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pristinekanesays · 1 year

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🦋Life Is Strange: How It's Like Sleeping Next To Them.

🦋 some sappy headcanons 'cause im bored

🐺 GN!Reader, no specific pronouns are mentioned!

🦋 warnings: cutesy romantic stuff eugh, swearing, nathan's dad being a sexist asshole, nightmares.

🎧A/N: I bought Before The Storm but I'm not a big fan of the Remastered versions of Life Is Strange, it just doesn't feel the same? I love the blank faces while someone is literally dying.

🦋Chloe Price:

♡ Usually wakes up on her stomach but falls asleep on her back.

ツIt's literally a nightmare to sleep beside her, she snores, turns and tosses the whole night and talks in her sleep.

♡ Listens to music while she falls asleep, headphones in or playing on her radio alarm clock.

ツSurprisingly, not a blanket stealer, she literally kicks any sort of warmth off of her at night because she moves around so much.

♡ Nightmares, in Before The Storm and Life Is Strange, they're just not as vivid and real as they were before. She wakes up and checks if you're still there, it's comforting for her to see you asleep.

ツIt's rare for her to fall asleep at a healthy time and even if she does, she'll wake up A LOT during the night.

♡ She tends to sleep in a lot and accidentally (sometimes purposely) leaves people/you on read because she rarely hears the notifications.

ツHeavy sleeper.

🍂Kate Marsh:

♡ Falls asleep on her back and wakes up on her back.

ツShe's like a calm mother bird, will play with your hair and you can't tell me she wouldn't fucking softly sing you to sleep. (oh my god)

♡ It helps her sleep when you're there, she likes looking at you and thinking about how grateful she is.

ツWill talk to you for hours when she should really be sleeping, talking about her drawings, classes or the bird she saw like last month.

♡ She tries to make sure to fall asleep at a healthy time, she plans her day out but is sometimes so busy studying that she completely forgets.

ツDepends on the day if she's a blanket stealer that night, if it's warm, she sees no need for any blankets but if it's freezing cold then you're the one suffering.

♡ Light sleeper, like you get up and suddenly she's getting up with you.

📷Max Caulfield:

♡ Falls asleep on her side or her back but always wakes up on her back.

ツIt's not that bad sleeping next to Max, she'll maybe move a little during the night but nothing super major.

♡ HUGE blanket stealer, she knows what she's doing and will just smile and laugh if you confront her.

ツShe'll decide on sleeping then suddenly she needs to look something up or study and forgets that she needs sleep to survive until an hour or so later.

♡ Falls asleep pretty easily but if she can't she'll just wait a few minutes then go on a whole rant about her day and how she was hanging with Chloe the whole time.

ツSort of a light sleeper, if you need to go anywhere you've gotta crawl there or something.

🎭Rachel Amber:

♡ Falls asleep on her side and wakes up on her back.

ツLike Victoria, she has a whole routine before bed. Skincare, posting and scrolling through her socials, listening to music.

♡ Not a blanket stealer thankfully but she can be though depending on the temperature.

ツShe can also spend hours talking to you like Kate does, mainly talking about how drama's going for her or how badly she wants to leave Arcadia Bay.

♡ She mainly sticks to her healthy sleep schedule with no interruptions unless something major happens, like when she found out her dad was cheating on her mom. (pretty understandable.)

ツShe's a heavy sleeper, you gotta shake her a few times like she's a fucking salt shaker.

🎬 Victoria Chase:

♡ Oh jesus, she sleeps in ANY position like she could be hanging off the bed and still fall asleep. Mostly falls asleep on her back though, wakes up basically on the floor.

ツTakes hours doing her skincare and her skin is honestly GLOWING afterwards, face masks, expensive ass skin creams in those teeny tiny bottles, soft music playing in the background.

♡ BLANKET STEALER, BLANKET STEALER! Like she'll pull the blanket off of you while you're still awake and act extremely confused when you look at her with an annoyed look.

ツShe can maybe gossip a little before she falls asleep halfway during the conversation, you know because she starts sleep talking about the most random shit.

♡ Sticks to her sleep schedule, no matter what. Like there could be a whole loud ass fight in the hall but she just rolls her eyes or picks a fight with them before falling asleep.

ツHeavy sleeper, she has to set a shit ton of alarms and only you/Nathan know because she's really embarrassed about it.

🎮Warren Graham:

♡ Dorky dork who falls asleep on his stomach and wakes up on his back or halfway off of the bed.

ツRoutine? Skincare? Nah, he's just a natural cutie.

♡ Moves a lot during the night and accidentally smacked the shit out of you once during the night, he was actually worried but nervously laughing the whole time, sleep talks a lot about the funniest, weirdest shit ever.

ツNah, not a blanket stealer.

♡ Shitty fucking sleep schedule, he's always up studying or playing video games and you'll wake up at 4AM and he's still playing or he's somehow fell asleep with the controller still in his hands.

ツOn a good day, he'll be asleep by 2:30AM but on a bad day he's probably pulling an all nighter.

♡ Heavy sleeper, like scream in his ear and his body will shift a little but he's (still) asleep

🧨Nathan Prescott:

♡ Can't believe I feel bad for this man but he'll pick a position and stick with it the whole night.

ツHis dad's a fucking asshat who told him doing skincare as a man is bad, but he takes care of his skin privately and feels really guilty about it after.

♡ Okay, everyone I write for has to hold you or be held in some way while sleeping but Nathan is on a WHOLE different level. An arm wrapped tightly around you that won't move no matter what, his head tucked into your neck or his leg wrapped around your waist. (no, no..why is he attractive??)

ツNightmares, really terrifying nightmares that are so fucking specific and vivid. He wakes up shaking and goes back to sleep (if he ever does) shaking.

♡ Blanket? Fuck your needs, the blankets his now.

ツHORRIBLE SLEEP SCHEDULE?! Like he's up at 5AM smoking weed and slumped over a chair with his eyes closed.

♡ All nighters sometimes, normally falls asleep at 4AM or later. (teach him how to sleep, wtf.)

ツLight sleeper, he wakes up immediately when he hears you moving and instantly thinks you're gonna leave and become a banana or something (dumbass dude)

#🤍kane's headcanons #nathan prescott x reader #kate marsh x reader #victoria chase x reader #max caulfield x reader #chloe price x fem!reader #rachel amber x reader #warren graham x reader #lis headcanons #life is strange headcanons

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arcadiabaytornado · 3 months

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I want to talk about Rachel’s junkyard letter to Chloe because it contextualizes her relationship with Frank and Mark. (Note: She is more than likely talking about Mark here. Frank doesn’t seem wise, and he is scary, but in a pretty conventional way. Mark will even say that Frank was Rachel’s bad boy phase in Episode 5. Plus, “We hooked up near campus,” also points to Mark.)

This note has a lot of substance regarding the nature of Rachel and Chloe’s ambiguous relationship, but that’s not really what I want to talk about...for today at least. Instead, I want to talk about how this is so clearly a note written by a young woman who’s way over her head. She acknowledges that Chloe would find her relationship with Mark gross, and she then says that if Chloe freaked, “she wouldn’t blame her.” She then elaborates on this point by saying she has to keep her relationship with her teacher a secret because she knows that Chloe would be right to react with disgust. Max even says that Rachel sounded confused and ashamed about this relationship.

But what's somehow even more alarming is Rachel referring to Mark as scary, and honestly, that just breaks my heart. We don't know what Mark did, but we know that Rachel had already been in a scary situation with an older man. In Frank's RV, we can find a letter where Rachel says that Frank went ballistic and frightened her. She was an eighteen-year-old girl, at the oldest, and in an RV with a drug dealer who was losing his shit. Then she meets Mark. Another older man who has power over her grades and future. She hooks up with him, but...she finds him scary too. We don't know what he said to make her this way. Or what he did. Or if Rachel just got a weird vibe...but she was in her second relationship in her young life with a man who scared her...and she was right to fear them both. Especially Mark.

More Undercut

Rachel Amber was not a seductress. She was not a harlot sent to lead the men of Arcadia Bay astray. Rachel Amber was a victim. She was eighteen years old and dated men who had power over her, not just in their age, but in drugs and grades. She feared each of them, and no one could save her in time. She died in the darkroom. Overdosed on Frank's drugs while Mark took photos of her body. And yet...such a tragedy so often boiled down to "She hurt Chloe's feelings!"

As much as I love Chloe, that's not the worst thing to happen in this situation. The worst thing to happen is the grooming and subsequent murder. I know that’s kind of harsh phrasing, and I really hope I'm not coming off as overly critical, but I’ve noticed that Rachel’s relationship with Frank and Mark is often talked about in terms of how it affected Chloe instead of how it affected Rachel.

And while, yes, Chloe’s feelings were hurt, and that shouldn't be minimized, Rachel's relationships with these men affected Rachel more than anyone. That's not to say I'm opposed to talking about how Rachel's relationships hurt Chloe!!!! Because they did!!! I'm just saying that it makes me uneasy how Chloe is sometimes treated like the biggest victim of Rachel's relationships when Rachel is dead at the hands of the men who groomed her.

Sorry that I went off on a tangent at the end there, but I’ve never liked it when characters are boiled down to their romantic relationships, and I tend to think that what happened with Frank and Mark should be looked outside the lens of Amberprice a little. Just like I think Chloe deserves an analysis of who she is as a person outside the lens of Amberprice and/or Pricefield.

OKAY I have got to end this post because that was another tangent but quick thoughts: A: Rachel was a victim and it seeps through every letter of this note. B: Rachel deserved better. C: I wish the Mark/Frank situation wasn’t often boiled down to how it made Chloe feel. I feel like Rachel’s character is sometimes not given the analysis it deserves because of it.

#Rachel Amber #lis #life is strange #Before the Storm

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winter-leftovers · 4 months

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Til The End Of Eternity || Chapter nineteen: Night Shift (19/?)

(Douxie Casperan x f!reader)

Summary: Y/n is trying to figure her life out but is going to be hard since her brother is the new trollhunter and she is plagued by dreams and feelings she doesn’t understand.

Chapter Summary: Gunmar finds the trolls’s hideout

Word count: 1480

Warnings: no. Should a ben platt song be a warning? Im just kidding

(Season 3 Episodes 1)

Song?: Grow as we go by Ben Platt

Previous - Next

Masterlist

Y/n sat on the couch with her gaze lost in the dancing of the branches of the tree that lived outside her house against the pink sky while she absentmindedly stroked Al’s back furr.

“You seemed distracted” Al turned his head.

Y/n sighed “Can I tell…you something?” She looked down at him.

Al stretched his legs and turned himself to be belly up.

“You can’t tell, Hisirdoux” she stopped petting his belly.

“I’m always loyal to you. You have always been more generous with the tuna” his brown tail twitched at the thought of food.

