses between strangers, in the sight of a labyrinth of dark coloured coats and boots. She was arriving at the place that had made her who she was today.

Her maiden voyage had been eventful, she had spent the first three months learning the ropes of the role, under the watchful eye of Specht. She had begun her mission of rising to the pinnacle of her crew’s trust as they circled her cautiously, aware she was inexperienced, and testing if she could cut the mustard.

She did, as it turned out. Their first attack was in Shu waters. They had the most extravagant ships with technically qualified sailors and mechanised equipment. This made them simple to spot, but tedious to overwhelm. But Inej was the Wraith, and she was nothing if not headstrong in proving herself. And so she strategised. And she planned. And left the rest for her to show her skills. She shadowed the Shu Captain, translated his words with the help of her Shu crew members, and that night, they freed 30 innocent boys and girls.

That was the night Inej truly earned the respect and admiration from all her crew members.

Over the course of the next six months, she took down 3 more ships. By the time she returned to Ketterdam, she had already created quite a fearsome reputation for herself.

Inej climbed atop the mast and peered through her spyglass as the dock revealed itself beyond the morning fog.

She spotted familiar figures at Berth 22 and could not refrain from grinning. Jesper stood with an obnoxious suit and an even more vibrant hat flailing his lanky arms upwards. Tucked beside him was a bundle of red curls and freckles. She could not see Wylan’s expression distinctly, but could tell he was smiling too. She looked around them in vain, hoping to catch sight of gloved hands, hats or crow-headed canes. Disappointment sunk in quickly, dissolving in her ecstasy, leaving her with a bittersweet, lingering taste. When Inej had left Ketterdam, she had left with a promise to return, if he tried. But she would give him his time. To be ready.

Inej had flushed cheeks by the time she was released by Jesper while Wylan chuckled at his boyfriend’s exaggerated reactions.

“No letter! For two months! Two whole months, Inej. Was it because I asked for more of those spiced muffins from your mother? I understand I overstated my desire to raid her kitchen of those flavours…”

Jesper’s voice was blanked out by another rising point of disdain. Kaz never wrote back. Every time she wrote letters, she wrote to the Van Eck house, to Nina and to the Slat. Did he ever even open those letters? Did he just skim through the points important for business and discard the rest?

Jesper seemed to notice her awry expression and slipped in a nonchalant comment.

"And Kaz has been working himself to death with all those new clubs opening up, man barely has time to breathe."

Inej gave him a good-natured smile. Leave it to Jesper to assure her with those knowing grey eyes.

"Well, " Inej said as she clapped her hands together. "I'm starving."

*

The first stop Inej made after a hearty lunch at the Van Eck mansion was the Slat. She'd had a lovely time catching up with the couple, sharing her adventures at sea and dodging certain innuendos thrown in by Jesper while he explicated details of the developments in their relationship.

Her feet scaled the rooftops, easy as butter on a hot pan. The waves of nostalgia cascaded over her because nothing had changed . The tiles on the roofs. The crooked pipes. The crows outside Kaz Brekker's window.

Inej noticed the attic window was open, meaning he had known she would come. She quickly slipped into her place on the windowsill. The crows cawed at her presence and nipped at her hand as they used to. Crows don't forget, Kaz had told her once. They hold people who nurture them close to their heart. They remember the faces of those who had wronged them, and coddle their thirst for vengeance.

After a good bell of sitting in silence, Inej decided to finally speak to the man seated at his desk.

"Hello, Kaz," She said, her eyes boring into the back of his head.

"Hello, Wraith. What business?" He clipped. Ever the businessman, she thought wryly.

"You didn't come to see me at the docks," she accused.

"I didn't see the reason for doing so. Was there something important?" He asked, his tone showing no sarcasm.

"I was gone for nine months, Kaz. You didn't even write me back."

"What did you expect me to write you about? About how my day was? About how many people I had killed that day? About how I felt so righteous but at the same time deafened with guilt because of the number of souls I had sent to the Saints?"

Inej felt hurt. His tone was mocking, ridiculing as he mimicked one of the lines from her letters.

So he had read them. He had probably laughed at them.

