Black Nerdy Witchy Hippie Chick

Draco and Black!Hermione’s daughter (anti jkr), call me Cocoa🤎. She/they/he millennial 18+ ONLY. Read before you interact!! I will BLOCK and REPORT minors interacting with my nsfw stuff. Witchy chick 🤗🧙🏽‍♀️. I love bats, bees, dogs and nature more than most humans. Multiple fandoms have control of my wallet. Masterlist is now here!

[cocoamoonmalfoy]

Crown Him part 8

Pairing: god of spring!Timothée x goddess of the Underworld!OC

Warning: brief depiction of god-slaughter and war and mention of smutty times 18+ only

A/n: Well gang it's finally fucking here. The angst starts comin' and it don't stop coming now. I can also officially say this is part 8 of 10, so literally the rest of this series is gonna be mostly tragedy, as the myth goes. But with a little flavor and flair 😀! Lord willin' and the creek don't rise, even part 10 won't be the end for these two, so don't be too bummed out! Only 4500 words boohoo 😢 Standard issue: DNI blank blogs, ageless blogs, and those who serial like fics instead of reblogging. I will block you. Every time. Also take a look at my other face claims for the pantheon & company mentioned here!

Aggravating in all forms, Timothée thought with a scrunch of his nose. His arms flexed as he readjusted his grip on the pot in his arms. The fragrant scent was inescapable, especially at his chest as it was. He rolled his eyes with a huff. Conspicuous and attention-seeking were apparently transferable traits. 

The streets of Del were quiet and bare as Timothée marched forward, his deed in his grasp. He would have preferred some noise, some distraction. Instead, with only the crunch of loose gravel under his sandals, too many thoughts played and replayed in his head. Hermes’ words. Menthe’s words. Zeus’ relayed message. His mother’s relayed grief. 

His jaw clenched. It wasn’t fair. Why was he the only one who cared about his happiness? He and Aidonea, that is. Stomping a little harder, a little faster, Timothée made his way into the palatial home they shared. With the reverberations of his footfall, he honed in, getting out of his own head and seeking out. Where was his wife? His emotions were clouding his ability to feel the thrum of the Underworld, the whispers of his love’s mysteries. Timothée shook his head, trying to shake the chaos inside him straight. But he was too frustrated. It’s fine. He didn’t have to use the powers he was still trying to develop, he just needed to think. 

Though it was late, he was not at her side, so he knew that she had not gone to bed yet. Work-life balance was something they were still working towards which meant Aidonea was sure to be in her study still. So he made his way there.

Back pressed to the door, he shoved it open. And as his eyes fell upon the goddess therein, the tension in his shoulders, in his jaw, in his pursed lips, all relaxed. He even thought about smiling.

“Plouton.”

Her gentle smile was like a hug, warm and comforting. Timothée wanted to fall in and curl up in it like a cat sunning itself. “My husband. What have you made? I felt a surge of your power.”

Ah. Yes, that. The reason he was here. “Not what you expect.”

He placed the large fragrant potted plant on the table.

With a curious set to her brows, Aidonea studied it. “What plant is this?”

“Um, I only just created it.”

“Another new one?”

“Yeah…”

“Why do you look guilty?”

He sighed. “First of all, I want to say that I’m not sorry about what I did, I just feel guilty because I feel as though I should have involved you more.”

“Timothée…?”

“This is Minthe.” Timothée finally admitted. Aidonea blinked at him once. Then again.

“…The nymph?”

“Yes.”

“You… turned her into a plant?”

“Yes.”

Aidonea opened and closed her mouth a few times, finally setting on: “I didn’t know you could do that.”

He shrugged. “I just changed her life energy.”

“‘Just’ he says,” Aidonea muttered as she rolled her eyes. “So you mean this is reversible?”

“She’s still alive. I could change her back whenever I wanted to.”

“What was her offense?”

“Harassment over jealousy.”

The face Aidonea pulled brought the guilt of leaving her out of the loop back. “Jealousy?”

Timothée flicked at one of the large serrated leaves, causing the scent to spike and stick to his fingertip. He grimaced. Annoying chit. “She has been antagonizing me about your previous relations.”

Aidonea’s eyes narrowed at the plant and Timothée may have imagined it, but it seemed like its stalk shivered. “A fault I knew her to be capable of. I called myself sparing her feelings the first time I addressed her about you and I. She told me she had more pride than to mistreat you for our past.” Aidonea swept it to the corner of her desk without another glance. “As she clearly lied to me and aggressed against you in blatant insubordination, I believe she can remain this way for as long as you like, my love.”

Timothée preened the tiniest bit, happy to be validated and supported in his choice. He bowed his head a bit in acknowledgment and turned to leave feeling much lighter. Then he paused at a thought, looking over his shoulder to declare, “Also I want new sheets.”

Aidonea frowned, befuddled. Then shrugged. “Sure, pick whichever color you like.” She looked back down to her work. “Except pastels; you are blinding enough to wake up to each morning.”

Timothée made a noise of affront. “I have not lost that much of my tan, how dare you!”

“I will mistake you for a statue soon, I fear.”

“You are the meanest wife I’ve ever had.”

Aidonea smiled briefly then let it fall, searching his face. For what, he wondered? Not remorse, surely, for he had meant it when he said earlier that he did not regret what he did. But if he was being honest with himself, he may have been a little embarrassed under the unapologetic righteousness. That it had to come to this. But the nymph had been spoiling for a fight since he arrived and delaying giving one to her had only brought them to where they are now. And with it, his satisfaction. 

His queen regained his attention, coaxed his fallen gaze– when had he looked to the ground?— back to her own and regarded him openly. “You had every right to exact the punishment you saw fit of a transgression against you from who is supposed to be a loyal courtier. I trust your judgment, my king.”