“I remembered…about Morgana” she whispered, not being able to look him in the eye “My sister” she smiled over the grief.

“Morgana?” Al’s pupils retracted.

“She was my sister and she died” Y/n closed her eyes, the turbulence of the sea coming back to her “she was murdered” she repeated, the feeling of betrayal was still fresh on her chest.

Alfred sat up when he heard her. It wasn’t a false alarm. Y/n was remembering.

“Y/n, I…” he put his paw on her leg.

“No. I just…” she turned back to the tree and cleaned away the tear that fell “I just need to process it again. I…Just…Don’t tell Douxie. Alright? He’s so excited with the battle of the bands” Y/n didn’t let him answer, she didn’t want to have this conversation, she stood up and went to the kitchen where she left her phone charging. A message from Jim light up the screen:

‘Tell ur friend to stay away from Claire’

Y/n rolled her eyes and went to prepare herself for the night guard.

—

The sun had long left the sky of Arcadia. Jim and Y/n were walking along the entryway of the old abandoned warehouse where the trolls were hiding after the fall of trollmarket. The Lake siblings were putting more enchanted Nuñez signs to keep the gumm gumms away.

“Have you been to the basement lately?” Jim interrupted the comfortable silence.

Y/n frowned, the memory of her mother’s art coming back to her “Yes” she shook her head. Her mother’s portrait of Blinky was strangely good “I didn’t know she could paint”

“We have to do something”

“I mean, it was bound to happen. You can’t permanently delete someone's memories without damaging their brain or someone actually taking them from you” Y/n shrugged and continued her task.

Jim turned to her sister, mouth wide open. How did she know that?

“What?” He asked.

She turned back at him, eyes wide open like a deer in headlights. She hasn't told his brother the truth about herself. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was that she didn’t know the whole truth, only bits and pieces or maybe it was because she’s afraid of losing another family.

“Master Jim, Lady Y/n, thought you could use this” Blinky interrupted the awkward stare down and brought the two cups “I manage to scrounge up all the components for a fine cup of coffee”

Y/n smiled grateful for the coffee and the interruption. She took the cup up to her nose and stopped, her brows furrowed at the smell of the coffee. It didn’t smell right.

Jim took a sip as Blinky announced that he used an old gym sock as a filter. The Trollhunter spited the drink into the troll face.

“Ugh!” Y/n pushed the cup as far as she could from her face.

“I know. I’m not a fan of the french roast either” Blinky wiped his face “How's the watch?”

“It’s given me time to think, Blinky, this Gunmar stuff and…the Eternal Night. What if I don’t have it in me to stop it?” Jim asked, his eyes filled with worry.

Y/n gave him half a smile and put her free arm around his shoulders as they started to walk. She knew his brother had what it took to stop Gunmar, Merlin’s amulet doesn’t make mistakes, she told him this before but it doesn’t matter, she could shout it from the top of every building in Arcadia, Jim has to realize it himself.

“We’ve discussed this before. Your heart is stronger than you know” reminded Blinky

“What if heart isn’t enough? This is Gunmar. He's ruthless. He…He doesn’t show mercy”

Quick lashes of the war appeared in Y/n’s brain. Jim was right. Heart isn’t enough.

“That may be true, Jim but you’re kind, smart and strong, stronger than you think. Gunmar may be a ruthless monster or whatever, but he has never won anything” Y/n pushed Jim closer to her. No matter how insecure she feels right now, she trusts her brother and his ability to win this.

“That doesn’t change the fact that Gunmar is ruthless” Jim insisted.

“Yes, Gunmar is a savage,and that’s precisely why we left his violent ways and searched for a new path” Blinky recounted “Master Jim, as our Trollhunter you have been, eh, awful” Blinky gave him a half smile “so many times, making horrible, horrible mistakes”

“Hey!” the siblings complained at the same time

“I’m trying my best!”

“He is trying his best”

“Precisely!” Blinky put his hand on Jim’s shoulder “And that’s why I would follow you to the ends of the earth. You are human. You grow. You learn from your mistakes. You always try to make the right choice. Unlike Gunmar, I believe trolls can grow with you”

“Let’s hope you’re right” Jim sighed.

“Jim…”Y/n called for her brother. When she lifted her eyes, she noticed that all the signs were gone.

“The signs. Where’d they all go?” Jim looked around and couldn’t see the signs.

“Jim, Y/n” Blinky screamed as the three of them saw the last sign disappear behind a bush.

“Why is the bush growling?” Y/n started to take steps back as the gumm gumms started to emerge from the woods.

“Oh no, for the glory of Merlin daylight is mine to command”

Blinky and Y/n ran to the warehouse to alert the refugees of trollmarket while Jim distracted the gumm gumms.

“We’ve been compromised! We must defend our ground!” Blinky screamed as he closed the door with the help of Y/n.

“Jim!” Y/n screamed.

The trollhunter slowly lifted himself from the ground after a gumm gumm threw him through a window.

“I’m okay” he stood tall and grabbed her sister’s hand “I’m okay”

“Trolls, stand with me! For tonight, we…” Blinky found himself alone when the gumm gumms opened the door.

“Whatever” said a troll before leaving.

Y/n took a deep breath and ran to a lead pipe that laid on the other side of the room. Avoiding big, rocky hands, she grabbed the pipe from the floor and started swinging, trying to take the attention away from Aaarrrgghh and Blinky that were taking the trolls to the swears.

“There’s too many of them!” Y/n screamed to anyone who’ll listen.

“If only I could use my staff” she thought.

“We have to get them all…” screamed back Jim.

Draal rolled in and pushed Jim to the floor:

“I told you this husk wouldn’t stop coming after you but you let Draal live. Now you will die!” Gunmar laughed through Draal’s body and attacked Jim, taking the fight outside.

“No” Y/n whispered and with all her anger, kicked the gumm gumm she had on top of her, killing it when it hit the wall.

Y/n got tired. She dropped the lead pipe and undrawed her staff, taking care of the rest of the gumm gumm with some magic and the sharp end of it.

“Are you coming or not?” Asked NotEnrique.

Y/n and Blinky looked at eachother.

“We have to help Jim” she answer

They ran outside and followed the sound of the struggle of battle , quickly finding Jim standing on top of cursed Draal with his sword in his hand ready to strike.

“Master Jim! Don’t do it!” Screamed Blinky

“Do it, trollhunter!” Taunted Bular “If you think your armor’s too much to shoulder today. I’ll make sure it’ll break you tomorrow! I found you once. I will find you again. Kill him”

“I’m the trollhunter” Jim reminded him.

“Master Jim, we must leave at once”

“You cannot escape me. I’ll find you” Gunmar screamed as Blinky and Jim started to walk out. Y/n stood there observing him for a moment. She remembers him as stuff of nightmares, as the thing that would lure in the shadow that would bring her to tears as a child but now? She feels pity. How many times is he going to fight a war he is going to lose? How many times is going to try to win a world that doesn’t want him?

“What do you want, witch?” He spits

“You haven’t learnt your lesson, haven’t you?”

A/n: Happy new year’s 🎉🎉 I bet you weren’t expecting this huh? I’m uploading this with 2 hs of sleep and ready to go to a pool to keep parting 🫡 hope you’re having fun as well

#tales of arcadia #douxie x reader #douxie #toa #trollhunters #hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux x reader #my writing #Til The End Of Eternity

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imthepunchlord · 1 year

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Honestly, the thing I’m saltiest about in Tales of Arcadia is how they handled the redeemed villains. Angor Rot? Dead. Strickler? Dead. Nomura? Dead. Tronos Madu? Dead. Literally every redeemed villain doesn’t get a happy ending. It’s especially egregious when it comes to Angor Rot and Tronos, who were redeemed for all of five seconds before getting killed. Like, why even bother going through the trouble of giving that development if they’re going to die anyway? Redemption Equals Death is an incredibly stupid trope, and I really hate how liberally Tales of Arcadia uses it.

The trope does have purpose to serve, but it does depend on the characters. Cause sometimes that finality is the only way, and there is peace in moving on. One of the best examples can technically be Darth Vader, though that can be up for debate on his redemption. I wouldn't say he's fully redeemed, but has a redeeming death, saving his child over his dark service, felt like a good end for him.

So, the trope of Redemption Equals Death, it does have it's purpose and use, it just comes down to the character it will be applying to and their situations and set up. But the big issue with ToA is that they overused it. I would've top that trope at 2 characters max cause not every character will apply to that trope.

Like, I don't see the point of killing Strickler, narrative wise it didn't feel fitting. To me, it always felt that he was set up for a redemption and a happy ending.

Before he revealed himself a villain, you got to see that he loved teaching, and he worked off Jim well and on some level did still care for him. Like, you can also see the alarm/horror in his expression when he saw that Jim was the new Trollhunter and that Jim his student was now his enemy.

And even afterwards, able to accept that Jim IS his enemy, for a trained assassin who can easily kill this kid who just started out and would get stronger as he performed more, he didn't go out of his way to kill Jim, he first wanted to try and just steal the Amulet without causing Jim's death. I could be wrong, but, as antagonistic as he got, I felt he did always care for Jim on some level and was reluctant to see him dead, especially the first half of s1.

Also he did come to really care for Barbara (though it didn't stop his villainy, I feel those smacks in s3 should've happened in s2 but I guess they didn't want to explore Barbara in the know which is a weak choice to me). But, with her, his love of teaching, and his soft spot for Jim, Strickler was always set up for a redemption and a future ally and mentor. And with this, I always felt that Strickler's end was going to be him and Barbara marrying and he'd be Jim's stepfather, which would've led to more of their fun dynamic, where they do care but also can't help but be a little antagonistic and that it would improve as the years went on. Death didn't feel like a fitting end for him.

Angor Rot though I did see as a potential redeemed character and still fated for death and finding peace through it. This is a troll that had his soul taken from him, got forced into servitude to a human mage commanding him to hunt down his own people who were fighting his enemies, and through the years became hollow, bitter, and ruthless. Also, mindful the show is kinda up in the air about troll life expectancy, but there could be in the realm of possibility that Angor is also much longer lived than he should be given that he is tie to that ring. He's a villain that got put into a situation outside of his control, and he's forced into a service he didn't want to be in. By set up, that leaves him open for a redemption, and the possibility that death could finally bring him some peace, give him true freedom. Which I'm sure was the idea for s3 but I also had different ideas of what s3 was going to go, and it was so weird seeing Angor think highly of Morgana like, didn't you hate her?

Did, did you get some amnesia with your revival? Or was there some brainwashing with your revival? What's going on there, buddy?

