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saxxxology · 3 years

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Cosmo Says - Ch.5

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader WORD COUNT: 3,129 WARNINGS: smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), fingering NOTE: Do not save or repost my work without my consent.

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You make it out of bed early, leaving Dean to slumber peacefully. Your clothes are bundled in his hamper, and you make do with fishing a pair of boxers from his top drawer and cinching them with a rubber band. You’re in no mood to put on a shirt, so you amble down the hall and into the kitchen. Sam’s left a sticky note on the table, explaining that he’s gone out for an early run, and you settle for making coffee and pulling the evening newspaper from the day before towards you.

Sam steps into the kitchen to find you leaning over the counter, tits out and a cup of coffee in one hand as you flip through the large pages. He looks surprised, but not as caught-off-guard as he would be if he hadn’t seen them already.

“Hey.” You smile at him as he pulls his earbuds out and sets his phone on the counter. “Coffee’s hot.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat and steps around you to grab a mug from the cupboard. “Where’s Dean?”

“Sleeping like a log.” You glance at him over your shoulder. “How was your run?”

“Wet.” He ruffles his hair, brushing away droplets of water out of his hair. “It was already drizzling, I barely got a half-mile out before I had to come back.”

“Aww.” You hop up to sit on the metal counter. “Wanna burn off the rest of the calories?”

Sam blushes, stirring a spoon of sugar into his coffee. “Later. Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

You shrug. “Didn’t feel like it. Basides, they look good this morning, figured I’d put ‘em on display.” Raising an eyebrow, you watch Sam lift his cup to his lips and take a long swallow. “Why? Do they make you uncomfortable?”

“What? No, no.” Sam shakes his head, still blushing like there’s no tomorrow. “I was, uh… just… they look good, that’s all.”

You grin, leaning back and tossing your hair over your shoulder. “Thanks.”

He sets his drink on the counter and steps close, leaning in to steal a kiss. “Did you and Dean…?”

“Not all the way,” you reply. “You made me sore, I need to recuperate.”

He winces, pressing an apologetic smooch to your cheek. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” You straighten up, parting your knees to allow him to step between them. “You’re just a big boy.”

Sam lets out a breathy chuckle and slides his hands up the curve of your back. “And you’re a pretty girl.”

“That’s sweet,” you coo, giggling when he nips under your jaw. “Your jacket’s all cold… mind taking it off?”

Sam smirks, pulling the zipper of his jacket down and rolling it off his shoulders. All he’s got on is a gray tee shirt that’s a size too small, and you snake your hands under its hem, feeling for warm, smooth skin. “Like that?” he asks.

“Exactly like that.” You tip your head back so he can nuzzle the crook of your neck. “I gotta find something in Cosmo for you.”

“I’m sure you can find something,” he mumbles, “you smell like peaches.”

“Bubble bath.”

“Ahh.” He takes another deep inhale. “I like it.”

You squirm when he bends lower to nibble on your collarbone. “What’re you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doin’?” Sam trails a line of kisses up the side of your neck. “I missed you last night.”

“I was busy.” You giggle when he fills a palm with one breast. “Let me at Cosmo for a bit and I’ll come up with something to cross off the list.”

Sam lets out a little moan against your mouth, not even bothering to stop as Dean’s shuffling footsteps echo in the hallway.

“Am I gonna walk in on you two swapping spit every time, or…?”

Sam grunts and straightens up. “No. You just have shit timing.”

Dean eyes your bare torso as he strides around to make himself a cup of coffee. “You stole my boxers.”

“Well, would you rather have me running around, ass out, too?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Both men answer in unison. Sam frowns, clears his throat, and leans down to give you one more kiss.

“I’m gonna shower,” he says, skimming a palm over your thigh. “Join me?”

You don’t miss Dean’s look and give Sam a small pout. “I think your brother has plans… I’ll make it up to you later though?”

He grumbles, but gives in. “Don’t pile up your rain checks.”

“Or what, you’ll spank me?” You reach out and swat Sam’s ass hard enough to earn a wince and a low chuckle from Dean. “Think again, go clean your sweaty ass off.”

Red-cheeked, Sam stalks off to the bathroom, coffee in hand, leaving you and Dean alone. Dean takes his brother’s place, watching you take a long sip of your own drink.

“Not gonna lie, you look hot in these.” He twists the rubber band out of the waistband of your borrowed boxers. “But I thought you’d stay in bed.”

“Sorry.” You boop his lower lip as he tugs your hips closer to the edge of the counter. “I needed coffee.”

“Mmm, a likely story.” Dean leans in for a kiss that you gladly reciprocate. “I was gonna pay you back for last night.”

You moan when his fingers slide past the barrier of fabric to graze over the soft flesh of your hips. Dean’s eyes darken slightly as you run your fingers through his hair, tangling in the longer strands at the top. “Guess you’re just gonna have to do it right here, then.”

Dean lets you press his head down, bending to kiss the valley between your breasts as he makes his way south. You gasp when he lifts your hips up to tug his boxers down your thighs and sets you down on the chilly metal countertop, but when he steps back, lips and tongue continuing down your belly until he’s dotting your inner thighs with warm, wet kisses.

“Lie back for me,” he directs softly, and as soon as you’re splayed out on the counter, he’s pressing his mouth between your thighs, tongue gliding slowly through your folds. Your fingers twist in his hair, directing him to where it feels best, and when his lips seal around your clit you don’t hold back a squeal of pleasure.

“Oh my—” you bite down on your lower lip, white-knuckling the edge of the counter with one hand as you hold his face to your pussy. “That’s it, right there…”

Dean hums, dipping his fingers between your legs to press at your entrance. You give way to him, allowing him to ease inside. The ache dissolves as he begins to pump gently, in and out, measured with the almost-perfect licks of his tongue. Wet kissing and sucking sounds fill the kitchen, blending with your high-pitched moans. Dean has to hold you still, his other hand splaying out over your belly.

He has you cumming in minutes, shuddering on the cold metal as spasms of pleasure rock your body. His fingers and tongue keep moving, pumping and licking until you’re pushing on the top of his head and begging him to stop. He backs off, licking you from his lips.

“Y’good?” he asks as you manage to sit up.

“Yeah.” You grin lazily and reach out to stroke along the hard line of his cock through his own pair of boxers. “Want another handjob?”

His teeth dent his lower lip. “Definitely.”

After helping to clean around the bunker and making a mid-afternoon grocery run, you seclude yourself in the television room, flipping through Cosmopolitan to find something suitable for Sam. He pops in around dinnertime, bringing a plate of grilled cheese, and plops down on the small couch beside you, peering at the list of tips.

“What’d ya find?” he asks, taking a bite out of a sandwich before offering it to you. “Anything good?”

You shrug, skimming a finger down a small article. “How do you feel about something in your ass?”

He grimaces, watching you pluck the food from his fingers. “No, thanks.”

“That’s what I thought.” You sigh and flip the page. “What about being totally quiet?”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“True.” You nibble on a corner of the crust and scan over the new list of tips. Nothing’s sparking your interest, not now, at least. Giving up, you toss the magazine onto the small coffee table and slump down, exhaling a quick breath.