The reassurance made him straighten, re-steel his resolve. Then he nodded perfunctorily. Swallowing, he let his gaze settle on the scrollwork before her. “What are you doing?”

“Answering prayers.”

“In your study? That should be more happy work, should it not?”

She breathed a humorless laugh. “We are not invoked for the same things, my love.”

His brows drew in on themselves, only able to guess at what the contents one may pray to the sovereign of the dead and afterlife for. Timothée placed his hand over hers. “Come, Plouton. Give to those of the living who call out to you from a livelier place.”

They gather her scrolls and her charcoal styluses and he leads her to a random village square in Del. There, Aidonea sent blessings while surrounded with the calming bustle of her shades at work, going about their duties as she went about hers. Timothée organized her stacks and grouped them by content as he hummed windingly at her side.

From then on, she did so every time she went to answer mortal prayers, with and without Timothée by her side. She would simply walk the streets of Del, surveying the common goings-on and find a spot to sit with her scrolls of the rising’s requests.

✨🌑🌸🤍🌸🌑✨

(They fucked on sumptuous silken, ruby red sheets that night.)

✨🌑🌸🤍🌸🌑✨

It had been awhile since last she had spent time with Cerberus, so she decided to take them on a walk. Relieved from their constant duty, the dogs gleefully split apart and relaxed.

Ruscĕus’s big head was on her lap as Cernŭo playfully wandered the area, butting up to greet and shades and get pets. Bēryllus’s sharp green eyes were alert and watching the goings on.

Cernŭo trotted up, nudging something against her hand to encourage a game of fetch. She grinned indulgently to the canine, wrapping a hand around the bone and pulling her arm back for a throw. Then paused before launching it.

“Wait, Cer, whose bone is this?”

Slender arms slung around Aidonea’s shoulders from behind as the scent of dark berries and fire nuzzled against her cheek.

“I’ve tracked you down, wife divine.”

“I was not hiding from you,” she smirked.

“I did not say you were, only warning that you may not be able to any longer even if you try. I am becoming quite adept at reading the Underworld! Getting even better at separating your aura from the ambient mysteries of you that suffuse the lands.” Aidonea praised his growing skill and he preened and basked in it momentarily. His chin tilted over her shoulder as he peeked in on what she was working on. “More prayers?”

She hummed in affirmation. The number was idly increasing and she had intended to send an envoy to uncover why. But Timothée had a way of unwittingly distracting her. Aidonea made a mental note to do so the next time she saw Thanatos. Or maybe Hermes.

“Where have you gone?” Timothée murmured with a kiss to her temple before finally rounding her and kneeling at her side. He reached over and patted Ruscĕus’s side. “Somewhere inward I cannot follow, and I don’t like that. Come back to me.” She laughed at the faux pout in his tone.

“You are a glutton for attention.”

“Your attention,” he corrected with a teasing roll of his eyes. 

As he did so, the corner of his vision caught a glimpse of something new in the area. A statue near the road. Well he had been commissioning new ones left and right, though he doesn’t remember an idea for this crossing in particular. Honestly, good on Daedalus for taking the initiative to add more without his express direction. Timothée moseyed over to admire the handiwork, but his pleasantly curious expression fell as he got closer. “Hold on, is that me?” 

“Nothing wrong with your eyes.” 

“You knew of this? You arranged this? You got a statue made of me?”

“The other half of this union was being woefully underrepresented and is still soundly outnumbered by your aversion to moderation.”

“Whyever would I simply want a moderate amount of depictions of you?”

He marveled at the figure for a bit, his likeness posed in serene repose. That woman was still full of surprises, it would appear. How had he got this passed him?

Timothée rounded on her, narrowing his eyes teasingly. “What other secrets are you keeping from me, Hidden One?”

A coy smirk adorned Aidonea’s lips. Mischief. Sneakiness. A novel but welcome sight from her. Timothée gasped a bit theatrically, eyes widening in realization.

“There is something else. What are you up to? What have you done?”

“I was only told this rising that it was ready.”

He waved for her to stand. “Well?? I’m not the god of patience and delayed gratification! Lead the way!”

Ruscĕus grumbled to have his comfy nap disturbed, but he eventually rolled off and let her leave, though not without a little huff of disapproval. Aidonea took her husband by the hand and they walked from the bustling streets to the far less congested grounds surrounding their temple home. A ways passed, but not so far as the path to Elysium, Aidonea showed him an archway that hadn’t been there a fortnight ago. 

She pushed open grand stained glass doors and Timothée’s jaw dropped.

Half cave and half greenhouse, the space was encrusted with moonstone, jade, and emeralds in the walls and ceiling. The green tint to the room gave it a calm but hopeful air. And bathing under it was a sizable empty field of dirt.

“The soil is from aboveground,” Aidonea explained and he wasted no time dropping to his knees. Timothée sank his hands splayed wide into the soil and sent his chaos out. “Thanatos probably looked like an actual gravedigger.”

“I can do anything I want with this,” Timmy murmured as he analyzed the soil, diagnosing it. “Oh, I can hear you,” he comforted absentmindedly, not talking to Aidonea. He heard it as clearly as a mortal's prayers, the soil beseeching aid, telling him its pains and imbalances. His brows furrowed, forlorn and empathetic as it cried out to him.

Aidonea placed her hands on his shoulders, seeing the way he reacted. “I’m sorry. I did not expect this of my gift.”

“No!” He shook his head, grinning at her over his shoulder. “It’s okay because I can fix it. It’s a little salty— a lot salty— a little dry. Some compost would be great, but it’s all doable, baby. It’s good foundation, I can definitely heal it and grow anything I want from this.” 

Reassured, Aidonea smiled with a little relief as she gently squeezed his shoulders. “Of course you can, Kthonia.” 

