#they stress Bal out

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

More Nimona headcanons because these dorks have taken over my brain

I feel like Nimona tried really hard to hate Ambrosius

The first month they knew each other Nimona tried so hard to antagonize him and poke fun at him and remind him of the shit he’s done wrong 

But it’s kind of hard to hate someone who’s slow to anger and quick to forgive 

Reminding someone of their past mistakes with the intent to hurt them kind of stops being fun when the person is constantly aware of their mistakes 

And owns up to them without making excuses and is constantly trying to undo the damage their mistakes caused  

After a while, he grows on her and she starts to trust him and in return he trusts her

This one is based heavily on me and my best friends 

Nimona and Ambrosius will talk shit loudly in public 

They won’t use code names and if they don’t know the person they’ll start describing them like “Did you see that dude in the yellow shirt? He just pushed that kid out of line what a dick!”

They won't check to see if the person is out of earshot either they simply don't give a fuck

And this gives Bal so much fucking anxiety enough that he starts pleading with them to stop

You hear them going off about something and Bal saying “Ambrosius love hun sunshine I’m begging you to keep your voice down” 

“Nim Nimona starlight hi I would like to remind you that they’re still behind us and I don’t want to explain to Ambrosius why you’ve gotten into another fight this week so please stop” 

To which Nimona responds with “Tell him he’ll probably laugh”

Whenever Nimona and Ambrosius want to rant they rant to each other 

Because Bal is the type of person to give advice in the middle of a rant 

Talking some “If you explain this to them in a calm and compassionate manner I’m sure they’ll stop”

And while that's excellent advice sometimes you just want to scream your most unhinged thoughts at someone 

And they never judge each other either 

Nimona can look Ambrosius dead in the eyes and go “Have you ever gotten so angry during an argument that you’ve considered lighting their car on fire?” 

And Ambrosius won't even think about it he’ll respond immediately with a “Who hasn't?” while Bal slowly backs out of the room and silently vows to hide his car the next time they fight 

Whenever Ambrosius comes home from a stressful day at work he just walks into the house and lets out the most dramatic drawn out sigh 

And whenever Nimona hears that noise they’ll run to the living room and sit on the couch patiently waiting for their daily rant session 

Whenever Nimona gets home and wants to rant he’ll walk around until he finds Ambrosius

And if he can't find him he’ll sit by Bal and stew in his anger while he waits for him to come home 

He can't even take one step through the door without Nimona saying something like “How dare you make me wait” 

And Ambrosius will always respond with something like “Oh I’m so sorry firecracker it’ll never happen again”

And encourage them to tell him the information they’ve been patiently waiting to spill

Bal doesn’t rant unless he’s literally at the end of his rope

Like you have to royally screw him over for him to go home and rant to his family 

When he finally rants to them they don’t make a big deal out of it 

But they do however try their best to take care of him without raising his suspicions 

Nimona will conveniently make Bal’s favorite dinner 

Ambrosius will just so happen to pick up his favorite dessert on his way home (cause they both know the signs of a Bal rant and they plan accordingly) 

They listen to his rant and let him eat his favorite food in peace while they play his favorite movies 

You know real wholesome shit 

All the while they’re coming up with plans in their head to destroy this person's life

[sefarlen]

Bal ~~💓💓

When I'm stressed out, I like to draw him and his super cute Puppy Eye.✨✨

[williamlandon]

Hi! Do you think you could make a villain au where Ambrosius is a yandere for Ballister and will murder for him? Ps: Your art is amazing!

Hiii! So sorry this took awhile to answer, I’ve been burnout lately and finals just ended, but I instantly fell in love with this idea.

Story wise, I came up with a couple ideas of what the story could be, but it’s totally up for interpretation. ——————————————————————————————————

I imagine that Ambrosius’s life constantly consisted of things he loved being taken away from him due to a strict family, strict rules, tight royal expectations, and just seemed like he had no freedom and zero say in anything he did. He just felt alone for years.

But one day he found young Ballister practicing out in the woods, monologging to himself. After spotting him, Ballister convinced Ambrosius to come and practice with him. Since that day, they had been practicing together in the woods to prepare for the day that Ballister would attempt to tryout to become a royal knight. Though he got away with it for years, Ambrosius was one day caught by the royal gardener who saw him speeding towards the woods. After being told, his parents were furious. He was scolded and punished greatly, except this time, he had enough.

Days before the knight tryouts, Ballister had noticed that Ambrosius wasn’t as bubbly as he usually was.

“They’re dead. Gone.”

In shock, all he could do was comfort Ambrosius and help him get through this massive loss.

Fast forward years later, Ambrosius has gotten some help with ruling the kingdom. Queen Valerin, who was the previous royal ambassador, took the thrown. Despite not being on top, Ambrosius was still thankful for the extra help. But not only was there a new queen, but a new ambassador. The Director.

Now with all of this stress gone from his shoulders, Ambrosius figured he could finally spend some time practicing with his recently asked out but secret bf, Ballister. With more time together, Ambrosius became very attached, especially since his childhood Bal was the only person who really gave their time and attention to him.

The Director noticed this strangely close connection with the two, and with already disliking them both, she disliked them more. But soon, she found out what was really going on between the two. With this increasing hatred for them, especially Ballister due to him being the only non royal blood knight, she came up with an idea to potentially turn them against each other, but little did she know that she was going to awaken a slumbering anger.

Her plan was to convince Ambrosius that Ballister was simply using him to gain status and learn about his weaknesses, until eventually taking his life along with the queen’s to become the new era of royalty. But unlike her wishes, even after framing Bal for the murder of the queen, Ambrosius wasn’t as gullible as she had hoped. With the help of the Squire, he had gained information about the rest of her plans. She had planned to kill Ballister to gain royalty herself.

Furious, Ambrosius heard an angry, yet familiar voice inside of his head.

From then on, anyone who had paid any form of a threat to Ballister, would never see the light of day again. The only one who was able to get away (for now) was the Director, due to the fear of her death being pinned upon Bal. ——————————————————————————————————

soooo yea I skipped sleep for this and I am very tired. But like I said tysm to whoever requested this bc I love this idea. This is definitely my headcannon for this AU, I’m excited to see other stories of this AU. Have a good day! ^^

[euphreana]

The Shape of Truth - Chapter 1: Mercy

Chapter 1 here we go - written in collaboration with @bitsy83! (Also available on ao3 here!)

Masterpost

-

Ambrosius was there when the sword went off. The deadly blast caught everyone by surprise - Ambrosius barely had a moment to think before grabbing his sword. It was a moment though, just long enough for him to gather his wits and knock the sword from Ballister’s hand before anyone else got hurt, Ballister included. The sword fell to the ground, sparking as it disintegrated into pieces. Ambrosius and Ballister stared at it, then at each other in shock. Then the guards leapt into action. Ballister was so stunned he didn’t fight back when they pinned his arms behind his back and forced him to his knees.

“I didn’t do it.” his voice was barely audible over the noise of the stadium. Then the guards started dragging him away, past the stunned cadets, back into the tunnels below the Glorodome. “I DIDN’T DO IT!” he shouted, finding his voice. “SOMEONE SWITCHED MY SWORD!”

Ambrosius had watched in shocked silence. There was nothing else he could do.