Sam shifts when you lean over, resting your chin on his shoulder. “What?”

“I’m tired.” You snuggle against him, stuffing the sandwich into your mouth.

“Take a nap.” Sam slings an arm around your shoulders. “You still sore?”

You giggle when he pokes your cheek affectionately. “No.”

“Mm.” He presses his lips to your temple. “Wanna cuddle up and watch somethin’?”

You nod happily. “I don’t think I’ll be giving you your treat tonight.”

“”S fine.” Sam grabs one of the plush blankets and drags it over you, tucking it around your shoulders. “Come here.”

You snuggle closer, reaching for another sandwich as he sets the place on the couch next to him. “I’ll find something tomorrow,” you promise.

“Y’know, I’d be down for just some good ol’ sex,” he replies, “don’t need anything kinky. That first time was pretty good.”

“Definitely.” You turn your head to gaze up at him. “I really like this, though.”

He smiles, gently tilting his head to the side to allow you to lean up into a kiss. “Whaddya say we use the TV in my room?”

You hum. “Totally.”

The next morning, the bunker is filled with the smell of waffles. Rubbing your eyes, you step into the kitchen to find Dean at the waffle iron while Sam slices strawberries on a cutting board.

“What’s this?” You pluck a ripe piece of red fruit from a bowl and pop it between your lips.

“Breakfast.” Sam slides a full plate of berries, waffles, and eggs towards you. “It’s late.”

“I needed sleep,” you reply, sticking your tongue out at him. “You two are wearing me out.”

Dean glances over his shoulder. “Did my massage help?”

Rolling your eyes, you reach for the syrup. “Yes, Dean, your massage helped.”

He grins and returns to making waffles. “Still don’t know why Sam got inside you before I did.”

Sam chews on his lower lip, evidently recalling the raunchy text you’d sent him about how big he’d feel inside you. “I just played my cards right,” he replies, “I can flirt, y’know.”

You spend the day compiling research, which is interesting, but tedious. By the end of it, you’re tired and eager to distract yourself with Sam.

He’s in the bathroom, shower running, and you slip inside without alerting him. Clothes drop to the floor, a path from the door to the shower curtain, and he jumps when you shove it back, sputtering through the shampoo suds in his hair.

“What are you doing?” He asks, eyes shut tight as he tips his head back to rinse his hair clean.

“Joining you.” You wait for him to move aside, blinking water from his eyes, before stepping under the warm spray. “You mind?”

Overcoming his surprise, he steps in, winding an arm around your waist. “I definitely don’t.”

“Good,” you turn to face him, stretching up on your toes. “I was thinking something simple for you tonight.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Reaching for the bar of soap, you roll it between your fingers, gazing up at him. “You use this yet?”

He nods.”Yeah.”

“Good.” You offer it to him. “Do me?”

He plucks the bar from your hand, turning you so that his chest is pressed to your back. Soapy palms slide up your waist, rubbing over water-warmed skin up to your breasts. You let out a sigh as he teases your nipples with his thumbs and tip your head back on his shoulder. It doesn’t take him long to turn you around, pressing you against the tile as he sinks to his knees.

“What’re you doing?” you tease.

He responds by lifting a leg over his shoulder and cupping handfuls of your ass. “What do you think I’m doing?”

Your hands fly to press against the back of his head as he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking against your clit without hesitation. He grunts when your fingers thread through wet hair, tugging lightly to guide him exactly where you want.

“Right there,” you murmur, “oh, fuck, yeah… that’s it.”

Sam hums, squeezing your ass firmly as he rolls his tongue between your legs. He’s intent on getting you to cum as fast as possible, and he gets exactly what he wants when he slides a finger inside and crooks it, pressing against your sweet spot until you’re shaking against the wall, rolling your hips in time with his ministrations. He’s hard when he stands, and you waste no time lathering your hands with the soap before slicking a hand down his shaft.

“Mmm, fuck.” Sam lets out a long sigh and tips his head back when you stroke him. “That feels real good, baby.”

“I can tell.” You tighten your grip a little, earning a throaty groan from Sam. “I was gonna give you what I gave Dean, but I found something even better for you.”

He opens his eyes, staring down at you with a look of pure lust. “Yeah?”

You step closer, moving your hand gently up and down. “Let’s finish up here, then my room. ‘Kay?”

Sam grunts and nips at your lower lip before letting you back off. You finish showering within minutes, and barely towel dry before slipping down the hall, still naked, and into your room.

“Okay.” Sam pulls you into his arms the second the door is closed. “What’re you thinkin’, baby?”

You giggle when he squeezes your sides. “Cosmo says that partners should figure out exactly what turns them on, so… if you got the perfect blowjob what would it be like?”

Sam chews on his lower lip, pink flushing his cheeks. “Um… I don’t know, really.”

“Why don’t you show me, then. Tell me what feels good.”

Sam lets out a slow breath against your lips. His fingers curl into your hair, and he pulls you a flush against him, his other hand sliding down the curve of your back. You moan when he squeezes your ass, pointedly grinding his heavy erection against your belly before breaking away. “Are you sure you can…”

You giggle when he trails off, unsure of exactly how to phrase his question. “I’ll make it work,” you reply, “you’re not the first big cock I’ve sucked off.”

A low rumble issues from Sam’s chest, and he stoops to pull you right into another kiss. He’s more possessive with this one, lips wet and sweet against yours as his fingers clutch a little tighter in your hair.

“On your knees.” He presses down on the top of your head until your knees hit the carpet. Your eyes flicker back and forth, from the tip of his cock to his glowing eyes and flushed cheeks. “Touch me,” he murmurs.

You wrap a hand around his shaft, other palm landing on his thigh for stability, and you let him press your head forward, opening your mouth to take him in. He shivers when the heat of your mouth surrounds him. You give him a teasing suck, moving your hand in steady strokes that have his nostrils flaring.

“Suck a little harder,” he instructs, breath heavy in his throat when you obey him almost instantly. “Yeah… like that, fuck.”

A giggle escapes your lips when he reaches back to brace his free hand against his dresser, and he stiffens at the sensation. Your nails lightly dig into his thigh, and he lets out another choked moan.

You pull back on his cock, a string of spit connecting your flushed lower lip with the glistening crown. He hisses when you exhale, a soft wash of cool air over sensitive skin. “That feel good?”

He hums, lips pressed together. “Yeah… weird, but good.”

“Cosmo tip, number eight.” You grin and scrape your nails down his thighs. The firm muscles tighten, and his knuckles turn pale on the edge of the dresser.

“Do that,” he murmurs, “keep doin’ that.”

You repeat the scratch up and down his thighs, leaving red lines on tanned skin. Holding your breath, you relax your jaw to take him deeper, and he lets out a groan when he bumps the back of your throat. His hips jerk, and one hand leaves the dresser to curl into your hair, and he draws his hips back, holding your head in place for him to thrust into your mouth. You have to brace your knees against the floor, and you run teasing fingers up the backs of his thighs until you’re cupping his ass, feeling the firm muscle tense under your fingers.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts. “Can you take it deeper?”

