just a little pathetic guy

heya, goobers! welcome to the blog of Swift Kat, your local semi-human freak who can’t stop drawing miserable people.

Fandoms-

I make the comic Trollhunters: Changed Heart AU, a fanfic for the Tales of Arcadia franchise. read the original comic under the tag # trollhunters changed heart au, or read the fanfic (which is the continuation of the story) at https://archiveofourown.org/works/87799991

I also write one (1) KPDH fanfic. Very irregular updates, I am a busy person with priorities. https://archiveofourown.org/works/84788581

I also post art and maybe ramblings about CRK, Fullmetal Alchemist, and Arcane, maybe someday some TØP, Jady, and ATLA too

I love manga and comics and my list is super long so it would not fit in here lol but here’s a few: Spy x Family, Tokyo Ghoul, Case Study of Vanitas, Apothecary Diaries, Gokurakugai, and Magical Girl Dandelion

Jim sat in Blinky’s library, looking through his old history books. A week passed without any troll related issues. Now that the transformation into a pseudo-changeling had completed, Jim felt freer than ever. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have any questions about his true nature. If he was going to keep this hidden, he had to do it right. 

“What exactly are you searching for, Master Jim?” Blinky asked, his many eyes peering at him with intrigue. “I’ve never seen you so genuinely interested in troll history.” 

Jim hesitated to answer. “I’m… looking for books on changelings. I mean, I have one for a father now, and I don’t know much about them. Figured it would be neat.” 

Blinky’s mouth drew into a line, and he crossed his dual sets of arms over his tunic. “I fear you may not find much. Trolls and changelings were not on personable terms for most of our existence, so the so-called impures— as dirty as a term that may be,—have very little written records of their history and physiology, simply out of the grudges between the two kinds.” He stated matter-of-factly. “If there’s anything here about changelings, I would severely doubt its integrity, as it would likely be made in hatred against them.” 

Jim gulped. “So there’s… nothing?” He winced, his hands drifting away from the shelves. “Then how am I supposed to learn?”

“They were created for the purpose of infiltration. Carrying knowledge by word of mouth instead of by physical copies is likely how changelings kept their identities secret.” Blinky said, tapping his stony chin thoughtfully. “So I would guess that asking a changeling yourself would get you the answers you desire. Lucky you, you live with one!” He grinned, his sharp teeth shining. 

Jim felt a pang of guilt in his chest. That’s what I was afraid of. “Thanks, Blinky. I think I’ll head out now.” 

Blinky patted his shoulder. “If you can, please let me know if there are any changelings willing to write their history for my archives. It would be a splendid honor, not to mention unbelievably fascinating.” He said with a twinkle in his eyes. 

Jim nodded, then left Trollmarket, his dread seeping further and further into his bones.

I’ll have to talk to Strickler. The thought hovered in his mind constantly as he attempted to focus on his work. He’d been helping Claire and Douxie set up a website for the newly formed Wizardry Convention, so that magic users from around the world could finally reconvene after centuries of being in hiding. Graphic design was pretty fun, but it was hard to do when he had so many other things on his mind. 

He slammed his laptop shut and leaned back in his chair, sighing. If I pry about changelings more, Strickler could get suspicious. I can ask about stuff under the guise of trying to understand him more— which I want to,— but it’ll only get me so far. Once I start asking about anatomy, he’d probably start questioning my intent. He thought with a groan. 

There was a sharp knock on his door. “Come in.” He said. 

The door opened, and it was exactly who you’d expect. 

“You look annoyed, young Atlas.” Strickler said, taking a seat on the chair beside him, his wings carefully poised around him. Jim never realized how much his wings reoriented, having to maneuver around objects and furniture not made for winged beings. Strickler usually concealed said wings, probably for that reason. “You’re going out for a fly today?” He asked, inquisitive. 

Strickler shook his head. “No, no. My tolerance for keeping them out of sight met its limit. I'll try it again soon, but for now I’m just letting them stay the way they should be.” 

Jim’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean by tolerance?” 

Strickler’s gaze drifted away, his long ears twitching downward ever so slightly. He tapped his foot. “It means changelings can only stay out of their true shape for a certain amount of time. It takes practice and skill, plus most changelings will, I mean would have, changed from human to changeling form during the night in solitary or even in the presence of other changelings, to keep their bodies stable. If a changeling holds a form that isn’t its own for too long, their shifting can get sporadic. Even hiding my wings can hurt after some time.” 

“So, you shifted your wings away for more mobility, but now you can’t because it hurt, and you have to wait to be able to shift them away again?” Jim asked.