~ ~ ~

The queen was dead. It was all over the news. Killed by the commoner knight himself. What remained of the blaster-equipped sword was locked away as evidence while The Institute investigated the event. Everyone was saying it was an open-and-shut case - replicas of famous swords were easy to get, and Ballister could have easily gotten one and hidden an energy weapon in it. Why was the question that was bothering Ambrosius.

He’d read the write-ups explaining the psyche of the ‘deranged, previous street urchin who’d snapped under stress’, but he’d known the man for over a decade - the profile didn’t fit. Ballister wasn’t a murderer… unless the last ten years had all been an act. Had their friendship been a facade? Had Ballister been planning this for years? Was this his revenge on a system he felt had mistreated him for so long? Or had he been telling the truth on the night of the murder - that someone had switched his sword out, that he’d been set up? But then who had done it? Some terrorist faction that was just now showing itself? The kingdom had been peaceful for decades, why would something surface now?

Ambrosius needed to make sense of this. He trusted The Institute to take care of it, but impatience was getting the better of him. He’d asked for visitation rights several times in the days since the Queen’s murder, but each time he’d been denied. That man was a raving lunatic, they’d told him, and he needed to be kept calm and isolated.

That wasn’t what the dungeon’s camera feed was showing. Ambrosius sat back in his chair in The Institute’s security room, perplexed. The feed showed Ballister looking dejected, sitting in a cell, sometimes pacing, but mostly just… sitting there, not saying a word. No mad ravings like the guards had described. Ambrosius fast-forwarded the feed. Hours of footage, all showing the same thing; nothing. The guards were lying. Why? Why was nothing adding up?

Ambrosius turned away from the computer, rubbing his head. Staring at big screens always made his eyes hurt. Smaller screens, not so much. He flicked his phone open. A news article flashed on the screen; ‘Breaking News: Ballister’s Written Confession Revealed’. Ambrosius blinked. When had that happened? He’d already skimmed through the bulk of the security camera footage from the last few days, and he hadn’t seen anyone go to interview him.

He tapped the article. Sure enough, there it was. A confession of murder, along with enough broken grammar to convince anyone that the author had lost it. Ambrosius stared at the screen until his eyes hurt again. Why would Bal implicate himself if he'd said he was innocent? Now with a confession made clear, all that was left was the sentencing, and there was only one punishment for murder in the kingdom; death.

Years of feelings began to surface - the times they’d stayed out late getting nachos, the times Bal had comforted him when his parents had died - so many experiences built on love and trust. Ambrosius didn’t want to believe Ballister was a murderer. He didn’t want to lose him. He couldn’t lose him.

Ambrosius got up. The article had mentioned the sentencing would be that evening. There was something he could do - he’d heard of an old custom that someone of noble blood or of high status could call for mercy on a convict - not a full pardon, but a punishment could be lightened. As Gloreth’s direct descendant, Ambrosius could get a judge to give a lifetime of house arrest over hanging… if it was still valid.

Ambrosius headed to the court building. They would know if he could declare mercy and how. If he hurried, maybe he could save Bal’s life.

The receptionist knew about the custom, but didn’t know if it was still legal or who would handle it. It hadn’t been done in decades. She made some calls to different departments to see. Ambrosius dug his nails into his palm every time a call turned out fruitless. Time was ticking away. Time he didn’t have.

Finally, they found the answer; the custom was still legal. Better yet, they found out who would handle the proceeding - someone in the judicial building across the campus. There would be paperwork involved. Ambrosius hated paperwork.

Ambrosius didn’t say who he was pardoning, but he could see the confusion on the clerk’s face when he handed him the sheaf of necessary papers. There was only one person in line for sentencing, and who would pardon an obvious murderer?

Ambrosius sat in the lobby and pored over the forms. He needed proof of his lineage. He needed the exact charges against Ballister. He needed the name of the judge. So many fields. So many signatures. He didn’t have time for this! Maybe he could get the first page done, declare mercy, say he’d missed a page, and then finish the rest afterward. Anything to stall the proceedings long enough to get it all filled out.

The records building was his first stop. It wasn’t far, just a few minutes walk. Ambrosius jogged across the campus green. How much time did he have left? He glanced at a nearby clock tower. Then he froze.

In the distance, there was a black flag flying above the judgment tower. The papers in Ambrosius’s hands crinkled as he tightened his grip. A black flag meant an execution was in progress. He’d missed the sentencing.

Ambrosius broke into a run. Forget the paperwork. He’d declare mercy on the spot and worry about that later. But he needed to get there. He needed to get there NOW!

People hurried out of his way as he tore through side streets and courtyards. He ran, his pulse pounding in his ears. The flag was still at full mast. He could see the front doors to the tower in the distance, two guards out front.

The guards stepped in front of the doors as he approached.

“Closed event. Nobody else allowed in.”

Ambrosius didn’t stop. “Let me in! I need to mercy—”

“No one. Else. Allowed.” The guard stated again.

Ambrosius rushed them. It almost worked - they hadn’t expected that from Gloreth’s descendant. He’d nearly gotten his hand on the door handle when they grabbed him and shoved him backwards. Ambrosius didn’t relent. He pushed back, digging in his heels, reaching past them for the handle.

“Let me in!”

His fingers touched the handle briefly. Then he found himself thrown onto the ground, paperwork falling from his hand.

“Don’t make this difficult.” a guard growled.

Ambrosius was back on his feet in an instant, frantic.

“Or what?! I am a knight! Descendant of Gloreth!” He charged again, this time trying to grapple a guard.

“That doesn’t matter.” The other guard grabbed Ambrosius from behind. “Closed event. Direct orders.”

Ambrosius landed on his back again, his head hitting the pavement. He looked up at the sky for a moment, dazed. The black flag. It was being lowered.

“NO!”

The tower door opened and a reporter stepped out, absently scrolling through a notepad. The guards moved to let her pass. Ambrosius seized his chance and barrelled through the opening, past the guards, into the courtyard.

“STOP! I DECLARE MERCY!”

His voice echoed off the walls, startling the audience in front of the gallows. Everyone turned to look at him. Ambrosius charged through the crowd, ignoring them. The gallows looked empty. Where was the convicted?

“I declare mercy!” He shouted again, pushing his way to the front. Then he froze. He could see the base of the gallows now. A tower worker was working the noose off an all-too-familiar figure laying in a crumpled heap on the ground.

Ballister Boldheart was dead.

-

Chapter 2

[that-disabled-princess]

Headcanon: Ballister sleeps with a weighted blanket to help Ambrosius.

Why not Ambrosius himself? He keeps denying one would help with his anxiety. The poor boy has grown up his whole life expecting to be able to cope with the stress and pressure of being a direct descendant of Gloreth. He's not used to taking care of himself, and is being stubborn and adamant that he is very much okay, thank you very much, Ballister.

So, Ballister gets a weighted blanket for himself and sleeps with it. Ambrosius cuddles up to him while sleeping, so Ambrosius sleeps under the blanket as well. It's a lovely weight, a welcome one. He finds he quite enjoys it and that it helps him sleep easier.

As time passes, Ambrosius starts thinking weighted blankets aren't so bad after all. Maybe Bal had a point. Maybe it would help with his anxiety.

So Ambrosius gets a weighted blanket, too.

Turns out, Ambrosius isn't the only one the weighted blankets help--they help Ballister, too. It's a win for both of them.