She had intended the epithet to delight him but not thrill him as it did. “Karpophoros…” she continued, her hands trailing down his arms. “Obrimo…” she whispered in his ear and he shivered. Chaos ran down from his shoulders, into the earth and made it ripple out with the epicenter where his hands disappeared below the soil. Asphodels sprung up only to wither in the deficient earth. “Okay, yeah, I never thought I’d say this but, divine, you must leave me.”

✨🌑🌸🤍🌸🌑✨

Megaera finished up her report of the beach of Styx and its recent overcrowding; how they were needing to reallocate resources. Why were so many dying penniless? What could possibly be the shift that was taking place? 

Aidonea rubbed at her temple. “Give a message to Thanatos for me. Have him send a delegate to investigate this influx. Assist Tisyphone with surveying the new shades with no toll coins and get back to me as soon as you can.” 

The Erinye bowed. “With haste, your majesty,” she assured and turned to leave.

“Megaera, before you go, could you please take Minthe with you? The scent is giving me a headache.”

Megaera snorted and hefted the large pot effortlessly. “Not a novel feeling in her presence. Our king certainly created with accuracy.”

Without the heavy fragrance in the air, Aidonea could focus again. Clear her mind a bit more. What hour was it? What more did she need to finish tonight? She looked at her task list and saw it to be uncommonly sparse. She’d really fallen out of the routine of using it as she spent more and more of her risings outside of her study. Her darling husband had done a fine job of coaxing her out of her seclusion.

Now that she thought about it, routine was something she had all but abandoned since the wedding. Easing out of the honeymoon and back into her duties had not been seamless and she could admit to herself that balancing the responsibilities to her position as queen and her position as wife leaned heavily one way one rising and the other way the next. 

It wasn’t necessarily a change she disliked, but change certainly wasn’t her strong suit like it was Timothée’s. How long would she need to adjust? But the benefits of having him far outweighed her difficulties. 

The tender smile that had begun to spread on Aidonea’s face fell abruptly.

There was an unwanted visitor in her home. And from the faint crackle of electricity in the soles of her feet, sending the gentle sensation across the surface of her skin up to her fingertips, a damning feeling fell over her like a shroud. Aidonea made a quick stop by the Infernal Armory before moving through the shadows. 

✨🌑🌸🤍🌸🌑✨

Timothée stomped towards the entrance of his home again. He felt the shift in the Underworld, the way another oppressive aura had forced its way in, demanding it make space for them. The closer he got, the more he recognized the rumble under his feet to be the low, reverberating growl of Cerberus.

Could it be Hermes again, back and bolder? He told him all those risings past that—.

The messenger god was not the one stood at the maw of the Underworld.

Zeus frowned and settled ice blue eyes on him from where he still stood upon his chariot.

Timothée sized up the god, the cut of his jaw as he lifted it proudly to look down upon him. Nothing about him suggested this would be a pleasant visit. So Timothée abandoned hospitality immediately as Zeus did by invading their home unannounced and unwanted.

“Zeus Xenios,” Timothée greeted with a mildly sarcastic tone. “What could bring you to our home this rising without invitation or permission asked?”

His great jaw clenched before he spoke, cutting to the chase. “You’ve been missing for months. Your mother is worried sick. She’s poisoned the mortals’ fields with her bitter tears. They’ve salted the grounds.” 

Breath caught in Timothée’s chest as he thought of the soil in his gifted garden, salted and malnourished. It was his own mother’s weeping who’d done so. He never wanted her to worry. He just wanted to do what he did want. “Tell her I’m fine, that I’ve chosen to live here with Aidonea.” 

“Hermes told her you were fine. Her tears did not stop. She wishes to see you.” 

“Well, I cannot just leave to assuage her!” 

Zeus sneered. “You must! She is your mother and your place is with her!” 

“Aidonea is my wife! My place is with her! Though, you may be a little foggy on that concept,” Timothée spat, his temper returning with a vengeance. “I willingly ate the fruits of this land! Knowing I would never be able to leave, knowing I never wanted to leave! This is my home now!” 

Zeus’s eyes flashed, as if lightning streaked in his very irises, but Timothée did not back down. Rooted like a tree, he stood tall, eyes fixed and hard as jasper on the sky king. Zeus’s voice rumbled like thunder as he spoke and stomped forward into Timothée’s space. “You may think yourself more important because Aidonea has handed you royal status but I am still the king of the gods. You will return to your mother. You will return aboveground. You will do so because I say—.” 

“What you will do, is take care of how you speak in our domain, dear brother.” Aidonea hissed as she made herself known, removing her helm and slipping out of the shadows. Zeus shrunk a bit under her glower. Demeter had once mentioned that Zeus was a little fearful of his older sister, a fact she’d overheard from Hera’s gossiping lips, readily corroborated with by Poseidon. Zeus maintained his bravado, speaking with his chest at her. 

“This needs to be handled, Aidonea.” 

“It already is. Timothée is my husband. He has chosen to stay here. Demeter can stop her dramatics, she even knows he’s safe. He’s not missing, he’s home. If you are the king of the gods, then tell her to get over herself and do her job.” 

“You know I do not interfere with the pantheon’s allotted domains.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “And yet here you are.” 

“To request that he return to his grieving mother!” 

“Who chooses to grieve at this point! She’s been told he’s well and happy and yet she throws a tantrum because she wants him back with her!” 

Zeus sighed, breaking from the strain of the argument. He does not often have to argue. His wife and sister being the only ones who ever do so with him. And while tuning Hera out came easy, Aidonea posed more of a threat. Moreover, her parlays would always be aimed at him instead of misdirected to another. 

He held his hands up, placating her. “Plouton—.” 

“Do not call me that! You are so full of shit! You will not placate me!” 

“You see the position I am in!” 

“Yes! In my domain! In our home! Demanding we defer to Demeter because she is becoming a thorn in your side! Disrespectful and completely lacking decorum, though neither of those are foreign to you.” 