You nod your head slowly when he pauses long enough to let you, and he nudges a little closer, hissing air between his teeth when your nails bite into the flesh of his ass. He sinks just a bit deeper, until the head of his dick presses into the soft, wet flesh of your throat. You choke, and he pulls back to let you inhale a deep breath of air before thrusting in again. He lets out a growl when you swallow around him, and your hands press against his hips as he starts to pulse.

“Can I cum on you?” His cheeks flush a wild scarlet as he stares down at where your lips are stretched around his shaft. You manage another small nod, and he gives you one last pump before pulling back and stroking himself firmly. He tugs your head back, exposing the column of your throat, and lets out a feral growl as he finally explodes, thighs bunching and trembling as warm bursts of white spatter over your skin, dripping down over and between your tits.

“Goddamn,” you rasp when he finally settles, chest heaving as he steps back to lean against the dresser. “Why didn’t I blow you earlier?”

“I could ask the same question.” Sam helps you up off the floor and cups your face. “You okay?”

You smile as he bends low to press a kiss to your ruddy lips. “Yeah. You’re intense, I’ll give you that.”

He stares down at you, eyes still dark and lust-blown. “What can I say? I like it rough… can you handle it?”

“Yeah.” You trail an index finger over his lower lip. “I can handle it.”

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#cosmo says...#sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader

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turtle-steverogers · 4 years

Text

Not Guilty- 2

murder mystery’s back! im having too much fun with this story guys

Link to chap 1 in case you need it

warnings: albert being a human disaster, abuse of the word ‘milk’

ship: ralbert, platonic spalbert

word count: 1680

editing: lmaoooo no

Chap 2

When Albert gets to the precinct the next morning, he’s wary to find a wrapped parcel on his desk that looks suspiciously like a sandwich. He pokes at it, frowning when he sees a singular smiley face drawn on the underside in black sharpie.

“Hey, uh, Spot?” He calls, looking up when he hears his partner’s chair roll out from his desk and subsequently poke his head around the low wooden wall that separates their cubicles.

“Yes, honeycakes?” Spot’s expression is the face of innocence and Albert’s stomach churns.

“Did you-” He stumbles, gesturing to the presumed sandwich, “Is this for me?”

“It’s on your desk, isn’t it?” Spot smiles, rolling back into his cubicle.

Albert sighs, taking off his messenger bag and jacket and sitting heavily in his desk chair. He cautiously unwraps the white paper to find a loaded meatball sub sitting in the middle of a napkin. There’s a sticky note placed delicately on the fluffy white bread and Albert plucks it up, squinting at the words:

Sorry you didn’t finish your sandwich xoxo Spottie

He laughs probably too loud and sticks the sticky note on his desktop, right next to the note from Jack that reads: ‘I’m sorry for stealing your pants, I had brains on mine’ after Jack had taken his extra pair of slacks from his locker when his got spoiled at a crime scene.

He takes a bite of the sandwich, pleased to find that he can still stomach his favorite Gianno’s special after yesterday’s events. As he chews, careful not to get any tomato sauce on his shirt, he plucks a sticky note from his own pad and scrawls out: Thanks, Pop Spotcket. Love u, dear xoxo and tosses it over to Spot.

A moment later, Spot snorts indignantly, “‘Pop Spotcket’? Really? Does anyone actually use those anymore? The only person I know who has one is my niece and she’s eleven.”

Albert rolls his chair so he’s in Spot’s cubicle, sandwich still in hand, “I have one, asshole. They’re useful. Anyway, thanks for the sandwich. How’s it looking at Gianno’s?”

Spot sighs wearily, placing a stack of papers down and turning from his computer to look at Albert, “Eh. They’re closed today. I stopped by this morning to pick up some evidence left at the crime scene and one of the waiters asked if I wanted anything and I remembered that you didn’t get to finish your lunch yesterday so…”

“Thanks, man,” Albert says, mouth full. Spot wrinkles his nose and tells him not to speak with food in his mouth. Albert rolls his eyes, “Anyway, evidence? What’s new?”

“Nothing really,” Spot says, “Just Wiesel’s receipt from his last meal. Wasn’t really much on it, but it gave us a sure timestamp that lines up with our original record, so at least that’s set.”

“Good,” Albert shoves the last bit of sandwich into his mouth, licking his fingers.

“Yeah. Saw our boy there, though.”

Albert raises his eyebrows, “Higgins?”

“Mhm.”

“How’s he?”

Spot shrugs, “Didn’t talk to him. Kid looked like shit. Well, more shitty than yesterday if that’s somehow possible. Kept sending cute little glares my way, fucking ray of sunshine, that one.”

“Christ,” Albert grimaces, “I’m convinced he’s a player in this debacle somehow. I mean, he seemed genuinely surprised when he found out the vic was Wiesel, but too many strings lead to connections on his end.”

“Yeah,” Spot agrees, “I dunno, I say we dig a little into Wiesel’s other relations as well. I feel like there’s a gap here somewhere.”

“Toxicology came back,” Albert says after a pause.

Spot looks at him, eyebrows raised, “And?”

“Sarin poison in the blood. Stab wounds were post-mortem. Someone wanted this shit to look messier than it is.”

“Interesting. I wonder who’d go through the trouble of poisoning, then following up with a physical attack. ‘Specially in a public place. S’kinda risky.”

“That’s what I was thinking, but whoever it was, clearly knew what they were doing.”

“Clearly…”

XXX

Albert never understood why there was such a wide variety of milks in the world. And why, in this moment, he can’t find any simple fucking 2%.

He scans over the selection again, bypassing the almond and oat milks and skimming over the fritzy lactose free shit. There’s strawberry milk and chocolate milk on display and even horrifyingly enough, mint milk, but no fucking 2%. It’s not even like this fucking bodega is big enough to warrant having so many milks.

He just wants some damn normal person milk!

“Excuse me, detective.”

Albert doesn’t startle. He doesn’t. He’s a trained law enforcement officer and detective. People like him don’t fucking startle. But, he is on high, professional alert when he turns around to see Antonio Fucking Higgins standing behind him, eyebrows raised in what’s probably amusement and hands shoved in his pockets.

Albert makes a strangled noise, eyes working on their own accord as they trail down Higgins’ body. He’s sweaty, looking like he just came from some sort of workout, and a pair of tight adidas running pants hug his legs in all the right places. He’s in a tank top today, somehow doing his arms more justice than the grey shirt he’d been wearing yesterday. A hat sits backwards on his head, doing little to tame the curls that are trying to sneak out of the stupid hole where the strap meets the fabric. He looks hot and it’s unfair and Albert’s never been ashamed of his sexuality, but right now he’s wishing that he could reign in his gay ass a little bit because aside from the fact that Higgins is a bit of a prick, he’s also a suspect and that’s, like, number one in the Book of Nope for cops of any kind.

Higgins is still looking at him, but now there’s a small crease of concern between his eyebrows, “You alright, man?” He asks, “You look kinda like you’re having a heart attack. Do you have any chest pain? Your left arm feel numb at all?”