Strickler nodded, a smile drawing across his face. “You know, not many non-changelings even care about this kind of thing.”

Dang, this conversation is going in the perfect direction, so lucky. Jim thought, smiling back at Strickler. “Well, you’re my dad. Why wouldn’t I care?”

Strickler’s expression softened, his eyes widening and almost seeming to glow. “Oh. Right.” He scratched at his horns, chuckling to himself. “I’m still getting used to being called that. It’s been quite the change, to be honest. I still call you Young Atlas, after all.” He laughed, his wings fluttering. 

Jim hadn’t really noticed that. It was so natural to him that he didn’t think there was anything different about their relationship than before. “You can call me that, I don’t mind.” He bit his lip, his teeth digging into his skin sharply. “Do you mind if I… ask you more things, about being a changeling?” He looked down at his feet uncomfortably. “I tried to do some research on my own, but I couldn’t find anything and Blinky said…” he trailed off, and Strickler raised his hand for him to stop. 

He sighed, lowering his hand. “Because trolls hated changelings, is that what he said?”

Jim nodded, eyes still downcast. 

Strickler shrugged. “Yes, he’s quite right. The changeling kind has kept its history within its own community, so as to not have it twisted by those who called us impure.” He rubbed his temples. “It’s yet another reason why my job, as an envoy to unite trollkind and humans, is so difficult. There’s still much prejudice built into troll culture. But as for you—” he smirked, “—not only are you the first Trollhunter to protect trolls, humans, and changelings alike, you’ve also started the movement to unite us. I would be honored to tell you more about my culture.” He said, beaming with pride. 

Jim’s smile faltered. What am I doing? I mean, I want to know more about him, as his son, but I can’t deny that I have an ulterior motive here. Is this really the right thing to do? 

“O-okay. Thanks.” Jim stammered, not sure what else to say. 

“If you’d like, I can take you to my personal archives later tonight.” He said, standing up and turning to the door. “I’ve got plenty of old records from my time at the Janis Order.”

“You have books about changelings?” Jim gasped. 

Strickler laughed, his amber eyes shining. “Of course, I wrote them myself!”

Jim laid on his bed and stared across the room at his desk. Moonlight shone through the window onto the stack of books he’d borrowed from Strickler. He’d wanted to give Jim more, but he insisted that twelve was enough for now. 

His body sank into his mattress, the soft blankets folding beneath his weight and the fluffiness ruffling between his fingers. He wanted to rest, but he couldn’t with those shiny book covers glimmering, almost teasing him. So much knowledge and he was expected to sleep. He huffed. Yeah, no. I don’t think I will. 

He sat up, about to walk over to his desk and read, when his head spun. His vision blurred and he swooned, falling to the floor, his back hitting against the foot of his bed. 

Pulsing, emanating from his heart into his ribcage. His breath shook. Sharp pain stabbed him in the temples, his ears beginning to ring. A feeling like thorns wrapped around him and dug into his skin. He grabbed at his chest with his hands, trying to steady himself and hold back screams of fear as he quickly racked his brain for a solution. The blur of his desk caught his eye, and he winced. It was worth a shot. He tugged at the power in his chest, his body flailing forward as his flesh rearranged. 

It only took a moment and the pain was gone. The darkness in his vision faded and the tension in his heart disappeared. He could feel the weight of horns upon his head and wings upon his back, but at least the pain was gone. 

He caught his own gaze in the mirror on his wall. He flinched. As he stood up, he grabbed one of his blankets and tossed it over the reflection before taking a seat at his desk. His wings and tail caught on the backrest, and he struggled to orient himself properly. Eventually he settled with folding his wings against his sides and around the backrest, and wrapping his tail over his lap. The fingers of the wings brushing against the floor, and his tail pressed against his hips with heavy weight. He shivered, the sensation of his extra limbs still not quite normal. 

He grabbed one of the books and opened it, hoping to look for answers, but then he stopped, his claws freezing between the pages mid-turn. 

My tolerance for keeping them out of sight met its limit. 

Strickler has told him the answer. His human form was no longer the one he could shelter in. Since becoming a changeling, it had been reduced to a flimsy mask he could no longer live his entire life within. 

His hands trembled and the book fell from his hands. He stared at them, calloused sapphire palms and ebony talons so familiar and strong, but discomfort boiled within him with a violence that he couldn’t handle. He slipped out of the chair and onto the floor, his wings collapsing around him like a burdenous weight. His head knocked against the floor, horns weighing into his skull. 