He bristled, electricity sparking at his fingers. 

Aidonea saw and goaded his ire. “Oh, do call it down, Jupiter, call your lightning down! You’ll do worse damage to the mortals than that fool Demeter is blubbering all over the lands.” 

He visibly restrained himself, huffing out his nose like a bull enraged. “A compromise. We will meet on Olympus. You and Timothée will come, meet with Demeter and we will all reach a favorable decision going forth. You know that is the only acceptable course of action.” 

Aidonea said nothing, her anger darkening her entire countenance and unease rippled through Zeus as his own shadow seemed alive below him. But he didn’t dare take his eyes off of Aidonea. 

“Leave us.” She began to walk towards Timothée, her back to Zeus. 

He backed away towards his chariot that brought him there. “Two days, Aidonea. Meet on Olympus by daybreak in two days.” 

“Go away!” She hissed in Greek, shooing him over her shoulder impatiently.

Timothée had never seen his wife so… angry. Unlike the fierce Titanomachy statue where her ferocity was devoted to winning a war, the sharp pinch of this being personal gave him the image of a storm given flesh. Aidonea even appeared to… blur around the edges; as if her body was unwittingly becoming shadow, forgetting to hold onto corporeal form.

Timothée grabbed her hand and it snapped solid under his touch. She squeezed it and Timothée pulled her close, into his arms so that he could press a kiss to her forehead. The tendrils of her hair returned to coils instead of formless wisps of darkness. The wrinkles of her frowned brow smoothed under his lips.

The rustle of packed soil and whimpering sounded as Cerberus bellied their way over to the royal couple. One large head nuzzled at Timothée as the other two did so with Aidonea.

Timothée breathed an amused sigh, turning now tired eyes down to his love. “My place is next to you, as I told him. I am yours.”

“And I yours. We chose each other, a concept he surely cannot fathom.” 

Timothée pressed his forehead against hers. “Woe to whoever seeks to cleave me from your side, Aidonea. My love, there is no limit to the chaos I could unleash for you.” 

She cupped his cheek, not responding directly to his words. “Come, my king. Let us calm ourselves.”

✨🌑🌸🤍🌸🌑✨

Sandwiched between the unforgiving smooth black marble of the recessed bath and Aidonea’s comforting weight reclined on his chest, Timothée was making his way towards relief. The geothermal water piped in from an underground spring steamed with the soothing scent of minerals and salts around them. His muscles tried to relax, his mind tried to calm. But he could not when he could feel his wife thinking. 

Aidonea had a brilliant mind, vast beyond his knowledge. She saw backwards into the past more times than most people blink in a day. Countless lives, mortal and immortal alike, she had watched begin and end. Her mind was an abacus, a machine, constantly taking input and trying to follow it ‘til it’s natural end. But knowing it was their relationship she was lost pondering, he refused to let her travel her mental prediction tree.

Timothée was only certain of two more risings with her. And he wanted all of her in the present.

His hand rose from the water; the sound of it trickling from his cupped palm and falling back to its surface and along her skin broke the relative silence. He smoothed his hand down her arm, feeling the familiar softness of her that he’s traced countless times with hands and mouth alike. “Don’t think, Plouton, just feel. Just be here with me.”

Her form melted into his and he knew he had her back. She sighed as her head tilted backwards, rested on his shoulder and her eyes closed.

“Tell me of your garden.”

“I’ve decided to grow in there the old fashioned way. After healing the soil and a brief impatience to see sprouts, I just used enough chaos to get them to break ground. They will develop a bit more rapidly here than aboveground, but the trunks are still green.”

“What did you plant?”

Timothée’s smile crooked. He ducked down and murmured the answer in her ear like it was a secret. “A pomegranate grove.”

The chocolate diamonds that were her irises twinkled as they opened again, pinning him with a look. “Sentimental.”

“Guilty.” He shrugged. “That accusation the least of what I can be charged with. ‘Disgustingly adoring’ is what Thanatos leveled at me when I told him that I can't wait to give you the best of them when they grow. I’ll pick the fruit that bends the tree with its weight. That when we part it, the myriad seeds will sit like gathered ruby and garnet pebbles. The juice will be bright and refreshing on your tongue. And it will taste of the love I put into growing it for you, to fortify your body and keep your heart strong for me.”

“And at which point of that did Thanatos cut you off?”

“Wouldn’t even let me get to the part about the seeds! Such dour help we keep in him.”

“Even more lucky we are to have Spring among us.”

“I suppose so.”

Aidonea turned at the trace deprecation she could here in his voice, maneuvering to straddle his lap with a sure face. “We are fortunate to have you here, Timothée. I am fortunate to have such a partner as you. You are unparalleled.”

Timothée cupped her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone and he watched as the water dripped down her jaw. “I never sought more for myself until I saw you in my forest. I am fixed to you, Aidonea. I cannot be removed.” His eyes lowered as his hand did, he followed its path as it brushed down over her chest. Palm pressed to the warm skin, ichor pumping rhythmically there. “My heart is here. To leave you would be a surgery.”

“I thought we were not to speak of such things.”

He smiled. “Right, as always, my wife. Occupy my lips otherwise.”

They kissed and washed each other languidly until their skin pruned. It was the intimate reset Timothée needed to rest easy that night.

✨🌑🌸🤍🌸🌑✨

It sickened her, truly. This fucked up family and the way they spilled each other’s ichor like it was nothing. Like it was not precious. 

And there was Timothée, laying absolute waste. 

He dove in with no hesitation. He looked like an avenging angel; so beautiful, so wrathful, merciless in the damage he dealt. His purple chiton ichor-streaked, his eyes vibrantly green, almost drunk off his own powers. Having fun.