"No, Kaz," She said as she pulled her hood over her head. "Even a simple 'Hello, Inej' would've done."

~~~

"What business, Dirtyhands?" She tried not to let her anger show, of being drugged and then tied to a chair by him.

He only raised a brow in response, which fueled inej’s annoyance.

She backed him until he sat down on the chair right behind him. Then using her leg, she shoved open the door with the picked lock. What stared at her was an unwavering brick wall.

She couldn't help but huff a laugh.

"Whose idea of a cruel joke was this?" She asked, as she watched him curl one end of his mouth.

"Rotty's. Hope before the torture; callous, wouldn't you say?"

It then dawned on her that this was a Dreg safe house. It wasn't one she had been in before, so it had to be a new one. Which also meant there was a hidden escape somewhere in this room.

"You make quite a lousy abductor. You didn't strip me of my knives." She stared right at his brown eyes, swirling, brewing the most bitter coffee she'd ever seen.

He grinned at that but didn't say anything, and Inej hated it. Hated how he made it look like it was part of his plan. How he still rendered her completely flummoxed, even while she was the one who wielded the knife.

"I will ask you one simple question, Dirtyhands. Why did you bring me here?"

"My answer to that has never changed, Inej. Money. Always money."

The urge to spit on his godsforsaken face was so overwhelming she had to clench her mouth shut. She had given up on him a long time ago, and yet he managed to spew such bullshit that she was compelled to want to give up on him all over again.

"What were you going to do? Hand me over to my enemies at sea? Or maybe you'd do me a clean kill yourself? Anything to earn you a quick buck."

Inej thought she saw Kaz's face morph at her words. To something of sadness. Of guilt.

But he went back to wearing a poker face the very next second.

Some deep-rooted part of her screamed vehement denials at the accusation, but she shoved it to the bottom.

This was too much. All of it. It was a bubbling wave of frenzied emotions coupled with anxiety, threatening to burst through her stoic dam.

"No," Kaz said slowly, testing the cracks in her fortress. "I've been paid to bring you here. To get you away from the ship."

When Inej shot him a pointed glare, demanding an elaboration, he sighed.

"Gheller, the man whose ship you raided 7 months ago, has a son- Revanch. Now, Gheller's ship had a signed contract of transfer of 3/4th of his business profit to Revanch. It was a plea to amend the demand in his will, since every other asset he owned went to his bastard son in Kerch, Gewild.

"So you see, Mr. Revanch was furious he wasn't getting anything from his father and commenced a fight with Gewild, demanding he give Revanch his share of the assets."

"And Gewild didn't agree," Inej guessed, painfully nostalgic with how this was the way Kaz always narrated his ventures before the Ice Court heist.

"Of course not, which is why he turns to you, the woman who had stolen his wealth in the first place."

"He wants revenge. And he wants to loot my ship." Inej pieced it together, jaw clenched.

"And that is why he paid me a hefty price to bring you here. You see, your ship is disorganised without you. They wouldn't hold a strong front, unprepared and without the support of their Captain. They’d lose, giving way to Revanch to ransack your ship," Kaz explained, his eyes glinting with a familiar light of mischief.

Inej caught on immediately. The lie in his eyes. The upward tilt of his lips.

Because her ship was the complete opposite of disorganised. Inej had given first importance to making her crew as disciplined as possible. Attacks should be coordinated, and every member should remain alert in case of an emergency.

She narrowed her eyes at him. What was he playing at?

“What did you do? Is my crew in danger?” Inej hissed, tightening her hold over the hilt of her knife. It was starting to make a scar on his pale skin.

Kaz remained baring his ridiculously infuriating smirk.

“No, Inej,” he whispered, as if trusting her with a secret, “because I didn't follow the plan.”

on ao3

[another-clive-blog]

Back with more angst <3

Throw Clive in a river!! He can’t swim :(

The first thing anyone sees from him is his hat floating in the river. Then the rest of him comes along!!

Introducing : the kidnapping scene from Unwound Future, but with a twist.

TW are mention of death and drowning, boat crash (yep). This takes place between the Canon Flora kidnapping scene and the ride to the lighthouse. Without further ado- the fic !!!

"Professor, what do we do ?!" Luke was trying not to panic, he really was, but it was hard not to right now. "He took Flora and-"

"Luke, look," Layton muttered, a frown on his face. Weird- the professor was sometimes pensive, but he wasn't usually perplexed. What could possibly catch the professor of all people off guard ?

Luke narrowed his eyes, looking in the direction of the lighthouse. "He... turned around ?"

...What ?

But but- Clive had this whole plan ! He'd kidnapped Flora ! He had hit him with a plant and it still hurt by the way, even though this wasn't the right time it really did hurt-

"I don't understand..." Layton admitted, which was a revolution in itself. Luke would probably make a big deal out of it if he wasn't so confused and worried : he really hoped Flora was okay. He would never forgive himself if she wasn't...

"Professor !!"

Ah, well. She seemed just fine.

Flora, as it turned out, had become the boat's self appointed driver. A good thing, except that she was supposed to be kidnapped- and, oh yeah, she didn't actually know how to drive a boat. Or stop one.

Everyone threw themselves to the ground as Flora ran the boat into the soft dirt of the shore, going fully out of the water. Luke was actually pretty sure this was quite dangerous but then again, when he turned around, Flora was well and smiling, standing expectantly in front of them with the wreckage of a boat half-embedded into the inn.

"Flora," Layton slowly stood up, readjusting his top hat on his head, "Are you alright my dear ?"

"I am fine !" She happily replied, letting Celeste check her for any injuries.

Luke was completely lost at this point. He couldn't understand how the professor just went along with any of this after a boat literally crashed in a house, couldn't understand why Flora looked so serene and content after getting kidnapped. And where was Clive anyway ? Somewhere between the boat and the inn ? "Where- where is Clive ?" He asked, eyes wide and tone hesitant.

Clive- Clive didn't look like the type of man to so easily change his mind. He also didn't look like someone who would let Flora go right after kidnapping her. What was going on ?

Celeste was done now, having miraculously found nothing of concern- which was a bit concerning in itself actually ! Luke was glad she was okay, but she very much shouldn't be, right ? At least a bit shaken, something like that- right ?

Flora did stop smiling. She raised a hand to her cheek, suddenly looking pretty distraught and sorrowful. "Oh, I don't want to talk about it. It was terrible, really scary..."

"Scary ??" Luke repeated despite himself.

"Yes," Flora closed her sad eyes. "A tragedy."

The professor took a few steps forward, expression sympathetic. "I am sorry you had to endure this, Flora. If you want, you can-"

"He drowned."