This isn’t my body. I’m a changeling, but that body is still my home. It’s still the person that people love. And it can’t be my home anymore. 

He could see a red glow on the floor beneath him and he shook, each blink of his eyes making it flick away and return. He trembled, staring at the unnatural glow and watching as his tears fell upon it. Those tears were still the same. Nothing else was. 

He averted his gaze, refusing to look upon any part of his body. He pulled at the power in him repeatedly, trying desperately to change back to the form he knew so well. No shift happened, each tug making his heart hurt worse, his panting breaths growing more and more raspy. He could feel his fangs against his lips with each breath, so he switched to breathing through his nose, ignoring the sensation of teeth rubbing on skin. 

He slowly crawled across the floor to his bedroom door, his wings and tail dragging against the ground as he moved, and he snapped the lock shut, then deadbolted the second lock. No chance he was going to let anyone see him like this. 

He wanted to curl into a tiny ball, ignore everything about his body and just wait until his strength returned, but even moving his head reminded him of the fact that he was changed in a way that encompassed his entire flesh. 

I want to be human. Please, just let me be human. Turn back time, make me who I was before. I need to be human. I need it. It’s…

It’s the only way to keep Jim alive.

Sunlight shone into his eyes and he blinked, the weariness of sleep drifting away as he sat up. He looked down at himself, his human form returned to him. Good. It’s better this way. This is who Jim is, and I can keep being him. 

He ran his hands through his hair, appreciating the lack of horns pressing on his head. He knew how much he was lying to himself, but he was not ready to admit it. He’d spent too much time holding back emotions and memories to let something crazy like being a changeling screw him up. He was willing to take his changes to the grave. 

He pulled his blanket off his mirror, then went to start his day. He didn’t even bother to meet the gaze of his reflection. 

Strickler stared at his bookshelf across the room from his desk. Those empty slots where he’d removed books to give to Jim, it filled him with a strange sense of vulnerability. 

He remembered when he lent those books to Barbara. It was a couple months after the Genesis Seal battle, when he’d healed enough from the hypothermia and frost burns to go out on something of a date. She wanted to know about changeling biology, so she could help him and his fellow changelings heal from injuries in the future. The doctor’s instinct was never absent, it seemed. 

The thing he remembered the most was her concern. While being a changeling had its perks, she’d told him that the downsides made it less like a normally functioning body and more akin to a chronic illness or disability. This made sense, as changelings were created by Morgana and the Gumm-Gumms, whom she aptly said “likely didn’t take the emotions of the changelings into account when making their bodies”. This made sense, however, it did stir up some old feelings he’d had when he was younger. Much, much younger. 

He ran his hand across his right arm. He could feel, beneath the woolen sleeve of his cardigan, the carved rings around his upper arm. There were fifteen of them, one for each life he’d had as a human. 

Changelings only died if their stone skin met sunlight, but if their human life in one place had dragged on too long for their non-aging form to be unnoticed, they would fake their death and start a new life in a different place. A painful process, but he’d become used to it over time. 

After telling Barbara this, she wanted to know everything about his past lives. Unfortunately, he couldn’t remember much of anything besides his changeling work. She said he likely had some kind of disassociative amnesia, resulting from him having to give up living entire lives he’d led as a human. All the people he’d met, the memories he’d made, the relationships he’d loved. He’d always had too much empathy for humans. To changelings and the Gumm-Gumms, that was always his biggest weakness. So he’d blocked out his grief and all that came with it. 

Barbara recommended that he perhaps could go to therapy, but he didn’t think it was necessary. He’d come to terms with no longer being the person he was trained to be. 

He sighed, his fingers tracing the grooves in his stony skin. The past had passed, and now he could live the rest of his life as his true self. He rejected the purposes of his past lives, even as the fake Strickler, and to be the person he wanted to be. Still Strickler, just changed by the flow of time and self exploration. He’d debated changing his name, but he’d grown way too attached to the one of his very last familiar to give it up, so he settled on making his nickname his middle name and taking Barbara’s last name in the wedding. Walter Strickler Lake. A little odd, but he liked it.  

Strickler wondered how Jim would react to the books. Would he fear him, be in awe of him, or look at him with pity? So many possibilities. So little way to tell. Humans were just as unpredictable as changelings. 

There was a knock at his door. “Come in.” He said.

The door opened and shut, letting a short green changeling walk in. He looked to be around three in changeling years and wore a beat up Papa Skull shirt and torn up jeans, which seems a bit emo for his younger appearance, but Strickler knew this boy. He’d grown a lot in the past year, after all, he’d been dead set on outgrowing his toddler form. His hair was still just as scruffy though. 