Albert shakes himself, morphing his expression into something he hopes looks less like Gay Panic, “Yeah, sorry, I-” He splutters a bit, then shuts his mouth with a click.

Higgins scoffs, “I just need milk, man, you mind?”

Albert starts, hastily stepping out from where he was definitely blocking the milk selection and watching as Race grabs a carton of-- fucking 2%. How did he find it so fast? How did Albert not see it? He’s supposed to be the one trained to look for details others don’t see!

Trying not to flush, Albert reaches out and grabs a carton as well and Higgins looks at him again, laughing, “You were standing here for a long time, dude, I thought you were gonna murder the milk for a second.”

“Couldn’t find the 2%.” Albert mumbles, blushing harder when Higgins laughs louder.

“Real good reconnaissance there, detective.”

When Higgins is laughing, his face changes into something a whole lot more pleasant. Not that it was ever unpleasant (the dude’s got a jawline of a god), but some of the hardness in his eyes and shadows on his face go away and for just a second, he looks like the 25 year old he’s supposed to be. It’s nice, Albert thinks, ignoring the way alarm bells are going off in his head.

“Shut up, Higgins, I’m tired. Some of us have to read about murders all day, so excuse me if my milk finding skills aren’t the most refined.”

Higgins’ face softens and the smile in his eyes turns into something else that Albert doesn’t want to dissect, “Race.”

“What?”

“Higgins is my dad, not me. And I don’t like the name Antonio very much, so if we’re gonna be talking more, be it over murder or milk, call me Race.”

“Race?”

Higgins--Race--winks, “That’s a story for level five amici.”

“Oh, okay.”

They pause for a moment and even though Albert’s not drunk, his inhibitions seem to flutter away from him against his will as he blurts out, “Drinks sometime? Would- uh- would you wanna get drinks sometime?”

And fuck-fuck- SHIT- what are you doing Dasilva? What the fuck?

Race considers him for a moment, “Not that I wouldn’t hit that,” he nods to Albert’s body and Albert flushes. Damnit with the flushing! He’s 26, not some flouncy high schooler, “But I don’t think that’s a good idea, detective.”

Albert nods, “No, yeah, honestly I don’t know why I asked- uh-”

“Relax, don’t have an aneurysm, it’s okay. I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now.”

“No no, you’re right. Absolutely.”

There’s another pause, then Race smiles apologetically, “I gotta go get the rest of my groceries. Take care.”

Albert cringes internally at how fucking painfully awkward this exchange has been, “You too,” he says, watching Race retreat to the wine aisle. He takes another moment to gather himself, then goes to the checkout line.

XXX

Albert turns up the volume on his TV, pleased with the quiet solitude of his apartment for the night. He doesn’t love living alone, but it’s been a long couple days and he’s been looking forward to a night to himself since he’d woken up that morning. Just him, some thai, and the Animal Planet playing reruns of ‘It’s Me or the Dog’ all night. Fucking self care.

He’s just yelling at some dog owner on the TV for feeding his pug 24 eggs a day and watching as Victoria Stilwell chews out the greasy fucker when his phone rings on the coffee table in front of him.

Groaning, Albert mutes the show and chugs down a few sips of beer, before picking up the phone and answering with an annoyed, “Someone better be dying.”

There’s silence on the other end and Albert pulls the phone away from his ear to check the caller ID. It’s Spot. Shit, someone might actually be dying.”

“Spot? Everything okay?”

Spot sounds sheepish when he says, “Well no one’s dying, technically…”

“But…”

“There was another murder.”

“Shit.”

Race went straight home after the bodega, right? RIGHT!??!? stay tuned ;)

thanks saph for ‘pop spotcket’

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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vacationcalendar · 3 years

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8/7/21

Hi boyfriend~

Just took a weed gummie in honor of Bonnie’s birthday weekend. My present for my friend is that I’ll suck it up and be an active participant in their life for a change. I’ll be game for a whole weekend. I got up early today and tagged along to volunteer at a charity 5k. We grabbed some coffee and wandered to the halfway point of the course (thus walking an entire 5k in the process! Not too shabby ;D), and then camped out a water station that I’d say should be very grateful I actually showed up to work its sorry ass. Bonnie didn’t have to do any managing/delegating, they just got to post up and chatter at the runners-by. I’m pretty sure if I didn’t go, and I promise I am not tooting my own horn, that water stand would not have been the fun water stand that it was. They would have had 2 dunces making it go worse, and only 3 people managing 4 tables of water cups. Volunteers man, what are you gonna do? I’m sure that’s why they were looking for 8 people per water stand, just to statistically ensure that SOMEONE with half a brain would be around to help out.

Great morning though. JUST a little too hot, but that’s how you know you were doing solid work out there. The proof is in the pits, baby!

Ok, 40 minute bathroom break is over. Man, nothing like starting the blog to make me SO productive in the mornings! It’s such a cheat code. I did laundry, dishes, pooped; my whole day is bright and available now! But now I’m tired and I don’t want to write anymore. I had about a 6 minute where I wanted to do this today and I actually hit it for a second before I had to stop and do ANYTHING ELSE I guess. So, fuck. What do we write now?

I had to get up suuuuper early for this 5k thing, and I only got like 4 hours of sleep because I did not factor in the early wake up until like 6pm yesterday, and I had already slept like 14 hours that day :I That’s right, I woke up, immediately crushed the blog, went back to laying down, played League, and watched tv and shit until I felt tired enough to sleep and get ready for the 5k, which was 2am. So now I have a weed gummie digesting in me and I have a nap climbing up my priority list and this is why I don’t like weed. I feel like I have to plan my fucking shit around it, and I’m not good at that. Part of me thinks I can crash right now and wake up before the drugs make me sleep for 2 hours longer than I want, and give me weird, unpleasant dreams. I can’t possibly pull that off, I’m not sleepy, I’m just like sluggish. So basically what I have to do now is power through into the “trip” (maybe I’ll luck out and miss it and I can just pretend I’m high, which I won’t do, but hey we’re brainstorming here), and let that smoothly transition me into a nap. And THAT would mean that I have to entertain myself for the time being to get me into a good place to start being high...? And then I can like power up my activities WHILE high, and that would be fun. Playing video games, great. Playing video game high? That’s the whole point of it. I mean like, that’s the whole point of life, right? And then I can be like NAPTIME BITCH, and that would be fun also, in theory. And then I can go put a podcast on and go to the movies? Ugh, I don’t want to go the movies anymore. I’m to tired :( This sucks.