[jack-the-fool]

A variety of inconsequential Nimona headcannons :)

-Ballister is TERRIBLE at keeping track of his phone/noticing when he has texts and calls which post-movie causes Ambrosuis such distress because he starts catastrophizing when Bal doesn't text him back for 20 minutes.

-Ambrosius knows theoretically how to cook but 10 times out of 10 will opt for take-out when left to his own devices. Nimona can cook but only specific meals she likes (breakfast tacos, brownies in a mug, etc). Ballister is the only one who actually knows how to cook in that he can be given various ingredients and make something out of them.

-Nimona gets a hold of some of her and Ballister's old wanted posters and hangs them up in her room. Bal thinks it's funny. Ambrosius has mixed feelings.

-Nimona all but refuses to call Ballister by his name. it's always "boss" or some variation. When she's being purposefully obtuse with people she doesn't know she'll call him "Larry" on occasion.

-Similarly, she never calls Ambrosius by his name either. When she does address him at first it's usually some variation of "Arm-Choppy" (which he weathers like a champ). Eventually, he graduates to "golden boy" or "The Boss' Boyfriend" until she decides he's cool now.

-The trio are all competitive to varying degrees. Nimona is competitive for the sake of being competitive and will announce dumb little contests when she's feeling bored. Ambrosius is mostly competitive about inconsequential things and made-up scenarios. When things are too serious his anxiety response kicks in and he basically stops caring while still somehow being stressed about it. Ballister acts like he isn't that competitive but it's a lie. Mostly in physical competitions, but he also IS that good so he usually wins anyway. When it is more of a challenge for him he starts to get weirdly serious and agitated.

[intothefandomverse]

Nimona headcanons I came up with while in line at Disney World

When goldheart was first starting wedding planning, they were told by one of the fancy elitist wedding planners that if nimona was going to be in the wedding, that they should change their hair to a natural color so it matched the (frankly quite boring) themeing that was recommended. Ambrosius was so mad about this that that night, he had nimona dye his hair bright pink to match hers. They went in the next day, and after the planner had a heart attack, they got fired.

Sometimes, Bal and Ambrosius will forget that Nimona can shapeshift when they haven't seen her in a while in any form other than human in a while and/or are really stressed and distracted, so when she just spontaneously turns into a shark (or other animal) they'll get startled for a second, then remember it's just Nimona

When Nimona gets tired of walking, they'll turn into a small animal and climb on one of the boys and make them carry him around

Nimona will turn into a cat when they don't get enough attention and start smacking things off the counters. It starts with the least breakable stuff and slowly accelerates to become actual breakable things, like cups, and even threatens to knock down important things (but never actually would)

Nimona loves learning about different cultures, especially ones that may go out of existence soon, because she feels it can help preserve the traditions and languages, even if he's the only one who knows them. They have a scrapbook of all the cultures they've learned about over the years, and a lot of it is drawn due to a combination of not being able to sit down long enough to write them all out, and not being able to write long sentences in most of the languages (they try to keep the pages with the languages to match them, even if it only ends up being a few words)

Bal's love language is infodumping. You can't tell me that man wouldn't rant about anything and everything sciencey/how things work at any chance he gets just because he loves it and wants to share that love with others. Ambrosius loves when he infodumps. He thinks Bal is cute when he does it. Nimona also infodumps as a love language. So does Otter Infodump Guy. Nimona and Otter Infodump Guy love dropping random facts about animals. And nimona loves listening to Bal's "how it works" dumps. Nimona will also infodump about their latest craft because they love crafting, and Ambrosius even taught her how to use a machine to sew (she never got to learn despite being around since they were created, his mom taught him how to sew when he was a child)

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Hello could you do more fics about ballister head injury?(love your worke❤️)

THIS RESPAWNED IN MY DRAFTS HOLY SHIT

I'm so glad you love my work thank you so much for this ask 🩷 sorry it took so long but as I had said in another post, my Tumblr ate it for breakfast and it was disappeared from my askbox and drafts. But it reappeared!!! Please enjoy your very late drabble request <3

Cw: seizures, brain injury

Ballister leaned against Ambrosius, closing his eyes. “You sleepy, Bal?”

“Mhm.” Ballister rubbed his eyes. “I couldn't get to sleep last night. Kept having headaches and weird dreams.”

“That's no good, babe. Try to take it easy today. Do you think it's your head?”

“He just said it was his head, duh.” Nimona cut in. She'd been back for the past couple months, and she and Ambrosius were still getting used to each other. Ballister chuckled. “It's probably fine.” Ambrosius made a worried face.

Eight months ago, when Ballister was on the run, he'd suffered considerable head trauma, several times, one after another after another. The whole thing left Ballister with considerable brain damage in the frontal and temporal lobes especially. It was especially significant in the first few weeks after everything happened, when he was often unsteady on his feet, spoke with slurred speech, struggled with short term memory, understanding rapid or unclear speech, and extreme emotional outbursts where he would be extremely afraid, sad, angry, or happy without apparent cause. He'd also started having seizures at that time. Ambrosius learned to deal with them, but he always hoped each one would be Ballister's last. The doctor said they'd stop eventually, but they never knew when eventually would come.

Thankfully, since then, his brain had healed tremendously. Still, Ambrosius couldn't help but worry when Ballister had anything going on with his head.

“Alright, well, just be careful, okay? Don't strain yourself.” He kissed Ballister's cheek.

Nimona cackled. “Come on, Nemesis. I don't think the boss is gonna let some dumb headache slow him down! He's not made of glass, you know. He's ten percent solid steel and a hundred percent badass!”

“My arm makes up five percent of my weight, Nimona, also it's made of titanium.” Ballister smiled at her.

“See? Even cooler.” She returned to what she was doing and Ambrosius sighed. Maybe he was being a little overly anxious.

But as the day went on, Ballister seemed off. Foggy, distracted, a little bit uncharacteristically emotional or snippy sometimes. Even Nimona noticed, Ambrosius could see the puzzlement in her face even if she said nothing. It all came to a head later that day, they were at a park and they were noticed by members of the public, who started their usual barrage, asking frankly triggering questions and requesting photographs and signatures.

Ambrosius was used to all that, but while Ballister was somewhat accustomed to it, it always stressed him out. Ambrosius managed to fish his lover and Nimona away from the paparazzi and back to the safety of their vehicle.

“You guys alright?” Ambrosius started it up, flying through the airways. Ballister didn't answer, he glanced over. “Bal?”

His lover looked distant, blinking fast, looking around in a haze. “Do you, lemon?”

“What?” Oh shit. “Nimona, take his arm off!” Ambrosius began landing the vehicle in a safe place.

“What?” She looked quizzically from the backseat.

“Now! He's having a seizure, the prosthetic is wired to his nerves and muscle, the electrical signals can make it go nuts!”

Ballister knew a seizure was coming when he tasted lemon out of nowhere. They needed to get it together quickly, he was already having trouble speaking.

Quickly Nimona reached forward and disconnected the arm, and not a moment too soon. Ballister’s face twisted and his head began to jerk, along with his right leg, a rhythmic back and forth motion. Once Ambrosius was safely parked, he grabbed the blanket from the back seat and cushioned Ballister's head, and started a timer on his phone. A car was not the ideal place for this to happen, he wasn't completely sure of the protocol. Ballister was at least buckled, so he couldn't collapse into the dashboard. “It's okay, Bal.” He whispered softly. Everything will be okay.”