Strickler smiled. “Noten Nuñez. To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

He flashed a fanged grin, his mischievous nature still apparent. “Just wanted to check in on ya. You’ve been hard at work, ya should be hangin’ out with the new wifey.” He drawled, leaning over the desk, raising an eyebrow at him. “So, why are ya here?” 

“Barbara is at work too, you should know.” Strickler said, sighing with frustration. “There’s no reason to be critical of our behavior, we’re simply workaholics. You’ll understand when you grow older, perhaps.” He growled a bit at that last word. He had his doubts as to whether or not the young changeling would ever truly grow up. 

Noten barked with laughter. “Yeah, we’ll see about that, ol’ Strick-in-the-mud.” He flashed a peace sign as he walked to the door. “See ya around. Don’t stay here too long.” He slammed the door shut behind him, and Strickler could hear him laughing as he walked down the hall. 

“He seems rather chipper today.” Strickler muttered to himself. He chuckled. Noten was by far one of the stranger changelings. Only a single wrapped around his arm, and he still lived with the family of his familiar. As much as the young changeling would hate to admit it, he loved his human family. So he stayed with them, and they didn’t really care. What’s a changeling son added to the mix when you already have a witch daughter? They loved him all the same. 

He’d taken after Strickler and named himself after his nickname, refusing to discard his life as a human. Just like him. Personality wise, though, they couldn’t be more different. Where Strickler was reserved and restrained, Noten was blunt and brash. The struggles of their kind that Strickler often felt burdened by, Noten couldn’t care less about. 

But that was the nice thing about being part of this new movement. He could now meet all changelings and learn more about their individual experiences as such, and help each and every one along their path. It was quite the challenge, but that made it all the more worth it. 

A text notification popped up on his phone. Barbara said she was out of work. He smiled, grabbed some more books and his notes, shoved them in his satchel, and ran out the door. Goodness, I love her. I don’t know where or who I’d be without her. 

The text notification from Claire glowed on his phone, the message still left unread. Jim stared at the screen, unsure what to even say. 

It was an understatement to call his relationship with her as tense. Ever since almost killing her, she hadn’t looked at him the same. It’s not like having your boyfriend almost choke you to death wouldn’t mentally scar you. She kept distance from him for a while after the war ended, but it got better after she started going to therapy. He knew that she knew something had changed inside him though. She thought it was because of the magic. Jim knew the truth. He wanted desperately to tell her, but he didn’t want her to look at him like a stranger any more than she already did. 

The night of his parents’ wedding was perfect. They’d danced together, and she’d even kissed him. How painfully ironic that the power within him would return just after such a chance at bringing back what once was. 

He opened his phone and read the text.

“Just got back from therapy, I’d like to talk about smth, is that ok? It’s ok if not tho”

Dread filled his stomach. 

“Ok, sounds good” He texted back. 

Waking up was difficult. His body felt heavy and sore, each and every joint aching. A blanket wrapped tightly around him, giving soft pressure to his tense chest. He struggled to open his eyes. Blinking, blinking, and the darkness in his vision slowly faded away. He breathed in deeply, appreciative of his ability to do so. 

He looked around. He was laying on a small bed, or some might call it a nest, of blankets and pillows. Around the nest laid Charlemagne, his tail swept around Jim’s makeshift bed as he peacefully slept. 

Jim felt his lungs spasm and he coughed heavily. Ugh, everything hurts. He thought. What did he do to me? 

The dragon stirred, waking up from its slumber. He blinked at Jim, then quickly transformed into his human form. Funnily enough, his human form now wore fuzzy slippers and pajamas. That would’ve made Jim laugh if it wasn’t for the aching pain. 

He walked up to Jim and put his hand on his shoulder, his kindly gold eyes filled with grief. “I apologize as deeply as possible, dear Jim. Merlin’s magic resists external tampering while the crystal allows it. In combination, I assumed foolishly that those would cancel out, but it appears that the magic still struggles to do so in a way that does not harm you.” He winced, tears forming in his eyes. “Please tell me, are you feeling alright?” 

Jim inhaled sharply. “I-I don’t think so.” He choked out, his voice hoarse. “W-what was th-that?” He coughed harder, his own mouth feeling strangely uncomfortable to speak with. 