I’m trying to go see Green Knight. I’m sure that sentence won’t matter at all in even like 4 months from now, but I think it should be a fun time. So much more productive than anything I can do from the desk. And it’s not summertime like this forever. You gotta get that shit in so you don’t think you miss it when the weather turns. You want to be sitting inside on a cold autumn day thinking “good riddance, being outside is entirely overrated.” And I’m not there yet. Man I don’t know. Well how bout this? Let’s do a little more brainstorming while I’m trapped here writing to your dumb ass. If you ever read these again this part will be like a little prank on you lol. Ok: 1: Stay here, no movie. Let’s lock that in. that should make having to navigate being high so much easier. Let’s let the pipe dream of doing everyone’s favorite thing of being at a theater high wait just a little longer. Today can be a trial run. We’ll walk around today and think about what it would be like if I had biked 20 minutes to a movie theater and watched a 2 hour movie and biked home. And when we suss out that it would have been unenjoyable, we’ll feel like geniuses for making this call. So that’s out of the way. LOCK IT IN

2. I don’t know yet. Let’s just start simple. Food. What’s up? We have almost no groceries. We have no bread for a tuna salad sandwich, but let’s put that in the to-do list. We need more english muffins too. That was an A+ 10/10 move last month. Just muffins w/ strawberry jam, and egg McMuffins whenever the fuck I wanted, which was always. Frozen Veggies like Corn or Beans would be good. Bag Chop Salad kits. They weren’t on sale last week, and it’s goddamn highway robbery when they’re at full price. So this week would be the perfect time to check in on ‘em. And I’ll commit more to an equivalent substitute this time if I can’t find a good deal. Let’s see, what else? Oof my wpm and accuracy is starting to take a hit. The first and only symptom! Nice! Miku. Meat. Spaghetti and meat sauce? Gotta check out what ragu shit you have in the house before you do that. Consider this your reminder! I know you’ve never successfully pulled that off, but I have full confidence in you. Oh fuck, now I’m starting to worry a little bit the coherent quality of this is about to start dropping. Well, another fun little prank for ya bitch! Fruit leathers? I just have no fucking idea. Ok, so shopping can 100% wait for another day. This isn’t anywhere close to a cohesive trip. So we can eat out somewhere! Great, lock it bitch. I’m starting to swear more; it’s because I can’t find the right words anymore. Oh boy, the weed smelling burps are happening. This really is so gross and difficult. Beer is just a more bitter version of soda. It’s actively refreshing. Damn, if only I’d been a little more exposed to peer pressure at an earlier age. I’d have been past this awkward uncomfortable phase of weed, like how I (and basically everyone) was with alcohol. You slam Natty Lites with your nose closed until you start to realize life is little more pleasurable than the absolute Kelvin zero you had come to be familiar with. Uh, ok, I’m starting to let my mind wander. He’s daydreaming, chief! I suppose I could just transcribe the dialogue of the daydreams, but I can’t keep up. This is just break o’clock.

3. What do I fucking eat!? I had to make a whole nother numbered point, and I still don’t have the plan. Jesus H,. Ok here’s what AROUND. Chex Mix, unopened. 1 Grape Soda. Cookie Dough Ice Cream (w choc sauce). Raisins, PB, Ramen, meh. Reese Cups! I just looked behind and was like, “oh yeah! Nice”. If that’s not everything, that’s REALLY close. So what’s calling my name? Pizza? Chinese? Damn, I might just have to play this by ear. Nothing at all sounds interesting, and I’m not the slightest bit hungry (we got free Dim Sum after the 5k. It was called the Dim Sum and Then Some 5k). Ok, so other options to keep on the back burner for later would be: Kebab, Chicken Sandwich, go get Pizza Rolls and Chippies at the store. Ok that’s enough options, that fuckin really took it outta me, I can’t believe it. My hands are kinda feeling heavier now too. I better think of a #4 thing to write about quick or I may lose all my inertia.

4. UMmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Movie time? I watch arrival and turn off all the lights and pop popcorn and have my soda? Where sunglasses and pretend they’re 3-D glasses? Maybe. Ugh, I can tell right now my eyes are gonna get bloodshot, or dry out or whatever. They already kinda hurt :(. It’s fine. I feel more good than not. Like I’m wrapped up in a blanket, even though I’m not. Maybe OH- Maybe I lay out on the beach chair and read in the sun with an ice coffee? Oh fuck that might actually be perfect. Then I can go no shirt and just feel nature, and maybe bugs are less troublesome when you’re high. And then I can pop Doughboys on and shower! Shower high, seems like a guaranteed home-run. Ok, I like it a lot. I have to do SOMETHING away from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum or I’ll go crazy this weekend, especially if I have to tag in on occasion and “participate” for Bonnie’s Birthday. Which, let’s be clear, is the least I can do. It’s a gimme. I owe Bonnie AT LEAST this much, even just as like backpay for holidays or yore. Like if I have the zhuzh to punch in for birthday shtuff, I better do it, right? I just looked it up, it might officially be zhoosh, not zhuzh, but zhuzh appears to me to be the best way to do it. And there’s like 5 accepted spellings of it. Stupid, not helpful. Just because it employs a sound that has no [conformed] applications in the english language? Poor excuse! Oh man, it’s so early I can’t believe it! That 5k feels like a day ago, wild. Well, hey! Point 4 is finished. Moving on!

5. What to do tonight? Who gives a fuck. Figure that part out when you get there, it does not matter at all. There, numbered list over.

Ok so, let’s just wrap this up I guess. I’m cracking an hour here, that’s plenty. Maybe tonight you do a little PRE-WRITING before bed, so this isn’t so “chore-y”. Let’s just remember you seriously considered letting yourself down completely and bailing on the blog earlier this morning. So we need to keep our expectations at appropriate levels still. It’s this NEXT week that should be very interesting. Just in terms of output. A little more practice, and little more muscle-memory. A little less crap to distract me (I have been burning through non-stop crap youtube/tv this last week since coming home, it’s fantastic. I was gonna say it was sucky, or disgusting or something, but that’s a lie I tell to myself to pretend I’m more diligent than I actually am. ACCEPT who you are and love yourself for it)

I accept you and love you Max. Ok, I have to go, I feel like I’m gonna puke... awesome

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drawingsdrawingseverywhere · 7 years

Text

Trollhunters Dadswap AU part 19

things are getting dangerous and fast! Buckle up, Trollhunter! cause you’ve got a dinner date with The Jailer! And he’s here to collect!

But we’re not starting with Jim.

no we’re starting with Notenrique and his “mom” enjoying a walk in the park. They’re taking a break at a bench while mom is making faces at him and such to make little baby Enrique laugh. He goes cold though when she looks up as someone approaches and he sees an all too familiar hand holding a silver handled cane out of the corner of his carrier.

“My apologies, miss,” the equally familiar Scottish voice says, “is it alright if I sit with you?”

“no go ahead.”

She scoots a bit to the side to give him room. Notenrique tries not to show his fear when Bhaltair sits down beside her and smiles at him.

“What a cute child you have,” he grins, “I just adore children. May I ask their name?”

“Enrique” mom calmly replies.

Just then like in canon her phone rings and she gets up to answer it. Flawlessly, Bhaltair’s cane handle hooks onto the carrier and turns it more closely towards him. He smiles at Notenrique and rests his head on one of his hands while the other gingerly traces the filigree engraving on the handle.

“Start talking, Enriqus.”

Notenrique bundles himself under his blanket and shifts back to his regular form.

“I promise ya boss, if I could easily sneak out and speak ta Heimdrel I would!”

“I’m not here for promises,” Bhaltair muses, “I’m here for answers.”