Anyway, when s2 ended, I predicted that we were going to see a Claire and Angor dynamic explored, cause for Trollhunters, the first 2 seasons was really good about giving us different dynamics that actually came out to be a lot of fun to watch. Like Jim and Strickler and their antagonistic rivalry + Strickler falling for Jim's mom. And we got Claire and NotEnrique that was a lot of fun. And then we got Steve and Eli and gosh those two were hilarious.

So at the end of s2, I was anticipating that Claire was going to be trapped in Morgana's service with the revived Angor Rot and that they were going to be forced to work together and do as Morgana wills, and it was going to be intense and fascinating as Claire, next to Jim, had the biggest clash with Angor; she even thought that Jim should have kept that ring and wore it and forced Angor to work for him. And then lo and behold, she's now in a forced servitude and is working with a hostile and bitter Angor and what starts out as hostility becomes them becoming reluctant frienemies cause they're enemies stuck together serving something more dangerous than them and holds all the strings and the enemy of my enemy is my friend and those scenarios are always so fun to watch. And once free of Morgana, because he hates her far more than he hates Jim and co, he helps in that fight, and would pass on more at peace in contrast to his first end.

So, that's what I would've expected and that's what would've been my ideals on the paths for redeemed characters. Not every redeemed character needs to live on happily cause sometimes, there is that peace in death and moving on. But not every redeemed character should die either. And this series just took it waaaay to far, to a point it feels more for angst and shock value than something fitting to the character and story. But I also felt that s3 of Trollhunters was the start of this series starting to go downhill and made weird choices that clashed with what was initially set up so I'm not too surprised.

#ask Punchie #toa salt #toa trollhunters #trollhunters #tales of arcadia #walter strickler #angor rot

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xx-alice-in-wonderland-xx · 13 days

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THE PLASTICS 2024 CHARACTER PLAYLIST HEADCANNONS 😸

this is 15 songs what I headcannon the plastics would have on their playlists! (I may do one for cady, Janis, Damian, Mrs Norbury, Aaron, etc in the future!)

Regina:

S&M - Rihanna

How to Be a Heartbreaker - MARINA

Physical - Dua Lipa

Baby One More Time - Britney Spears

Girls & Boys - Blur

SloMo - Chanel

Bad Romance - Lady Gaga

You Should See Me In A Crown - Billie Eilish

Pound The Alarm - Nicki Minaj

Beautiful - Britney Spears

Cant Tame Her - Zara Larsson

Monster - Lady Gaga

The Monster - Eminem and Rihanna

7 Rings - Ariana Grande

Like a Virgin - Madonna

Gretchen:

Girls Just Want To Have Fun - Cyndi Lauper

Money Money Money - ABBA

Faded - Alan walker

LA Devotee - Panic At The Disco

I’m a mess - Bebe Rexha

Thumbs - Sabrina Carpenter

Dying On The Inside - Nessa Barrett

Happy Ending - Bailey Spinn

My Humps - The Black Eyed Peas

No Time To Die - Billie Eilish

Everything I Wanted - Billie Eilish

Forever Young - BLACKPINK

Queencard - (G)I-DLE

Buttons - The Pussycat Dolls

Love Me Like You - Little Mix

Karen:

In The Name Of Love - Bebe Rexha

Heres To Never Growing Up - Avril Lavigne

Starships - Nicki Minaj

Angel With A Shotgun - The Cab

Arcadia - Smash Into Pieces

Mary On A Cross - Ghost

Lush Life - Zara Larsson

Cheap Thrills - Sia

Shinitai Chan - JubyPhonic

You Don’t Own Me - SayGrace

Fright Song - The Monster High Theme Song 😭

DNA - Little Mix

Oh No! - MARINA

Grrrls - Aviva

If You Seek Amy - Britney Spears

#mean girls 2024 #mean girls: the musical #mean girls musical #mean girls #mean girls 2004 #Karen shetty #regina George #gretchen wieners #Bebe wood #avantika vandanapu #avatinka #renee rapp #reneé rapp #playlist #music #lol #this is my playlist

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north-blue-hearts · 9 months

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Famous Last Words

CisFem Reader x Trafalgar Law

CW: Violence, swearing, mature themes, erotic romance, angst, creative use of devil fruits, this story is still in progress, I will add content warnings as needed.

Chapter 2: Sleep

The evening out wasn’t any different than any other after-work venture. Nami and Vivi kept you in the middle of the conversations, and Robin joined all of you about an hour in. Zoro was there from the start, and Franky showed up with Robin. Sanji showed up with Luffy, and once Luffy was there he seemed to key into your shaky mood.

Luffy decided to talk to you about all sorts of things, and asked you questions when you were up for it. His uncanny ability to know how to navigate complicated emotions without prompt was almost unsettling, but appreciated. It didn’t hurt that you kept sliding your appetizers over to him.

By the end of the evening Zoro was giving you a ride home, while Luffy rambled on about beetles in the backseat. When Zoro parks you realize you’re having a hard time leaving the truck.

“Nami said it was a bad day.” Zoro offers. “Want us to come up with you? Not to stay, just, you know.”

“If… if you don’t mind, actually, yes.” You admit sheepishly. “Last time I… My window was broken, and my place was trashed. It’s just a hard day.”

“No worries. C’mon Luff.” Zoro says evenly as the three of you pile out of the truck and head up a couple flights of stairs to your apartment.

Zoro takes your key and opens the door, stepping inside first, Luffy close behind. It was easy to forget that the two of them had very physical jobs. Zoro was a freelance bodyguard – he’d get hired on for events and such because he had local-level knowledge that was invaluable, and he was an expert fighter. Luffy was one of the bouncers at Shakky’s bar, which was probably the rowdiest and most successful club in the entire East Blue.

You came in behind them, and were deeply relieved to see that nothing looked out of place. Nothing even felt out of place, which was a welcome feeling.

“You want me to check the bedroom and bathroom?” Zoro asks quietly. He looks relaxed, but he always looks relaxed, once you know what relaxed looks like for him.

“I’m not uncomfortable with it, if that’s what you’re asking.” You answer, setting your bag down. “Everything looks good so far, but if you want to be ‘better safe than sorry’ about it I won’t stop you.” You admit, smiling as Zoro steps into your bedroom.

Luffy turns to you with a smile. “False alarms are the best.” He admits with a grin, stretching idly. “But fights are fun too,” he admits with a sigh, looking at least a little disappointed that there wasn’t someone in your apartment for him to fight.

“Fights are best outside my home.” You say with a smile, patting Luffy’s shoulder as Zoro comes back out into the living room. “All good?”

Zoro nods. “Nothing’s out of place.” He smiles a little. “Rest well, Caddy,” he says, using Luffy’s nickname for you.

“Drive safe,” you offer as the two file out of your apartment. The door closes behind them and you sigh a little into the empty air.

It’s been a good year. You’ve settled into this life well, but it never seemed to get easier hearing a name that wasn’t yours.

It was like you were friends with people in someone else’s stead. Arcadia was the one they cared about, the one they protected, the one they checked on to make sure she was okay.

And you weren’t Arcadia. You were little more than an imposter. Trading lies to protect yourself, and if you stopped lying, you’d be relocated by the Marines, and taken away from the friends you had.

The friends you loved as yourself, as (Y/N).

Your heavy heart carried you off to bed, and a few thick tears carried you off to sleep.

You slipped so heavily into sleep that it was almost like you’d fallen through your bed and into a dream. So quick was the shift from awake to dreams that it took you a moment to even realize you were sleeping.

It was the shifting backgrounds that gave it away, from the alley that you’d never forget, to the face that you’d never be free from, to a name you hadn’t heard in two years, to the sea. To a ship. A wide dirigible. Your dream world shifted and shuffled through years of memory and background before it settled on a wide span of water.

You stood on the ocean, the waters calm and steady, almost like glass. There were a few clouds in the sky, fluffy and sparse and of little concern. A soft wind ruffles your hair and brushes along your skin, warm and gentle.

The peace gives way a little, to the vast solitude. The horizon is flat and unchanged in all directions. You’re alone. Isolated. Safe, in a calm and careful place, but there was no one else here.

Here you were (Y/N).

With a sigh you sit on the ocean, laying down, sprawled out as you look up at a painfully blue and beautiful sky.

“So shut your eyes.” You murmur the words softly, the song wandering through your dreaming thoughts, and shut your eyes as you lay on the ocean.

You’ve always joked that you can’t carry a tune in a bucket, but your voice in your dream knows better than you. “Kiss me goodbye.”

“And sleep.” You close your eyes and wonder idly if you can sleep in your dream, and dream within that dream. Something at the back of your mind seems to believe you can, that you have before at least woken up within a dream to only wake up truly after.

“Just sleep.” Maybe all of life was just a dream. You’d wake up one day to find yourself-.

Something brushes along your back. A tender touch. There’s no desire to pull you under, just a finger tracing down your spine. Your eyes snap open and you turn over.

The ocean is dark, and the creature beneath you is indistinguishable from the waves, save for a hand, flat against the water, seemingly unable to reach beyond. You line your hand up, marveling a little at how small it is by comparison, and how warm the hand feels despite the seemingly impenetrable wisp of water between you both.

“Nice to meet you.” You say softly, wanting nothing more than to be able to push past the water and reach deep.

Golden eyes look up at you, shimmering in the water, and there’s something in them that makes your heart flutter. You put your other hand against the water, kneeling on the ocean, and a moment later another hand presses against yours.

Frustration knits your brows, and you lean back smacking the water off the sides of the hands pressed against it. The splashes of water from your impacts are more irritating.

“If you’re going to act like water, then act like water!” You growl, smacking your hands down again one last time before you sigh in frustration.

The hands on the other side shift, and realign with yours. You can see the flex in the fingers, as though they want to wrap around yours and the frustration you’re feeling is shared. You smile softly, pulling your hands together a little so you’re not stretched out, and the other set follows your movements easily.

“Hmm... can you hear me? Move a hand away if you can hear me.” You prompt and one hand disappears into the darkness for a second before returning.

“Good… good, then I can finally tell someone.” You say, tears welling up in your eyes. “I can tell someone who I am, and it’s okay, cause it’s a dream, and no one will get hurt for it.”

You tell the sea creature everything. Your name, what you saw, how your world changed. You talked about your travels, where you ended up, how you hated the name you had to go by, and how aggravating it was to have nicknames for it. Especially when you knew those names came from a place of love.

You talked about your new friends, and how much they cared about you, and how scared you were to lose them, and the hands against the water flexed and pawed, offering what comfort they could.

“Sorry,” you mutter softly when you’re done, talking, your tears having dripped into the ocean. “I’ll talk about happier things next time.” You offer with a soft smile. “Maybe next time I’ll be able to hear you.”

The pointer finger on each hand extends, and cross over one another to make an ‘X’ and you chuckle. “I see, you’re denying me the pleasure of hearing your voice.” You tease. “Ah, but I’m going to hear a nice voice soon. My friends got tickets to a concert in a few weeks.”