Charlemagne sat down beside him, his grey hair falling over his shoulders as he propped his arms on his knees. “It was a very small dose of a potion used to accelerate magic cohesion, usually used in cases of surgeries that require multiple spell castings working together to repair a wound. I thought perhaps a small dose of it might help to adhere the three magics together at a slightly higher rate, so that more of your symptoms would be visible, in order to get a better read on your situation. But it all went sideways, and your transformation has already been completed.” He gave Jim a pained look. “If it’s any consolation, this transformation would have been multitudes more difficult if stretched across a longer time period. Consider this twist of fate a boon.” 

The longer Charlemagne spoke the more Jim noticed about his body. His concentration on his words faded as he realized the fangs protruding out of his mouth and curling around his lips. There was a heaviness to his head that he hadn’t felt in a while, and he tucked his chin downwards to compensate for the weight of horns wrapping around the sides of his head. As he grabbed at the blanket wrapped around him, he could feel sharpness of claws lengthening from his fingertips. His senses felt weirdly strong, the whispering power of the Heartstone audible to him even at such distance, and his back felt unbearably heavy, as if something was leaning against him. He didn’t want to turn around and find out. 

“I’m half-troll again.” Jim muttered, pulling the blanket tight around himself. 

Charlemagne gritted his teeth, taking a sharp breath in. “Oh, no. No, you are not.” 

Jim looked up at him, dumbfounded. “But I—” 

He cut himself off, noticing a mirror in the corner of the room and the figure reflected within it. His face paled. “Oh. Oh no.” 

He stood up, the blanket falling from his shoulders as he stared at it, the reflection staring back at him with his horrified expression. He wanted to cover his eyes, run away, do anything but accept this. 

Blue stone skin, grayish horns, pearly fangs, and pitch-black claws weren’t the only features he’d gained. His ears were longer and more angular, like an elf, and his feet were clawed. Dark fur ran down the backs of his arms, legs, and neck, plus his haircut had grown out longer as well. Moving felt more natural than as a human or troll, his muscles stronger and his body more flexible. His clothing felt tight, his physique larger than before. But the biggest changes of all nearly had him falling over backwards, and not just from fear. 

Twin wings folded awkwardly against his back. He stretched them out, their wingspan even longer than his height. Talons curved from the end of each blue finger of the wings, the membrane between each finger a cool black. 

His tail flicked, waking up from the numbness of sleep. He struggled to stand up straight from its weight pulling at the base of his spine. It was bulky, likely as strong as his other limbs. When trying to figure out how to orient it properly in order to stand up straight, Charlemagne chuckled. He walked over and gave Jim a sideeyed look. “Need some help there?” He asked, a smile forming on his face. 

Jim flinched. His heart raced in his chest and he stumbled, tripping over his tail in the process and falling to the ground, wincing in pain. His wings crumpled around him as he stared down at himself, a barrage of emotions filling him at once. 

He wasn’t human. Merlin truly had killed his humanity. He’d been so naive to think anything could have changed that. Ever since he became Trollhunter, he’d known that was true. But now he’s finally regained the monstrous flesh that made him realize that in the first place. 

That rage, the fury and wrath of holy war that hunting demanded of him, it bubbled up to the surface, no longer withheld. The memories of battle, fighting with strength no other human could wield, and then with the power of trollkind as well. He’d regained it. He was strong again, free again, powerful enough to take on anything the world could imagine. He could destroy any foe, fight any battle, for Glory. 

But this wasn’t what Jim was like. 

He sobbed, clawing at his face. His chest caved in and he dug his talons into his head.  He felt Charlemagne touch his shoulder and he lashed out, springing to all fours and growling. “Don’t you dare touch me. This is your fault.” He hissed, fangs bared. 

The dragon-man’s face fell. He stepped back, grabbing a blanket from the floor and tossing it over the mirror. “Jim,” he started, but he interrupted him. 

“No. Not Jim. I haven’t been Jim for a long, long time.” He said, standing up and towering over Charlemagne, his wings casting a dark shadow over them. “Jim was sweet, naive, awkward, silly, innocent.” His fists clenched. “Everything I’m not. And now I can’t hide that at all.” 

“You’re still Jim.” Charlemagne said, but his eyes were filled with doubt. 

Jim chuckled, a laugh escaping him. He couldn’t help himself. It had been so, so long since he’d fought. So long since he’d let himself feel everything he’d repressed. He burst out laughing, his fangs flashing. His wings shook as he doubled over, letting manic energy overtake him. 

Charlemagne stared at him in horror. “Are you… okay?” 

He stopped laughing and grinned. “Nah. I feel like garbage. But I needed this.” He stood up straight and brushed himself off. “I’m leaving now. See you later, I guess.” 