Nimona's eyes were wide with terror. After sixty-two seconds, Ballister went still, his eyes blearily gazing in front of him, foggy. Ambrosius stroked his hair. “It's over, love. It's over. You're okay.”

Nimona swallowed. “What happened to him?”

Ambrosius exited the vehicle and came around to open Ballister's door so he could more closely check up on him. He unbuckled him and helped him out of the car, supporting most of his weight. “Nimona, let me lay him in the back, he needs to lay on his side.”

Nimona moved out of the way. “What happened to him?”

Once Ballister was laid safely in a recovery position, Ambrosius sat beside the car and stroked his hair. “He had a seizure.”

“A seizure? I thought you had to be born with those. I've never seen him do this before.”

“He hit his head, a lot, after–” Ambrosius swallowed. “After what I did to him. It all added up, and left enough damage that this happens sometimes. Eventually it's supposed to go away, but we have no idea when. He's okay, he just won't be able to talk for a few minutes. Will you sit back here with him? Just make sure he's breathing okay, and try to comfort him while I drive home. Sometimes he gets a little emotional. You can give his arm back, too.” He swallowed. He wanted to comfort Ballister, but he needed to get them home safely. Ballister could recover better at home.

Nimona didn't seem to know what to do, but for once, she didn't argue. Ambrosius drove home hearing her speak softer than he ever had, in a reassuring voice.

When they got home, they managed to assist Ballister inside. He could now understand speech and get out a word here and there, but he was mostly disoriented and exhausted. Once Ambrosius checked that his breathing was normal, and he didn't have any severe bites in his mouth, he tucked him into their bed and let him rest, setting a timer to wake him up and check on him.

Nimona looked gaunt, she paced the living room.

“Aren't you a thousand years old? I thought you'd be used to things like seizures. This wasn't a bad one, thankfully. He's okay, you don't have to worry.” Ambrosius was a hypocrite. He was extremely worried.

She shook her head. “Not that, I mean, I've seen them before, they're normal, I've known thousands of people– but I didn't realize— I didn't realize someone could hurt their head so easily.” She whispered.

“What do you mean?”

She swallowed. “He got hit in the face with a rock when the Institute blew up. And I dragged him home. And I didn't even try to make sure he didn't hit his head! He was getting smacked into curbs left and right and– and I thought it was funny!” She rubbed her face. “I haven't been close with a human in so long, I forgot how fragile they were, how even something like that– it's partially my fault, don't you get it? I was careless and he hit his head and now he's suffering because of me.”

Ambrosius swallowed. Ballister told him about how Nimona said he'd hit his head on the curb when she took him home, and yes, it had contributed to several in a series of head injuries. He sat on the couch. “Nimona, it's not your fault. I knew about that. The doctor said the concussions hadn't helped, but most of the damage was from the debris, from Todd beating him up, and from when he fell through the stadium floor. It's just– how it is.”

Nimona sat on the couch beside him and sniffed. “You don't understand. I forgot how easily humans can be hurt. How easily they can die.”

“Oh…” Ambrosius looked down. “Well, for what it's worth, I don't think he'd be here at all if it wasn't for you. Humans are weak, but Ballister is strong. He's kind, resilient, and forgiving– I know that better than anyone. He's gonna be fine. Don't beat yourself up.”

Nimona sniffed and smiled at him. “Thanks, nemesis.”

[mashithamel]

I found that someone had transcribed the Old Tongue lyrics for “Nynaeve al’Meara,” but I haven’t found a translation yet. So I took a stab at it!

I’ll post the Old Tongue lyrics, then my attempt at a translation. Words or lines in bold are ones I had to guess at using context. It’s not an exact one-to-one translation, but more of what I think it’s trying to say.

Afterward, I will list out the words and their meanings. (?) means I couldn’t find that exact word, and where possible I breakdown how I determined a likely meaning. Bold words are ones I could not find a meaning for.

With the definitions I will link to my translation sources and at the top the original site with the transcription. Enjoy!

**************

Totah Manetheren der

Waji weladthi tar valon

Ninte ghoba dvo ahendrelle

Dvodrelle duadh ninte khadye

Devore rieht

Riehtne mazers sa’trewele

Aleikya saidar

Mat’saidar daghain’cov

Seren’shai

Pochivat

Ninte saidendrelle

Tsunga ellis sheikar

Ashandore balfrait

Grean al dival

Shukan vaanok

Ni’walden merwon

Kerenya keewal

Ashandore Jaendar

Ashandore ma’zaffid

Ma’tumasenya ashandore

Ashama’sein der mirhage

********************

Far from your mountain home

Now you are in Tar Valon

Your soul is of the two rivers

The waters of the Two Rivers is in your bones

Strive for balance

You balance on one side your magnificent braid

You must own your own power

Your power will overcome your fear

Stubborn woman

Make

The strength of the river

Into a raging fire

Wisdom from the Women’s Circle

Channel from the Light

Seek to protect them

Your fears are boiling

You must let them boil out

Wisdom of women

Wisdom you are enough

Your protection, Wisdom

Will guard them from harm

*********************

Definitions

totah: far

Manetheren: mountain home

der: from

waji: now

weladthi: life

ninte: your

ghoba: soul

dvo: two

ahendrelle: river/waters

Dvodrelle: Two Rivers

duadh: water

khadye: related to bone

devorye: ask yourself (?)

- devor: ask

- ye: I

rieht: balance

riehtne: balancer (?)

- rieht: balance

- ne: suffix -er

mazera

sa’: superlative

trewele: braid

aleikya: one’s own (?)

- al: of the

- lei: man

- ya: my own

saidar: power (feminine)

- sai: power

- dar: female

mat: control

daghain: fear

cov: owner

seren: stubborn

shai: woman

pochivat: start

saidendrelle: power of the river

tsunga: into (solely based on context)

ellis sheikar: raging sun (literally “bright sun”)

ashandore: Wisdom (literally “mountain guard”)

balfrait: Women’s Circle (?)

- bal: circle

- frait: strong

grean: channel

al’: to the

dival: light

shukan: healthy, pl (?)

- shuk: health

- an: pleural

vaanok: delve (?)

- vaa: maybe sense?

- nok: maybe act?

ni: for

walden

merwon: boiling

kerenya: cook for yourself (?)

- ren: related to cooking

- ya: my own

keewal: out/finish (?)

- keesh: out

Jaendar: belonging to women (?)

- ja: of

- en: pleural

- dar: feminine

ma’zaffi: completely whole (?)

- ma: stresses importance

- zaffi: complete

- d: belonging to

ma’tumasenya: protection (?)

- ma: stresses importance

- tumasen: safe

- ya: my own

ashama: guard

sein: them

mirhage: harm

[hisuian-history-makers]

Random Nimona (2023 Movie) Headcanons

—Ballister and Ambrosius did combine their last names to make “Goldenheart/Goldheart” due to Nimona relentlessly teasing the latter.

—Nimona is fine using any pronouns and will frequently change which type they/she use except it/its. No need to explain why…

—Ambros’ middle name is Gloria. The fact his initials spell out Agg will never cease to get a small chuckle out of Nimona or Ballister.

—Bal has let Nimona spray-paint some of his arms. A few have themes he proudly wears.

—Graffiti is legal in the city once Ambros’ passes a law. As long as the art in question doesn’t contain any inappropriate imagery.