“That’ll be a distraction, at least.” You sigh, poking at the water for a bit.

“Can you see me?” You question after a moment’s silence, and see the hands form a circle. “That’s not fair. I can’t see or hear you. I can’t reach through the water.” Your cheeks puff in a mock pout before you let the air out as a rude sound from your lips.

You could swear you heard a stifled laugh, but the ocean rotated suddenly, and you woke up.

You sat up in bed, a rushed feeling of water crashing over you just as you woke up making your body move before you aware of it. Sheets were tossed, and you nearly bucked yourself over the edge of the bed, managing to turn away from the edge and flop onto the mattress instead of falling off.

A dissatisfied groan seeps into the mattress as you notice the first few rays of morning light sneaking into the room. You considered turning your back to the window and grabbing a few more moments of precious sleep, but before you could move your alarm went off.

You grunt into the mattress again, pushing yourself up onto your knees with immense will. You squint at the light coming in, silently cursing it for waking you up, before you reached over and turned off your morning alarm.

The glassy reflection of water as you trudged through your morning routine, made your heart feel lighter and heavier at the same time. You traced your fingers along the tension of the water in the bath, remembering the warmth that had met you in your dreams. Disconnected and vivid, surreal and so real at the same time. You often remembered your dreams, but none of them had quite been like last night’s.

The phrase ‘man of your dreams’ came into your mind and you laughed, nearly choking on the toothpaste. Spitting paste into the sink you turn the water on and shake your head.

“Hanging around Nami and Vivi last night has put strange thoughts in my head.” You muse. You were happy for the two of them, and perhaps a little envious of how well they complimented one another. Franky and Robin were a couple as well, but not soul mates. The two certainly seemed to be though, and apparently they’d talked about what they’d do if they did meet their soul mate.

Love was messy business, requiring communication and effort. Sometimes you could do everything right and still have it fall apart – which was what happened to your last relationship. That’s what had made it hard. Nothing had been monumentally bad, but what was needed just wasn’t there – not for either of you.

If he had been your soul mate; no, you shake your head tossing the useless thought aside. The what ifs were long gone. You were here, as Arcadia, alive despite the odds, and surrounded by good friends who made sure your apartment was safe, and you were okay.

That had to be good enough for now.

#Famous Last Words #Trafalgar Law x reader #x reader #reader insert #trafalgar d water law #band AU #Soul Mate AU

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ewritesfanfics · 1 year

Text

Krexie Week 2023 Day 1: Rain/Flowers

@krexieweek

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46640308

Much to Krel's excitement, Douxie is coming back to Arcadia for a little while to help him with repairing Castle Camelot. Their day gets derailed though when the weather gets rainy.

The spring and summer of 2017 had been hot and dry in Arcadia – unusually so, even for California. Now, this could be chalked up to a number of things, climate change and an ancient witch fucking with the weather via weird meteorological magic chief amongst them, but the causes don’t necessarily matter right now.

Right now, all that matters is that the spring of 2017 had been hot and dry in Arcadia. Clouds had been pretty scarce, and those rare overcast days brought only wind, never water. There wasn’t so much as a mist or a sprinkle, only relentless heat that had sapped the landscape, turning the once healthy grass yellow and brittle and making the trees wilt so severely that they began to appear closer to something painted by Salvador Dali. By the time July reached its twilight, the city had been thoroughly baked, and all of its residents had as well, bemoaning the drought and dreaming of the day they might hear the mythical thunder once more.

All but one.

Here is a fact for you: Nancy Domzalski, though she would have loved to, would not have been able to join Varvatos on Akiridion without a fair bit of maneuvering and aid. She checked if Akiridion 5 had oxygen – but she hadn’t checked whether it had water.

Here is another fact: only about 1x10^-12 of the known planets in the universe have abundant and easily accessible liquid water, and a fraction of that fraction is inhabited.

And a third fact: Akiridion 5 is not one of these planets.

So, while the heat is rather bothersome, it isn’t crazily so, and the dryness to rival the deserts to the southeast in Nevada and Arizona isn’t noteworthy in the slightest to Arcadia’s resident Akiridion.

What is noteworthy, though, is the day, just after the birth of August, the sun doesn’t rise. At least, not in any visible way. Stretching across the sky from horizon to horizon are thick, gray clouds. They roil across the sky, as if the crashing waves of the sea had been supplanted into the heavens, and carry with them a rumbling, still too far off to do much more than bounce off eardrums, but near enough for the soundwaves to bear fruitful promise.

Krel knows what this is – he’s seen enough human media to know what a rainstorm looks like.

But he pays this no more mind than vague acknowledgment, not processing it whatsoever as he makes a swift exit from the mothership and jumps into his car (that he technically stole, but the police can’t prove he’s the one who stole those parts, so jokes on them), already half a horvath late after he accidentally passed out at his workstation last night without an alarm set. He has better and more important things to think about, after all – Douxie is back in Arcadia today with Nari, for the first time in months, to help Krel with the flight mechanics of the currently-being-rebuilt Castle Camelot.

And if he’s just as excited to see Douxie again as he is to work on the magitech, well, he can’t exactly be blamed. Ever since they first teamed up after the Order attacked HexTech, Krel’s felt like maybe it was Douxie that’s been missing. He just gets Krel, in a way that pretty much no one else has, not even Aja.

In but a few minutes, he’s pulled up outside the no-longer-ruins, still very much where Arcadia Oaks High once stood – with how massive this thing is, there was no moving it. But once Krel gets it off the ground, they can relocate to the forest for the rest of the rebuilding and repair and the reconstruction of the school can begin. And then maybe he’ll get a respite from Mary’s bitching about Arcadia Oaks High being temporarily hosted by Arcadia Oaks Academy.

And there he is. Standing outside the repaired gates is Douxie, looking exactly as he had when he left, from the blue tips to the black Converse to the skull necklace. He grins as Krel approaches, giving a two-finger salute in greeting. Krel gives an excited wave in response and then quickly cuts himself off.

Ok, I’m not an oaf like Steve, I need to get myself together.

“Was wondering when you’d show up,” Douxie teases.

“Ok, I’m not that late,” Krel says. “Where’s Nari?”

“She’s with the Trollhunters,” Douxie says. “She wanted Toby to show her more of his stage magic.”

“And Archie?”

“Blinky.”

Yeah, that tracks.

There’s an awkward moment where neither of them says anything, they just stare at each other. Eyes roaming over Douxie’s face, he’s reminded just how gold Douxie’s eyes are, a mesmerizing color Krel’s yet to see any other human, wizard, or even troll possess, a color he’d expect more from the stars themselves, in the hearts of supernovas and in the space dust that births nebulas.

Then Douxie clears his throat and gives Krel a playful smirk, breaking Krel from his reverie, causing him to blush deeply. “R-right, uh, let’s get started.”

The two make their way over to the engine Krel’s gotten hooked up, a feat of technology Krel is personally incredibly proud of. It makes his teleporter look like a child’s toy! This engine, the Heart of Avalon 2.0, is the largest piece of technology he’s ever made, and it’s the same size and dimensions as the original gemstone that powered the castle. With the little experience he got from his and Douxie’s brief experiment together with the miniature Heart of Avalon, he’s managed to ensure the entire thing is optimized for magic and made it so that the internal four-dimensional processor is keyed into the specific wavelengths and frequencies that he knows Douxie’s magic operates at. He’s also got the local transmitter and all the receivers set up and linked, that way when the engine is up and running, the magitech will function equally at every corner of Camelot, allowing for it all to rise as one piece, every inch of it with the same support. All the tech is in place – as in place as it can be right now since there are sections of the castle that can’t be repaired until it’s in the air – so now he just needs the magic component, and he can test this baby out. Hopefully, it won’t go down in flames.

He's 63.8% confident it won’t.

When they arrive at the Heart, Douxie’s jaw actually drops as he takes it all in, eyes unable to settle in any one spot for very long with just how much there is to see.

“You … this … holy shit.”

“Pretty impressive, yes?” Krel says.

“It’s … it’s amazing! How many people had to help you to get this done so quickly?” Douxie asks.

“Oh, no one, this was all me,” Krel says, with no lack of self-satisfaction, preening under the praise.

“You made this entire thing yourself!?”

“From initial design all the way through construction – the only help I needed was that of some of Blinky’s magic books to supplement my admittedly limited knowledge on magical conduits.”

“Oh, Zoe’s going to be so fucking jealous that she didn’t make this herself when she sees this, this is a technomancer’s wet dream right here,” Douxie says with a laugh. Krel isn’t sure what that means, but he laughs along anyway. Then Douxie says, “Alright, so, what am I doing here?”

Krel grabs Douxie’s hand, pretends like that doesn’t make his own skin tingle where they touch, and drags Douxie over to the platform that leads into the heart of the Heart. For this whole thing to work, there are multiple interface sites with access to different aspects and functions, and what Douxie needs to do has to do with the primary function, the interface to which is located at the most central part of the Heart where it can better connect and communicate with everything else.

In this space, they are surrounded by the blue glow of Akiridion tech reflected back by the metal, and the black of Douxie’s hair is turned a midnight blue against blue-tinted skin. The gold of his eyes doesn’t turn green for a second, though, the color too powerful to be shifted.

And tucked away in here, the rest of the world feels impossibly far away from this moment. All it is, is him, Douxie, and their magitech.

Krel’s isn’t sure how long they work – he’s far too captivated by A: his tech, because it’s his tech, and B: the trails of sky-blue magic in the air, sparks flying off to hover in the air like little stars. He’s too enraptured in what they’re creating together, in the conversation that flows so naturally between them. Douxie tells him of his travels with Nari, and Krel fills him in on what’s going on in Arcadia, and when they’ve no more to say on that their conversation easily drifts amongst topics, eventually settling on music.

“You know, I’ve been practicing, and I think I’m getting pretty good,” Krel says.

“Oh yeah? Did you end up getting the books I suggested?” Douxie says.

“Yes, and you were right, they were very helpful,” Krel says. And then, teasingly, he adds, “I also may have found some videos on YouTube.”

“You found those???” Douxie asks.

“Well, Zoe may have sent me the link to the first one,” Krel says.

“Of course she did,” Douxie sighs.

“Hey, they were very informative,” Krel says. “A good demonstration of technique.”

“They’re shitty videos of me playing guitar in a tiny shitty apartment with a 2006 quality camera,” Douxie says. “I’m surprised you can even make out the fingerings I’m doing.”

“I won’t lie, it took a few watches and a little sound comparison,” Krel says.

“Well, you’ll have to give me a demonstration,” Douxie says, shooting Krel a smile, which Krel can’t help but mirror.

“If you have time before you have to leave,” Krel then says with a pang in his chest.