He took off down the stairs, ignoring the dragon-man’s cries of confused questions. The only thing he wanted right now was to run far, far away from all this peace and indulge in the anger he’d left untouched for years. 

When Archie returned to his father’s home, he was surprised to see him still in human form, pacing around his laboratory, tearing books off shelves and tossing them aside. He flew to his side, sitting down on his shoulder. “Father, what is happening? Where is Jim?” He asked.

Sweat poured down Charlemagne’s brow. He opened another book and set it aside as quickly as he’d opened it. “Something isn’t right. I don’t understand what he is.” 

Archie’s brow furrowed. “What who is, Jim? Would you settle down and explain the situation to me, for the love of your absolute mess of a room?” He snapped. 

Charlemagne sighed, then sat down on his operating table. His shoulders slumped, and Archie opted to sit beside him, resting his head on his father’s lap. 

“He’s a changeling, Archie.” He muttered, downcast.

The cat-dragon blinked. “A gaggletack worked on him?”

Charlemagne shook his head. He took off his glasses and set them aside, rubbing the bridge of his nose with frustration. “That’s the problem. Not only did the gaggletack not work, but he doesn’t have a familiar. He is the familiar. I looked through the seeing glass, and it showed a flesh-stone heart, not unlike a changeling, so I used a magic accelerator potion and sure enough, the magics within him fused and he transformed into a being not unlike a changeling’s troll form.” 

Archie’s eyes narrowed. “That’s simply not possible.” 

Charlemagne sighed, standing up and beginning to put his books back on their proper shelves. “It’s how the magics fused. We cannot expect an orderly result from discordant power.” 

Archie’s head spun with confusion. “Then where is he? Is he in troll or human form?”

Charlemagne gulped, then laughed nervously. “He ran away, in troll form.” 

Archie jumped to his feet. “Are you joking? He’s got to be extremely mentally unstable after such an incident and you let him LEAVE?!” 

Charlemagne gave him a stricken look. “I’m afraid I could not have stopped him.” 

Archie snorted. “You’re Charlemagne.”

“And he was but a child, forced to wear a mantle on far too naive a head. We forget that while he may be our beloved hero, he’s lost more than you may realize.” He said, running his hands across the cover of a heavy tome. “I regret my actions today with much sorrow. I should have known better than to jump straight into such deductions without understanding the mental state of the person at hand. He needs help, desperately.” 

Archie felt a pang of grief in his chest. He flew to his father’s side. “I’m going to go find Jim.” He said, then took off down the stairwell.

The woods of Arcadia Oaks were beautiful in the afternoon, as the light of the midday sun poured through the trees. He ducked through the shady patches, not entirely minding the tiny moments of burning when he missed a spotlight of sun. He dove through the trees, pouncing and leaping over rocks and debris, feeling the wind in his hair and wings. He breathed in the fresh air, his heightened senses pulling in everything from his surroundings. He was alone in this forest, save for the local wildlife. 

He swooped down to the river, splashing through the waters and taking a seat on a large rock. He stared down at his reflection and was reminded of the last time he’d been there. Half-troll, stunned and confused. Emotions running wild as river trolls told him he could no longer step in the sun. 

He looked up at the blazing light in the sky, its fiery white burning into his eyes, but he couldn’t look away. He felt his manic energy slowly slip away. A single tear ran down his face and his hand trembled as he wiped it away. He curled his wings and tail in close as he looked back at his reflection. He’d wanted so terribly for nothing to have changed, for Charlemagne to have said that he was still going to be human. Now he didn’t even know what he was. 

He placed his hand on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart deep inside his chest. It felt both lighter and heavier than ever. He’d missed the strength he’d gained as half-troll, but he also hated the emotions that came with it. He’d spent so long trying to withhold the battle instincts and wrath that being Trollhunter had unlocked within him, to return to the childish innocence he once had. But staring down at his trollish features, he knew that just wasn’t possible. He’d gained so much love for fighting, for the glory of a man who said even that wasn’t enough. So with the help of Merlin’s potion, he made himself even more of a living weapon than he was before. No more Jim, just Trollhunter. 

He hugged his legs to his chest, resting his forehead on his knees. His wings draped around the rock where he sat, and his tail wrapped around his feet. He sat there, bathed in the sounds of nature, wishing he could turn back time. 

He sensed movement nearby. He sniffed the air and could immediately tell who it was, a talent he’d missed. Archie. He thought with a growl, and he launched himself off of the rock and flew into the trees, bounding from branch to branch, trying to outrun the dragon-cat’s search for him. He slid down a trunk and into a cavern, taking solace in the shaded space as he peered out for signs of movement. 

