[ imagine if i said no. anyway he's at the penthouse and he has some snacks he brought for her for later, which means he pauses when he sees the scroll? and he carefully moves to nudge it over so it doesn't get squished, fingers brushing over the parchment as he shifts it. ]
[every person i've given this starter to has been like "imagine if i said no" i love you all
anyway, he nudges it, and the scroll sparkles pink, and then - like the pages of a story book, a flash of memories come up and plays in front of him!
i can also just give you the link to the shady website i got this from but i didn't want to frighten you with viruses so. also, netflix. also you've seen this but, y'know.]
[ everything plays before his eyes, and the worst of it is...it feels familiar. like not just because of the adventure they went on that clearly tried to tell them nimona's story, but because of his own feelings and thoughts and years of painful loneliness and isolation for being different.
for being terrifying.
he drops the scroll with a sharp inhale, and it takes him a moment to close his eyes and recollect his thoughts. but the response after that is almost immediate. he ignores the snacks on the table, leaves the scroll behind, and carefully lays himself down on the floor. his movements are slow, but purposeful, and he slithers forward to stick his body halfway under the bed.
he doesn't speak immediately. but he's looking for her. ]
as a little pink cat. and when he sees her, she looks at him, her eyes glowing bright pink, just light, frightened. this is bad. this is so bad, nobody is supposed to have seen this, nobody is ever supposed to know about this.
he meets her gaze, and she bolts. she skitters out from under the bed to the door, but it's closed, and she has to skid to a stop, panicking.]
he watches her run, and he pulls himself out from under the bed but he stays on the floor to give her space. the door is closed and he leans forward just a little, watching her with equal parts sympathy and concern.
she stops at the door and he can sense the panic without even having to speak, and he dredges up some sort of...something from inside of himself that makes him speak finally. ]
...come here, Nimona. [ it's not really a command. it's not a request either. it's an offer, and he's holding out both of his hands so she can see he's unarmed and waiting for her to make a choice. he doesn't think this will work, not when she's this frightened, but...patience. slow and gentle and easy and she's not a monster, she didn't do anything wrong, why have people made her feel like she's unwanted just because she's different? ]
[for a striking, horrible moment, she thinks about turning around and jumping off the balcony instead.
she doesn't. he says her name. come here. please, hands out, open, with nothing in them. she's caught between the way she felt when she tore herself apart, the way the shadows crawled out of her mouth and eyes and spine, and the now. in a place where she's made a little family for herself, with someone who cares about her trying to coax her back.
patience. it's the patience, like always. her eyes slowly fade back out to normal, and then look she gives him is something old, and something tired, and something so unimaginably done.
I can't imagine what it took for you to get this far, ace had said to her once.]
[ he remains in the same position, steadfast as always and keeping his hands where she can see them. he looks her in the eye and there's the way he seems to hold himself, jaw tight and expression soft. and yet, at the same time, maybe it's a reflection of that old and worn down feeling, the kind that comes after years and years of being beat down. but he remains patient. ]
I know. [ he doesn't say "i understand" but he thinks maybe he does. ] It's going to be okay. I know it doesn't feel like it, and I know it still hurts. But it won't happen again. Not here.
[ not with him, or anyone who she's come to care for. he wonders if that man was ballister, and he briefly feels bitterness toward someone he's never met for being like other people who make a judgment without a thought. ]
[she feels a little too feral to speak, a little too much like the multitude of creatures she shifted into in order to get away from the villagers that burned her. too much like the monster she was when she got spirited away. she wonders what happened. if ballister just would never look for her. if he would ever change anything, if he's going to die because she's not there.
maybe it doesn't matter.
it won't happen again. it's the millionth time she's heard this, but she wants so desperately to believe that nico isn't lying to her. that he wouldn't.
she could be angry. she could scream or she could hiss or she could say get the fuck away from me, but she doesn't. if it was someone different, maybe she would. but not with nico.
instead, she gets up, and she moves to him, and she rests her head against his outstretched hand, her ears pinned back, her whole body shaking like a leaf. please. please don't hurt her, she can't take it one more time. she wasn't going to, before she got here, she wasn't going to let anything stop her from being what the director wanted. what ballister expected. what everybody always expects.
[ he doesn't move even when she does approach finally, though there's a silent "thank you" in his head as she comes inch by inch, slowly creeping across the room and settling in his hand. he doesn't move. he keeps his hand steady for her to rest against, strong and stable until she feels like she's able to move or speak or even think.
it's a terrifying thing, being trapped in your own mind. being too angry and too scared and too buried in your own fears and pain and suffering to recognize what is and isn't real. it's horrifying to think "what would it matter if i really became what they think i am?" and find that you may mean it. it's devastating to build your hopes up and still never really know if this will finally be the thing to send the foundation you've painstakingly built again crumbling again.
so he's quiet. he lets her rest in his hand, and he thinks quietly about some of the things that have worked for him. what he might be able to do for her. what she may be thinking. and so... ]
Thank you. [ he says it out loud, and he keeps his tone calm and quiet. ] ...can I touch you? Is that okay right now?