NotEnrique swallows hard as his eyes momentarily focus on the hand caressing the cane handle. He looks back up to Bhaltair and he speaks quickly and quietly.

“I can’t hardly leave the house without raisin’ suspicion. Hardly even get ta go to trollmarket cause of it!”

“Trollmarket?” Bhaltair sits up and leans forward. “you’ve been compromised?!”

“’S not like I had a say in the matter,” the little changeling pleads, “they used a gaggle-tak on me!”

“and they’ve taken you to the market? Why? Tell me.”

“it’s like I said! I haven’t gotten ta get out much!”

“just tell me what you know.... or perhaps you’d be just fine with your familiar’s face being the next one to show up on a milk carton?”

“Boss I swear,” Notenrique begs, “I hardly know a thing! All I can say is that after some fight in the museum, they’re getting real determined ta find the bridge! That’s all I know!”

Bhaltair sits back and rubs his chin in thought.

“......fine. I’ll believe you, but Heimdrel could use a bit more convincing.” he sits back forward and holds something out to Notenrique. “see to it your new friends get their hands on this.”

Nonenrique takes the item and looks it over. It’s a changeling key.

“What is-”

“a spare key to my personal study. You can find it in my apartment room. it will also open the key to the apartment itself.”

Notenrique looks it over while Bhaltair continues, “The bridge is almost complete. Tonight the Amulet will be ours. I expect you to keep the Trollhunter’s friends occupied while I take care of him.”

“how am I supposed ta get this to em, exactly?”

“I have that already taken care of. Just do this for me, and I will wipe your slate clean.” Before Notenrique can say anything else, the mother returns and he hides under the blanket. Bhaltair sits back and smiles to her warmly.

“They’re so cute at that age, aren’t they? If only they could stay that way.”

meanwhile Jim is preparing breakfast as Barbra walks down the stairs. She kisses his head and he smirks.

“hey there, tiger.”

“ha, morning mom.”

“So what’s on the menu today?”

“nothing too crazy, just some scrambled eggs for breakfast, and I already packed your lunch for the day.”

“you didn’t pack dinner though, did you?”

“not yet, why?”

Barbra takes a sigh of relief.

“oh good. We were having company over tonight.”

“oh? who’s coming? Strickler?”

“close. I'm going to invite him, but I’ve mainly invited Bhaltair over. I can’t seem to remember, but I think the dinner with Mr. Takato went well, so I figured why not have another get together?”

Jim nervously laughs a bit at the mentioning of that night, “heh, yeah... it went real smoothly.”

“good, then! I’ll be sure to get off work on time today to help you with the cooking.”

“pretty sure something’s up with this Bhaltair guy your mom works with” Toby says at lunch.

“oh really?” Jim takes a bite of his sandwich. “do tell.”

“I’m not sure what’s up but he just... rubs me the wrong way, ya know? I’m not sure if he’s got something to hide, or if it’s cause he’s getting friendly with you and your mom at a scary rate, but I just don’t like him.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Tobes.”

“Well I haven’t been wrong so far now have I?”

“you know what? you’re right.”

Toby folds his arms and gives Jim a concerning look.

“I think you’re worrying too much, Toby. I honestly doubt we have any more changelings to worry about.”

“that’s what you said before we found out about Claire’s little brother.”

Jim covers Toby’s mouth and nervously smiles at Claire as she walks by.

“hey Claire”

“Hey, Jim....?”

As Claire continues to walk past she overhears the last bit of the conversation.

“look, there’s absolutely no danger, but you know I have it covered. Strickler will be there as well. Everything is going to be just fine.”

Claire narrows her eyes slightly. Suspicions are beginning to rise in this teenager.

that night

Bular paces back and forth a bit restlessly as Jim tells him what’s going on

“If your... Tubey friend is correct, then this would obviously be a trap.”

“ok first off, it’s Toby, but you’re right. But I’m pretty certain for once he’s wrong. Bhaltair hasn’t shown a single sign of being a changeling, and even if he did why on earth would it be a doctor? Dentist maybe but not a doctor. Isn’t that what Strickler said?”

“regardless” Bular folds his arm with a huff “I don’t like it.”

Jim sighs and rubs his temples a moment.

“Look I gotta head back upstairs and help my mom cook and hopefully not burn the house down. If it’ll make you feel better I guess we can make a code.”

“fine.”

“ok, so if anything goes wrong and Strickler and I need you, I’ll hit my foot on the floor two times.”

“Two?”

“yeah.”

Bular thinks it over before grunting and nodding. “agreed. But do you not fear your mother discovering me?”

“If it’s to the point that Strickler and I need you to come upstairs, it’s probably safe to say she might as well find out.”

“as you wish, Trollhunter.”

Strickler arrives a little early, giving Barbra a kiss on the hand and pulling Jim to the side.

“Angor tells me that we have new progress on finding the bridge. Notenrique has gotten his hands on a Chageling key. He and Nomura are taking Toby and Angor Rot to the location. With any luck by the time this party is over we’ll have more than enough information to locate the bridge and put a stop to all this madness before it even starts.”

Jim smiles as Strickler helps him set the table.

“good! I’m glad. Maybe I’ll be able to relax for a little while and get the play done without any worries.”

“we can hope, young atlas. But, don’t go and hope that it will mean we will cut back on your training. The Trollhunter must be ever vigilant. The end of one great evil could easily be the birth of another.”

“way to not sound totally cryptic.”

“It’s a hobby.”

the doorbell rings. Barbra answers the door and happily welcomes Bhaltair inside.

“everyone have a seat, I’ll bring the food out in a moment!”

Toby checks a hallway to see if the coast is clear before running down it like he’s in a spy movie. With still no movement, he waves his hand to signal the others that it’s safe to follow. Notenrique leads the rag-tag party down the hall towards him when there is a loud thud behind them. Nomura turns around and goes to Draal’s side, who is rubbing his head and mumbling angrily with his other hand on the door frame.

“you ok?”

“I’m fine, but why why must humans be so small? I can hardly fit my horns through any of these entrances!”

there is a pause while Angor Rot, Toby, and Notenrique wait for the pair to catch up.

“So... why did you guys insist to bring along Thick McRunfast, again?” Notenrique taps his foot a bit impatiently. “these cameras will only be off for so long, ya know!”

Angor Rot also folds his arms and replies, “His strength could be of good use.”

“yeah, in an arena or smithing forge! This is an apartment complex not the Olympics!”

“it doesn’t matter cause he’s here now, but come one you guys Notenrique is right! We gotta get in this changeling’s room before anyone spots us!”

back at the dinner party everyone is having a good time telling stories and jokes around the table. Eventually however, Strickler raises his glass to take a drink before starting up a new topic.

“Oh Bhaltair, I remember something you mentioned in our last conversation.”

The man raises an eyebrow as he turns his attention to the school teacher.

“You said that you had a variety of hobbies that you... oh what was it... can’t do away with?” Strickler rests his head on one hand while taking another sip of his drink. “you simply must tell me what some of those hobbies are.”

Bhaltair clears his throat before getting an equally big smile on his face.

