Disclaimer: Don't own Trollhunters or any of its characters.

Hey, so after watching season 3, like many of you, I was sad with the bittersweet ending. So, I decided I would write something more happy. At first I did "Changes" but I wanted something more, something that was fun and humorous. So I started a beach AU and it grew out from there.

Big thanks to JayBtheKBL on the Trollhunters Discord for helping me with some of the Hawaiian aspects of the fanfic. And if anyone on here is from there and would like to offer any advice, I am all ears.

Another big thanks to my co-creator Ch4rl13Sm1th. They are awesome.

I've drawn a couple things for the fanfic, which you can check out on my tumblr tunafishprincess.

Hope you enjoy the story!

Chapter 1

It was the first day of summer and Jim was stuck inside. Before, it had been by choice (pasty skin could only withstand so much sun), now, it was a health hazard.

He stared longingly through the curtains. The windows were pristine, recently bought from one of those specialized shops downtown. They blocked most of the sun's harmful rays at least, though it still irritated his eyes if he looked for too long. His mom said he was lucky their town even had such things on hand and in such a large supply. For Jim however, it merely accentuated his problem.

Despite the availability of such materials, their hometown was little more than five thousand; a rare find in the Hawaiian islands. Arcadia Beach wasn't the most popular beachside tourist trap this side of the Big Island, but it was certainly the most bizarre. After all, how many towns shared residence with trolls ?

Trolls. Even the mere mention made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. No, best not to give any more attention to thatline of thought.

His phone beeped. It was Toby. He had sent another meme. Jim's lips curled up a notch. Conflicting schedules had made it hard for the two to meet up. His best friend recently got a part-time job at the local ice-cream parlor across town. It had been a surprise when he found out—if not a little disappointing—that he and his buddy wouldn't get to spend the summer holiday like they had since Kindergarten.

But times changed. Soon, Tobes would be off to college, maybe even heading over to the mainland, having all sorts of new fun with other normal teenagers. Meanwhile, Jim would be stuck here, wallowing away the rest of his existence with video games whilst eating empty soda cans. It was his inevitable fate.

Ugh. He hit the back of his head against the wall. Not too hard (he didn't want a repeat of the first time he did so) but enough to hear the satisfying thump. Anything to distract himself from thinking about it for too long. He thought enough as it was.

Jim brought his legs up under his chin, hands busy with the latest level of GunRobot X. It was an awkward enough console for the average person, but now that he was down a finger on his right hand, he sucked even worse than before (according to Tobes).

His sleeve fell an inch down his arm, exposing smooth blue stone. Crap. Jim immediately adjusted it, though not without turning the game controller onto its side, putting his character directly in the line of sight of the midboss. He scrambled to fight back. Alas, there was no rescue or savepoint this time. Within seconds his player was destroyed, along with all the progress he'd made for the speedrun.

"Mother—" Jim bit down the rest of the curse, twinging when he tasted copper. Carefully, he rubbed his tongue over the injured area. Stupid mouth. He kept forgetting how sharp his teeth were.

Huffing, he slumped down the side of the bed like a cat, looking just as pathetic as he felt. His feet knocked over a bowl of empty sodas along the way. Great. Something else to clean up. Not that it would make much of a difference. His room was a disaster-zone.

This was the fifteenth time he'd played the game and he still couldn't get past the final level. Toby was right. Video games were not his forté.

Maybe he should get another game, something easier. Could he convince his mom to buy him something? Probably not, especially with what happened to the last one they got.

Jim perked up at the sound of jingling keys.

Mom was home.

Like a spring, he sprang for the door. The second floor was pretty big for a middle-class family living on the big island, with two bedrooms and an upstairs bathroom to boot. It had only been through his mother's inheritance that they were able to snatch the place up during the last housing market crash. Without a thought, he jumped the bannister. The balls of his feet hit the ground floor with a resounding thump. It shook the foundations of the house. His mother startled, sticking her head out from behind the door.

"Jim, what did I tell you about hopping over the stairway?"

"Mom, you're back!" Jim paused mid-walk, brows drawing together. "What are you doing home so early?"