Those who tried to stop him were met with profound pain, left altered, his touch indelible as he embraced his chaos. Thorns spreading like gooseflesh along their skin. Their bones turning to bark as branches reached forth from their extremities. A terrible feedback loop of his anger and his power’s instability. 

Could he face his mother with such malevolence? 

Could he watch Aidonea do so? 

But then he looked over plant-morphed bodies leaking gold into the earth and saw her. His eyes softened, releasing the rage as his gaze rested on his heart’s desire. The one he was doing all of this for.

Face streaked with others’ ichor, he smiled at her.

Aidonea’s eyes snapped open to her meditation sanctum with a shaky gasp.

[scrotewad-deactivated20221128]

idk if this pic is making the rounds on tumblr yet but its so cute look!!

[tnpl-home-deactivated20220822]

Obsessed with this tag

[primelinchen-the-second]

[ID 1: three smiling black trans men standing outside wearing pants and their post surgical compression vests. The compression garment looks like a white wrap around. Their drainage stuff hangs on their pants.

[ID 2: tumblr tags that read "Oh! I didn't realise y'all had surgeries, I just thought you were showing off your tube tops." /End ID]

[fagdyke-fckry]

@this-is-trans-joy

[this-is-trans-joy]

This is trans joy!!!

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Aw.

[clacy2812]

Lemme touch your face - Part 1/3

[shelbyblueeyes]

[eatthekidsfirst]

I will never understand why people upload cropped, low-res, uncredited art. Here's the full piece, originally created for a collaboration with watchmaker Ulysse Nardin:

Milo Manara, 2019, Ulysse Nardin, 2, mixed technique on paper

[shu-box-puns]

Do you guys write fanfiction because it's cheaper than therapy? Because I certainly do....

[shu-box-puns]

Hypothetically...

I start another Tsu'tey X Gender!Neutral Reader fic....

Which of these prompts most intrigues you??? (Vote beneath the summaries!)

Concept: Same premise as 'Never would have given you to them', where the RDA revives an unknown traitor, but not a scene for scene rewrite.

Extract:

Your dreams were fleeting. Wisps that playfully avoided your searching hands when you reached for them. They twisted and swam swiftly away when you clumsily tried to close numb fingers around them. The air in their wake seemed to ripple like water. It tickled. Which was strange considering you knew nothing but darkness and the background noise of bubbles you did not know the source of. 

Only rarely did the fleeting memories grasp back. Often in the form of a snarky response in a lyrical language you did not understand. A tut here, an indigent squawk there, sometimes even a deep timbre chuckle. Sounds that stoked warmth in the centre of your chest where a heart might have been, although you weren’t sure.

You weren’t entirely sure <i>what</i> you were. Or even <i>if</i> you were.

>_<

Sometimes, the flickers of memories or events came in the form of images. 

There was fire. 

There was always <i>something</i> burning. 

Either distantly, the stench of burning wood and flesh pungent in the wind, or depicted on a screen. A large, tree-like structure gradually being eaten away by tongues of amber and striking gold. The stink of the smoke lingered long after those images faded, plaguing the back of your consciousness.

>_<

Sometimes, they were just voices.

“Promise me you will refrain from dying embarrassingly?”

Said impatiently, in a heavily accented voice you did not recognise.

You could not remember what you said in response, but you could distinctly recall the feeling the words had invoked in you. They’d made you nauseous, as if they’d placed an impossible responsibility on your shoulders. 

Your fingers felt tacky, as if a residue clung to them. Your cheeks were crusty beneath the sweltering closeness of an exomask’s humidity, smeared with something unknown. 

“Not that it would matter if you did. The less of your kind on the other side of this, the better.” The voice continued, playing at being disinterested. Somehow, you knew not to trust the aloofness of the statement. Like a part of you just knew that they cared more than they let on. “But, I would be less likely to murder Jake if you stuck around to draw his interest.” Jake. <i>Jake?</i> Did you know a Jake?

>_<

“A Demon such as yourself will struggle to draw back the string, here, try-”

A twang. Something bright and mischievous flared in your chest, as the sound of an arrow embedded its flint head into a tree cut off the boastful man’s sentence.

A moment of nothing. Then what could have only been described as a fond huff through someone’s nostrils. “Alright.” Said openly. Unexpectedly. “Repeat that twice more.” 

>_<

“You are becoming proficient at the bow.” 

A rare compliment. 

“Perhaps it is time we taught you how to craft your own.” 

The surprise that coursed through you at the off handed offer made your fingers twitch. “Tell me, little Demon, what information can you offer regarding your people’s hunters?”

You told him. Gladly. As if it were a narrative on the weather. As if you had offered similar information just as readily countless times before. 

Concept: Partially!Deaf Tsu'tey and Avatar!Driver Reader trying the survive the night the humans return to Pandora.

Extract:

Is there actually a canonical reason for Tsu'tey chunk missing out of his ear. If not, I'm turning it in a bullet hole from the school shooting. And I'm making is so that he's partially deaf on that side from how close the gun was when it went off.

And then I'm going to go off and say how he went to Mo'at to get it sorted but she couldn't restore his hearing. So it's just something he lives with and adapts to. He doesn't broadcast it. Only the other hunters really notice because they had to be on his good side to yell at him.

None of the scientists know about it. That's a weakness he can't afford to give them.

But one little human notices. They notice that he always sleeps on one side (his good ear facing up). And they notice how people only come up to his good side. How if they stand on his back side, his ear doesn't so much as twitch down to acknowledge them. But of they go round to his other side, and repeat the same thing, they get a twitch out of that ear and Tsu'tey glancing down at them to respond.

They never actually discuss it with him. Never let on that they know and Tsu'tey doesn't mention it.

In battle, they put themselves on his deaf side. Gun poised on the undergrowth, watching his back whilst he listens with his good ear and relies on sight and smell.