[ he would like to pet her or maybe pick her up, something of a comforting gesture to help with the shaking, but he knows how much he hates being touched so often. it'd be shitty if he didn't think to ask right now. ]
because as much as she doesn't like being touched sometimes, it's only because she's afraid it'll hurt. she thinks about the blanket nest and she thinks about holding his hand, and she lets out a shivery little sigh and leans tiredly against his hand. he can pick her up if he wants.]
[the consent is enough for him to carefully take both hands to pick her up and secure her in his grip, leaning back against the bed on the floor and cradling her to his chest to just hold onto her. he can't hug her human form, so cat cuddles will have to do. he doesn't pet her because he's worried about overstimulating her while she's still scared, but he does keep her close and tucks her under his chin. ]
I'm sorry you didn't get a choice to tell me yourself. It's an awful thing to happen, but somehow even more awful to have someone else learn before you're ready to tell them. If you ever could at all.
[this is good. this is fine, actually, because he can just hold all of her and that feels a little better. like she's not going to burst into a million pieces. like she's not going to explode into smoke. she wonders if that's possible here. if they'd stop her, or let her.
she curls up very tightly where he's holding her under his chin.
a pause, and then, unsteadily:] I've never... I've never told anybody. Ever.
[ as a cat, she's small enough that both of his hands can cup around her and keep her safe. he's not going to make her change back. he's not going to push her away, and instead tucks himself around her a little tighter. ]
...yeah, I had a feeling. [ how the fuck could you tell someone like that? ] I'm not going to tell anyone. I...just want to help make it more okay, if that's even possible.
[ it's a rough memory. a rough experience. he can't really think of how badly it must have felt. (or maybe he can get close and that's why he's so adamant about helping her through this.) ]
[ understandable. sometimes you want to kill people.
sometimes you want to hurt everyone until your own hurt stops. but he lets his thumbs stroke over her fur and listens. ]
...sometimes it feels like the only answer when things get too out of hand. [ he doesn't necessarily agree with it, but he understands. ] And what about now? Is the ending back in the rewriting phase?
[the thing is, she doesn't agree with it either. she doesn't want to hurt people. she wants to stop hurting, and the only way to figure out how to make it stop was to make herself so much of a problem that they couldn't do anything but end her. and if they couldn't do that, she'd do it herself.
her paws knead absently at nico.]
I want it to be. [she says, finally.] I can't do it again. I won't.
You won't have to. [ it's said almost immediately, maybe too firmly but nevertheless sincere. if there's anything any of them can do about it, he refuses to let her continue to hurt. he refuses to let her be ignored and forgotten and villainized for being different. he refuses to let her become so consumed with pain that the only answer is to deliver pain back.
as if he could do that by himself. but...there are a lot of them now. there are people who care for her who won't let her fall back into this story. ]
We're together still, and we're not leaving you behind. We'll rewrite your ending together.
[she's quiet for a minute, just... trying to let herself believe this. you don't have to be alone and it won't happen again. he's here. they're all here, they all keep holding out their hands. and it's scary, and she is always just one step away from quitting, but.
sometimes you have to keep hammering it in, and eventually it starts to stick.
she shifts, pressing up into his hands, against his chin, with a faint, tired little purr.]
[ she presses into his chin and he ducks his head down to press a quick kiss to the top of her head, right between her ears. ]
...this is hard. I know it's hard on you, but I am proud of you for letting us try. Remember that. [ he's proud she's letting them get close and for letting herself try. but unfortunately it's memshare, so there is now a new comic panel appearing with a nico from about a year ago. ]
Edited (no wrong memory you might get that later tbh but no!!!) 2023-10-17 19:43 (UTC)
[Love is no game! It is no flowery softness! It is hard work — a quest that never ends. It demands everything from you — especially the truth. Only then does it yield rewards.
but it helps, too. it's hard, and it's terrifying, and worth it, and it can make you feel like you want to die but like you could do anything, too. and so when he kisses the top of her head, when she watches him confront a god - there's a million things that she thinks all at once, but.
a pause.]
... Nico. [she starts, hesitantly, curling closer. trying to figure out where his head is at. it's a lot, and... well, that's jason, she thinks.]
[ ...oh boy. well. he was not really sure what would happen or if this would happen, but even as he's witnessing the panels themselves he kind of feels himself grow cold the longer it goes. this was it. this was something that still haunted his nightmares even now, this was something that...actually, really, has its own physical manifestation in the form of a cute cacodemon. this was something that had torn into him so deeply at the time, and even now he thinks "you were so much better than me even then."
so the comic ends and nimona says his name and he's just kind of trying to wrestle back a wall of emotions he doesn't want to actually show her because he already showed her he's still weak about several things, like, two days ago. so he looks at the ceiling to try and avoid her gaze and he ignores the slight, uneasy shakiness in his tone when he replies. ]
Like I said. It sucks when you don't get the choice of when to tell people things yourself.