"Sweetheart," Barbara said. "Come over here. I want you to meet someone, well, two someones."

She pushed the door open wider. On instinct, Jim backed away. Thankfully, the sun had already set past the valley wall that encircled their town. It cast the afternoon in an orange haze, which only seemed to emphasize the two newcomers' appearances.

There were trolls in his house.

Well, not in his house per say , but standing right at his door. Still, same difference.

For a troll, the one before him was rather bizarre. Six wandering eyes locked onto him; a mouthful of teeth presented a knowing smile. He recognized Jim, but Jim certainly didn't recognise him. Unlike most of his stony brethren, this one was dressed in a bright aloha shirt, the chintzy half-assed leis the tourism board gave out like candy hung around his neck.

Oh god, a tourist troll.

Jim looked to his mother for guidance. "Uh, mom?"

Barbara smiled reassuringly at Jim before turning her attention back to their guests. "Dr. Blinky, please seat yourself and...what was your name again, sir?"

"AAARRRGGHH!" The troll behind the blue one said, holding up three fingers. "Three Rs."

Jim's eyes widened. Now this one was huge. More like what he pictured a real troll to look like. Unlike the blue one, he wasn't wearing any clothing at all. How was he going to even fit in their house, much less through their front door?

"I've never heard of a name like that before," Barbara said.

"Not from here. Home very deep. Far away." AAARRRGGHH! explained.

"Well do come in. Please, make yourselves at home in our living room."

"Oh, it's quite alright, Barbara. We wouldn't want to impose on you." The shorter one remarked. "Neither of us want to mess up your lovely home."

She motioned with her right hand, pushing the door wider with her back. "No, no, I insist. I was the one who invited you here, after all."

"Mom," Jim urged.

"In a second," she said. "On second thought, Jim, why don't you go into the kitchen and make our two guests some, oh, what would you like, coffee? Tea?"

"Tea nice." AAARRRGGHH! said.

"Yes, that would be quite lovely," the one called Dr. Blinky added.

His mom gave him the side-eye. "Jim. Please."

Jim grumbled. He did as she asked (though not without stomping a few steps along the way).

Once away from their line of vision, he dragged his fingers down his face.

There were trolls in his house and he was about to make them tea.

You can do this , Jim told himself. Don't freak out.

He settled into the task. The kitchen was only marginally better than his bedroom. Pots and pans lay scattered across the tabletop, practically weeping to be cleaned and stored in their rightful places. Past Jim would have been aghast at the mess; present Jim, not so much.

He wasn't sure why he didn't just clean the place up. He'd done it a billion times before. What was holding him back?

Motivation most likely , he realized. After all, what was the point? The last time he cooked something he ate he spent three hours hugging the porcelain god of bad decisions and Diablo Maximus Breakfast Burritos. Even making shrimp cakes for his mom made his stomach flip-flop.

Eating in itself was an entire event of its own. Most of the time he stuck with raw fish, spam, and the occasional soda cans—still a mostly human diet, he reasoned—but anytime he got the hunger pangs (which was more often than he cared to admit), well, no-holds-barred.

His birthday blender was quite familiar with that little known fact, if its half-eaten corpse in the garage was any indication.

After rummaging through the cabinets for mugs and a working kettle, Jim wiped off the least cluttered countertop and went to work. Once he filled the pot up to the line with water, he turned it on then leaned against the refrigerator as it heated up.

Just as the water began to steam, his mother arrived at the kitchen's entrance. She looked none too pleased.

"What was with that attitude, young man," Barbara scolded. "I thought I taught you better than that."

Jim threw up a hand, waving it at her accusingly. "Wh—what the hell, mom? I wasn't the one who brought trolls home."

"What's wrong with that?"

He poured the steaming water into one of the cups, grumbling, "A little warning would have been nice ."

"And then you would have spent the entire night barred up in your room playing video games." She took off her glasses, wiping them with the bottom of her shirt. "What am I supposed to do, Jim? You can't hold yourself up in this house forever."

He picked up the freshly brewed drink. His hands tightened around the ceramic. "So what, you brought some weirdo trolls off the street to show me the ropes, is that it?"