—Sometimes they play a version of Guess Who? called “Guess What?” where Nimona will shapeshift into an extinct species. Whoever guesses the closest related animal to it wins!

—She sometimes corrects historical inaccuracies reminding everyone that they are genuinely at or over one thousand years old.

—Ballister will occasionally share stories about the Queen spending time with him. Mentions of her are scarce yet always entertaining as they involve a very devoted kid Bal’s antics.

(Ambros’ favorite has to be when Bal “protected” the Queen from dirtying her feet by literally throwing himself into the mud puddle.)

—Nimona isn’t human and sometimes his dads have a hard time wrapping their heads around this fact. She/He/They are simply Nimona.

(The first time they shifted into one was when she met Gloreth. He just exists, simple as that.)

—Gloreth came up with the name Nimona…

—She will take requests from kids to shapeshift into. Some suggestions even teach them about animals they have no clue existed like Giraffes!

—Ambros’ is a worrywart who stressed over written exams. Sometimes he wouldn’t even finish the assignments due to needing to grammar and spellcheck every little sentence.

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

I dont have a long funny title for these Nimona headcanons

Nimona will steal the boy's stuff all the time 

she’ll eat food off their plates when they’re not looking or will steal their food from the fridge 

She also steals all of Ambrosius’ rubber bands and claw clips 

And when she thinks the boys aren't wearing their clothes enough she’ll take them and either upcycle them or wear them as pajamas 

They’ve asked her a million times why she does this and her answer every single time is “It's fun”

The trio all have stims that the others view as harmful 

When Bal is stressed he’ll grind his teeth or bite his nails 

Nimona will bite his lips or pick at scabs that he let form

Ambrosius will bite the inside of his mouth or pull his hair 

And they all have little signals for each other to make them mindful that they’re doing it 

They don’t try and stop each other they know it’ll just make it worse but it’s a little reminder that they’re doing it 

Just a little “Hey I know you know yourself best and what you can handle but you’re also starting to bleed so please be careful” 

When they have their mouth stims the other will do things like whistle or hum just small things that you can’t do easily when you’re grinding your teeth or biting your mouth/nails

When Nimona is picking at his scabs the boys will tap their feet or drum on their legs 

And when Ambrosius is pulling his hair Nimona and Bal will offer to tie it up or braid it and sometimes they’ll just slide a rubber band over to him

If he doesn’t want the rubber band or doesn’t want them touching him they don’t force him they consider it a success because they still got through to him 

And if he lets them mess with his hair they consider it a bigger success because they love braiding his hair

When Ambrosius doesn’t have to go to work or doesn’t have to be in early Bal and Nimona take turns styling his hair

It doesn’t matter if it takes 5 minutes or 50 he’ll wait patiently for them to finish

And he leaves the house like that too no matter how crazy or stupid it looks

They have a little collection of pictures that they/civilians took and posted of their “masterpieces” 

Ambrosius has an 8-step skincare routine that he does every single day

Doesn’t matter if he’s witnessed every atrocity the world can throw at him he’s still doing it 

He also has a dedicated hair care routine that he spent hours researching 

Bal doesn’t give a singular solitary fuck what he puts on his face

As long as it’s cruelty-free not expensive and works he doesn’t care 

When Bal and Ambrosius first became friends Bal told him that he didn’t really wash his face even after he joined the institute 

Ambrosius almost passed out while whining about how the world is a cruel and unusual place 

He has worn Bal down over the years and made him use two products face wash and moisturizer 

He also found out that Nimona doesn’t take care of their skin at all

And when they saw how shocked Ambrosius was they continued by saying “In fact I take dirt baths like a chinchilla”

All he could choke out was “My lovely little tornado why?” They started laughing and claimed it’s “good for my immune system” 

Which caused Ambrosius to ask almost hysterically “What immune system?!”

[magicrainbowkitties]

Just saw nimona. Very ok and not at all feeling seen and heard in finally seeing a narrative that explicitly rejects respectability politics and about to chew on the drywall.

But I need you to understand. The fact that the one kiss is just a casual gay smooch.

THIS IS WHAT IVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT!!! Nimona as a film is EFFORTLESSLY queer. Like. Bal and Ambrosius just love each other. Nimona is just Nimona. I cannot stress to you enough just how important it is for shit like this, where queerness doesn't NEED a label, where it just happens and is a normal occurrence, to exist. There is gonna be some kid out there who sees themself in this movie and for once isn't gonna be terrified of who they are. They're gonna see that part of themselves for what it is: A normal part of life. I quite literally cannot stress to you enough how important this movie is. Fucking hell.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Red Mountain Waffle House, pt. 9

"My lord, a message from Azura."

Archcanon Saryoni looked...strange. Either he was trying not to be sick or he was trying not to laugh.

"Well? What is this message?" Vivec slipped into the godliest voice possible and looked down at his devoted priest.

"Ah...it includes an expletive, so I wrote it down. I should prefer not to speak such profane words in...Your presence, Lord Vivec."

Vivec gestured, took the offered paper, and looked with what he hoped was detached serenity. "You may go. I am not in the least angered at you, for if the messenger is blighted for giving bad news, however can it be turned to our advantage?"

Saryoni left, and Vivec finally unrolled the message, which was both very short and very simple.

To the apostate murderer Vivec

Fuck. You.

He burned it, and watched the ashes drift off. The daedric princes didn't usually bother with things like this. He still got the odd stalkerish message from Molag Bal, but this sort of thing?

What in oblivion did it mean?

He opened Morrowtwitter, intending to do his usual morning scrolling, and nearly broke his phone.

---------------------------------------------------

*The Night Before*

---------------------------------------------------

"This was a terrible idea." Sadara grumbled, and pushed closer to Jiub to stay under the umbrella. "You have all this weed and you can't get a bigger umbrella?"

"Why don't YOU get a bigger umbrella, huh? Cozy up to His Cultiness and see if you can't get us a little more gold, huh? Feel like we could use him as a friend considering Almalexia's body wasn't where I left it. First time a body I tossed just up and vanished."

"Because if I wanted to go into prostitution I'd move to Suran where that shit's legal." And she REALLY didn't want to think about Almalexia right now.

"It's not like you can catch anything off him."

"No diseases, anyway, but probably a hell of a lot of clinging."

You need to relax, Nerevar's voice wafted through her mind, Have a little fun, you know. You can't do much well if you keep being stressed about petty things.

Nearly dying because of your boyfriend isn't petty. The man has no hobbies except spreading plagues and trying to recruit people to worship him.

If you spent even ONE night with him--

I'm not fucking him, Nerevar! How about this, I'll fuck SOMEBODY at the party. Would that make you happy? But you've got to agree to be quiet while I'm here. If people think I'm talking to a voice in my head I'm not getting laid this night...or any other night.

Thankfully, Nerevar agreed.

She wanted a romp anyway. A one night stand. Something that would leave her with a headache, an ache between the legs, and a ripped pair of panties stuffed into her pocket to show for the whole thing. A story to tell for a while about the dangers of being too drunk. There was something exciting about the whole idea--

"What'd ya bring?"

A guy out in front of Greg's house, standing under the porch awning, flicked a cigarette and gestured vaguely.

"Weed," Jiub said, waggling the bag in his other hand, "Let us in."