"He did what !" Luke quite ungentlemanly yelled while Layton stopped dead in his tracks. "How did that even happen ?!"

Don Paolo, Dimitri and Celeste all turned as one to stare at the river, squinting to try and see what they were looking for. The professor also sent a glance behind him before focusing back on Flora. "Flora, my dear, please explain what you mean by that."

"He didn't know how to swim."

"How he came to drown, I mean."

"Well, he didn't swim upon falling into the water."

"How did he fall !!" Luke threw his tiny hands up. "Why did he go for a bath if he can't swim !!"

"Oh !" Flora looked at him in understanding, and Luke sighed in relief. They really were bad at communicating precisely and without any misunderstanding, weren't they ?

Flora smiled. "I pushed him overboard."

"You did what ?!" Luke cried out at the same time as the professor did, which- wow. He had never seen the professor so demonstrative of his emotions and thoughts. But also- homicide !! Probably !!

Flora gripped the fabric of her dress, lowering her head. "Well, he did kidnap me. He was talking about making sure I wouldn't escape and luring you two out there, and- and-" She clenched her fists, a pout on her face. "And he wouldn't apologize ! Not even when I asked nicely !!"

"So you killed him ?" Luke stated incredulously.

"Oh, no, I didn't kill him !" Flora looked away as if the very thought of murder was unbearable : Luke sighed in relief. He had no idea what he would've done if she actually had murdered Clive : bring her to justice ? Protect her from it ?

He was so glad he didn't have to deal with this.

Flora smiled warmly. "I didn't kill him. He drowned on his own."

[udovaintomyheart]

Despite the black eyes and the inky lines that coursed up his neck, he still had an elegant face—his mother’s fine cheekbones, the strong jaw that must have come from his ambassador father. His frown deepened. Then he reached out and plucked the emerald up in his claws.

Ruin and Rising, Chapter 16

“Saints,” Zoya said as she stared down at the portrait. “The likeness—”

“Striking, I know.” Only the eyes were different—tiny daubs of blue instead of hazel—and the beard, of course. But looking at the miniature was like gazing into the future, at a Nikolai grown a bit older, a bit graver, with lines at the corners of his eyes.

King of Scars, Chapter 6

Except the man gripping the iron bars didn’t look ordinary. He looked like King Nikolai. His hair was golden, though streaked with gray, his beard unkempt. His fine clothes were rumpled and stained. He’d been gagged and chained to the cell bars to give him a limited range of movement. There was nothing in the tiny cell but a cot and a chamber pot.

Rule of Wolves, Chapter 16

Opjer unwound his scarf and Nikolai drew in a breath.

“Tatiana told me you took after me,” Opjer said. “But I cannot quite believe the likeness.”

“It’s all true then.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Rule of Wolves, Chapter 34

[viridousl]

Time Travel Percy Chapters 1 and 2

Because Chapter 2 is up on ao3 and I didn't post the text of Chapter 1 on tumblr

Link to Chapter 2 on ao3 if you've already read Chapter 1: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46881193/chapters/118357810

----------------------------------------

In a world where all magic is purposeful spells, save for bouts of accidental magic, one would think that something as powerful as time travel would be a planned ordeal. True time travel, mind you. Not a time turner where you have to deal with another version of yourself running around and worrying about not being seen, but true time travel where you become your past self with all of your future memories, and even a single mistake cannot be unwound and could send you careening into some terrible new permanent future-

Deep breaths, he tells himself. Deep breaths. He keeps them quiet, ears pricked for the slightest sound that would indicate that anyone else in the household was woken up by this life-changing event. No, universe-changing event.

The house remains silent.

Nonetheless, time travel is not something done willy-nilly. Harry Potter was powerful enough to Apparate with accidental magic, but Apparation, no matter how difficult it can be to some, is not on the same level as time travel, and not something that could be done accidentally.

The fact remains. He stares at himself in the mirror, eyes wide as he takes in the sight of his much younger body, and he can barely believe it.

His hair is all over the place in the way it used to be before he learned how to make it behave, curled enough that it brings back older memories. Eventually, he knows, it will straighten out into more of a wave, and this too will help manage his wild hair. His eyes are shining blue and wide with the innocence of youth, and yet, the longer he stares at them, the more he sees the shadows of his knowledge linger in his eyes. He looks away from the mirror.

His hands are so small. He looks so short! He had always been thin and lanky, but his growth spurt was so long ago he can’t even begin to guess what age he might be.

He has no idea how he managed to travel into the past. He hadn’t even thought of ever messing with time travel, but as he spends the rest of the early morning tearing apart his room and finding more and more evidence that this is real and not some strange dream or hallucination, the more it begins to dawn on him that he had not planned for this.

He was in the past, and he could change the future, no, had to change the future, and he had no idea where to even begin.

He didn’t even know the year.

This sends him in a brief moment of panic, hyperventilating under the sudden weight of responsibility and infinite mistakes that he could make.

Then he rolls up his sleeves and gets back to work.

He doubts he was chosen, in any sort of capacity, but if he had been chosen, it would’ve been because, above all else, Percival Ignatius Weasley loves his notes .

He pushes up his horned glasses, picks up his favorite quill, shuffles some papers, and writes down as much as he can remember about the past, writing and writing, ignorant to the slowly rising sun. And then immediately after he writes a list of things he wants to change.

Save Fred

 

He pauses, quill hovering above the paper, threatening to drip ink. What else was there to fix? 

He gives himself a little shake. He’s focusing too much on the one major thing, surely there was more that he could fix-

There was a knock on his door and George steps into Percy’s room.

“Breakfast’s almost ready,” George says, as if being sent to tell Percy this was the most grueling task he had ever faced, tiny, freckled face scrunched up. He looks so young that Percy just stares at him.

Fred pops his head in, the same dramatic youthfulness to him, and Percy can’t breathe.

Fred is alive, Fred and George are children, and he can’t remember the last time George looked so carefree.

“Don’t just stare at us,” Fred says, annoyed. He tugs on George’s sleeve. “C’mon, George, let’s-” He catches sight of what Percy is doing, and his eyebrows rise in sharp disbelief. “You aren’t studying this early in the morning?” He gasps in horror, and yanks harder on George’s shirt sleeve. “We need to leave now, George.”

“You know, Fred, I quite agree,” George replies and the two scamper off, not even bothering to close Percy’s door all the way.