“I’ll make sure I do,” Douxie says, bumping his shoulder into Krel’s.

And, well, he’s just glad the room is lit up blue to disguise just how brightly he blushes at that.

Pretty soon after this, Douxie mentions lunch – evidently, he had been keeping track of time.

Back in the main hall of the castle, after putting his transduction on (eating is so much better when he’s got actual taste buds), Krel is caught off guard by a great rumble from outside.

At the entrance, gazing out, Krel is struck by the sight.

Streaks of liquid silver fall from the heavens, great waves from the gray sky coming down paint the world beneath. A cool mist sits against his skin, a completely foreign feeling to the warm humidity of the spring and the dry heat of the summer. Each strike to the ground creates a symphony and releases from the world an earthy scent unlike anything he’s encountered before, a scent of freshness and life. He can feel the relief of the flora around him, a palpable joy in the air, laced through the earthy scent, set into every line of every stem and leaf and trunk as they welcome the deluge, the relief of having water after months and months of not even a single drop.

“Krel?”

Douxie’s already outside the building, standing in the rain entirely unbothered, waiting for him. His dark hair is darker, the black more complete, the blue richer. It’s weighed down by the water, and the wet ropes stick to glistening skin. He doesn’t seem to mind the rain though. He pushes his bangs back out of his face, giving Krel a full view of those eyes, turned molten in the rain.

Krel tentatively takes a step forward but lurches back at the first splatter of water on the tip of his nose, the cold of it startling him.

A calloused hand enters his vision, long, thin fingers outstretched to him.

“Come on,” Douxie says, and the warmth in his voice and written into the deepest lines of his face is enough to make Krel’s breath hitch and create a fluttering in his stomach.

He tentatively takes Douxie’s hand, and the wizard slowly pulls him out into the downpour. He gasps at the sensation of the cold water soaking through his hair and into his shirt and pants, a shock to the system that really wakes him up. He holds out his free hand and watches in wonder the plips of rain against his palm, rolling over the sides and down his wrist as they gather and splash.

None of the movies or tv shows could have prepared him for real rain – not even his times in water here, under the spray of the shower or in the mothership’s pool, could have prepared him.

There’s a squeeze of his hand. He looks to see Douxie’s interlaced his fingers with Krel’s – and the effect of the droplets streaking down their arms to streak over and between interlocked hands, gathering in their snug palm and where their finger meet so firmly it cannot slip through the cracks.

Now in close proximity, Krel can’t look away from Douxie’s face – how the rain gathers and shimmers over his pale skin to highlight his cheekbones, how his cheeks seem rosier in the wake of cold water, how his normally pretty straight hair curls slightly against his neck and temples, how water droplets sit delicately on his eyelashes to glimmer in the dimmed daylight.

He’s beautiful.

“Hm, I was thinking the same thing,” Douxie says with a cheeky smile. Krel tenses when he realizes he said that out loud. His free hand comes to rub at the back of his neck in embarrassment, and then he registers what exactly it is Douxie says. A squeak leaves him at the sudden realization, and in that moment he’s sure he’s blushing so hard his cheeks are up like a 100-watt cyan light bulb.

This seems to strike Douxie, as Krel can actually hear his breath catch and watches as Douxie’s eyes go wide, sparkling both with wonder and with specks of blue light.

That’s when he notices a bunch of odd points of blue light on Douxie’s face, reflections of something else just like the specks in his eyes.

Krel’s own eyes widen as he realizes what it is.

Water refracts light.

With the rain running down his cheeks, his blush has created a cyan galaxy across his face.

“Wow …” Douxie breathes.

Krel just smiles, a little awkwardly, unsure of what to say. He’s never been the best with words, after all.

Douxie’s free hand comes up to gently push a wet chunk of hair out of Krel's face, tucking it behind his ear. Krel can feel the cold drips from the end of it join the drips of the rest of his hair down his neck. Douxie’s fingers leave little sparks in their wake as they just ever so lightly brush across his skin.

He then finds himself being led away from Castle Camelot. Each footfall sends up a spray of water, and when he comes to his first large puddle, the splash is high enough to soak his socks and the bottoms of his jeans, both to his discomfort and to his delight. And that puddle seems to activate something inside of Krel.

At the next large puddle, he simply can resist – instead of just stepping into it, he lets go of Douxie’s hand and jumps, sending the water spraying nearly as high as his shirt and also getting Douxie.

The little giggle that leaves him is completely involuntary. The fond one that leaves Douxie is less so.

And then Douxie stomps in the standing water, sending a spray over Krel’s shins.

Krel then kicks through the water, sending a larger splash Douxie’s way.

Douxie raises a challenging eyebrow, and Krel wastes no time darting away.

That’s how the two find themselves running through the streets of Arcadia like a couple of little kids, splashing through puddles and soaking each other in their chase.

They’ll have to finish their work later, and once they’re done with the preliminary testing, Douxie will have to take Nari and leave again.

But for now, they don’t have to worry about reconstruction or evil magical gods or saving the world.

For now, they’re two boys playing in the rain together.

By the time they slow to a stop, they’re panting and soaked from head to toe. Even still, each raindrop that hits Krel carries with it an invigoration that, along with the cold, raises goosebumps along his arms. He’s winded, but he’s alive, in a way he never would’ve thought rain could make him feel.

Though, he’s pretty sure it’s not just the rain making him feel this way.

They find themselves in the town square park, which is utterly empty beside themselves. Not even Stuart is out here selling his tacos, which means they’re going to need to think of something else for lunch.

He locks eyes with Douxie once they’ve both caught their breath, and the two of them can only laugh.

Krel’s then caught off guard by Douxie once again taking his hand and pulling him in, the two of them even closer than they were before back at the castle.

“Hi,” he says, most of his cerebral higher functioning officially shut down.

“Hi,” Douxie says back. Krel can feel his breath across his cheeks as he speaks, can feel the heat radiating off the wizard’s skin. Suddenly overwhelmed by just how close they are, Krel tries to look away, but a hand comes gently under his chin, slowly lifting his face back up.

He isn’t sure who moves first to close the gap.

Honestly, it may have been both of them.

All that Krel really knows is that one second, Douxie’s lifted his chin and locked his eyes once more with Krel’s, and the next, that hand has moved to cup Krel’s jaw and the space between them has closed in time with their eyes.

Cold lips meet cold lips, chapped slightly from the chilly air. Douxie lets go of Krel’s hand to wrap that arm around Krel’s waist, and Krel finds his own hands coming up to settle on Douxie’s chest. Warmth bursts into life inside of Krel, a rightness settling across him and soaking into his core like the rain into his clothes.

It tastes like petrichor.

#krexie #krexieweek #krel tarron #hisirdoux casperan

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yellowmagicalgirl · 1 year

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Come Into the Light

Douxie and Archie go exploring a not-so-abandoned castle. Douxie finds himself making a deal for Archie's safety.

Guess who finally wrote the Beauty and the Beast AU ey had mentioned in discord back in 2021! I have more planned, and even some of the next scene written, but I couldn't get it done in time for @krexieweek. I'll try to publish a sequel sometime this summer.

AO3

FFN

It had been almost an hour, and Douxie was tired of waiting. It should have been simple. Archie would fly in, check to see if there were any obvious traps in the first part of the castle, and report back to Douxie. It shouldn't have taken more than twenty minutes, unless perhaps there was a pool of fish inside.

"I swear we need to find some sort of telepathy spell," Douxie grumbled as he cast the spell to light up his bracer. There were a lot of spells that Douxie wish he knew. Telepathy, for one, but also general quality-of-life spells. Sure, Merlin had had a point about hard work. There was a difference, though, between hard work at the castle and Douxie having to loot abandoned castles to be able to pay for food and lodging while also having time to keep an eye on any signs of Morgana's magic.

(Maybe he could get a job with the false alarm they had encountered. Then again, Douxie had no idea which guild Claire's mother represented, nor if she knew that her daughter was a shadowmancer. Just because the city-state of Arcadia Oaks was more tolerant than Camelot had been didn't mean it was safe to tell secrets like this.)

The castle wasn't as abandoned as it had looked. There wasn't any dust, and no cobwebs clung to the walls or ceiling. There was a hallway and two stairways coming off the main entrance. One led up, and the other led down.

“Arch? Archie, where are you?” Douxie called out. He heard a panicked yowl come from the downwards staircase. Douxie broke into a run and descended the stairs. “I’m coming, Arch!”

“No! Go back!” The desperation in Archie's voice only spurred Douxie further to him.

When he reached the bottom of the staircase, Douxie came to a long hallway with closed doors on either side, as well as a passageway veering off to the left. At the end of the hallway was a faintly glowing transparent dome. Underneath it was Archie. The dome's color was almost the same as Douxie's magic, if not a little more and vibrant. Douxie suppressed a shiver as he walked towards his familiar. Nothing, not even an uncomfortably similar color of magic, could stop him from helping Archie.

“Douxie, you need to go!” Archie hissed. “There's a strange monster in here; it’ll trap you!”

“Not without you.” Douxie knelt by the dome, inspecting it. He touched it, searching for a weakness, and found nothing.

“And just what are you doing with my prisoner?” The voice came from the hallway to the left.

Douxie glared into the darkness. While there was a faint cyan glow coming from it, it wasn't strong enough for him to make out any details. “He’s not yours. He’s my familiar, and he’s coming with me.”

“Your familiar? So, you’re a wizard, then.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Well, you’re obviously not a changeling. As a wizard, you should be more useful to me than your familiar is. I’d be willing to let him go if you were stay with me and obey my orders. Don’t worry; I’m not planning on ordering you to do anything directly harmful to yourself.”

There were many things that Douxie should have been.

“How long would I be here?”

“As long as I need you for.”

“Douxie, you can’t possibly be thinking of doing this.” Douxie turned to his familiar.

“I’m immortal, Arch; I'm not a little kid anymore. I can make my own decisions.” He could make his own sacrifices for the people he loved. Besides, Merlin had always liked Archie better than Douxie. He turned back to the monster. “Come into the light.”

Douxie had to suppress the snicker that battered at his lips. The so-called monster was a man who, when not counting his hair, was no taller than Douxie. Sure, he had strange eyes, four arms, and blue skin. He also had a complete and utter baby face. Maybe if he wasn’t holding Archie captive, Douxie would have found him adorable. For all the arrogance in the man’s voice, his posture and facial expression marked him as clearly uncomfortable under Douxie’s scrutiny.

“This is the monster you were talking about?” Douxie asked his familiar. What next, was Charlemagne only the Devourer of Fruit Pies? “I can handle him.”

“Douxie, don’t do this. Please.”

“I’m sorry, Archie, and thank you for everything.” Douxie looked directly at the man's face. “Let him go. Take me instead.”