Barbara crossed her arms. "Dr. Blinky is a world-famous psychiatrist who deals with humans and trolls alike."

"Oh, even better." He said, rolling his eyes. "I've always wanted to be the subject of some crackpot's next study."

His mom massaged the bridge of her nose. Jim's stomach clenched. They used to be close, thick as thieves really. Mom and son against the world. Especially when his deadbeat of a father left. Ever since the advent of his weird puberty however, their relationship had become strained. Jim knew it was his fault. It always was.

"Sweetheart, I know you're scared. These...changes have been a real shock to the both of us."

Jim popped open one of the containers near the sink, grabbed some of the sugar cubes, then dropped them into the tea. Stirring with a small spoon, he looked down. He frowned. The reflective surface of the drink looked back at him, displaying all his new features. "Easy for you to say when you're not the one experiencing them."

"You're right."

He paused, cocking his head to the side. This was new. "I...I am?'

"I can't imagine what you're going through right now. In fact, no one in this world has gone through what you have," she said. "But we can't keep hiding from the reality of the situation. You're not just a normal teenage boy anymore."

Normal. She was right. He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding the new growths on his head. He would never be normal again. Not anymore.

But that didn't mean his mom had to invite two randos home.

He looked away, eyes downcast. "I can handle it, mom."

His mother drew closer, giving him the look again. "Like you've been handling it over these past three months?"

"It's not that bad." He muttered.

Her nose scrunched up, a look of incredulousness painted across her features. "You ate all my old silverware!"

"You were going to throw it out anyways!" His fingers strained against the cup.

"It was in storage! I was going to donate it! It said Goodwill on it for heaven's sake!"

"How was I supposed your chicken-scratch handwriting said 'Goodwill'?"

Ceramic shattered. Pieces clashed against the floor. Both were taken aback. Jim peered down at his hands, still holding the mug's remains. The teabag's string hung precariously off his right thumb. Damn. It was his favorite cup too.

Barbara immediately jumped into action, checking his hands for injuries. "Don't move. Are you bleeding? Let me get the first aid kit."

Jim sighed, "It's fine, mom."

"No it's not. I know you're a bit tougher now, but—"

He placed the ceramic pieces onto the counter then waved his hands. "Everything's fine. See? There's not even a scratch."

She grasped both of his hands gently, examining them up close. Her fingers were dainty and warm to the touch, completely the opposite of his own. Hell, just one of his fingers was nearly three of her own and twice as long. Subconsciously, he leaned nearer. It had only been a week since his skin finally stopped itching like crazy, which made any sort of previous physical affection unbearable.

It was strange. He was so used to taking care of his mom and now she was taking care of him . Had he really sunken so low? Jim opened his mouth then clicked it shut. What should he say? What could he say?

Barbara tore off a disposable towel from a nearby roll and cleaned off the remaining tea and undissolved sugar. By the end of it, his skin shined, like one of those polished rocks he'd seen on the beach. He shivered. He would never get used to being this way.

"This," his mother started, her voice barely above a whisper. "We can't keep doing this ."

"I know," Jim admitted.

Her fingers tightened around his own. Though much smaller, they were firm in their grip.

"I hate that I can't help you. Not in the way you need at least."

"Mom, I—"

She threw up a hand, her eyes cast towards the window. "Let me finish. It kills me to say this, but I'm out of my league on this one. I want you to be happy again . I want you to go outside again ."

He placed his chin atop her head, arms circling around her shoulders. Months ago, it had been her doing the very same action. "I just...I'm scared, mom."

"Me too," she said as she brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. "Who wouldn't be in this kind of situation? But we can't continue hiding from the world forever. Sooner or later, something has got to give."

"I know," he said, pulling away. "But what am I supposed to do?"

She smiled. "Well, how about first showing our guests a proper Lake welcome?"

"What an adorable little abode you have. And such a fine selection of anatomy books. Might I perchance borrow a few? I do solove light-reading."

"Help yourself, Dr. Blinky." Barbara said.

"Oh, Lady Barbara, there's no need to be so formal. Blinky will do." He wagged his stone eyebrows. "We have too much of a history for that sort of talk."