There had to be something wrong with Percy. His ribs feels like they’re being compressed, squishing his lungs and leaving him breathless. His heart is beginning to pound in his ears. He presses a shaking hand to his chest and wheezes for air, eyes watering. Did the twins cast some sort of spell on him, or a prank-?

No. He remembers the way this would happen to others, after the war, and tries to recall how to stop it. He closes his eyes, ignoring the wetness on his cheeks, and focuses on his breathing until he no longer feels like an elephant is sitting on his chest.

Fred and George looked so young. Percy had to be young too, then. Ridiculously young. 

Personally, Percy thought that the amount of time he had been sent back was absurd. The only thing he could think of was Save Fred. Which wasn’t even a worry yet! Was he supposed to wait a decade just to push Fred out of the way of a fucking wall-?

His chest ached, and he focused on breathing again.

The thing that just happened to him. It wasn’t a spell. They would happen to Ron, sometimes. Percy didn’t remember what they are called.

Another thing to add to the list, then.

Save Fred

Help Ron

 

…After writing it down, Percy realizes he isn’t quite sure how to help Ron. It wasn’t like he could prevent the final battle, could he? What was he supposed to do, fight Voldemort personally? Wasn’t there some prophecy that let only Harry be capable of defeating Voldemort? Wasn’t that something Ron had talked about?

Percy supposed that he could fight Voldemort more effectively, this time around. He thought that his work in the Ministry wasn’t so bad, helping to keep together the government model that they would continue to use after Voldemort’s death. After the final battle, most Ministry employees were gone, whether they had been killed by Death Eaters, arrested for being Death Eaters, or having fled the country. Unless Lady Magic herself was disagreeing with his work at the Ministry-

He paused.

Lady Magic. What if-

He scrambled to his feet and hurried downstairs for breakfast before his brain could dare finish that train of thought and have some sort of crisis.

Furthermore, it was the most illogical thing to ever consider-!

He rushed down the stairs faster.

It’s another breath of air knocked out of him to see his family sitting around the dining room table. They can’t really eat breakfast together, Dad grabbing something to eat as he leaves, almost late for work at the Ministry, Mum trying to feed little Ginny, who was making such a mess for someone who looked to be about five-

Percy stands in the doorway, just looking at his family.

Ron looks particularly furious for a reason Percy couldn’t begin to fathom, likely having been the butt to another one of Fred and George’s pranks. Bill and Charlie were both sitting down and eating, Charlie faster than Bill, no doubt ready to run out the door and spend his summer morning out in the woods by their house rather than under the thumb of their mother, doing chores. It was almost a shock to see Bill without his scars, and with shorter hair, but both Bill and Charlie were already beginning to grow their hair out, so it was around Charlie’s third year of Hogwarts at least, which would, if Percy did his math right, put Charlie about thirteen and Bill, fifteen.

“Percy!” His mother greets him with a brisk cheer that he hadn’t encountered in so long. “Hurry up and sit down!”

After some hesitation, Percy sits down between Fred and Ron. He isn’t really that pleased to be sitting next to them; of all the brothers most likely to invoke an emotional response born of his future memories, it would be these two brothers. Fred gives him an indecipherable look as Percy awkwardly settles into his chair, but Ron keeps eating with a speed that denotes his bottomless stomach rather than any desperation born of wartime.

Help Ron, he remembers from his list. He grabs a slice of toast and thinks of how to help Ron. This takes him a moment.

Then the idea hits like lightning. Oh, he’s such an idiot! He doesn’t have to face Voldemort off the way he was imagining with increasing despair. There are other ways to fight Voldemort before the final battle. The shade of Voldemort that attacked Ron’s first year. The Chamber of Secrets- oh, Ginny-! The Triwizard Tournament, and, and-

Well. It seemed there were a lot of things he could do. It was a shame that he only thought of them now that his list wasn’t right in front of him. He focuses on scarfing down his toast.

Fred is still staring at him, and now George is too.

“What?” He demands snappishly, anxiety giving his question teeth.

“You're being weird,” Fred replies bluntly, frowning.

“You’re acting like a prat,” George agrees.

“Just because you’re going to Hogwarts for the first time this year-”

“-doesn’t mean you’re better than us or anything!”

“You’re already studying as if you’re at school already-”

“-probably staying up late to study, too-”

“-holing yourself up in your room-”

“-like you can’t be bothered to hang out with us.”

Percy frowns. He recalls how excited and nervous he had been, getting his Hogwarts letter for the first time. He knows they mistook his list for studying, and he was content to let them keep thinking that, so he shrugs silently in response. In all honesty, the younger version of Percy he had just replaced probably had been taking sleep off his schedule in favor of reading Hogwarts A History or some other book.

Wait. First year. Percy was going into his first year of Hogwarts. Which put Charlie at the beginning of his fourth year, and Bill in his sixth year. He had guessed their ages correctly, then, which provided Percy a better guess as to his own body’s age. His birthday is August 22nd, and seeing as the school term starts September 1st and he’s already received his letter, either he is eleven or about to turn eleven.

He hopes he’s already eleven. He hasn’t had anyone celebrate his birthday in a long time, and he’s not looking forward to any celebrations of it. At first, it was because he didn’t feel like part of the family after his fight with his dad, and after the final battle, it felt like every birthday was mocking him for being alive when Fred wasn’t.

“Earth to Percy!” A hand waves in front of his face and Percy blinks, turning his head to follow the hand back to it’s owner.

“Bill?”

The older brother in question frowns at him in annoyance. “Come on, Perce, quit zoning out. Mum put us in charge of de-gnoming the backyard after breakfast.”

“Okay,” Percy agreed easily. Bill was easier to be around than Fred, and maybe the fresh air will do some good as well.

“And no letting Ginny outside until after it’s done!” Mum reminds them. “She’s still trying to catch a gnome as a pet.”

“I want a pet!” His sister says immediately as the topic registers. “I want a cat!”

“I want a pet too,” Ron agrees unhappily. “All we have Errol, and Percy has his rat.”

What.

Percy almost chokes on his last bite of toast. Scabbers. How did he not think about Peter Pettigrew?

He wracks his brain. Did he see the rat’s cage in his room when he traveled back in time? He has half a mind to run upstairs and check now. He shouldn't have given Ron the rat yet, or even suggested the idea yet, which means he can keep Scabbers with him. As much as his skin crawls at the idea of the animagus spending so much time with Percy in his bedroom, it’s a significantly better alternative than leaving the fully-grown man in Ron’s room alone. Peter hadn’t done anything to either of the boys, but it had still been a sickening discovery during Ron’s third year. Percy could deal with Pettigrew, and possibly out him as an animagus sooner.