“I take it you noticed me.” A voice said beside him, and he sprung back, hackles raised. 

Archie sat in the cave, his glasses glimmering. He chuckled. “You’re still getting used to your senses again, I’m sure. Don’t beat yourself up about it, dear Jim, for I’m a hard opponent to outrun, no matter what creature someone may be.”  

He panicked, curling his wings around himself. “What are you doing here?” He asked, the claws of his feet digging into the ground. 

Archie patted the ground next to himself, motioning for him to sit. “I’m here to help, if you’ll let me.” 

He froze. He stared at the small cat, who looked at him so blankly, as if nothing had changed. Part of him wanted to know more about what had happened to him, but the other part didn’t care. He wanted to run, before his friends saw who he really was. 

He stepped back, and Archie’s eyes narrowed. “Jim, what’s wrong?” 

Jim walked back a bit more, ever so slowly, then took off in a run. He could hear Archie following him close behind, but he didn’t care. Ducking under branches and jumping over bushes, he tore through the woods, searching for a way out of the endless maze. 

Not human. I’m not human anymore. I can’t hide this from them, but I’m not ready to face this. They can’t know how not-Jim I am. Not now, not ever. 

He made it to the edge of the forest and came to a halt. He’d gone to the wrong side of the woods and hit the clearing instead of the caverns. The bright sun shone down on the forest’s edge, trapping him inside. 

There were soft footsteps behind him, then Archie spoke. “Do you want to talk now? I can help you step into the sun.” 

Jim spun around to face him. “No, I can’t! The sun burns me, just like it did before!” 

This was one thing that he never liked about being half-troll. Sunlight was so warm. Living in the dark could feel so cold and miserable. 

Archie nodded. “Of course it does, you’re as a troll form right now. But you can become human.”

Jim gritted his teeth, his wings flaring. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that you are some kind of changeling, dear Jim.” 

His heart stopped. Changeling. I can still hide this.He knelt down, getting to eye level with Archie. “How do I become human?” 

Archie chuckled. “Well, that was fast. May I ask how you’re feeling first? My father has many apologies for your painful first shifting.” 

Jim shrugged. “It hurt, but I feel better now. I don’t really care about that right now.” 

Archie raised an eyebrow, his tail twitching. “You’re oddly calm right now. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” 

Jim nodded profusely. “Yes, of course I am! I’ve done this whole transformation thing before, remember?” He said, smiling brightly to mask his anxious impatience. 

Archie paused for a moment, then closed his eyes. “Fair point, I suppose. I just hope you’re telling the truth. Goodness knows how terrible the feelings of dehumanization were, back when you became half-troll.” 

He laughed nervously, rubbing his back of his neck and ruffling his fur. “Yeah, no, I’m perfectly human! Only the outside has changed, remember? I’m still the same Jim!” He affirmed, knowing each word was a lie as his craving for violence spiraled in his chest. 

Archie still didn’t seem convinced, but he shrugged. “Alright, I’ll tell you how to shift.

“Start by feeling your heartbeat. That’s the core of shifters’ power.”

Jim closed his eyes, feeling the pulse within his chest. It felt different, like it was emanating something through his body, like a waterfall rushing down his spine and into each part of his body. Perhaps this was what having magic felt like. 

“Concentrate on your body that you wish to change to, and the transformation should be instant. The more you fear, the less quick it will be. Magic must be quick, or it leaves room for problems.”

He remembered his human body well. After all, he’d lived almost his entire life in it. He exhaled sharply and a shock burst in his chest. When he opened his eyes, he was greeted by his normal, human physique. He sighed with relief. “Thanks, Archie.”

“You’re welcome.” He said, walking out in the sunlight. “I’m going back to the castle. If you have any further questions, please let me know.” 

Jim nodded. He took a hesitant step into the sun. No burning sensation, thank goodness, so made his way back home. 

He laid down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Dinner had been great, he’d made soufflé and roasted vegetables. He’d worried that he’d have trouble eating it after his experience as an half-troll but sure enough, he could eat human food just fine. But then again, so could Strickler and he was stuck in troll form without a familiar. Perhaps he simply didn’t care about the foul taste, or had grown accustomed to it. Either way, he was glad to still be able to live as a human. 

Am I my own familiar? He wondered. So weird… I never expected I’d become a changeling. At least this means I can just stay a human and ignore it. Strickler never mentioned there being any side effects from staying in one form all the time. After all, he’s been a troll for so long and he seems fine. 