Inside they found Greg, already well-watered and swaying only slightly. "Hey, hey, you made it! Jiub, great to see you...and uh...Sad...Sada..."

"Sadara."

"Yeah, that. There's a bunch of food in the kitchen, we've got some ashlanders in here that brought a whole roasted kagouti, so if you like kagouti steak or a burger or something you might want to get on that pronto. Ah, we got karaoke, but Jolene's here so you'll have to wrestle him off it if you want a shot."

"Jolene?"

"Big motherfucker. We don't know his name but he shows up now'n then, brings an armful of booze...and only ever sings that 'Jolene' song, so we started calling him that. Kind of a weepy drunk."

Sadara went on ahead, got a kagouti steak, some sujamma, and some ash yam fries which all vanished in a hurry. She grabbed a bottle of flin from a 6 pack somebody opened, poured it into a cup and set off, looking...

...alright, who might I regret the least when I wake up tomorrow morning?

What looked like a gulakhan made a pass at her, but the poor thing was so wobbly she couldn't do anything but decline. She gave him a smile and guided him over to an empty couch. "Have some water, you don't look so good."

He stammered out a thank you and then she turned away.

There's too many people here, Nerevar said in her head, Reminds me of old council soirees.

Yeah, this is how we party now.

She walked looking for anyone she knew, and chatted with one or two of the Waffle House regulars.

"Stupid landlord raised our rent again. We're already renting four to the apartment and we're talking to a fifth guy who's an ash ghoul."

"Thought people didn't want them in around here. Not that I mind, they've always been polite to me."

The Dunmer shrugged. "He can pay a share of rent and only eats corprusmeat. You'd think they'd be messy as all oblivion but they're actually pretty tidy. Like to keep things 'in order.' He actually came in and did our dishes without being asked."

"That checks out," she laughed. "Careful of the ordinators though, no matter how polite they are, they don't care for the ash folk."

"Oh yeah, we already got that down. Cult or not we agree all ordinators are bastards."

There was a laugh, and then the guy saw some friend or the other and headed off to speak to him.

Sadara moved through the crowd, only half-paying attention to the sea of faces around her. Her cup was half-empty and she was strongly considering going to find Jiub and ask what he did with the weed when some imperial woman appeared at her elbow.

"Hey, can you help me out?"

"With what?"

"I want to do a song and Jolene's five times in and showing no signs of stopping."

She'd ask why her, but figured it was because she didn't look too drunk...or maybe that she looked like an easy mark, who knew. She agreed and followed the woman into an upstairs room where she was then unfortunate to get within earshot of this Jolene.

"--flaming locks of auburn hair, with ivory skin and eyes of emerald green--"

Half the room was ignoring him, and half were complaining, but Jolene didn't seem to notice any of it, so consumed with the song as he was. Sadara moved closer, and got a better look at him.

He looked like someone's long-haired dad with delusions of being a rally strider racer, right down to the bandana covering his forehead and tied off in the back. Black leather jacket, jeans, shades, the whole nine yards, as the saying went. The cherry on top, though, was the braided goatee.

Why me? she thought.

Nerevar stirred in the back of her mind, but didn't say a word.

"--and I cannot compete with you...Jolene."

The man was really putting his all into it; Sadara felt bad for walking up to him. He was a little drunk, she guessed, because he didn't notice her until she spoke to him.

"Come on, time to sit down. Let somebody else have a turn."

"Why?" He sounded half-about to cry. "What's the point?"

One of THOSE drunks, she thought ruefully. Well, there wasn't much going on...she wasn't having a lot of luck finding a guy for the night. Maybe if this guy were less focused on whoever he lost he'd do.

"Come on." She grabbed his arm and tugged gently. "You don't look so good, you need to sit down."

Sniffling. Half a sob. Then he looked up at her, and his weepy expression changed in an instant.

"Sure. Sure, why not.."

Jolene let her lead him off to a couch in a back hallway that only seemed to be frequently by people heading to the bathroom at the back. She fetched a bottle of flin and came back to him with two cups, then poured him out a bit. It was only being this close now that she noticed his ring--black and with a boxy setting and a little spike at the top.

"A drink'll serve you better than weeping over it. Or at least it'll put you out of your misery for a few hours."

"Nothing ever helps. I don't get hungover and I don't stop thinking about--about--" Jolene sputtered slightly.

"Well, there's got to be something that'll work," she patted his shoulder. "Get your mind off it. It's not the same thing, but I'm broke as hell and I have a bunch of ways to keep my mind off how much it sucks."

"Such as?"

"Finding literally anything to do that's free. I learned how to make tea from trama root, that's everywhere. The Waffle House I work at's got a nice jukebox...the manager's been teaching me to patch things up better than I was doing. That...none of that will probably help you, though, you look like you've got enough money you don't...don't, uh..." Sadara waved a hand absently. "Cliffracer hunting is fun if you need to burn off some steam. It'll make you some money but you'll probably get a bunch of new scars out of it."

She rolled up one sleeve and gestured to some of the healed-over scars.

"It looks--terrible," Jolene said, his voice halting. "And you did this for drinking money?"

"Oh no, I did it for a living before I got the job at the Waffle House," Sadara shrugged. "When you don't have much you have to take what you can get...and cliffracer plumes sell for well enough to be worth the trip. They're edible, too, so it's easy food...less gold to spend on food and more to spend on healing potions and armor repair. I kept meaning to buy a lute, but..."

"What stopped you?"

"These." she gestured. "Jiub got me the job, and it's not great...pipes get clogged, landlord keeps raising the rent, and we eat sleep for dinner two nights a week, but it's not bad."

"How is that not BAD?" he burst out. "You could do MUCH better. I'm sure you have more opportunities."

"Without qualifications, and not wanting to kowtow to crazy Telvanni...I'm not sure I'd suit for the Redoran, and as for Hlaalu...well I guess I am one, but..."

She shrugged. The flin was making her chatty, she knew she was saying too much, but she couldn't help herself. Jolene was such an easy listener and seemed to be hanging onto her every word.

"But what?"

"But I prefer not to tell people, because then they ask where I'm from, and then I tell them, and I have to hear, 'oh, I know you. Your cousin is the corpsefucker, right?" Sadara shrugged. "So I just tell everyone I don't belong to a Great House. It's easier. People expect less from you anyway. If I said I was house Hlaalu they'd probably think I was an idiot for not...you know..."

"Kissing Imperial ass, it's what they're known for," Jolene said. He finished the rest of his flin in one gulp, then took the bottle and took a long guzzle from it. He handed it back to her, and grumbled slightly. "That's swill, do they not have anything better?"

"It's a party, not a soiree," Sadara shrugged. "It'll get you drunk. Who cares about the quality?"

"I do. I have this thing called standards--"

"You're in the Red Mountain neighborhood, there's no such thing. There's probably a guy in every apartment building making prison wine out of whatever he can get his hands on. And why show up if you're going to insult what they've got on offer?"

"Like I have anything else to do." Jolene sat back, and looked up at the ceiling. "All this time, all these people..."

He started mumbling under his breath and she only caught bits of what he said.

"...have to show for...the point?...know what I'm doing..."

He straightened up once Sadara had finished her own cup and was pouring out another.

Nerevar? she thought.

Yes? The voice in her mind was unusually muted.

Will this guy do?

YES. The enthusiasm was clear, and in an odd way it was contagious.

