#strickjagger

[trollhuntermom]

[ DOORSTEP ]!

kissing prompts || @strickjagger​

The night had been wonderful; Barbara couldn’t remember the last time she had been this relaxed. It wasn’t just that Walt was intelligent and clever – two very different qualities that rarely were that prominent in one person – or even just that he could make her laugh to the point of an undignified small snort – I hope he didn’t notice -

- but she felt as if they were connected.

Truly. As if some part of her was relieved to see him. It didn’t feel like awkwardly getting to know someone new, it felt like meeting someone very close after not seeing them for a very long time.

I’ve been missing you.

Which was ridiculous of course. One date was nothing, they hardly knew each other. Chemistry, she thought when they stopped outside her door and she looked up into his green eyes. That’s all it is.

And this very moment was the only one that night not alive with conversation and banter. They watched each other in silence for a few heartbeats, then he leaned down and pressed their lips together, slowly and gently-

- and perhaps it lingered a bit longer because she leaned into it, or maybe neither of them wanted the moment to end –

- but it did, as all moments do, and before she knew it she watched him drive away as she closed the door.

Who knows?

[broken-crcwn]

When in doubt, strangle Stricklander.

Bular, probably

@strickjagger

[trashchild-7up]

@strickjagger They grin and lean in close, all friendly and sweet. “Hhhhhhiiii Walter.”

[arcane-nari]

Drabble about Nari teaching a young Merlin nature magic

Drabble Prompts please! // @merlintheimmortal

He was a clever thing really. Fascinatingly so. Nari was sat crouched on a rock nearby as she watched his hands shift, the muscles and tendons working as the boy’s veins carried the magic from his core to the tips of his fingers. “You cannot be so controlling and forceful,” she instructed, the first thing said in hours. “You must be gentle and let it flow through you.” 

Hours would pass again in near-silence as she watched Merlin practise,  the sun’s light dappling and shifting through the leaves. She only realized too late that he was mortal and thus needed to eat and rest after so much time working. And it would be centuries still before she remembered such things with ease.

[fear-before-valor]

Offensive thing to track Jim down? He'll pull out his phone and say loudly, "Why yes, Barbara! I'd LOVE to move in with you and Jim."

MAJOR success:

Jim stops immediately, and runs right out of the crowd. "Wait! Mom, let's talk about this!" He yells. "I live there too!"

[trollamulet-archived]

“ strickler. “ he starts, lingering in the shadows of the room. the curtains drawn to keep out a majority of daylight from burning him. strickler could stand in the sun and jim was so so jealous. it burned him now, searing even through the protection of the armour. “ i have some stuff to ask. you know. about being a troll. you’ve been doing this all your life, and it’s been... not a lot of time for me. “ 

@strickjagger​

[grcwingstrcng]

@strickjagger​ // starter with Jimbo

“Rules can just be invented, right?” Especially if one didn’t like the current ones. ‘Always finish the fight’ wasn’t his favorite to be honest, even now.

[nrth-wind-a]

🍖

GLUTTONY - What are my muses Vices?  What do they indulge in to the point of self harm or health risk?  What do they not know when to stop?

It had been at least one moon cycle, that much Skrael knew. At least one moon cycle, and perhaps into the waxing of a new one. But that didn’t matter. Time wasn’t important. This was.

He breathed in, the air suffocatingly warm around him. When he breathed out, ice swam into the space in front of his mouth. Good. He wasn’t overwhelmed by the heat yet. 

His staff flashed into his hand, cold and heavy, and comforting. A short twirl to satisfy his restlessness, and then it stilled, as he, too, stilled. His eyes slipped closed. Holding the thing aloft into the air, arm wavering, only slightly, he chanted softly. Softly, but confidently. Reverently. 

As the words flew from his mouth and drew to a close, his arm moved. 

He slammed the bottom end of his staff into the ground, into the obsidian, ashy ground. 

The sound crackled through the cavernous mouth of the volcano in which he stood, and ice streaked furiously from the end of his magical focus. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating hard, forcing the ice outward, willing it to go farther, and farther, and farther, willing it to push. Push past the heat, push past the bubbles and the liquid rock and the speeding molecules. Grip the things and still them-- freeze them. 

Faster, he willed his spell, go faster.