Reader gets shot in the arm. They go down from the force of the bullet. Tsu'tey has already moved on through the undergrowth, and they hear the gunner quietly go after him.

Going to die here. Bleed out, and forgotten.

Hear commotion up ahead. The gun goes off. Tsu'tey roars, and then the man screams and his voice cuts off. Then silence.

World is spinning. Reader closes their eyes. Their hand is pressed to their shoulder, but the firmness of the hold is waning. They're getting tired.

They can hear Tsu'tey calling their name.

The wind changes, he can smell their blood.

He comes crashing back through the undergrowth. "Why didn't you yell you irritating little bed bug!?"

Concept: A time-travel fic , where I snatch Reader and Miles/Spider out of the ‘You wanna be one of them’ series, and slap them into the canonical timeline. Miles/Spider and Reader are about fifteen years down the timeline from the canonical cast of Avatar 1, but the humans have not yet returned to Pandora.

Extract:

Hell’s Gate’s floor plan was but a foggy blur in the back of your mind. Especially areas like the military wings that had been stripped of furniture and fenced off once the RDA had been pushed off planet. Walking down the halls now felt like a severe case of deja vu.

It was by sheer luck you stumbled across the cells. And by some stroke of coincidence that someone had only just exited and the doors were only now beginning to slide closed behind them. It was no skin off your back to slip soundlessly through and into the containment corridor. 

There was a soldier stationed at the desk, although he hadn’t noticed you yet as he clicked around on the monitors, whereas the three avatar drivers were being held in the central cell directly opposite the door. Grace and Norm each were sprawled on the bunks, pouting or sulking. Whilst Jake’s wheelchair was facing away from you, and he himself was curled in on himself, head in his hands.

It was still jarring to see him in that body. Especially when you’d only seen him yesterday, fifteen years older, happier and most obviously of all, blue. 

“Oi, you cannot be in here!” The officer at the desk suddenly barked, shoving back his chair to stand. “Who the hell are you? Military personnel only.”

Shit, you didn't have a weapon on you. No knife. No bow. How stupid, you should have swung by the armoury before coming here. With nothing to do but scramble and lie your ass off, you lifted your chin and relaxed your posture.

“The Colonel wants you,” Your stance became deceptively loose and bored, even as your voice oozed all the professional authority you could muster into your tone. The soldiers had always responded better to confidence after all. “Seemed real pissed. Didn’t even wait to find someone in camo, just yelled at me and shoved me in this direction.” That caught the officer’s attention. “And where would I find him exactly?” “He was headed to Selfridge’s office. I wouldn’t keep him waiting if I were you.” The officer looked uncertain, glancing back at his charges in their glass cell, before he found his resolve. “Fine. Out.” 

That was the opposite of what you wanted to happen, but you relented. Following the man out of the cells and back into the corridor, where he pulled his key card out of his pocket. You noted how it wasn’t fastened to a lanyard like most of the scientists tended to do. He pressed the key card to the control panel, and when the light flashed red, he stuffed the card back into the back pocket of his cargos. Or at least he tried to, only he missed the pocket and the key card ended up dropping to the floor behind his boot. It was sheer will-power that kept you from diving after it. 

“Thank you for the message.” He said by way of farewell, before turning sharply on his heel and striding off towards Selfridge’s office.

You waited for him to turn the corner, and then scrambled to pluck the card from the floor. It felt almost too convenient for you to end up interacting with a soldier that just ‘happened’ to drop his key card. 

Letting yourself in, you shoved the thought aside and approached the cell instead of dwelling on it. You could continue to debate the coincidences of this dream/new reality once you got them out into the forest. 

<”When I tell you guys, I have been having the weirdest day imaginable, I mean it.”> You began to complain as you approached the cell. 

All three heads snap up at the use of the Na’vi language. At the accent of the clan that had inevitably begun to wind its way around your words. 

Grace was on her feet in moments, whilst Norm’s head snapped up from where it was beginning to lull against his chest, as Jake cautiously turned around, his wheelchair creaking as his weight shifted. All three of them looked confused, but that was probably because you weren’t supposed to be here now.

Ignoring all three of them, you turned to the card reader to the right of their cell door and pressed the ID to it. 

You kept talking as you worked, <”look, I know things look like shit right now. But you have to keep your chin up, HomeTree may be gone, but the clan is still out there. So long as we get you out of here in one piece-”> The sharp decline of the card reader gave you pause. The red button made your brow furrow. You pulled the stolen ID away and read the text that had flashed up on the blue screen below the light. 

<i>Insufficient clearance level</i>

<”Fucking typical. So I can move around fucking fine with this, but I can’t actually do the one thing I bloody need it to do-”> “Excuse me,” Norm interrupted you, as timid as he always used to be. Thankfully, he’d dropped the act and the forced boundaries between you once you took Miles in officially. He looked achingly young now, tired and openly scared as he gazed up at you with uncertain eyes. “But that’s a lot of Na’vi and not a lot of time for me to keep pace.” He smiled awkwardly. 

Jake, who was now openly glaring at you, interjected, “forget the language. Who the hell are you?” Your expression scrunched into one of confusion. “What do you mean, who am I? It’s me!” Jake’s expression didn’t change, and he crossed his arms. You huffed. “Oh come on, Sully.” You tutted, “I know I look about fifteen years older than the Doctor you’re used to, but that’s just rude to imply I’ve aged THAT much.” “It has nothing to do with your age.” Jake retorted sharply, looking irritated. “And it has all to do with the fact I have no clue who the hell you are.” “This is not the time to be playing games, asshole.” You snapped back.

But then Grace stepped up to the glass, looking concerned but mostly sceptical, and your mouth closed with an audibly click of teeth. She looked you up and down, taking in the lab coat issued by the RDA, your name tag pinned to the left breast. 