“Oh you know, it’s the usual sort of thing.” He also takes a drink. He looks up at Strickler from his glass before adding, “collecting things, mostly.”

“I see! Any items you just can’t live without?”

Bhaltair sits his drink down and smiles even bigger.

“You know, there’s one stone I’ve been trying to find. It was my prize possession, but unfortunately I let someone borrow it, and it was stolen. I would very much enjoy getting it back.”

“what a shame... but you know what they say. If you truly care for something, you set it free.”

“You know I.... was never all that good at letting things go.”

Jim and Barbra give each other slightly confused looks until suddenly the oven dings. Barbra rises and smiles.

“that must be dessert! I’ll clear up plates if any of you are done eating and bring that right out for all of us.”

Barbra leaves and Jim tries to finish his meal when Bhaltair takes another drink.

“You still don’t know when to quit while you’re ahead, do you Stickler?”

Jim almost chokes on his food and looks up to see both men shooting daggers at each other with their eyes.

“I learned from the best, now didn’t I?”

Jim nervously reaches into his pocket to check and make sure the Amulet is there.

“uh.... what’s going on, guys?”

“Jim, you can stop pretending.”

Jim looks at Strickler.

“he knows who and what we are.”

Notenrique hands Toby the key, who proceeds to unlock the door and lead the group inside- Draal taking note to duck this time.

Inside the Apartment is a wide array of bookshelves and a few tapestries, but most of the home is nothing out of the ordinary. Toby closes the door behind them and everyone gets to work looking for any clues. Notenrique, however, quietly sneaks away to the bedroom, his ears drooped as guilt may or may not be starting to take a hold of his conscience.

Meanwhile (again) Bular is sulking in the basement, sharpening one of his swords on his arm when he suddenly hears a noise. He looks up to a window to see a tiny human crawling in. At first he thinks to attack, but when she kicks a bucket and freezes in fear of being discovered, he chooses to instead go undiscovered as well.

He sheathes his sword and backs up into the shadows, making sure to remain facing her back at all times as she looks around. She accidentally knocks something else over, causing a could of dust. Bular holds his breath and takes another step back. The human sticks her head up against a pipe and tries to listen to the conversation above until her cellphone goes off.

Bular is thus trapped behind her up against the furnace with no way of going undetected should she at any point turn around. Luckily for him he blends in pretty well to the shadows.

“As much as I’d love to drag you out of here, Strickler, all the while begging for your life, I’m not here for you. Not yet, anyway.”

Bhaltair stands.

“I’m here for the amulet.”

Jim gets up and takes a defensive step back, hand subtly grabbing onto his steak knife on the table.

“come now, lad. Just give me the amulet and you shall all live.”

“yeah, only to be eaten by Heimdrel in a few weeks, am I right?”

the three suddenly sit down as Barbra reenters and takes their plates.

“I hope you like Apple Pie, Bhaltair. It’s a special recipe.”

“i’m sure it will be delicious. But don’t fret too much! Take your time preparing it.”

Barbra nods and returns to the kitchen. Instantly Bhaltair leaps forward towards Strickler with his knife, only to be parried by Jim who jumped in the way. Strickler grabs his knife as well and takes a defensive stance. Bhaltair backs up towards his chair, grabbing hold of his cane.

“Did you really think you’d get out of here so easily, Bhaltair? Two against one with a human in the other room?”

“Discovery isn’t so bad when you can easily wipe memory. A few minutes in my care and Barbra wouldn’t even remember she ever had a son.”

Bhaltair lunges towards them and his cane locks with their knives.

“you have no idea what I am capable of, boy. I have seen and done things that would freeze you in your tracks. If only you knew, perhaps you’d be willing to cooperate.”

Jim smirks.

“if only you knew that I had Bular in my Basement.”

Jim then hits the floor twice.

Claire looks up at the roof with an eyebrow raised, and Bular instantly remembers the code. He takes a step forward but freezes when he remembers Claire.

Jim looks at the floor and stomps again.

Bular looks confused now. He looks at his hand and starts counting. he looks frustrated. He knows what two stomps means, but what does more than that mean?! Bular also starts trying to look for an exit that wont alert the human of his presence.

Bhaltair smirks and stomps his foot on the floor as well, but his hit makes extra dust fall from the ceiling of the basement. Bular covers his nose but Claire doesn’t, causing her to sneeze.

Not thinking about it and with his back turned to her, Bular calmly replies, “bless you.”

He freezes upon realizing what he did. Claire freezes upon realizing she’s not alone in the basement.

Both very slowly turn to look over each other’s shoulder. Claire of course screams and backs away when Bular fully turns around to face her with those terrifying glowing eyes of his, hitting her head on the pipe and passing out from the force. Bular has a very panicked look on his face as she falls to the ground.

Back upstairs, Barbra is completely unaware of the chaos beginning to happen in the dining room. It’s two on one as Jim and Strickler take the advance. When Bhaltair dodges a strike from Jim and then gets a punch to the chest from Strickler as a result, the man leans forward to catch his breath from the force of the punch.

“I had no idea you could hit that hard.”

“It’s all in the art of the battle. If you read your history homework from last week you would have known that. Now let’s get him out of here.”

As Jim and Strickler jump forward and grab Bhaltair by the arms the man let’s out a very frustrated noise and easily tosses the two of them off.

“enough!”

Barbra somehow doesn’t notice the bright green Glow of Bhaltair’s human glamour melting away to reveal the troll form hidden just beneath.

Suddenly everything is so clear. The need for a cane, the slightly static movements, everything giving the impression that he was wearing something a few sizes two small. Bhaltair opens his four firely red glowing eyes and stretches his massive wings as he takes a moment to regain the feeling of movement in body parts long since hidden beneath his smaller disguise.

His tail is thick and flared at the end. It reminded Jim of a crocodile. On a strap across his chest is several glowing blue crystals. Bhaltair brushes back his fiery red Mohawk before smirking.

“it’s been a while since I’ve been able to stretch my wings. How lucky of me that my first job back in my real form is to slaughter you both.”

It’s then that Bhaltair lifts his cane from the floor, pulling on the smooth black wood to reveal a blade hidden in the hilt all this time.

“I will give you one last chance, boy. Give me the amulet.”

Jim steps back into fighting stance as Strickler shifts to his own form and plucks some knives off of his cowl.

“not on your life.”

Bhaltair’s eyes narrow as his wrist strategically twists the filigree engraved handle of the cane. He swings his arm and the blade stretches out into a whip covered in the razor sharp edges of the sword.

“so be it.”

Back in the apartment, the team has looked high and low for any clues with no luck. It’s then that Toby goes into the bedroom and finds Notenrique taking a look around. He looks clearly bothered by something.

“everything ok in here, little dude?”

“wha? Oh yeah... just uh... checkin his livin quarters fer any changeling locks he may have hidden in here. I hear this key would be able ta unlock that too if we can find it.”

“ok.... you look real glum though.... you wanna talk about it.”

“nah, just missed me nap is all.”

Toby enters the room fully.

“Well at least let me help you look.”

obviously they find it since Notenrique has known where the lock is this whole time.