Bill takes away Percy’s plate. “Get dressed and I’ll meet you in the backyard,” he says, and Percy realizes another reason Fred might’ve been staring at him; he can’t remember the last time he attended breakfast in the Weasley household in his pyjamas, preferring to already be fully dressed for the day. It conveniently provides him an excuse to scramble out of his seat and race for his room to look for Scabbers.

The rat is sleeping on Percy’s pillow, next to the dent that Percy’s head left behind. Still snoozing and unaware of the changing events just out of reach of his crooked whiskers. Percy clenches his fists, just staring at the rat for a long moment.

There’s nothing he can really do right now about it. Reluctantly, he turns to his closet and grabs his clothes. He hesitates, and then takes his clothes to the bathroom to change. He doesn’t want to take his clothes off in front of the rat. He hopes that Pettigrew won’t notice the differences in his behavior.

After changing, he heads out to the backyard.

It’s easy to degnome the backyard with Bill. Bill doesn’t talk much, preferring the calm and quiet of a task. It’s why Percy is Bill’s favorite, and Bill is Percy’s second favorite. Ginny can be loud and fiery but she’s locked in first place in Percy’s heart rather firmly.

Degnoming also gives Percy time to think. And the more he thinks, the more aware he is of the fact that he doesn’t know much about the future. What happened in Harry Potter’s first year was a story that immediately got passed around by every student in the castle, and he thinks even if rumors might have twisted some things, he should still have enough information to mitigate that incident. But after that first year, Ron and Harry clamped down on telling people what happened. He doesn’t know how Ginny got the diary that possessed her. He doesn’t know how Harry managed to help Sirius Black escape after he was caught by dementors, or what Professor Lupin being a werewolf had to do with it. He doesn’t know how Harry’s name ended up in the Goblet of Fire or how Voldemort returned. He doesn’t even know if anything big happened like that in Harry’s fifth or sixth years at school, because he hadn’t been in contact with his parents. He knows they ended up fighting at the Ministry of Magic, which was when Percy had seen Voldemort for himself for the first time. He knows Harry and Ron and Hermoine did something, during the war, because they were running around all of Britain instead of hiding or fighting or whatever it was everyone else was doing. He vaguely recalls that they broke into the Ministry and attacked Dolores Umbridge for some reason. But he doesn’t know what they were doing.

It’s not like he can go back to the future and ask these things. Mind you, if Percy had known he was going to be time traveling, he would’ve asked. Now he has to settle for putting himself in a position where he finds out this kind of information the second it comes to light.

Percy throws one of the gnomes with more force than necessary and resigns himself to having to spend a lot of time trying to bond with Ron and, by proxy, Harry. If they trust him and see him as a friend, or as someone they can go to for help, he’ll know more, even if he might not be able to prepare, but it’ll be better than learning about whatever happened after the fact.

The second he and Bill are done de-gnoming the backyard, Percy heads back inside to find Ron. He might as well start now; Ron was never particularly fond of Percy, so getting Ron to warm up to him might take some time, and Percy doesn’t have much that he can do in the time leading up to September 1st.

He finds Ron folding his laundry in his room. He’s not so much as folding his laundry as he is stuffing the clothes into his drawers, but Ron’s only seven years old, so  Percy doesn’t say anything. He lingers in the doorway, trying to find an angle of attack.

“What do you want?” Ron snaps irritably when he catches sight of Percy. Percy stares back, trying to think of anything they have in common.

“Would you like to play chess with me later?” He asks, and Ron snorts.

“Sure,” Ron says. “Just don’t get mad like the twins when I utterly trounce you.”

“I won’t,” Percy argues immediately, and Ron snorts again and turns back to his laundry. Percy heads back to his own room, pumping his fist victoriously, except-

Right. Percy is completely garbage at chess. And Ron, Percy recalls from Ron’s first year, is very, very good at chess.

This is going to be a huge test of Percy’s patience, but perhaps this failing of his can either soften Ron to him, or Percy can use this bonding with Ron to get better at chess.

Either way, Percy will have to resign himself to a lot of losses in the upcoming days. Chapter 2

Percy has never felt so impatient in all his life.

Before time traveling, he cherished every second because he utilized every second. Studying, worrying over his siblings, prefect duties, homework, and then after Hogwarts, from dawn ‘til dusk, and then later in the evening too, was work, work, work.

He had plans, and drive, and more importantly, the means by which to work on his goals.

But now he is eleven again, and he doesn’t need to study because he already knows everything he needs for Hogwarts, (and oh no, he’s going to have to take his 12 O.W.L.s all over again) and there is nothing for him to do until he goes to school .

He’s bored. He wishes that he could hop on the train already. He’s restless, and he’s not eager to stick around the house waiting for the twins to inevitably prank him in revenge for being able to go to Hogwarts when they can’t yet. So he heads out to the backyard. He briefly stops to glance around, but he keeps walking, past the property line and into the woods nearby. He knows the area around the Burrow well enough to not get lost, and his feet take him further and further away from the house.

He can feel the warm summer sun on his skin between the branches of the trees above him, and the further he walks, the clearer his head gets.

He walks and walks until he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. His hand twitches for a wand he doesn’t have yet, and his fingers clenche around air. His shoulders tense, and he turns his head to see a small figure among the trees. Percy frowns, then relaxes. Is that Luna Lovegood?

He knew their house was relatively nearby, but either he had walked farther than he thought he had or Luna was very far away from her house, especially for (quickly Percy calculates her age) a five-year-old? A six-year-old?

As he approaches, concerned, the little girl looks up at him with wide, dreamy eyes.

“Hullo, Luna,” He greets. “Why are you out here?”

Luna doesn’t question how he knows her name. “I’m looking for a Crumple-Horned Snorkack,” She says.

“What?”

“A Crumple-Horned Snorkack,” She repeats. “I’m sure it’s around here somewhere, I just have to find it.”

“Right.” Percy glances around. “Is your father somewhere nearby, Luna?”

“No,” She chirps. “He’s very busy, but if I find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack I’m sure he’ll have time for me!”