His mother snorted. "Pft, a history, is that what they call it these days? Are we truly so old?"

"I'm afraid so, Lady Barbara." He took a sip of his mug. "We are practically ancient by today's standards."

"You're barely older than me."

"Those five years are quite a difference."

Blinky was not what Jim expected from a troll. Not that he knew any personally. His mom interacted with them on account of her profession, but other than the occasional glimpse around town, Jim had never interacted with one before. Until now, that is.

The six-eyed troll scanned the room with a quiet appreciation. Jim crossed his arms. Their living room wasn't anything special. It wasn't as big as some of the others he'd seen, but certainly not anything noteworthy.

Maybe it was his mom's paintings. She was pretty big into oils and acrylics lately. Their basement was filled to the brim with unfinished artworks. Most of them were pretty bizarre in their makeup, surrealism, abstracts and some that were so realistic he thought they were photographs. It was an eclectic mess, but somehow they all tied together. It made him wonder why she didn't go into the art field instead.

"Master Jim, was it?" Blinky asked. "Your mother informed me you are struggling with some inner turmoil with the advent of your...changes."

"Changes," he snorted. "Yeah, that's one way of putting it."

"Jim," his mother warned.

"So," Jim changed the topic, "how do you and mom know each other?"

"Oh my," he wiggled his fingers as though he were counting. "That's a long story. Goes all the way back to college I suppose. I was an RA."

"RA?" Jim asked.

"Resident Assistant," Barbara explained. "He supervised our hallway, making sure everyone was settled in and the like. We were the only one at the time: trolls, humans, and changelings, all living and eating together. It was great."

Blinky gestured his index toward Jim's mother. "Speaking of college, Barbara, you look like you haven't aged a day. What is your secret?"

She chuckled, "Oh, Blinky. Still the biggest flirt as ever I see."

Jim silently gagged.

Blinky finished off the rest of his tea, clicking the mug down onto the table. He leaned in closer to Jim. "Let's get down to business. I know this entire experience has been quite shocking for you. The relationship between humans and trolls is strenuous, if not at times hostile throughout our long history, and cross-species coupling even more so."

He covered his face.

"Blinky," AAARRRGGHH! said, jerking his head towards Jim. "looks uncomfortable."

Blinky coughed. "Ah, yes, well, puberty is never easy, and I suspect going through two kinds at the same time must be doubly so."

"That's why I called in Blinky. He's going to help you." Barbara said.

Jim slumped deeper into the couch. "Help me with what? Where to find the best garbage cans to dig through for food? Isn't there some way to reverse all this? Some magic spell that can turn me back to normal Jim instead of...this?"

"Oh, sweetheart," his mom sighed, placing a hand on his thigh.

"Alas, magic is a fickle mistress. Even if there were a spell of that sort, the side-effects could prove dangerous, if not deadly, especially in regards to your particular genetics," Blinky said. "But fear not! I am here to assist."

Barbara nodded. "Blinky knows practically everything there is to know about troll society."

"I don't see how that's going to help my situation." Jim said.

Blinky scooched even closer to Jim. "I suspect you feel out of sorts in your new body, discovering new alien things everyday. The internet can only do so much I'm afraid. But you are not alone. Our people have gone through them for generations and continue to do so. Allow me to introduce you to your other half, so to speak. Guide you through these new experiences. Perhaps then you will be more comfortable in your own skin."

"I don't know…" Jim got up from his seat, walking back and forth, his shoulders hunched as far as they could go.

"Jim, you've been cooped up in the house for three months," Barbara said.

"My word, three months?" Blinky said, mouth gaping. "Oh dear, you should have called me here earlier, Barbara."

"I know, I know," she said.

"Mom, it's not your fault." Jim admitted, "It's mine."

She turned to look at him. "No, I'm your mother and your doctor. I should have known better than to let this go on for so long."

"But—"

"What's done is done. We should focus on the present. Barbara," Blinky said. He faced Jim's mother, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Allow me to take your son under my wing, so to speak. I can take him places you cannot. Let him see more of our culture first hand."

