I'm tired so y'all get angsty Nimona headcanons
So apparently since I’m a masochist I was thinking about how Nimona would react to the boys dying
Specifically the order cause I feel like that would contribute to how they would react
If Bal died first he would be crushed and kind of just shut down and close himself off
After a while he would start taking longer trips and meeting new people and the hurt would lessen year after year
After a while they kind of notice that they left Ambrosius alone
They didn’t mean to it was never their intention to recede into themself
But that’s what happened and when they rejoined his life he didn’t miss a beat
He just acted like they never left and that hurt ten times worse
Especially when she realized that Ambrosius never fully dealt with his death
At least not in a proper way
Ambrosius passing soon after they reconnected was just another gut punch
It was like she finally started to recover just to be thrown back down
And a small part of her just a teeny tiny part of her was bitter about it
And she fucking hated it
If Ambrosius died first I think she would still be angry
She wouldn’t shut down like Bal she would lash out
She would act like his passing away was just another betrayal by someone she trusted
And again it would take a very long time for her to stop viewing it as that
They would never lash out at Bal though
They saw the effects and noticed how deep the sadness ran so they would always hold their tongue around him
One day Nimona made an offhanded joke about how Bal’s eyes should be studied cause they should be able to get even bigger with age
And Bal just starts laughing
And he doesn’t stop
Even as he’s bent over sobbing there are still laughs sprinkled in
He asks Bal what was wrong and he says “oh nothing starlight” he keeps pestering him until he finally says
“You know I don’t think I ever had a chance to miss him because I see him every day when I look at you”
And they just sit on the couch and seemingly go through every stage of grief 24-hour period
When Bal dies a couple of years later it’s still like a gut punch
And he wants more than anything to dig himself into a hole and never come back out
But he doesn’t
It takes a long time for him to start letting people in again
So I don’t know if the boys were living together or if they were still living in the dorms before the knighting ceremony
But there in either situation there is something so utterly heartbreaking about the idea of Ambrosius having to rummage through the destruction of people barely knighted
Desperately trying to pick out the undamaged bits of Bal and clinging to them
I can also just imagine him searching through his phone frantically looking for old photos videos and voicemails
Trying to figure out if he was genuine or if he was talking with a mask for a decade
He goes back and forth between knowing those are his genuine smiles and laughs and that’s really love in his eyes
But then he also has moments when he remembers that he might not know what his real smile looks like or what his real laugh sounds like
And how can he know what love looks like when he might have been faking it this whole time
He stops looking through his phone for a while
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going to chb must be crazy like imagine sharing a camp with
-one of the strongest demigods ever who's saved the world like at least 3 times, fought multiple gods & titans and WON (and is a tartarus survivor)
-the literal main architect of OLYMPUS who's also saved the world multiple times (also tartarus survivor)
-THE lord of the wild who's also close friends with the first two (and has helped save the world multiple times)
-an emo kid from the 1930s who again helped save the world and is also a tartarus survivor (TWICE)
-a son of apollo who survived tartarus with nothing but cargo shorts and sheer will (pun intended)
-the main designer and builder for the argo II, also the first hephaestus kid to have fire powers since hundreds of years ago (did i mention killed gaea? no? yeah he did that too)
-a girl who somehow charmspeak-ed gaea into falling back asleep (also side note daughter of super famous actor because why not)
-pretty much everybody is a two-time war veteran
-THE GOD APOLLO who just sometimes comes down to visit in the form of a teenage boy
-did i mention dionysus, god of wine madness and theatre
-also chiron, trainer of pretty much every greek hero ever
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crows use tools and like to slide down snowy hills. today we saw a goose with a hurt foot who was kept safe by his flock - before taking off, they waited for him to catch up. there are colors only butterflies see. reindeer are matriarchical. cows have best friends and 4 stomachs and like jazz music. i watched a video recently of an octopus making himself a door out of a coconut shell.
i am a little soft, okay. but sometimes i can't talk either. the world is like fractal light to me, and passes through my skin in tendrils. i feel certain small things like a catapult; i skirt around the big things and somehow arrive in crisis without ever realizing i'm in pain.
in 5th grade we read The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-time, which is about a young autistic boy. it is how they introduced us to empathy about neurotypes, which was well-timed: around 10 years old was when i started having my life fully ruined by symptoms. people started noticing.
i wonder if birds can tell if another bird is odd. like the phrase odd duck. i have to believe that all odd ducks are still very much loved by the other normal ducks. i have to believe that, or i will cry.
i remember my 5th grade teacher holding the curious incident up, dazzled by the language written by someone who is neurotypical. my teacher said: "sometimes i want to cut open their mind to know exactly how autistics are thinking. it's just so different! they must see the world so strangely!" later, at 22, in my education classes, we were taught to say a person with autism or a person on the spectrum or neurodivergent. i actually personally kind of like person-first language - it implies the other person is trying to protect me from myself. i know they had to teach themselves that pattern of speech, is all, and it shows they're at least trying. and i was a person first, even if i wasn't good at it.
plants learn information. they must encode data somehow, but where would they store it? when you cut open a sapling, you cannot find the how they think - if they "think" at all. they learn, but do not think. i want to paint that process - i think it would be mostly purple and blue.
the book was not about me, it was about a young boy. his life was patterned into a different set of categories. he did not cry about the tag on his shirt. i remember reading it and saying to myself: i am wrong, and broken, but it isn't in this way. something else is wrong with me instead. later, in that same person-first education class, my teacher would bring up the curious incident and mention that it is now widely panned as being inaccurate and stereotypical. she frowned and said we might not know how a person with autism thinks, but it is unlikely to be expressed in that way. this book was written with the best intentions by a special-ed teacher, but there's some debate as to if somebody who was on the spectrum would be even able to write something like this.
we might not understand it, but crows and ravens have developed their own language. this is also true of whales, dolphins, and many other species. i do not know how a crow thinks, but we do know they can problem solve. (is "thinking" equal to "problem solving"? or is "thinking" data processing? data management?) i do not know how my dog thinks, either, but we "talk" all the same - i know what he is asking for, even if he only asks once.
i am not a dolphin or reindeer or a dog in the nighttime, but i am an odd duck. in the ugly duckling, she grows up and comes home and is beautiful and finds her soulmate. all that ugliness she experienced lives in downy feathers inside of her, staining everything a muted grey. she is beautiful eventually, though, so she is loved. they do not want to cut her open to see how she thinks.
a while ago i got into an argument with a classmate about that weird sia music video about autism. my classmate said she thought it was good to raise awareness. i told her they should have just hired someone else to do it. she said it's not fair to an autistic person to expect them to be able to handle that kind of a thing.
today i saw a goose, and he was limping. i want to be loved like a flock loves a wounded creature: the phrase taken under a wing. which is to say i have always known i am not normal. desperate, mewling - i want to be loved beyond words.
loved beyond thinking.
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