Percy frowns slightly. “So you’re out here by yourself?” He pointedly doesn’t focus on the rest of Luna’s sentence. He’s not sure at what age Luna’s mother died, but he suspects that it’s already happened if she’s out here unsupervised. Or maybe her mother was just as absent as her father. He holds out his hand to her.

“Would you like to meet my sister?” He asks. “Her name is Ginny, and she’s about the same age as you. I’m sure you’ll be in the same year at Hogwarts.”

“I’m not supposed to go with strangers,” Luna says. “But you don’t seem like a stranger to me.” She slips her tiny hand into his.

“We’re technically neighbors,” Percy allows, although he doesn’t think they’ve really met in this time before now.

It doesn’t matter; whatever keeps the little girl from wandering the woods by herself. He leads her back to the Burrow, and she trails after him happily, babbling on and on about flowers and grass and some neat plants she found. Most Luna-speak, he has learned over the years, usually has some meaning beneath the seemingly random words, but even now he’s still not sure what she’s trying to communicate, or even if she’s talking like this because she’s more or less five. He focuses on guiding her back to the house and nodding at the right intervals, and she seems relatively pleased.

His mom raises her eyebrows when he walks through the backdoor with Luna in tow.

“Oh, are you Xenophilius’ little girl?” His mother greets her, and takes over, all but scooping the girl up into her arms and bringing her to the living room where Ginny is drawing on the floor. The carpet beneath her is making her crayon lines crooked (or so Percy hopes that’s why her lines are so crooked), and the drawing is abandoned in favor of staring at Luna with huge eyes.

It’s a little shock every time Percy looks at Ginny. Ginny seemed so mature and was a young woman during the Battle of Hogwarts, and now she is five again and the difference is so visceral that Percy alternates between feeling like he’s in a dream and feeling like he’s looking at a stranger who happens to look like Ginny when she was five and the real, adult Ginny is hiding somewhere laughing at him. But the little girl now eagerly chatting with Luna is his real younger sister.

“Percy,” His mother calls quietly as she steps away from the two little girls. “Why did you bring this little girl home?”

Percy figures that there’s no reason to lie. “I went for a walk and found her out in the woods by herself,” He says. “You should probably Fire-call Mr. Lovegood, though. I don’t think he even knew she was out of the house.”

His mother gives him a look that indicates that he’s on babysitting duty, and hustles off to presumably get in contact with Luna’s father. Percy considers adding Luna to his social networking plan of befriending all the important key players of the future, but dismisses it almost immediately. Luna was relatively fond of him the first time around, and befriending her for the sake of information was essentially useless since she is barely older than a toddler. He distantly recalls helping her find her lost shoes several times as a Prefect, though, and being forced into many strange conversations that both confused and bemused him.

Befriending her for the sake of having friends wouldn’t be a bad option, he thinks, and wonders what it says about him that he’s planning on cultivating so many friends for the sake of the future rather than his own happiness.

His sister giggles at something Luna says, and the thought dissolves away. He’s never claimed to be a self-sacrificing kind of man, but there’s not a lot he wouldn’t do to keep his family alive.

He watches his sister and Luna a moment longer before pulling out a relatively easy children’s game. He sits down next to them and sets it up, and they play the game without him having to say anything. Ginny manages to read out the instructions with only a hint of a stumble in her words, and Luna follows along easily. Percy makes a note of it and mentally reminds himself to find a book on childhood development. The five-year-olds are more competent than he could remember, and he doesn’t want to be caught out on time travel just because he forgot Ginny could read at this age.

Which, if his parents learned that he had time traveled, would it really be so bad? He’s not afraid to admit he’s a bit out of his depth, and he doesn’t have to tell them everything about the future. Time travel is illegal, of course, but it’s not like it was his fault. Would they turn him in? What would the Ministry do, if they found out? Lock him up for the crime anyway? Lock him up so that he can’t share his secrets of the future? Would they interrogate him? He’s sure that the Unspeakables would march him into the Department of Mysteries and he’d never be found again.

No. He knows that his memories of the future, of the fight that he wouldn’t let happen are clouding his judgment, but he finds he doesn’t want to risk it. He doesn’t want to tell his parents. Tell his father.

“Percy.” He looks up at the sound of his name and sees that his mother has returned. “Mr. Lovegood will be coming in through the Floo in a moment.” She glances at the two girls on the carpet next to him, her face fond at the sight of Ginny making a friend her age. “Can you make sure she puts her shoes on?”

Percy suppresses a smile. “She doesn’t have shoes with her, Mum.”

“What?” Her eyebrows furrow. “Ginny, I’m going to let Luna borrow a pair of your shoes.”

“Good!” Ginny chirps. “Then she has to come back again, to return them!”

Or, Percy thinks privately, Mr. Lovegood could return them after getting Luna home. But he stays silent, because Luna is one of Ginny’s closest friends in the future, and he’d hate to give his mother any ideas that delay Ginny from making some much-needed friends.

His mother practically melts under Ginny’s excited face. “Of course, dear, I’ll talk to Xenophilius about it.” Percy knows that that means Luna will most certainly return again; whether she gets dropped off by her father or whether she randomly appears at the doorstep is anyone’s guess, though.

“Can she come back tomorrow?” Ginny demands.

“I’m afraid not,” His mother sighs. “We’re going to Diagon Alley the day after tomorrow, remember? We need the day to pack and prepare.”

“What?” Percy’s head whips up. Diagon Alley? Normally the family doesn’t go there until a few days prior to September 1st. They like to make a little holiday out of it, spending a night or two at the Leaky Cauldron, though Percy usually has to share a room with Bill and Charlie or Fred and George, after the older two graduated. Charlie and Bill are still in school, though, and he looks forward to sharing a hotel room with the two brothers that won’t prank him while he sleeps.

“Yes dear, we have to buy you a wand before you go to school, don’t we?” She winks at him, and he immediately smiles back. His wand has been one of the biggest things he’s missed in the two days he’s traveled back in time, and now he knows what day it is. It’s the 28th of August, 1987. He’d time-traveled a mere four days after his eleventh birthday, which is a relief to him, and he has just over 3 days until he’s off to Hogwarts. He almost wishes that he could’ve traveled to the day before he gets on the Hogwarts Express, to avoid the boredom and impatience, but can admit to himself that the few days to adjust were necessary.

But he does wish that he could have his wand back today. The lack of weight in his pocket, well, weighs on him. He misses the design carved into its handle. 