“Angor Rot, Nomura! You might wanna come in here! We found a changeling lock!”

without hesitation, Nomura unlocks the hidden door. inside are some various notes, a more noteworthy trail starting in Scotland and paths leading from there all the across the north american continent. Was he looking for something? While Nomura, Angor Rot, and Draal look over the map, Toby takes note of the portal.

“careful with that, Toby!” Nomura takes the portal from him. “this portal leads to the darklands! Who knows what could be on the other side!”

meanwhile Angor Rot’s eyes haven’t left the map.

“It can’t be....”

a battle of epic proportions is breaking out in Jim’s living room. Bhaltair sweeps under the two of them with his whip, knocking the two to the ground and tackles Jim. Jim proceeds to use the sword of daylight as a barrier, keeping Bhaltair’s teeth away from his throat as he clearly tries to bite.

Bhaltair growls and keeps applying pressure on the blade while one of his free arms reaches for one of the gems on his armor.

“let’s see how a few hours in the torture chambers will sort you out!”

Bhaltair raises the crystal, about to crush it, when one of Strickler’s Knives shoot it out of his hand. Jim then gets the leverage to dig his foot onto Bhaltair’s torso and kicks him off. As Bhaltair tries to regain his balance Strickler tackles him and pins him to the table.

“almost ready guys! Sorry it’s taken so long. I had uh.... a bit of a problem with the oven but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“not a problem, Barbra!” Strickler calls while trying to muffle the fight.

“yeah mom don’t worry! it’ll be great!”

back in the apartment, Angor Rot has collected up several books he feel Vendel or the Galdrigal brothers would find interesting, while Nomura is trying to figure where the portal leads in the Darklands. Toby sits solemnly on the bed beside Notenrique- who is looking more and more nervous by the second.

“you sure you’re ok?”

“oh yeah...”

Bhaltair has turned the tables and is now strangling Strickler on the table, when Barbra suddenly comes back in, she looks in to see the three of them at the table all talking and smiling.

“neither of you have a whip cream allergy, do you?”

“not at all, Barbra.”

“I’m fine too.”

“Ok! it’ll be just a few minutes more~”

The second the door is closed Strickler lands a good hit on Bhaltair’s jaw. Before Jim can return to his armor though, Bhaltair uses his whip to knock the amulet out of his hand. Bhaltair rubs his jaw before punching Strickler back. His hit sends the teacher stumbling back as Jim leaps forward and hits Bhaltair in the side.

Bhaltair, still stumbling from the earlier hit to his chest, falls to his hands and knees. Strickler leaps forward and puts him in a headlock while Jim grabs one of the knives from the table. He holds it to Bhaltair’s neck.

“Alright Changeling, talk! Where is the bridge?” Strickler loosens his grip just enough to allow Bhaltair to speak.

“And what makes you think I’d tell an exile that?”

Jim reminds him of the knife at his neck.

“you talk or you die, Bhaltair.”

“I didn’t slay over 50 of my kind to crumble beneath your petty little knife, boy. You will never make me talk.”

“You give me no choice, Bhaltair. farewell, Jailer.”

Unfortunately, Barbra finally enters with her promised pie. It’s covered in whip cream to clearly hide the burns from the oven. She comes to see Bhaltair in a headlock while Jim is holding onto his coat. The trio quickly improvise,Jim fixing his coat while Strickler popping Bhaltair’s neck.

“there we go, isn’t that so much better, doctor?”

“ah, yes. thank you, professor. I had no idea you were knowledgeable in chiropractory.”

“uh... yes. you could call it a side hobby of mine...”

“is everything ok in here?”

“huh? oh yeah mom everything’s fine! Bhaltair just ended up getting a kink in his neck and Strickler was sorting it out. Totally normal.”

“okayyyyy? well the pie is ready if anyone wants to have some with me.”

While Jim and Strickler are distracted by Barbra, Bhaltair pulls a fake copy of the Amulet of Daylight and swaps it out with the real one under the bookshelf. He carefully picks up his cane and returns to the table with Jim and Strickler.

Bhaltair leaves later with pleasant goodbyes and leftovers.

Strickler leaves soon after with a graceful kiss of Barbra’s hand, and a promise to meet with her again soon.

Jim turns to talk to his mother when he notices Bular looking out from the basement door with a deep panic in his eyes. in which case he quickly runs forward and turns his mom back around before she sees the troll.

“UH you know mom it’s been a *fake yawn* a long night. why don’t you head to bed for the night, huh? I can take care of the dishes.”

“you don’t have to do that Jim, at least let me-”

Jim looks over her shoulder to see Bular hold up Claire’s still passed the heck out. He laughs nervously and pats his mother’s shoulder.

“nononononono it’s fine mom! you go up to bed and I’ll take care of everything! Promise!”

As the group lock the door behind them, Toby takes one last glance at Notenrique. He seems pretty relieved all of a sudden. He returns home without another word to anyone.

as the gang prepare to enter Trollmarket, Toby is suddenly pulled back by AAARRRGGHH!!! who seems pretty terrified. Angor Rot steps forward to listen.

“was watching Trollhunter house. He is here. Angor, Jailer is here!”

Angor Rot nods, sitting his stolen books on the ground and approaching the troll.

“Think he saw me. Ran. Can’t hide at Toby house anymore. Jailer come for me and kill humans inside if I do!”

“I know I know,” Angor Rot thinks hard when Nomura notices something sinister about one of the books.

“Look out!” Suddenly Nomura leaps forward, pushing Angor Rot and AAARRRGGHH!!! away from the book pile.

A dark smoke shoots out from one of the books and wraps around Nomura’s leg. said book opens and begins to drag her towards it.

“A trap!” Angor Rot draws his blade.

He is, however, unable to act. If only because Draal instantly goes into action.

“Hold onto her!”

Angor Rot and AAARRRGGHH!!! hold onto her arms while Draal approaches the trap book. The book reacts negatively the moment he gets close, but cant’t stop the troll from grabbing onto the pages in his prosthetic hand and tear them out. He helps Nomura up as the smoke clears.

“so that’s why Notenrique was acting strange. The little gremlin must have known there was a trap!” Draal crumples the pages in his prosthetic furiously.

“now hang on, Draal, he seemed pretty guilty more than anything. I think... he may have been forced into it.”

“regardless of his involvement in his, it’s no longer safe for AAARRRGGHH!!! to hide in your home. We must convince Vendel to let him into the market. Tonight.”

finally at the Bridge building site, Heimdrel continues to wait Bhaltair’s return. When the changeling enters, fully in his true gargoyle-ish form, Heimdrel is instantly confronting him.

“Well? Does the boy still live?”

“You of little faith, did you really think I would take that honor from you?”

Bhaltair flips the amulet in his hand like a coin before holding it where Heimdrel can see.

“but it’s of no matter. Come tomorrow, not even the Trollhunter will be able to stop us.”

#Trollhunters #Dadswap AU #ok this is #LITERALLY the longest addition to the plot #but a lot happens in this one guys #I was up till past 4 in the morning to get this written for you people I hope you enjoy it #*nervous laugh* please tell me you enjoyed it

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