The man reached to a device on his wrist, one that reminded Douxie uncomfortably of his own spellbook bracer. The man then pulled up an illusion and manipulated it. A similar barrier appeared around Douxie as the one around Archie. The barrier around Archie lifted off the floor in a bubble that floated next to the man.

“I’ll escort your familiar out, and then I'll be back for you.”

Archie pawed at the barrier. “I’ll come back for you, Douxie! I’ll find a way!”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” the man said as he and Archie disappeared into the darkness.

Douxie was left alone for fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes. Long enough to regret that he had left his lute back at the inn. That was another spell he wished he could learn, one that provided him with an instrument wherever he went. Even if they had had more time together, Merlin would have been more likely to teach Douxie shadowmancy than to summon a lute. And for all her so-called kindness, Morgana hadn’t been willing to teach Douxie such a spell, either.

What did the four-armed man want a wizard and not a dragon for?

Douxie had promised to stay and be the man’s prisoner. He hadn’t promised to actually be helpful. Both Merlin and Morgana had found Douxie annoying, and in their own ways they had tossed him out. And Douxie hadn’t even been trying with them!

This man didn’t know what he had gotten himself into.

The man came back and dismissed the barrier around Douxie. “Come. I’ll show you to your room.”

“Oh, really? You’re not making me stay in the dungeon?”

“Do you want to stay in the dungeon?” The man rolled his eyes. “Besides, I need you at your best.”

The man led Douxie through the castle. It was like nowhere Douxie had ever been – there was so much metal on the floors and ceiling. Cyan lights came on in the orbs embedded in the walls as the two of them passed.

“When you’re not working,” the man said, “you can go almost anywhere you like in the castle – just stay out of the West Wing.”

“Oh? What’s in there?”

The man glared over his shoulder. “None of your concern if you value your life.”

Well, so much for the earlier reassurance.

The man opened the door to a surprisingly lavish room. The bed looked more comfortable than anything Douxie had ever slept upon. “I have two servants, Ricky and Lucy. If you need anything, they will attend you.”

“So, I suppose they’ll give me your name? You never exactly introduced yourself.”

The man flinched. “I, well, you and your familiar intruded! But it’s, I’m, you can call me Krel. He called you Douxie?”

Douxie tried to be friendly most of the time, he really did. He had no intention of being friendly now. “You can call me Hisirdoux.”

A/N: As a fun fact, I was tempted to sneak in a joke along the lines of "I can handle him"/"In a fight, right?" but I just couldn't find a way to make it fit the tone.

#krexieweek #krexie #hisirdoux casperan #toa archie #krel tarron #beauty and the beast #enemies to lovers #i guess this fulfills two day's worth of prompts but i wrote this for day 4 #my writing #tales of arcadia #3below #toawizards

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babblish · 9 months

Text

Under the Wave

Fandom: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships/Characters: Morgana, Nari, Bellroc, Skrael, Original Characters Theme: Origin Story (Wizards Non-Compliant), Explorations of Identity, Gender, Magic, Recovery, and Divinity

Chapter 29; Reintroductions Morgana reunites with the Arcane Order but they're not fully convinced they can take her on face value. Meanwhile Skrael has something personal to discuss with the others.

Skrael hummed thoughtfully. “I do not wish to be like Harthkis,” they said. “The last echoes of the Elder Folk remain in us, there is no point defining ourselves by rules that are now irrelevant.” “I understand,” Nari said. “When you came to us and said, ‘I do not mind to be a she,’ after we met all those other gods at the Celestial Palace, we did not ask questions,” Skrael said. “But you had the same realisation, didn’t you?” “I suppose so,” Nari agreed. “I may not be a man but that is a knife I like to twist,” Skrael continued. “I didn’t have that thought,” Nari said. “Of course you didn’t,” Skrael said. “Consider ‘man’ is the knife pointed outwards, but ‘woman’ is buried in my gut. Neither is true, but I know myself. I cannot wield one without getting cut, yet the other is fun. It pleases me to see the light bounce back on its surface as mortals flinch, fearful at how fragile the blade is in my hands, and how sharply I can wield it.” Nari looked at their hands and then back up at Skrael. “Yes, yes fun.” “You were in my body,” Bellroc said to themself softly. “Was it… fun to pretend like it had always been yours?” Skrael sat upright and turned to face Bellroc head on, eyes wide with alarm. “That is not what happened. That is not what I did.” “Then what happened?” Bellroc asked. “I thought a lot,” Skrael said. “I thought a lot about everyone that was, everything I had been. I tied myself into an endless knot and had to untie myself alone behind your reflection.”

— Ties in with Primordial Awakenings, Primordial Awakenings - Deleted Scenes, Under the Sun, and the rest of The Heart of Janus au.

#tales of arcadia #trollhunters #toa morgana #arcane order #my fic #under the wave #heart of janus au

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rosemaidenvixen · 9 months

Text

A Secret's Worth

Chapter 36: Darci

Ao3

Content warning: Implied/referenced racism/colorism.

Darci sprinted down the dark street, ignoring the rain pouring down in sheets around her as her shoes slapped against the wet pavement. Even over the rain she could still hear the gate clanging shut behind her, the shouts of alarm that grew steadily fainter as she ran and ran and ran.

Forget them, they had no right to demand anything from her. Not now. Not after this.

Eventually the shouting faded into silence, leaving only the pounding of the rain and the booming of her heart, beating so loud it seemed like it might burst, as she sprinted on into the dark of the early morning. She had no idea how long she ran for, but suddenly out of nowhere the gates of the old cemetery loomed ahead of her, and then vanished behind her as she dashed inside. Running past headstones and mausoleums, the only light coming from the glow of distant streetlights against the polished marble, deeper and deeper into the graveyard until her legs finally gave out, crumpling in a heap on the steps of a large monument with a towering obelisk, panting and quivering on the cold, wet stone.

It was only now she realized she was crying, tears pouring out her eyes and down her cheeks mingling with the rain. Hands shaking and heavy sobs bubbling out of her chest, Darci braced herself against the steps and somehow managed to push herself into a sitting position.

Huddling up against the slick marble; she pulled her knees against her chest, and got out her phone.

The glow of her screen cut sharply through the gloom of the cemetery, raindrops glittering on its surface smeared this way and that as she pulled up her contacts with dripping fingers. Mary went straight to voicemail, which meant her phone was off. Claire rang forever before also going to voicemail, which meant either her phone was on silent or she was asleep.

Either way neither one of them were answering.

Her already burning eyes stung as emotion swelled up Darci’s throat.

It had been a long shot from the start, back home in Arcadia it was just after 3am, but she needed to talk to someone right now, someone to unload some of this nightmare onto, someone who hadn’t lied to her for her entire life–

Wait, there was still one person who might be awake.

She tapped the contact and raised her phone to her ear, holding her breath as it rang.

“Hello?” Jim’s voice echoed out of the device from over a thousand miles away.

That was all it took to make the dam break. Darci instantly burst into a fresh wave of tears, bawling and wailing into the phone while huddled on the soggy ground, faintly aware of Jim’s voice on the other end of the phone becoming frantic.

“Darci what is it!? Are you ok!? What’s wrong!?”

“I– I– I–” she couldn’t get the words out, throat choked tight with sobs.

“Ok ok ok, if you can’t talk just listen for a second. I want you to try something. Pull in a big breath through your nose for five mississippis, then hold it for five more. Then breathe out for five mississippis and just keep doing that. Can you try that?”

Darci managed to force out something that sounded like an ‘uh huh’ and sucked in a breath through her nose.

The first few times she wasn’t able to get five full mississippi's of breath in, strays sobs leaking through. But as Darci continued the breathing cycles became steadier, and after a few minutes while she was still crying, Darci was able to get herself mostly under control.

“Better?”

“Yeah…” she said with a sniffle.

“Alright, what’s going on? Are you ok?”

“I– I’m fine, physically. I just…I just learned something really bad…”

“What happened?”

“So I woke up really early and came downstairs. My aunt was reading an old newspaper article, I saw my mom’s name in it and she has a really unusual name, Amaryllis, so I knew it had to be her. I asked my aunt what she was reading but then she tried to hide it from me, then my grandparents came downstairs and when they saw what was going on they started acting all weird to, so I grabbed the newspaper and ran and locked myself in the bathroom, and– and– and–”

“Whoa whoa,” Jim cut in “Let’s pause for a bit, I’m not going anywh–”

“My mom didn’t die in an accident,” Darci spat the words like bullets “She was murdered, they never caught the killer and they stopping looking for him a long time ago,”

“....what?”

Darci knew she was rambling now, spiraling further and further into the hysteria that had been building ever since she saw those first words printed in ink, everything coming out in a rush barely coherent “The newspaper didn’t have a lot of details but I looked it up online, she was out driving, then something ran her off the road. When they found the car the door was ripped off its hinges and she was gone, they never found a body, but there was blood, enough that they knew she couldn’t be alive,”

“Oh my god…”

“I– I never knew my mom, and I was always sad that I didn’t, but I thought I was mostly ok with it. I thought she died in an accident, something awful and random that happens to everyone that no one can control. But someone killed her, they went after her specifically and killed her, and they basically got away wi– wi– wi–”

She couldn’t continue, words breaking off into sharps gasps, the storm inside her building up bigger and bigger, writhing and frothing into something that couldn’t be distilled into words.

“Ok, you’re feeling a lot right now, and if you want me to listen to you scream it all out I’m game,” Jim’s voice echoed out of the phone “But before we get started on that let’s try to take a breather for a second. Are you by yourself now?”

“Y– yeah…”

“Are you sitting down?”

“Uh huh,”

“When was the last time you ate or drank something?”

“I…I had dinner last night,”

“Ok you should definitely have some water and something to eat,”

A scowl broke through the turbulence of shock and grief, carving itself on her face as Darci braced her back against the memorial, the puddled rain soaking into her shirt, pulling her free arm around her knees “Well that’s gonna be tough because everything’s closed and I am not going back to my grandma’s house,”

“But wh–”

“They knew,” she spat “All of them; my aunt, grandma, grandpa, even my dad– they all knew that it wasn’t a car accident that killed my mom. And they all lied to me for my entire life!”

“...what?”

“They were quoted in the newspaper,” she grumbled “Each and every one of them knew the truth and lied to me about it for over a decade,”

“Oh…wow…ok, definitely take some space from them until you’re ready,”

I call and tell you my mom was murdered they never found who did it and my family lied to me about it and that’s the best advice you can give me!?

Darci bit her tongue before the venomous words could escape. She was the one who called Jim at three in the morning pacific time to rant, it wasn’t fair to lash out at him for not knowing the perfect thing to say “It’s just….dad always said that we were a team, and he trusted me to make good choices so I needed to trust him to. And it turns out he was keeping this from me this whole time…”

A fresh wave of tears choked her off.