Suddenly a thought occurs to him. He’s changed so much, since the first time around that he entered Ollivander’s. Would he still get the same wand, or would he get something new?

He’s so consumed with worry that he misses the double take that Xenophilius gives him when he walks in from their fireplace. Ginny manages to extract a promise to return Luna out of the permanently frazzled-looking man before both Lovegoods Floo back to their house.

Percy barely pays any attention, letting his feet guide him toward the stairwell back to his room. His brain keeps whirring away at how he’s changed, as a person, and how that could affect the future unintentionally.

Would his wand be different? Could the Sorting Hat tell? Would it tell Dumbledore? Would it take him out of Gryffindor? He knows his actions as an adult in the Ministry weren’t as outwardly brave as other lions, could the Sorting Hat see that? Oh no, what if it put him in Slytherin? He knows that the monumental task ahead of him calls for no small amount of cunning, but surely the Hat would see that taking him out of Gryffindor would be entirely detrimental to the fate of the world? He-

Splat.

He’s shocked out of his thoughts by something cold and wet crawling down the side of his face. He pauses, shocked, and slope reaches up to touch his face. His fingers come back covered in some sort of pale blue slime. He looks up to see a pair of grinning faces disappear over the railing above him.

“George!” He roars. “Fred!” He hears them giggle, and the sound of their bedroom door shut. He grits his teeth.

“Oh dear,” says his father, head peaking around from the kitchen. “You better go take a shower, Percy.” His father’s mouth twitches in a way that belays his amusement, and Percy starts to seethe.

“You always liked them better than me,” He accuses Arthur, and stomps up the stairs to the bathroom to wash the slime off (the twins don’t exactly have a track record of using safe and harmless pranks, and he doesn’t know what is on his face). His face is washed and he’s almost back to his room before he realizes that he hasn’t been pranked by the twins in a long time, and his reaction was practically autopilot, childish in its impulsive, frustrated nature.

It’s natural, after all, to return home and experience a slight regression in behaviors as you fall back into an old routine. Perhaps keeping his secret won’t be so difficult after all.

[meeeeeeese]

wip whenever

I've already posted this to discord but here's what I'm currently working on

(strictly speaking spoilers for EoD)

It was dusk at the Harvest Temple. Though the jade sea below was still marred with blood and darkened by void currents, a moment of calm had settled over the frozen ocean, paid for by the blood and sacrifice of thousands. And at the complex overlooking the temple proper, a small group had gathered to prepare for the end.

 Joon and Taimi were busy pouring over the data on the holo-screens of The Extractor, triple and quadruple-checking that there wasn’t even the smallest error in the device’s diagnostics. Gorrik was sat down off to the side, fiddling with his pistol, and nursing bandaged wounds sustained in the fight against the voidspawn. They were likely to leave a scar or two, if he survived the coming days. Kas and Jory were stood nearby, their heads together, whispering to each other their hopes for the future. They knew, in their hearts that they might not be there to see it. but even imagining it gave them resolve. Finally, Rugan and Caithe stood stood at the very edge of the tiled terrace, silently watching the horizon, and waiting for Aurene to return with the Mother Dragon.

-----

(section still in progress)

-----

“NO, NO!”

Rugan slammed his fist onto the ground as tears welled up in his eyes. He’d failed. And now Tyria was going to die, and everyone he ever knew and loved was going to join him in the mists. His breathing was as ragged as it was frantic and, as much as his ingrained instincts howled at him to get up and somehow find a way to keep fighting, he knew it was over. Death would not grant him mercy again.

He felt utterly destroyed, enough to wish that the void had finished the job and unwound his soul when he was finally overwhelmed. Better that then to have to stew in his own failure for the rest of eternity.

But before his thoughts could journey to any darker places, a voice cut through the silence that enveloped him. It sounded… indistinct, like an echo of memory, at once nostalgic and somehow foreign. In a harmonious tone, it asked,

“Are you ok?”

Rugan’s eyes snapped up, it was pitch black around him, but right in front there was… a presence. He could barely make it out, and as his eyes tried to focus in on it, all he got was something hazy, yet familiar. Unable to make sense of it, Rugan stammered out the words,

“wha- who.. are you?”

It stood silent for a moment, and then dissolved into a more familiar shape, speaking in a soft melodious tone as it went.

“Who knows? Maybe I’m the void.” It adopted the guise of a voidspawn, spotlight eyes staring from oily blackness, “or perhaps a god?” It said, as it shattered into transcendental geometry, “or maybe, I’m just a reflection of your own fading mind. A mere hallucination of a dying soldier.” It settled into a familiar form, a mirror image of Rugan, down to the nicks on his horns.

[mintwater]

Escapement

the spring unwound in slow motion, the escapement loaded up, between the tick and the tock, lay two potential futures

we stared at both, hours apart, two white glows in dark rooms a thousand miles away, unsettled and untethered from the course of the ordinary day, loitering for some relief from providence, or at least a premonition

she's too slick for me, i said. i'd spend every year trying to live up to her

deep down, i was strangely certain

[the-prosecutors-fated-pen]

selfship oneshot 3 for @badthingshappenbingo

Fic Title: With New Courage, Let's Sing Anew

Fandom: Professor Layton

Characters: Clive Dove, Allspice Hathaway (Author Insert)

Prompt: Social Anxiety

Warnings: None

Additional Notes: This fic takes place after the events of Unwound Future, in a very canon divergent alternate timeline where Clive manages to atone for nearly assassinating the Prime Minister and blowing up at least half of London in canon.

Summary: Allspice invites Clive to an outing at the arcade with her friends, but Clive worries about making a good first impression.

"Yeah, if he wants to go too, I'll bring him along... Okay! See you at Skylight!" Allspice Hathaway told her friend Lulu Greene over the phone before hanging up as she walked into her living room.

Her significant other, a certain Clive Dove, was already lounging on the sofa when she arrived. "Hey, Allspice. What's up?" he asked.

"My good friend Lulu from work invited me to meet up with her and a couple of our other friends tonight at Skylight, and she said if you wanted to join us, you were more than welcome!" Allspice beamed with excitement, only to be met with a slightly confused stare from Clive.

"What exactly is this 'Skylight' place?"

"It's an arcade, and the place opened up a few blocks from here only a week ago... I heard they have a lot of really good games!"

"I don't know... I don't know any of your friends, and I certainly don't wish to make a fool of myself in their presence - it'd be bad for us both if Lulu and whoever else will be there end up thinking 'Oh, wow, that Clive guy Allspice is dating is such a dork!', you know?" Clive sighed.