“You claim you’re a Doctor, but I have not seen your face around my staff before. Who are you?” She demanded, “and do not lie to me, I am the one in charge of this entire sector.” Well, that one hit like an arrow to the thigh. 

“What do you mean who am I?” You returned just as sternly. “We share a fucking office, Grace.”

She scoffed. “I know it’s a running joke in the department that my head’s always in the link unit and not very often in the real world, but I would recognise my own staff member when I saw one. And <i>you</i> do not belong here.”

Your brows knitted together at her hissed words. Words momentarily evaded you as your eyes jumped from each of them, peering closer at their micro expressions. There was no tell tale twitch of Jake’s lip that indicated he was bluffing. Grace was practically expelling smoke from her nose, her eyebrows almost united as one above the bridge of her nose. And Norm was just confused. 

None of them were lying.

“Okay, scratch what I said earlier,” you replied dryly, <i>“now</i> I am experiencing the weirdest dream imaginable.” 

Grace frowned harder. “You’re not making any sense.” “Says <i>you</i>!” You returned reflexively. “You’re the ones who had seemingly just forgotten I existed!” 

Fuck. Why did this kind of feel like the plot from that one old movie? The one where the main character had everything he wanted but signed it all away anyway for some peace and quiet, and ended up in a world where he’d never been born to begin with. Was that what was happening here? Surely not. Grace huffed. “Can I see your ID?” “ID,” you parroted, pulling your head from your hands to frown at her. “I lost that thing over a decade and a half ago.”

Grace looked even more confused. “There is no way you have been walking around on this base for fifteen years and we have not once crossed paths.” She argued, “Hell’s Gate certainly isn’t <i>that</i> big,

<”For the love of-”> you couldn’t do this right now. They weren’t making any sense.

Spinning your heel, you clutched the stolen ID tightly in your fist and glared at the door into the hallway longingly. Should you leave? Was it the trauma of watching HomeTree fall? Had it somehow impacted their memories? Did they hit their heads? 

You tilted your head at that last one. Sounded likely for Jake, but not so much for Grace. She had been frighteningly protective of her avatar after all, refusing to take risks in it, should it have been damaged.

Their reactions to you nagged you enough that you did not leave, instead, you rounded the officer’s desk and logged yourself into his laptop using his ID. It was laughably easy to get into the RDA’s database, as it always seemed to be.

“Since you’re still here,” Grace called from the cell. You glanced up, the other two had returned to moping, but she was stood in front of them now, hands on her hips and her curiosity obviously peaked. “I want to know why you speak such flawless Na’vi. Tell me, who taught you?

At first, it was her of course, because you’d been hopeless at getting truly immersed in the language apps and the classes, until she sat you down and offered some one on one help with the basics. And then it had been Tsu’tey. And later Neytiri, because she had insisted Tsu’tey was teaching you wrong somehow. And then eventually, it had been the day to day clan life that had finally hammered it all home. 

But you couldn’t tell her that obviously.

They didn’t recognise you. They certainly wouldn’t believe that you were from fifteen years in the future on top of that.

“I studied.” You said plainly.

Grace snorted. “I have studied for decades, and even mine is not that fluid. Norm ‘studied’ and his is painfully formal still.” “Hey!”

She ignored him and looked at you expectantly.

As you began typing your full name into the system, you let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine. I’ll tell you. I got on really well with my teacher, and I made him only talk to me in Na’vi for months until it stuck.” 

Grace blinked. “That was it?” “Pretty much,” you agreed, “then again, the language sticks quicker if it's an ‘understand or die’ situation.” Grace’s face shuttered back into the realm of confusion once more, and you reasoned you’d given her enough to keep herself occupied for now. 

The system had finally pulled up a file. Although, the profile picture of your younger, smiling face had been greyed out, and the last time it had opened dated back to over nine months ago. 

You frowned and opened it. 

Within revealed a duo of greyed out photographs. One was the same profile picture as before, and the other was of your avatar when it had still floated in its embryonic chamber, before you had linked to it for the first time.

The file itself wasn’t anything majorly surprising. It contained information regarding your name, place of birth, and the schools you went to, as well as a contact number or two of people back on earth. Friends who had long faded from your memory and you couldn’t recall the faces of. All information from a world away, useless now and gladly forgotten.

But there was one thing. As you scrolled down, you came across the statuses of both the employee and avatar, and started when you realised they both read, ‘DECEASED’ in big, red text.

There was a ‘plus more’ icon beside the capitalised word, and you scrambled to press it. A small notes window opened below.

It read: <i>“-avatar died on the first solo mission after getting chased and attacked by a Slinth. Military personnel tried to engage but were unsuccessful. Without clearance, the Employee left the safety perimeter of the base, supposedly to retrieve the avatar, and is now missing. After five weeks of no successful rescue missions, they were ruled as dead by Park Selfridge, acting head of Hell’s Gate.”</i>

The world slowed.

Dead.

You were dead here. Your idiot self had gone and died over nine months ago. 

Your hand began to shake around the mouse, so you clenched your fingers tighter around it. All those experiences. All that time spent with the clan, learning, being accepted. None of it had ever happened here in this world.

Your time on Pandora had been so fleeting, even Grace hadn’t recognised you, and she knew everyone who came and went in the science department. 

Great. Everything that was to come just got a whole lot harder. 

No. This didn’t change anything. You were still going to do everything you could to help in the days to come. You were here now. And you had to be here for a reason.

You could move freely throughout the base, since the guards wouldn’t know to be keeping an eye out for you. You could touch and hold things, which meant you could gather supplies, cause some trouble. Even without an avatar, you could have an impact. 

It would have a fleeting impact of course. What with you being alone this time with no friends to rely on, and no clan to have your back when the RDA realised you were a threat. And the lack of an avatar could prove challenging when you finally made it out into the forest. But that was quitting talk.