For a few moments nothing but silence emanated from the phone before Jim’s voice crackled out again “Ok, you’re probably feeling a lot right now; angry and sad and really really mad at your dad, and you should feel that stuff for as long as you need to. But I can kind of get where your dad was coming fr–”

“What!?”

“Well I just–”

Darci whipped the phone away from her ear to scream into it with full force “You think it’s ok that my dad and the rest of my family lied to me for my entire life!?”

“No of course not! I just think I can understand–”

Understand.

Understand!?

The last fraying thread of control inside her snapped.

“Don’t you dare tell me you understand!” Darci gripped the phone with both hands, her voice twisted into an ugly shriek as tears and rainwater streamed down her face “You couldn’t possibly understand! Your dad’s an asshole! Your mom’s still alive and you guys tell each other everything! And you fucking know that if my mom looked like your mom they would have tried a hell of a lot harder to catch her murderer! So don’t you sit there and tell me that you…you…”

She couldn’t speak anymore. Writhing currents of rage and grief sealing her throat shut. Ugly sobs gushing out while she sat there huddled in a ball, soaked to the bone with more rain pouring down, the phone radiating stunned silence.

Jim was probably shocked to hear sweet, sunshiney Darci losing it like this. Well too fucking bad. Her mom was murdered. The killer had gotten away with it. And her family had hid the truth from her for a decade and a half. Darci was done being nice.

The silence coming from the phone stretched out so long for a second she wondered if he’d hung up, then Jim’s gravely voice picked up again.

“You’re…you’re right, I don’t understand. I have no idea what it’s like to grow up without a mom or be lied to like that…and if my mom had gotten hurt people would have treated it differently because of how she looks. That’s awful and unfair and messed up and I’m never going to fully understand what that’s like, but as far as your dad….”

His voice dropped “I think your dad thought he had everything figured out with you and your mom, then everything changed in an instant. Suddenly your mom was gone and he had a baby he had to take care of all by himself while dealing with questions that he still doesn’t have good answers to. Maybe he did some things that he shouldn’t have, but I think he probably felt alone and scared and was just trying to do the best he could,”

Just like that her fire was gone, sitting there slumped against the damp stone, smoldering anger eclipsed by a bitter tide of guilt.

She’d never gotten to know her mom, but her dad had lost her. He’d had to deal with his wife being murdered while taking care of a baby. Trying to hold everything together while it all fell apart around him.

She was still mad at him for lying, but now she wanted to hug him to.

“Y– you’re right….I’m sorry I yelled,”

“No worries, I think you’ve earned a pass right now,”

“It’s just I called you and you were nice enough to try and help me through this even though it’s super early–”

Jim let out a deep “Darci, after the crap you guys have been through dealing with all of my many many big blue issues, I think at the very least you get to yell a little bit after something like this. If anything you’re still in the green, if you want I can set a timer so you can make sure to get all your allotted screaming out,”

Despite how decidedly unfunny both of their situations were, that got a watery laugh out of her.

“So…you doing better? I mean not ‘better’ but–”

“No I get what you mean, I’m not…ok, like at all, and I’m still mad, at everything and at all of them, but….less,”

“Ok, want to talk about it more or want me to distract you?”

Darci stretched her legs out in front of her, soaked clothes resisting the motion and cramped muscles wailing in protest “Distract me please,”

“Got it, distraction distraction….Oh! So at the waterpark opening there was a new surfing simulator ride, we all tried it and wiped out, really bad,”

“How bad?”

“Well…” there was a soft rustle on the other side of the phone, likely Jim sitting down “It spat me out face down, Claire upside down, Mary somehow shot her board out and nearly hit the operator, Toby also ended up upside down but he was the only one who managed to hang onto his board the whole time,”

“Tell me you got that on video,”

“Yep, Mr. Nuñez got the whole thing, plus the guy who went after us who actually did shoot his board out and hit his buddy in the face,”

Darci giggled “Oh man, maybe it’s because I’m soaked down to my underwear, but I can relate,”

“Wait, soaked?”

“It’s raining buckets over here,” “Rain? Wait…” Jim said slowly “Are you outside right now?”

“Yep, more specifically I’m in a cemetery,”

“What!? Isn’t it still dark where you are!?”

“Yep,” she said with a pop.

“Ok I’m not saying you have to go back home, but you should definitely get out of the graveyard before any ghosts show up,”

Despite the turbulent emotions still roiling inside her and the fact Jim couldn’t see Darci still rolled her eyes “Relax, I’ve been here a bunch of times, it’s just marble and dust and weeds, ghosts don’t exist,”

“...you do realize you’re talking to someone who was literally cursed by a magic potion,”

Darci winced “Point taken,”

Ghosts may or may not be a thing, she was feeling so wrung out inside that she honestly didn’t care right now, but she was getting pretty cold. And changing into some dry clothes would be nice. She shakily got to her feet, moving through the pins and needles, and headed towards the entrance, wet socks squelching in her shoes and phone still pressed to her ear “I’m heading back to my grandma’s house now,”

“Are you sure? Because–”

“I’m sure.”

She was still…not happy with her family right now, but the white hot rage from an hour ago had dissipated. And while she wasn’t ready to talk she was ok seeing them and being around them.

“....you want me to stay on the line?” Jim said softly

Unexpected tightness clenched in her chest “Yes please…”

Walking the familiar streets and turns, still recognizable despite the darkness and rain, Jim rambling in her ear about the waterpark, soon her grandparents’ house loomed ahead of her.

“Welp I’m back…time to face the music,”

“You know you don’t have to talk to them if you’re not ready,” Jim said softly “Just say that you need some time by yourself to process for a little bit,”

“...thanks…”

Holding her breath, she pushed in the gate and walked up to the house, stepping onto the porch and out of the rain, for all the good it did now that she was sopping wet through and through. And the humidity really wasn’t doing her any favors.

“Hello?” she peeked her head in the door “I’m back,”

No reply.

While all the lights were on the house was eerily silent, no shifts and creaks that came from human presence. Just Darci standing there dripping on the welcome mat. Confused, she stepped the rest of the way in and pushed the door shut behind her.

“No one’s here,”

“Really?”

She wandered down the hall into the kitchen, perplexed. Sure Azalea probably had to get to work, being a midwife it wasn’t like she could postpone when the baby came, but where did everyone else g–

Oh.

“They…might be out looking for me,”

Jim hissed “Oof, you should probably text them that you’re home,”

“Yeah, just a sec, don’t hang up,” Darci pulled her phone away from her ear, wincing at all the unread text messages she’d received in the last hour, guess her phone was still on silent. Scrolling to the bottom, she sent just one message to her dad, grandma, and aunt.

back home now but need some time before I’m ready to talk

Darci quickly tapped at the screen and put her phone against her ear before she could see any replies.

“Alright, that should keep them from turning the city upside down,”

“That would be ideal, want some more distraction?”

“...would you?” she said softly.

“Anytime, so Toby really wants to try cooking with flambé…”

Darci let Jim’s voice wash over her as she moved towards the stairs and headed up towards her room.

Everything wasn’t ok, not by a long shot. Her mom had been murdered and she was so so angry about it. But she wasn’t angry with her dad and her family anymore, not in a way that would last.

#tales of arcadia #trollhunters #jim lake jr #darci scott #sunshine au #a secret's worth #rmvwrites #racism #colorism

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autistictaylorhebert · 9 months

Note

If I'm understanding your post right you'll give a trigger for a power? Got any ideas for a power that allows someone to copy faces (and powers) after prolonged eye contact? Of course coming with massive and intense identity issues.

There are a lot of different options for this, I've had a few different powergen asks that could have definitely led to copy-cat changer/trumps, but I went with less straightforward powers in response (mainly just because I like making up stupid complicated powers lol).

I think the simplest elements to lead to this kind of power include,

The Changer/Stranger, something where there is some positive social interactions and people viewing them in a good way (or there is in theory or potential), but it is now bad? Or imposter syndrome and similar?

Power copying, which weaverdice calls "[positive] Mental or emotional relationship to the powers", but I think anything like jealousy or desire can fit, and situations where the possibility of having powers is a threat/bad also works.

Prolonged Eye contact...!

I've always like the idea of a school like Arcadia being involved in a trump trigger? A school where there's this open secret that some of the kids there are wards, and an unspoken guessing game about who it is.

For the first few months after you enter the school, you aren't noticed. It's not that you're bullied and you have friends, but you're not famous, and you're aware that there is something a lot more exciting happening to other people.

Maybe you make a joke that someone takes seriously, or your schedule matches with a few too many cape fights, but a rumour starts up that you are a specific teen hero.

You encourage the rumour, play it up and drop hints. Things escalate and people start treating you differently, looking at you and nodding at you in corridors, hanging out with you more, and there's an undercurrent of you being valuable and respected.

Maybe this would have been fine. Not a unique experience in countries with the wards system, just teenager behaviour. But then one day alarms start blaring, and teachers yell at you to get to the cafeteria.

If there is a fight that happens, you don't see it, instead you just wait in the cafeteria, until men with guns walk into the room. One of them is holding a phone, seemingly comparing a picture to the faces of teenagers. He stops on you, staring you right in the eyes, and you know with a certainty that he thinks you are the hero you were pretending to be.

#sorry that this is like a week late LOL #powergen

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rosebloodcat · 11 months

Text

TTWTWK: In Which Blinky has a Crisis (Or Three)

In 1995, around the start of spring, Blinkous Galadrigal went missing.

The same morning that the scholarly troll vanished, a man was found unconscious in a back alley wearing nothing but a set of ill-fitting, brown overalls and was rushed to the Arcadia Oaks Hospital.

Chapter Summary:

Blinky/James sits in the kitchen while have a crisis (or maybe three), gets (re?) acquainted with a good friend, and names are discussed.

AN: Heads up, around the start of this, Blinky's spiraling a little bit and repeating thoughts/phrases. He's a bit more panicked than he realizes about all this and it shows in how he’s thinking. I wanted to warn folks in case that was alarming for anyone!

Ao3 Link

Meddling with time magic was unpredictable. It was one of those things that everyone knew, to some degree, even if they never openly talked about it. It was one of those things that seemed obvious, at least when discussing the concept theoretically.

This was why Blink (James?) felt like he shouldn't have been as surprised as he was by this bizarre turn of events.

He sat in his Norman's the kitchen, clutching a mug of tea in his hands as he stared blankly out the window at the pitch-dark sky outside.

The Krohnisfere was supposed to have only sent Master Jim back in time. And just his memories, at that.

Blinky shouldn't have been the one waking up in the middle of the night with a head full of memories of the future, as a human no less, before Master Jim had even been born. (If he was doing his mental math correctly.)

But he did remember and when combined with his memories of "now"...