"You don't seem like you're doing good," Sadara said, "So I was wondering...I came here to get a little...well..."

"Get what?" Jolene, for all his woe over his lost love, whoever it was, seemed completely clueless.

"You know. You want me to scream it in front of everyone?" she gave a slight giggle and leaned in as close as she could manage, considering he was taller than her. "Unless you aren't interested."

"Interested in wh--"

Jolene finally seemed to get it, and tensed straight up.

"You don't...know me," he said slowly, and after a moment, leaned down and said in a quieter voice, "Feeling reckless, are we?"

"Maybe." Sadara gave a grin, and met his eyes directly. "I don't really care who you are, I don't care what you've got - I can't catch it anyway."

They were a hair's breadth away from kissing when the shout came that had ruined many a party in the Red Mountain region neighborhood and would likely ruin many more.

"BONEHEADS!"

Chaos erupted in the hallway, and shrieks aplenty were heard in the rooms nearby. Four people stumbled out of the bathroom, one of then a Dunmer trying to zip up his shorts and the three others screeching about leaving half the moon sugar on the bathroom floor.

"Fucking hells--" Sadara swore, and started to get up. "Figures I'm about to get laid and the ordinators show up. I guess I'll see you at the next o--"

But Jolene was up beside her in a flash and said, "How do you feel about Suran?"

"Suran? What's that got to--"

"I can get us there, there's a Telvanni that runs a portal from near here to there for his drug money. You want to go?"

For only a moment did she think.

"Sure. How're you gonna get us out? And I thought you couldn't teleport from inside the Ghostfence?"

Jolene grinned madly. "The Ghostfence can't stop me."

-------------------------------------------------

Between an invisibility spell and the ordinators getting busy arresting a few people who decided that attempting to run off with the ordinator's guar mounts was an excellent life decision, Sadara and Jolene slipped out without being seen--though the rain didn't stop, even for a moment. The Telvanni he mentioned was only a street over, and it wouldn't take long, she was told.

She insisted on not going too far until she got word back from Jiub--who'd been "taking a walk" with a few other guys and so had early warning of the ordinators pulling up.

You good? Jiub texted back as they were entering said Telvanni's house.

Better than good, she wrote back, as Jolene was negotiating. Going to Suran with some big hunk of a man.

I don't want to hear any details. Just be careful, alright?

Alright. I'll be fine.

"Sadara, let's go. Portal's ready."

She put away her phone, and stepped into a glowing circle on the floor. That looked enough like what she remembered from some of the Mages Guilds back in Cyrodiil.

A single blink.

She opened her eyes.

And right before the two of them was a huge sign with big gaudy flashing neon that said, "WELCOME TO FABULOUS SURAN."

"Well," she said suddenly, "What're we gonna do here? You can't go at me on the street, you know."

"There's a lot more to do here than back there behind the Ghostfence," Jolene said, waving one hand briefly. "Musical theater, magic acts, acrobatics...gambling. There's tours, if you wanted--have you ever seen any stage shows?"

"Well--online." Sadara looked around. The crowds around weren't paying a bit of attention to them. People were in House robes, armor, wearing feathered costumes...and the city, however glittery, seemed so--alive. Not like the Imperial capital, but...somehow MORE. "Just being around here's a treat, though, you don't have to--it's not necessary."

She was going to bang him anyway; she didn't want him to feel like he had to wine and dine her.

"It is ENTIRELY necessary," Jolene added in a grandiose tone. "Now tell me, my lady, where shall we go first?"

[tinytinybumblebee]

May I pretty pls request some tiny ballister headcanons with cg ambrosia

!!!!!!!

This lad

Ooooh this lad is just a little guy!!!

- He's a flip (no real lean on either side!)

- His tiny age fluctuates, anywhere between itty-bitty baby to his pre-teens. It all depends on how he's feeling that very moment ;w;

- No matter how tiny he is, this boy loves science or any kind of tinkering! When he's in an older kid headspace, Ambrosius lets Ballister with the things in Bal's "lab".

Or, these child-friendly science kits♡

But, when Ballister is younger, Ambrosius has to keep a very careful eye on the tyke because he will find him trying to "fix" his own arm (by fix I do mean sticking random wires around, thankfully none actually ever get any conducive energy because Ambrosius doesn't know what he'd do if his little Balli got shocked!!) So, Ambrosius has to keep things nearby that Ballister /can/ tinker with (like, remotes)

-Oooh Ambrosius is a very protective Papa!!! Nobody dares harm a hair on his little one's head! He is always nearby Balli, making sure he's safe ♡

- Post-film, when the wall isn't really a thing anymore, Ambrosius totally brings Ballister out to the forest for some relaxing, tiny time away from the stresses of the city ;w; for the most part, it's them all snuggled up under a tree, Ballister taking a nap and Ambrosius running his fingers through his tiny one's hair♡♡♡♡ (Nimona is there too, she's flying around with some birdies, collecting cool sticks xD)

- tiny Ballister still likes boardgames! He insists on no one go easy on him when he's tiny. But uhh,,,impossible because he'll land on Ambrosius' lot and be told he needs to pay 700 gold and Ballister will just look over to him like "🥺🥺🥺 700?? I don't gots that🥺🥺🥺" (he has that, he just can't count that high!) xD

- Ballister gets a lot of phantom limb pain. When he's big, he can handle it, but when tiny, it kinda spooks him! Because his arm hurts, but it's not there?? Ambrosius will hold him on his lap, gently massaging the amputated area, speaking softly to Ballister (Ambrosius feels so much guilt but even more so when Ballister is tiny ;0; he sees those confused, sad eyes looking at him and just hugs him tightly)

- Ballister likes to play with Ambrosius' hair, it's so soft and smells so good/soothing to him ;u;

Aaaa that's all i have for now but absolutely feel free to send your ideas aa!♡♡♡

[euphreana]

The Shape of Truth - Chapter 3: The Pink Phantom

Masterpost

-

Ambrosius was convinced he was seeing things. The stress of the day was getting to him. The punk teen who’d randomly appeared in his room continued to hold her hand out expectantly.

“I don't care.” He said in response to the greeting, “Just leave me alone.” He moved past the pink figure and flopped back onto his bed, eyes closed.

“Leave you alone? You look like you need all the help you can get!”

Ambrosius cracked his eyes open. The hallucination that had called itself ‘Nimona’ had her face inches away from his, upside down. She grinned.

“And luckily for you, I happen to be the perfect one for the job!”

Ambrosius narrowed his eyes. “What job?”

“Your new sidekick!”

Ambrosius groaned and rubbed his eyes. Was his brain trying to create an imaginary friend to fill the void Bal had left behind? When Ambrosius opened his eyes again, the teen had disappeared. Good. Then the same voice cut in again from atop a shelving unit.

“Don’t bother to fill me in, I saw everything.”

“What?” Ambrosius sat up, seeing Nimona now lounging on the shelves.

“It was a beautiful scheme!” She said.

Ambrosius blinked, and Nimona was suddenly spinning on the easy chair across the room.

“Assassination of a monarch, the kingdom thrown into complete and utter chaos, it would have been perfect, if only he’d made his daring escape! But don’t worry! This is just half-time - you can still finish what he started!”

“Finish w—” Ambrosius began, but suddenly found a sheaf of papers whirled into his hands. “What’s this?”

“My resume!”