You had done this all before. You were older now, wiser, and you sure as hell could do it again. And this time, you might even be able to save a few extra lives whilst you were at it.

“What are you doing?” Norm finally piped up, verbally smacking you out of your spiral. You blinked and turned your head up to the cell, finding him sitting up on his bunk again, legs dangling over the edge, whilst Grace looked deep in thought. “I don’t recognise you from around the base. Were you called back from a mission or something?”

“Well, I <i>was</i> planning to jog your memories, but according to this, I’m dead.” You said offhandedly. And then just to prove your point, you turned the monitor round to face the cell. “See? Greyed out for some reason.” 

To your surprise, Grace’s expression flickered with recognition before a professional frown tugged at her lip. “Good scientist that one, very promising.” She told you, which promptly dashed any hope you still had.

You frowned and turned your attention back to the screen. “This document was last updated nine months ago, that sound about right?” She paused to do the maths in her head before nodding. “Roughly, they only lasted about three weeks under my care.”

“Ah.” You replied eloquently, before turning the monitor back round the way you found it. “Well, that’s about to make this a fuck tonne harder.” “How?” Norm asked.

“Because that means you don’t know who the fuck I am,” you replied honestly, “which is going to make getting you to trust me a whole lot harder.”

Jake’s face contorted into just that. An expression of mistrust. “You’re not making sense.”

“No Jake. I think it is painfully obvious what crazy idea is being pitched to us right now.”

You refuse to look at her.

Norm groaned. “Fantastic. We’ve got the destruction of an ancestral home on our hands, a mourning clan that Quaritch wants to flush out of the area, and as if things weren’t shitty enough, we apparently have a dead person talking to us.”

“Not for long.” You interrupted, and quickly closed out of everything. “Besides, I don’t need you right now. I need you to stay here and look pretty whilst I go and do some scouting.”

Norm faltered. “That does not sound as reassuring as I hope you meant it.”

“Where are you going?” Grace asked.

“To steal some supplies. Trudy and Max will be along soon to set you free, go quickly and quietly, and do not,” you looked Grace in the eye as you said this, “get shot.”

If you made it down this far, WELCOME TO THE POLL!!!! Pls vote for your preferred scenario :D

Which fic to write?

Rewrite that's totally not a rewrite

Partially!Deaf Tsu#tey

Time-Travel extravaganza

Voting ended onJul 9

[cocoamoonmalfoy]

Aw dang! Def would have voted for partially!deaf tsu’tey but the travel will be fun too!!

[shu-box-puns]

It's been a hot moment since I've made one of these, and honestly, I've missed it.

DISCLAIMER: Blank meme bases pulled from Pinterest, and the characters put in each slot are my PERSONAL opinions!

[cocoamoonmalfoy]

Lmaooooo the last one, just saying Ok 😭🤣😂

[ofchaosgoddess]

help I’m having ideas beyond my available free time

[nothereforthedrama]

help I'm having ideas beyond my available energy levels

[cocoamoonmalfoy]

help I’m having ideas beyond my available financial capacity

[gaynfl-moved]

what's your "if I won the lottery I wouldn't tell anyone but there would be signs" thing? mine is getting a fully green kitchen

[gaynfl-moved]

[nightvaleofficial]

[mattymouse16]

The best magicians don't reveal their tricks.

[mymultifandomhell]

heated rivalry + text [20 / ?] (src)

[wordfather]

goodbye 2023👋hello 𓏏𓉔𓇋𓋴 𓇌𓅂𓄿𓂋 𓇋 𓅃𓇋𓃭𓃭 𓎼𓅂𓏏 𓄿 𓅓𓅲𓅓𓅓𓇌 𓃀𓅱𓇌𓆑𓂋𓇋𓅂𓈖𓂧 𓅓𓄿𓇌𓃀𓅂 𓉔𓅲𓋴𓃀𓄿𓈖𓂧 𓇋𓆑 𓉔𓅂𓂕𓋴 𓎢𓅱𓅱𓃭 𓅃𓇋𓏏𓉔 𓏏𓉔𓄿𓏏

[brightgreendandelions]

my egyptologist friend says this is a (very poorly) phonetically transcribed english phrase "this year i will get a mommy boyfriend"

[wordfather]

okay you werent supposed to know that

[phantoonsoftheopera]

A classic

[devotion]

my hair smells so nice come sniff

[cocoamoonmalfoy]

[inkedhooves]

Writers, what’s on your writing bucket list?

[megamindsecretlair]

Im still on the hunt for a deep, rich fantasy or sci fi story. I wanna try my hand at an adventure story that spans multiple locations and has a rich cast of characters. Maybe even cross fandoms because why not 🤣

No pressure tags: @westside-rot @umber-cinders @chaos-4baby

[j0kers-light]

No pressure at all my dear @megamindsecretlair I replied from my writing blog so its more accurate. 🖤✨

UHHHHH. My bucket list? Finishing my His Lighthouse and His Angel series. That and writing more inbox requests so I'll be back to single digits. I have far too many collecting dust.

No pressure tags: @gr4cezc0nv1ct @dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd @cocoamoonmalfoy

[cocoamoonmalfoy]

5 series finished which sounds lofty but I have so many series ideas it would be doable if I would just…… do them

I have a horror movie fic planned for my dark blog that I really wanna see through and post. I kept writing blurbs and stuff saying I needed more practice but honestly I just need to get in there and write the shit 😭 those were excuses

Also I would like to try and move my stuff from Google docs to Ellipsus. Which is…. So many fucking documents that I just keep putting it off.

Thanks for tagging me love 💕

🏷️: @nonpoppin @a-lumos-in-the-nox @xoxoviva @galatially @wayoftheghost @writingamongther0ses and whoever else would like to gab