The more he thought, the more disheartened he got. I really don’t know much about changelings at all. I mean, they all basically became normal trolls when we freed the familiars. 

But here I am, hiding behind a mask of my old self. Not like I wasn’t hiding before, but now it’s so much worse. 

He pulled his blankets over himself, curling up in a ball. His chest ached with grief. I wish that I could have been stronger. Maybe then becoming a warrior wouldn’t have killed everything I was before. 

Wizards Jim Constantly dying and Claire was in pain they couldn't really see it play to out it fullest so would you?

i Also i Love your Claire Design

Don’t worry, it take a while but yes, there will be more Claire and Jim moments ;)

not Troll though… hehehe

WARNING: bodily violence

This is the fic version of part 1 of the TH:CHAU comic. Thank you so much for reading! It’s also available on ao3 at this link:

Trollhunters: Changed Heart AU (2964 words) by Justalittleguy3 Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jim Lake Jr. & Walter Strickler | Stricklander, Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan & Jim Lake Jr., Archie & Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan, Barbara Lake & Jim Lake Jr., Jim Lake Jr./Claire Nuñez, Barbara Lake/Walter Strickler | Stricklander, Blinkous "Blinky" Galadrigal & Jim Lake Jr., Aaarrrgghh & Blinkous "Blinky" Galadrigal, Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan & Claire Nuñez, Charlemange & Archie Characters: Jim Lake Jr. (Tales of Arcadia), Claire Nuñez, Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan, Blinkous "Blinky" Galadrigal, Aaarrrgghh (Tales of Arcadia), Archie (Tales of Arcadia), Charlemagne (Tales of Arcadia), Barbara Lake, Walter Strickler | Stricklander Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Everyone Needs a Hug, Post-Canon Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Body Modification, Body Dysphoria, Out of Body Experiences, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Whump, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Tags left out to avoid spoilers, Blood and Injury Summary: It’s been a year since the world almost ended in the fight for the Genesis Seals. A year since Toby died. A year since Jim found the Khronisphere, tried to turn back time, only to realize the past it showed was an illusion. An entire year of pretty much normal life. You’d think that the year of war beforehand wouldn’t still have hold of their minds, but scars don’t fade so easily. And neither does magic. Jim is insistent on ignoring this, until the day after his mother and Strickler’s wedding, when all his problems start to bubble to the surface, whether he likes it or not. Previously a comic, now being continued as a fanfic.

CHAPTER ONE

heya everyone, I’m going over the long term plan for the story of TH:CHAU and I think, in order to do more consistent or longer updates, I might have to move from doing this as just a comic to making this a fanfic with comic panels and artworks tossed in sometimes, similar to @flambymi’s Trollhunters fic (which I’m a huge fan of btw)

the pros:

I can update more long sections

I can have more details and story expansion without having to worry about cutting things out because too many panels

I can make higher quality art panels >:3

the cons:

all my comic followers are on tumblr and the fic would be on ao3 (I could probably post it on both tho ngl, copy+paste is brilliant)

less art for you in exchange for higher quality

what do we think everyone?

I’m just gonna tag anyone who follows the comic in case you don’t see this on your fyp

part 2: pages 4-9

[Text:

page 4: (My facial features are changing. Why now? It’s been so long.This is not good. At all. Darn it all.) (buzzing sfx) (Hey Claire!)(Heyyy, I’m gonna go hand with the band, get some practice with vocals.) (Awesome. Do you want me to come?)(Maybe later! Anyways, I gotta go. Byeee!)

page 5: (Darn it all. Merlin’s potion, that crystal, and Claire’s spell. All those powers in combination together have messed me up. I need to know how. I think I know someone who would help AND keep this secret.)

page 6: (Archie, dragon-cat and archivist.) (Jim, it’s been a while. What brings you here?)

page 7: (I’m having some… problems.) (Of what sort?) (Half-troll problems, at least I think it is.) (Fascinating…)(Do you know… what I can do about it?) (Let me see.)

page 8: (Interesting.) (What’s that supposed to mean?)(It means your situation is rather unusual. As to be expected.)(You’ve never seen things like this before?)(Absolutely not. Not even in books.)

page 9: (You are quite the case study.)(What’s will happen to me?)(It’s unclear. The possibilities are both endless and grim.)(It’s that bad, huh?)(These are terrifying magics at play. Further tests are greatly needed, as you can tell. I’ll need some help with the examination.)(From who?)(Most likely, my father.)]