For week one of Stricklake month…

Snippet of upcoming work...

A small piece of something I've been working on for about a year now. Will likely convert it to past tense depending on how I feel. Rated T. Mentions of trauma and PTSD. I think we all could have used a moment more reminiscent of this in the movie--I feel like Jim would have struggled more with trying to become a normal, adjusted human again than trying to convince himself that he is still the Trollhunter without the amulet.

Listen, I can't get enough of this sweater...

Dr. Puff Jacket and Mr. Sweater in the flesh.

Woke up and confirmed that the only thing I will accept as canon from RoTT is Strickler wearing that nerd-ass sweater and no socks. This is peak Waltolowmew aesthetic. Congratulations to whoever pushed that through. He woke up that morning and said I’m gonna be a Norwegian dad. Went all the way. Barbara woke up and said I’m engaged to green Santa and I love it. I think Nana knit that one for him. Barbara wears the matching socks he refuses to don. NotEnrique is at home with 3000 babies wearing an identical onesie. Are those Drall shapes? You tell me.

Another Andaman snippet...two different scenes. One day, perhaps I'll finish them. Horace is a giant, rideable hound made of ice (the universe has fire cats, so why not ice dogs?) for those unfamiliar with the story.

Rated T for mentions of hypothermia and vague nudity.

The ice hound was there in an instant, hovering over them both.

Walter undid the fastening of his cape, set her down upon its surface above the snow, and without hesitation began to remove her clothing. There was no thought spared to intimacy, or awkwardness, or anything regarding their shared history-- only survival. Anxious clouds of breath puffed into the air as he pulled her jacket off, then the two layers of shirts beneath, everything soaking wet. To his surprise, she tried to help him, shaky hands fumbling to undo the button of her trousers, muscles straining against a cacophony of numbness and shivering.

She knew what was going on. She knew the clock was ticking...

A snippet from Andaman...written circa 2018. (Rated T for alightly mature themes)

The sound of cool, clear waves lapping against the entrance of the cave in the moonlight mixed soothingly with the subdued gusts of the ocean’s tropic breeze, lulling Walter into a sleepy daze. Somewhere in the distance,dolphins still splashed in the frothy brine, their noise mixing strangely with the steady hum of insects, and the haunting call of the occasional bird. A small and dying fire crackled along the edge of his hidden cove, charring the remains of his barely-touched dinner.

He’d given up on trying to summon Morgana. Varied macabre attempts at trying to get her attention had proven futile. It didn’t matter which variety of star-lit ritual she performed, or how many times he said her name, there was never any answer save for the island breeze. He would have done better to stay in Myeik at the Hotel Grand Jade, drinking his weight in the jugs of palm wine he’d bummed off of one of the locals. The hotel was dated, but comfortable. He’d paid for his stay in cold cash--as untraceable as it was uncanny--and from the top floor he’d felt safe enough staking out until he could chart a course to North Sentinel Island. Not many would be willing to take the chance of drawing close enough to the island for him to easily swim ashore, especially at night.

The indigenous peoples of North Sentinel Island were known to be hostile, rejecting all contact with the outside world and killing anyone who stepped foot on their sands. Many had died in the pursuit of aiding or interfering with their lifestyle, or had been arrested by the Indian navy for coming too close. It would take a hefty sum to convince anyone to charter him across. Arriving in his own vessel was not an option—he’d have to sink the boat, and the risk of being spotted in unfamiliar waters was too high. Money wasn’t an object, of course, as long as he’d been around, but people often wanted something less traceable, in case the government came a-looking.

He’d purchased a motorcycle, one with a small enough engine to maneuver easily through the streets, but powerful enough to make a quick getaway if needed--Janus would be on his heels in moments if they caught wind, and he’d been in the hierarchy long enough to know that they were never very far behind. Thus outfitted, he’d traveled, often ferrying to Andaman island to search for the idea hire. To the people there, he looked relatively normal--a traveler, but one well versed in their ways and culture. Instead of his typical brown suit and jumper he wore a light tunic, sandals, and khakis. His hair had grown longer—partially induced by a spell—and the light traces of a beard cast shadows around his face. After years in clean-cut Arcadia, he’d barely recognized himself in the mirror. Barbara, even if she hadn’t been stripped of her memory, would struggle to find familiarity in this new visage.

Barbara.

You can pry this cheesy song and the images of the Lake Family 2.0 it conjures from my cold, dead fingers.

@stricklakeetal

The first of the snippets from WIPs (as promised!) I haven't been able to write since my mom passed, so I'm not sure if or when I'll ever get any of these done, but I thought I'd share some unfinished ideas!

This one is still in a dialogue-heavy format. I’ve tried to fill in context in parenthesis. For context, in this story, most of the babies that were taken from the cradlestone are being cared for by goblins at the old Janus headquarters, all overseen by Walter, but some are housed at the Lake residence.