Ambrosius glanced at the papers. There was no text; just crayon drawings of all manner of animals rampaging through piles of royal guards.

“… This is—”

“Awesome, isn’t it? I thought a visual aid would really make it POP!”

Ambrosius looked up from the papers to see Nimona sitting on the dresser.

“Sooo… what’s the plan, boss?”

Ambrosius stared at her for a long moment.

“What are you supposed to be exactly? Some repressed memory?”

The teen huffed and hopped off the dresser. “I told you - I’m Nimona.”

“Okay… Nimona. I’m tired and don’t want to deal with this right now.”

“Oh, oh sure, I get it. Still getting over your buddy’s death. Got it. Just let me know when you’re ready to move on to the next stage of the plan.”

Ambrosius shoved the papers back into her hands.

“There is no plan. Bal is…” He locked his jaw, willing the tears to go away.

“That’s not going to stop you though, right? The man must be avenged!”

Ambrosius was about to respond when he heard a knock at the door. He hoped the noise was real this time.

He opened the door. It was Captain Ironwill; a burly man with black hair.

“Captain.” Ambrosius greeted him.

“Goldenloin.” Ironwill nodded. “I heard about what happened at the execution. They’re giving you tomorrow off.”

Ambrosius lowered his gaze. “Thanks.”

“I tried to get you full bereavement leave, but you weren’t legally related.” Ironwill’s voice dropped slightly. “I’m sorry. I know you were close. At least he didn’t drag you into it.”

Ambrosius nodded.

Ironwill continued, “Nice choice of color.”

Ambrosius looked up. Ironwill was looking past him, into the room. Ambrosius turned around. There was a pink cat sitting on the bed wearing a vest labeled ‘Emotional Support’. Ambrosius stared at it mutely.

Ironwill acknowledged Ambrosius again and left. Ambrosius stood in the doorway, still staring at the cat.

The cat spoke up, “What? Not a cat person?”

Ambrosius sputtered, then turned to the open door behind him. The hallway outside was empty.

“Good Gloreth I’m going crazy…” he muttered, shutting the door.

“Come again?” Ambrosius turned back to see Nimona sitting cross-legged where the cat had been. Definitely a hallucination, and one he was tired of.

“How do I make you go away?”

Nimona shrugged and got up, bouncing on the bed a few times. “Same time tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Morning?”

Ambroisus rubbed his eyes. Anything to make her leave.

“Fine. Just go.”

“Got it, boss!”

When he opened his eyes again, there was a pink bird perched on the windowsill.

“Tomorrow!” the bird said, then took off, leaving him alone in his room. Finally.

“Gloreth please don’t let this happen again.” Ambrosius said to himself, falling back onto his bed. He didn’t want to end up in the psych ward.

~ ~ ~

The front office was surprised to see Ambrosius when he went in early the next morning.

“Didn’t someone tell you to take the day off?” the receptionist said.

Ambrosius remembered the stress hallucination from the day before. Or had it been a vision of the future?

“Oh… Yeah, I forgot.” he stammered.

Ambrosius left the building, wondering what it was that had happened yesterday.

“THERE you are!” a familiar voice broke into his thoughts. It was that Nimona hallucination, except this time she’d taken the form of a large, pink dog, again wearing the emotional support vest.

Ambrosius groaned.

“You again…”

“Me again! I thought the longer legs would make it easier to keep up.” The dog waved a paw. “So what’s the plan for today? Or should we… discuss things somewhere private?”

Ambrosius wondered if ignoring Nimona would make her go away. He didn’t want to be seen talking to an imaginary friend, although there wasn’t really anyone to see - it was early enough that hardly anyone was out on the campus.

“Whatever.” he mumbled and started the walk to a nearby tea shop.

“What better place to hide than in the open. I like that.” Dog-Nimona winked and followed alongside, “I thought up some ideas for revenge - it looks like the director was the one who ordered the execution, so I was thinking we-”

“I’m not taking revenge. For all I know… Bal was guilty.”

“No duh! I saw him fire the… wait, are you saying that wasn’t part of the plan?”

“What? No! Why would I- I wasn’t- I don’t even know if-”

“Oh….” The dog suddenly looked disappointed. It was a look Ambrosius had always dreaded seeing. Was even his subconscious disappointed with him?

The dog spoke up again.

“So you’re not a villain?”

“No!”

“But he was, right?”

“I don’t—”

“Well someone is. So why don’t we find out who?” Nimona hurried in front of Ambrosius, now walking backwards so she could see his face. “We dig - we find out if your buddy was behind the plot, and if he wasn’t, we find out who was. And we take revenge!”

“Revenge?”

“So what leads do you have? Assuming you’ve already been looking into this. Searched his belongings for clues?”

“Everything got confiscated or thrown out.”

“Huh. Anything else of his?”

“I don’t know… they have his sword in the archives.”

“Then off to the archives we go!” Nimona began to trot on ahead.

It didn’t sound like a bad idea, but Ambrosius wondered why his subconscious would be so focused on revenge. He’d been taught the pitfalls of seeking revenge since he was young - the right thing to do was forgive and move on. But… he did want to know if his dead boyfriend had been a murderer or not. He needed to know if what they’d had had been real. What if the Institute had missed something in their assessment of the situation and there was someone else involved? The authorities didn’t know Bal like he did, and stuff wasn’t adding up…

The imaginary dog had charged ahead, but now it was looking back at him with pleading puppy eyes, wagging its tail.

“Aren't you coming?”

Well, since this was basically his own advice, he might as well follow it.

Chapter 4

[igneouswyvern]

Watched Nimona today and I'm absolutely losing my shit

Anyways one of the things that hit me super hard was just. The idea that. That people will only ever see you one way, that nobody will ever change the way they perceive you. But then Nimona points out to Bal that he changed the way he saw her, didn't he? And that just. Most people won't change the way they perceive you. Because they're too stuck in their bigotry, or because they don't really care about you that much, because they never really cared that much to begin with. Those people aren't worth your time. They aren't worth flipping out over. The people who do bother to change because they really care are the people you need to hold onto.

I'm very very closeted, but I've been really thinking about this because I'm surrounded by friends and family who I know are too stuck in their bigotry to change for me. They'd never accept me as anything but a girl. But well, those people don't matter. Not as much as the friends I have online who were immediately willing and happy to change up their pronouns for me. And I even stress about strangers, about strangers who might find out my gender is nonconventional and judge me for it, or strangers who assume I'm a woman and refuse to listen when I correct them. But realistically, they don't matter to me. They never did. I can't change the way people perceive me. I'll never be able to. But I can hold onto the people who care about me enough to change on their own. Those are the people who matter.

Also I just wanted to say I desperately want to emulate Nimona's attitude in this movie. The way she brushes off all of Ballister's questions about her origins with just "I'm Nimona." That's the attitude I strive for. I don't have to answer strangers trying to ask me "why/how are you nonbinary? What does that even mean? What's between your legs? Did you get the surgery?" I don't have to answer any of it. I'm me. I'm here. You can accept my name and pronouns or not, your choice. I don't care, and I don't owe you an explanation.

Sorry just...this movie touched me in a lot of ways, and I was struggling a lot this past week trying to force myself to be a girl, and I decided to watch this movie at the perfect time, and I've really gotten renewed vigor as a transgender individual and I'm trying to take heart and take pride in who I am again. I needed this movie a lot.