Flash-freeze the molten earth, stop the roiling heat, take hold of the very nature of the force that surrounded him, and turn it against its own will, flipping it entirely the other way. Flipping it to its own opposite, its own other. Its own enemy, its own inescapable companion and friend. 

He planted his feet with the force of the magic that poured from his being, but his hands on his staff were beginning to become less guiding and more grasping for support, stability. He growled and worked harder, tried harder, forcing himself to extend, extend, grow.

It was a trial by literal fire. 

But he wasn’t giving up. Not this time. Not when he was so close to victory. Not when he could feel the very temperature of the mountain lowering around him-- could feel every degree decrease, and could practically taste his success against his teeth. 

As the last of the boiling earth become frozen and quiet and stagnant, he opened his eyes to look at his handiwork. The immense crater in the plates of the earth’s crust had gone from a fiery pit of energy and life to a barren blue crystal of cold and ice. 

He’d done it. 

He’d done it.

But... it wasn’t until he found himself in Bellroc’s arms-- when had they gotten here?-- that he realized his vision was blackening around the edges, and that his breathing was reduced to ragged, short bursts of oxygen. He could feel himself quivering, and he felt his staff slip from his fingers, though it vanished before it could clatter against now frozen rock. 

He rasped aloud, “I did it, Bellroc... I did it.” 

It was the last thing he could recall for more than a few moon cycles later. 

[changeling-mama]

ruby n strickler doin whatever, naughty or nice! Dealer's choice!

Art prompts – especially shippy ones ;)

Did someone say regency fools

[championsofarcadia]

™ (i am obligated by law to see Jim impersonate Strickler)

Send ™ and my muse will do a poor imitation of yours.

“It’s nothing personal Young Atlas, I’m only trying to kill you. By the way, I hope this doesn’t make things awkward, but I’m also trying to bang your mom,” Jim mocked, making the most snobbish accent he could think of.

[but-master]

📖

Hisirdoux is a secret book thief! ...Sorta.

At any given point during his residency with the Magnanimous Merlin himself, Hisirdoux has about 2 to 10 books from Merlin’s library, which he pilfered to his room. Sometimes he asks permission, but sometimes he swipes something he knows Merlin wouldn’t approve of. It’s never meant to be malicious, however. He’s just very eager to learn, both because he wants to know magic and its intricacies, but also because a part of him longs to impress Merlin. He does not get reading time too often, but he has been known (by Archie mostly) to stay up into the late hours of the night-- “just one more chapter, Arch, I swear!”-- reading, and sometimes taking notes. One day he’ll be able to pull off those spells, he swears. One day.

[trollhuntermom]

A concept: Strickler and Barbara going on holiday together but the relaxing trip kind of escalated into an anthropological adventure and their most heated discussion is whether Strickler gets to keep an artefact or hand it over to a museum. ❤️

[broken-crcwn]

"1. How do you really feel about Strickler? 2. How do you really feel about Strickler? 3. How do you really feel about Strickler?"

Ask my muse three questions, and they will have to answer one truthfully

The other two they can answer…but they are not obligated to answer with the truth

“THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE THREE DIFFERENT QUESTIONS, YOU LEATHER-WRAPPED GUT PURSE!”

“Fine. I hate him. I hate him more than I have hated any Trollhunter that ever lived, including the boy wonder. I hate him more than I hated Arthur, Merlin, and every other misguided fleshbag who has ever gotten in my way. Stricklander is a sneaking, scheming, conniving, underhanded cur that can’t be trusted as far as that metal-mouthed Tobias boy can throw an anvil.

“I hate him because I needed him. I hate him because without him, we never would have gotten as far as we did. I hate him because he was of more use to my own father than I could have ever hoped to be.

"And he weaponizes that fact and uses it to spear me as often as he can. I hate him for that, too.”

[indomitable-stoneheart-archive]

🖋️ + Stricklander

send me 🖋️ and I’ll handwrite your muse’s name!

[skraelofthenorthwind]

✔✔✔✔✔

Send me a "✔" if i'm one of your favorite blogs

 °˖✧ (°◡°♡)  FGDKJHJ-SAME-!!!!! 

[fear-before-valor]

Cont. // @strickjagger

"What?" Jim was confused. He rethought his wording. Oh. Oh no.

He flushed, "No! The point was that you're a jerk!"