He remembered that he'd gone missing for ten years, roughly eleven years before he'd met Jim. No one had known what had happened to him, or where he'd been, or even how he'd come back from it.

It seems that, after I'd finally stopped searching for an answer, it's been freely handed to me, He thought, carefully sipping the cooling tea. There was still a small part of him that was adamant that this was some insane dream he was experiencing. That he would wake up in the ruins of Arcadia, everything exactly as he had last seen them.

But the warmth of the mug in his hands, the smell and taste of the tea, the tired itch in his eyes; it all pointed to this being very real.

He was in the past, during the period he'd been missing, sitting in a human kitchen drinking tea, as a human.

He was a human.

The reason no one, not even Kanjigar, had been able to find him for so long had been because he had, somehow, become human.

He had woken in a human hospital, as a human with amnesia. He had been dubbed James and kept the name because he hadn’t known his own name.

James Lake was the name of Jim’s father. He was James Lake and he was dating Barbara.

He was Jim’s father. The same father that disappeared on Jim’s fifth birthday.

He would father Jim.

Him.

The first human troll hunter’s father.

For a half-second, Blinky/James wished he was drinking something stronger than tea right then. He couldn’t think of what, exactly, he wanted instead and he didn’t really care. Just something stronger. (Being Not-Sober was very tempting right then.)

It made sense, in an insane way, once he corralled his thoughts into some semblance of order.

The first (second?) time he’d become human, he’d felt oddly… Comfortable? In both the form and amongst the humans, where any other troll probably would have felt strange and alien. (He hadn’t been totally comfortable after the change, but not as much as he probably should have.)

Yes, he’d let his curiosity get the better of him many times, but he hadn’t felt completely out-of-place while in that state. Looking back, he would have thought of the experience as being familiar. Not completely unknown to him.

(Barbara’s rough introduction hadn’t colored his perception as much as it should have. She had felt familiar, he’d thought it had been from her actions reminding him of a troll mother protecting her den, but… He had worried over her, after finally meeting her. Meeting her again?)

He’d always thought Arrrgh’s comments on the two smelling similar had been about Jim having an ink-and-paper smell to him as well. Likely from spending so much time around the written word while in school. A mark of the young human being a learning sort as well.

And, during the pilgrimage to New Jersey, more than a few of the trolls with them had joked about how similar Jim and he had been. “Like Father, Like Son” and vice versa.

He’d thought of Jim like a son then, so it had felt like a compliment. Something to be proud of.

But now, with this new context, it seemed he was mistaken and there was far more to those observations than he’d thought.

(Because Jim was his son. A son he’d forgotten he’d had. A human son. His Son. Great Gronka Morka, he was Jim’s father.)

He took another sip of the lukewarm tea.

Now came the penultimate question, what was he supposed to do with this information?

Should he try to play along with how the timeline went last time? Pretend that his world hadn’t been turned upside-down and act like nothing was out of the ordinary? Or…

Or should he take a card from his future son Young Jim’s book and try to use the foreknowledge he’d been granted?

Time was unpredictable, even the smallest changes could cause things to spiral wildly out of control. There was a dangerous potential in changing the course of time.

But oh, was it a tempting thought.

How many could have been saved with just a bit of warning? More time to prepare? A chance to be ready for what was coming?

A few extra protections here, a few warnings there, so many little things had been ignored or dismissed before that could make a world of difference now!

Soft, five-fingered hands tightened around the mug.

The problem was, how was he supposed to make them happen?

He was a human.

He had no way to contact Trollmarket, no way to find Kanjigar (he was alive. Kanjigar was alive), no way to prove his foreknowledge without them thinking he was a changeling trying to trick them.

(Jim, his son, hadn’t even been born yet.)

After spending so much time doing something, taking action, the idea of not even trying just… Didn’t sit well with him.

He couldn’t sit back and watch, he had to do something. But what?

What could he…

“Jamsie?”

Blinky/James jumped in his seat, twisting around to look at the figure standing in the doorway (and almost unseating himself in the process).

Norman, the tall, dark-skinned man that he shared this house with, squinted blearily at him from the hall.

“It’s almost four in the morning, what are you doing up?”

He fumbled for an answer, his head still a mess from the Decade of memories that had been dumped into his head that morning.

(This man was Blinky/James’ friend. A good friend. Someone who gave him a chance, and helped him get back on his feet. Someone he never got to meet again… What had happened to him? )

“Oh! Ah, N-Norman! Couldn’t sleep, I’m fine. Just fine!” The tall man leveled a flat and very unimpressed look at him, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Pull the other one Jamsie, it’s got bells on it,” Norman said dryly. “I’d like to think that, after living with you for this long, I can tell when you ain’t being honest with me. Now what’s the actual answer?”

Norman stepped fully into the room, slowly meandering over as he watched Blinky/James stumble over his words. Trying to find an answer good enough for him. He let out a sigh.

“Jamsie, I may be a weirn, but I’d like to think I’m someone you can talk to if something’s up. I can’t guarantee I’ll believe it, but you know that I’ll listen.”

The troll-turned-human hesitated.

(Weirn, a class of witch. But Norman was a good man. A kind one.)

(James trusted him. And Blinky could probably learn to.)

Norman knew about the amnesia he'd suffered from, so perhaps that would be the best place to start.

"I- I've finally remembered. My name, my-my everything…"

So he told him. Told him that he was actually a troll by the name of Blinkous Galadrigal, Blinky to his friends, who'd been trying to find some materials that had been lost on the surface world. That he still didn't know what had caused his transformation but, if he had to guess, it may have been due to one of the items he'd gone to fetch (which may have also been responsible for his memory loss). That he'd lived in Trollmarket, which was hidden beneath Arcadia and accessed with a special stone via the bridges of the canal.

That he had no idea how to contact his friends to tell them that he was alive or prove that he was the real thing. That if he tried he would run the risk of being found by the terrible Gumm-Gumm Bular (oh Deya, Bular was alive too) or a changeling in his service or by goblins or something else equally dreadful and dangerous to his current, very human self.

And once he'd started talking, the rest of the story spilled out as well.

That he remembered more.That he knew about things that would happen in the future.

That he would marry his current girlfriend, Barbara (fierce, brave, tolerant Barbara), and they would have a wonderful little boy they would dub Jim. That he would vanish on Jim's fifth birthday and be found wandering the sewers in a daze by Kanjigar without the memories of his time as a human. He'd be brought back to Trollmarket and never know about the human family he'd left behind. Years would pass and he would only meet them again due to the Amulet of Daylight choosing Jim to be the new trollhunter, with no idea that the young boy was his son.

He told his current friend (whom he never got to meet a second time) everything that followed after that. Every triumph, every hurdle, every loss, and tragedy that came. About how Trollkind itself had changed and grown thanks to the wonderful, amazing, unfaltering young man that became part of their lives. (He'd never noticed when he'd stood up and started pacing the room, gesturing wildly as he spoke, unable to remain sitting in the wake of the emotions spilling out beside the story.)

All the pain and suffering his son had gone through trying to help the world.

He'd laughed and cried and raged and mourned in the dark kitchen while Norman sat at the table, calm and steady and listening.

By the end of it, the barest beams of the dawn were filtering in through the windows and Blinky/James felt exhausted and thoroughly rung out. But he also felt a lot lighter than when he'd first woken up with over a decade of memories flooding his mind.

From his seat, Norman let out a gusty exhale.

"Well, that's a lot more than I was expecting. Feel any better now that you let it out?" Blinky/James nodded, slumping back into his seat and grabbing his now-cold tea. Norman hummed.

"I knew trolls were a thing, even if I never had the pleasure of meeting any before. So I can confirm that ain't you being crazy and that I believe you about it.” He looked over at the troll-turned-human with a serious face, the sort reserved for clients who were in over their heads and they could both tell that they genuinely needed help. “I’m on your side though. I want to help you, even if this feels really… Strange, on my end. Tell me what you need, what you want help with, and I’ll do what I can."

Norman scrubbed a hand over his face with a sigh. "Geeze, the way you were acting earlier makes a lot more sense now. A ruddy existential crisis at four in the morning, what a way to start the day…"

Yes, an “existential crisis” certainly fit how he was handling all of this. Blinky/James let out an exhausted hum, staring into the dredges of his tea.

“So…” Norman started idly tapping his fingers on the table. “Which should I be calling you by, now?”

“Come again?”

“Which name?” he clarified, looking over at him. “Which name do you want me to use? Should I start calling you Blinkous? Or would you rather I keep using James?”

Blinky/James stared uncomprehendingly at him. He let out an amused huff.

“Alright, identity is still in question. Got it. I’ll try asking later.”

In question…

Norman had hit on that fairly well.

He was still confused (perhaps “disoriented” would be a better word?) despite being able to talk, to explain, everything that he’d remembered that morning. He was only just starting to get his feet under him, metaphorically, after the many years of memories and knowledge that had appeared.

In a way, his identity was in question. Even to himself.

So much of who he’d thought he was had been thrown into the air. Everything he’d built as James, and everything he knew as Blinky (both past and future) had put him at a crossroad. Which path was he meant to take?

(Was he Blinky? Or was he James?)

(Or, perhaps, there was a third option?)

“I don’t mind if you keep calling me Jamsie.”

AN: AHAHAHAHA IT'S DONE!!!

Hi folks, this was actually harder than I thought it would be to get out. Blinky/James has many feelings right now and it was hard to wriggle my way through them all to get some forward motion in there.

I've also finally dropped a teensy bit of info to allow me to reveal at least one of the fun crossover thingies I wanted to put into here! The Weirns!

I'm a tremendous fan of the Weirn Books by Svetlana Chmakova, especially the initial Nightschool books, and have been forever disappointed that I've never really seen other people talk about them. So I'm writing some stuff for it myself. Partially because it kinda bugs me how SMALL the world of magic feels in Trollhunters. With how vast and varied the world is, only ever seeing trolls, gnomes, wizards, and a few aliens feels like just a splash in a pond that should be much deeper.

So I'm going to try to expand it all in a way that (I hope) makes everything flow together in a fun way without messing them up.

Plus, it gives more stuff for Blinky to have a crisis over.

There's a reason Blinky's letting Norman keep calling him "Jamsie". Part of it is the identity thing, but it's also that the part of him that's James feels like it would be REALLY WEIRD if Norman stopped calling him that. And, to a small degree, he's not thinking of trying to go back to Trollmarket yet. So it's also a bit of a mindset thing.

If yall wanna ask questions for more info, drop off an ask.

#trollhunters #tales of arcadia #toa #3below #wizards #rise of the titans #rott #the weirn books #nightschool series #crossover #the things we thought we knew au #ttwtwk au #blinky is james lake au #blinkous galadrigal #blinky #ttwtwk norman #rosies writing #rosies fanfics

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