(Douxie is walking out of a record store, humming a soft tune, when his phone rings. He answers. )

“Mr. Casperian.” Strickler's gruff voice floated out from the receiver. “I hope you don’t mind, but I got your number from Jim.”

“Uh, yeah, no it’s fine.” The wizard scratched the back of his head, raising a brow. “Who is this?”

“I’m Jim’s--an ally of the Trollhunter’s. Waltolomew Stricklander. ”

“Ah, yes, Merlin mentioned you a few times.”

“Good, then you’ll recall that I am in possession of all of the familiars—err, human children—who were formerly housed within the Darklands.”

“Oh that’s right! You’re the one with Dr. Lake. How’s that going for you?”

“Er—well, that’s the thing. It’s—we’ve run into a bit of a conundrum.”

“Conundrum?”

“It would be best if you saw it in person. Do you know where Jim lives?”

“Yeah I do, actually." He scratched the back of his neck as he spoke. “What’s going on again?”

“Waaalt, it’s not just those two.”Douxie heard another voice through the receiver.

“I have to go,” Walter’s voice was grave, “Erm, the faster you can get here, the better. We need a wizard.”

“Right then, you got it.”

(Later, at the Lake residence Douxie opens the door and his jaw drops. There are babies flying everywhere, and magic spells being cast to and fro, bouncing off of every wall. In the middle of it all, a haggard Walter and Barbara are trying to reign in the chaos. Douxie inquires about the Trollhunters, who could be there in a moments notice with Claire’s shadow magic.)

“Claire, Jim, and Toby are on vacation with the Nunez’s in the mountains.” Barbara explained.

“Young Atlas needs a break. They all do,” the changeling admonished. “I know Claire could be in and out quickly, but it would be best if we didn’t interrupt them. ”

“What on earth is going on with these babies?!” Barbara yelped as she barely dodged a ball of light being thrown her way. A crash sounded from the kitchen, and with a resigned huff, she strode off to discover its source.

“They’ve been exposed to Morgana’s magic for too long,” Douxie explained. “Creatures like that, like changelings,” he gestured towards Walter, “are naturally more inclined towards magic.”

“How do we keep them under control?” Walter’s voice was desperate. “This house, and the entire Janus base will be destroyed!”

“I don’t know!” Douxie exclaimed, “I’m not used to dealing with magic users this young. I’ve never even seen it. They have no idea what they are doing.”

“You were Merlin’s protege,” Walter growled as he tried to grab two babies that had landed on his horns. “Figure it out!”

“Waaaahh!” NotEnrique screamed from another room.

“Fire! Fire! Baby on fire!” Barbara came running down the hallway towards Walter, who grabbed the child before the flames could spread up the little one’s arms to burn her.

The baby itself giggled as the flames danced around Walter’s clawed and heat-resistant fingertips, seemingly unharmed. He sighed as the charred diaper fell away.

“This is madness!” Douxie held out his arm, and in a flash of blue, put out the flame. Grimacing, he pulled his phone from his pocket, running through his list of contacts. “We need back-up!”

Diaper-less, a stream of yellow came bounding out from between the baby’s legs, promptly splashing Walter’s face.

“Ugh,” he blinked and sputtered as he tried to clear the urine away, “and here I thought Battle of Marengo was hard.”

“Buh, buh, buh--” the baby tried to imitate him as he held it at arms length.

K.O.

Summary: Strickler ends up in the hospital, and guess who's on staff that evening? Based on rumors of a lost scene...

“Dr. Yen is getting off his shift a little early,” Wanda walked into the hospital break room where Barbara sat at the table, phone in hand, drinking a glass of water while preparing for her next shift. “Here’s a list of incoming patients,” the woman placed an iPad in front of the doctor. “We’ve got PAs covering the minor cases, but there’s no one else to handle the big stuff. You wanna go ahead and get a head start this evening?“

“Yeah, sure.” Barbara said, biting her lip as she gave one last longing look at her phone before pocketing it in her lab coat.

“You okay?” Wanda quirked a brow.

“Yeah, my lunch date was a no-show. Just checking to see if I had any messages.”

“I’m sure there’s a reason, “ Wanda assured. “I can’t see why anyone would want to pass up a date with you .”

“Alright,” Barbara cocked a brow. “What are you buttering me up for?”

“Dr. Jenkins sort-of called out sick again.” Wanda gave a pained smile. “Mind covering the next shift too? At least until we get someone else to come along.”

The doctor sighed, and gave Wanda a knowing look. “Alright, I’ll call Jim in a little while, and let him know I won’t be home,” she looked down at the iPad and began to scroll through the list with one finger, head poised in one curled hand. “What do we got here? Asthma attack, dehydration, drug overdose, dehydration again, chest pain...multiple trauma suspect?” She blinked at the screen. “Walter Strickler?”

Her eyes were wide when they looked back to Wanda, already she was pushing the chair away to stand. “That’s my date!” she proclaimed, and went flying out the door...

CONTINUE HERE