A sharp chirping noise resounded. Blinky pulled out a phone from one of his pockets, placing it against his ear. Blinky began rattling off in Trollspeak. Though Jim couldn't understand of lick of what was being said, there was an undercurrent of concern in his tone, or at least that was how it sounded to Jim. Six eyes fixed on the teen. It lasted for a moment, but something in Jim's gut told him that part of the conversation had involved him in some fashion.

He gulped.

Blinky returned the phone to its place, all the while smiling at Jim and his mother. "An old friend of mine from Trollmarket has an emergency and is in need of my assistance."

His mom spoke up, "If it isn't too much trouble, would you bring Jim with you?"

"What?" Jim said. "Mom, I'm not so sure..."

Blinky jumped to his feet, almost crashing into their coffee table. Only AAARRRGGHH!'s quick movement prevented the furniture from being destroyed. "Oh, what a stupendous idea! Why didn't I think of that? Come with me, Master Jim. This can be our first excursion."

"Uh," Jim started, looking to his mom. "Maybe this isn't a good idea. You know, still struggling with the whole 'emotional turmoil' and stuff."

Barbara placed a hand on his lower back, gently guiding him to the front door. "It's a good a time as any. You're never going to leave the house on your own."

"Hey, you don't know that. Maybe I was going to get some froyo with Tobes tonight."

His mother raised an eyebrow, a cool expression on her face. "Were you now? I thought Toby had a summer job."

He squirmed under her gaze then rolled his head to the side. "Well...the possibility was there."

She reached out, thumb against his chin while her index rested beneath. She directed his head downwards, locking eyes.

"This could be really healthy for you, Jim. Getting some fresh air would do you a world of good."

"And what if it doesn't? What if people stare? I don't want people seeing me like," he gestured to his face, then downwards. "Like this."

She stroked his cheek. "So what if they do? There will always be people like that in your life, human or troll. But they don't matter. What matters are the people who love you for who you are, not what you look like."

"There's no arguing with you, is there?"

"Nope," she brought his head down further, planting a kiss on his forehead. "You're just going to have to trust your mother on this one."

He released a big sigh. "Okay."

AAARRRGGHH! leaned over the two. "Ready now?"

Jim shrugged. "Ready as I'll ever be."

The two trolls exited the home first (which took longer than expected since AAARRRGGHH! was almost too large for the doorframe).

Jim stood at the entrance. He took a deep breath. A small breeze rustled the pulmarias in their garden, making their sweet scent even stronger. It was a familiar smell, one filled with memories of childhood nostalgia. He and his mother had planted those trees when they moved there from California. They had gotten pretty sunburnt after, but the gift of seeing them bloom three years later made it worthwhile.

A purple haze had overtaken the sky. Soon, the streets would fill with locals and tourists. Even from his house, he could see the bright lights of downtown. Beyond that, near the beachside, was their destination. It wasn't a long walk in theory, but who knows what or who they might run into along the way.

His feet hit the threshold. The cold metal of the doorway strip felt strange against his bare toes. His skin was less sensitive than before, like someone had put a layer of protection between the real him and the environment.

He stopped.

Beside the door, his old sandals lay in a small basket. He almost reached out for them, but stopped. They wouldn't fit his feet anymore. Nothing he owned fit anymore.

What was he going to do? This was the first time he had gone outside since the changes started. He could hear his heart pound against his ribcage.

Most of him wanted to go back, to give up and crawl under the bed covers. Going outside was one thing, but to Trollmarket? Only trolls were allowed there and he...he was one now, wasn't he? At least partially.

He looked back at his mom. She looked tired, the bags under her eyes almost bruise-like in color. Her clothes were baggier too. His shoulders slumped. How could he not have seen it before? Had he been so wrapped up in himself that he forgot to take care of her?

That's right, he realized. His room, the kitchen—how long had it been since he last cleaned the house? How long had it been since he cooked her a decent meal?

His face burned with shame. What a terrible son he was. How could he have allowed this to happen?

No more. His mom was right. Jim clenched his jaw, looking into the night. Shoes or no shoes, he couldn't just stand there in place forever.

He stepped forward.