This confused Allspice. For the three weeks or so that she and Clive had been together, she'd always known him to be cool and confident, even if he was a little bit cocky, so seeing him get fussy about possibly embarassing the both of them in front of Allspice's friends caught her off guard.

"It's going to be okay, Clive!" she said with a warm smile as she gently took his hand in hers. "I'm sure they'll understand your nerves, and I'm just as sure they'll think you're super cool!"

Clive's worried expression softened ever so slightly. "Thank you, my love. That means a lot, and if it makes you feel better, I'll go with you!

With that, Clive straightened his hat before he and Allspice began the fifteen minute walk to Skylight Arcade.

They arrived just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, and waiting at the front doors of the arcade was Lulu Greene, a fellow employee at Cry Some More - the sandwich shop where Allspice worked - and the same girl with whom she had spoken just before.

"Hey! Glad you could show up!" Lulu squealed excitedly before taking a glance at Clive as she flicked one of her somewhat short, rusty red braids. "And I take it that's Mr. Dove beside you? He seems pretty cool!"

"Yeah, thanks..." Clive laughed shyly as he averted his gaze to the sidewalk they were standing on.

"Don't worry, Lulu, he was just really freaked out about making a good first impression. He told me before we left that he was scared you'd think he was a dork."

Just then, two other girls arrived, one with jet black hair held in a loose bun by a pale pink scrunchie, and the other clad in a white blazer and a matching skirt, whose sideswept, shoulder length hair dyed in a soft shade of green.

"Ooooooh! You brought your boyfriend along, Allspice?" the black-haired girl gasped. "You're so lucky to have landed a dreamboat like that! Right, Mimi?"

Mimi, the girl in the blazer, scoffed. "Kiki, you sure you don't need your eyes checked? He looks like some kinda overrated Tumblr sexyman!"

Clive, upon hearing those words, buried his face in his hands in shame and turned around to walk back home, but Allspice grabbed his hand.

"Don't mind anything mean that comes outta Mimi's mouth. She's always like that."

Kiki proceeded to elbow Mimi in the side. "Hey, don't go bashing our friend's plus one! Just think about it, we can finally play Blushin' Rush here in London instead of having to go out of town!"

Allspice laughed at the antics between Kiki and Mimi, before continuing, "While they play that, I'm mainly gonna keep working on keeping my WR in iRevo!"

The discussion of what games everyone would be playing went on as the group entered Skylight, and all five had an enjoyable time, (even if Clive spent most of his time on one of the few non-rhythm games except for the one round of 2-player mode in iRevo he played with Allspice), and luckily, even Mimi managed to let go of her initial impressions of Clive by the end of the night.

[serenemy]

regarding weed, psychosis, sometimes being messy and sometimes being wise and all of that. i am aware of the issue and engage in lots of introspection about everything related to

the thing is i was never not that way. i was just hiding it by living alone, having few friends and mostly only letting *other messy people* get close. (again i stare at you in how there have never been fewer mysteries)

so i was stressed the fuck out ALL the time. i did have the infections and head injuries i’ve mentioned but i also seriously believe the *physical processes* of stress and hyper vigilance can cause at least some of what im experiencing now

that’s why i always tell people you MUST take stress seriously. it’s worth taking those big scary jumps in life to avoid it even if everyone around you questions. you try to tough it for long enough and your body will eventually take steps the brain can’t override to shut the situation down. you don’t want to find out the way i did

so what you have to understand is that the things you think i should be doing to get out of this situation are the things i was already doing when the shit started. i didn’t drink or use any recreational drugs. i ate well. i exercised and gardened and took my kid hiking and swimming and extra curriculars. i had a job i liked with people i was fond of and enjoyed tremendously. i owned my own home with a front and back yard in a thriving college town in montana. i had everything i wanted in life and passionate plans for the future

if those things could solve the problem i would have never had the problem. in my heart of hearts, i know for reasons that have nothing to do with laziness, i know because i can physically *feel* it

i will never be able to handle stress again safely. i pushed things too far with my body. and now there are physical repercussions that can’t be unwound in any way yet known to science except

no more stress

no more *exertion* really. it’s why i wasn’t allowed to exercise for so long. i was an exerciser. i know the benefits. i exercised literally not to lose weight because i knew by then i wouldn’t but because i fucking loved the way it felt so so much

but here’s what happens with pem/pese: about a third of the time you get the endorphins. about a third of the time you don’t get them and it sucks but that’s it. a third of the time the attempt leaves you curled up in the fetal position in your yard telling your kid not to worry mommy just needs to rest for a minute because you can’t make it back into the house

and eventually your body is just like yeah that 1/3 of the time endorphins isn’t worth the gamble lady and it resists in ways you don’t understand until it happens to you

so if i want to pursue something creative or any sort of economic endeavor, it has to lean into my limitations. it’s easier for me to write at all or communicate at all if every thought is just immediately posted or sent out into the universe immediately when i have it. if i don’t do it exactly that way some things never get out. you have problems with attention, you live remote, you’re bed bound a lot, you’re socially awkward and you like the internet a lot anyway? okay instead of fighting that (which again we’ve already tried that route and it led here), lean into it. see if you can get something that you’re passionate about going online. the world wants to use feminine loneliness, longing, shame or neurosis against you?

turn it around on them. embrace your neuroses and loneliness and shame so hard they break and can’t be used as effectively against your children.

turn it into art and publish it yourself to the whole world

i can’t follow established routes to do economic and creative pursuits because those are for people with more standard brains, more standard physical health and more standard lives. i have to allow for weeks to months long breaks in continuity, slow processing, all the shit going on irl etc etc etc

i really do know what i’m doing here. the messiness is an element of the spell and yes it is one of the most dangerous ones i have ever tried to work. but it categorically isn’t bad magic. i don’t practice bad magic

an it harm none, do as though wilt includes yourself. my most basic fundamental code: contribute no harm. it means to myself, too

please let me see what this spell works up. because i have tried the other ones already and they don’t turn into magic *for me*