[ there's a soft, kind of exhausted laugh. but he does pet her again anyway. ]
I feel like...I've done so much talking in the last month and a half than I have my entire life. [ counting here and the last week or so he was at home. ] It's a lot, but...[ ... ] It's you.
[ which doesn't really explain anything, except for the part where he thinks nimona will understand that he never wants to talk about these things but for her he absolutely will, because she deserves the chance to ask what she wants to ask. ]
[god that's such a mood though. she's done more talking about her feelings in this place than she has in like a thousand years. so she's going to let it drop, but he says it's you, and she pauses.
the trust inherent in that is a lot. it takes her a second to figure out what she even wants to say.]
[ there's just a tired, almost-sad sigh but he nods. ]
Golden boy Jason Grace. Son of Jupiter, praetor of the Twelfth Legion until he appointed someone he thought was more worthy and deserved the honor. [ ... ] ...Jason is one of the reasons I finally wanted to start learning how to not hate myself. And he was the first person in a really, really long time that actually said he was my friend. He was half the reason I decided to stay at Camp Half-Blood after the war with Gaea.
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anyway, he nudges it, and the scroll sparkles pink, and then - like the pages of a story book, a flash of memories come up and plays in front of him!
i can also just give you the link to the shady website i got this from but i didn't want to frighten you with viruses so. also, netflix. also you've seen this but, y'know.]
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for being terrifying.
he drops the scroll with a sharp inhale, and it takes him a moment to close his eyes and recollect his thoughts. but the response after that is almost immediate. he ignores the snacks on the table, leaves the scroll behind, and carefully lays himself down on the floor. his movements are slow, but purposeful, and he slithers forward to stick his body halfway under the bed.
he doesn't speak immediately. but he's looking for her. ]
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as a little pink cat. and when he sees her, she looks at him, her eyes glowing bright pink, just light, frightened. this is bad. this is so bad, nobody is supposed to have seen this, nobody is ever supposed to know about this.
he meets her gaze, and she bolts. she skitters out from under the bed to the door, but it's closed, and she has to skid to a stop, panicking.]
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he watches her run, and he pulls himself out from under the bed but he stays on the floor to give her space. the door is closed and he leans forward just a little, watching her with equal parts sympathy and concern.
she stops at the door and he can sense the panic without even having to speak, and he dredges up some sort of...something from inside of himself that makes him speak finally. ]
...come here, Nimona. [ it's not really a command. it's not a request either. it's an offer, and he's holding out both of his hands so she can see he's unarmed and waiting for her to make a choice. he doesn't think this will work, not when she's this frightened, but...patience. slow and gentle and easy and she's not a monster, she didn't do anything wrong, why have people made her feel like she's unwanted just because she's different? ]
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she doesn't. he says her name. come here. please, hands out, open, with nothing in them. she's caught between the way she felt when she tore herself apart, the way the shadows crawled out of her mouth and eyes and spine, and the now. in a place where she's made a little family for herself, with someone who cares about her trying to coax her back.
patience. it's the patience, like always. her eyes slowly fade back out to normal, and then look she gives him is something old, and something tired, and something so unimaginably done.
I can't imagine what it took for you to get this far, ace had said to her once.]
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I know. [ he doesn't say "i understand" but he thinks maybe he does. ] It's going to be okay. I know it doesn't feel like it, and I know it still hurts. But it won't happen again. Not here.
[ not with him, or anyone who she's come to care for. he wonders if that man was ballister, and he briefly feels bitterness toward someone he's never met for being like other people who make a judgment without a thought. ]
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maybe it doesn't matter.
it won't happen again. it's the millionth time she's heard this, but she wants so desperately to believe that nico isn't lying to her. that he wouldn't.
she could be angry. she could scream or she could hiss or she could say get the fuck away from me, but she doesn't. if it was someone different, maybe she would. but not with nico.
instead, she gets up, and she moves to him, and she rests her head against his outstretched hand, her ears pinned back, her whole body shaking like a leaf. please. please don't hurt her, she can't take it one more time. she wasn't going to, before she got here, she wasn't going to let anything stop her from being what the director wanted. what ballister expected. what everybody always expects.
she won't take it. not again.]
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it's a terrifying thing, being trapped in your own mind. being too angry and too scared and too buried in your own fears and pain and suffering to recognize what is and isn't real. it's horrifying to think "what would it matter if i really became what they think i am?" and find that you may mean it. it's devastating to build your hopes up and still never really know if this will finally be the thing to send the foundation you've painstakingly built again crumbling again.
so he's quiet. he lets her rest in his hand, and he thinks quietly about some of the things that have worked for him. what he might be able to do for her. what she may be thinking. and so... ]
Thank you. [ he says it out loud, and he keeps his tone calm and quiet. ] ...can I touch you? Is that okay right now?
[ he would like to pet her or maybe pick her up, something of a comforting gesture to help with the shaking, but he knows how much he hates being touched so often. it'd be shitty if he didn't think to ask right now. ]
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because as much as she doesn't like being touched sometimes, it's only because she's afraid it'll hurt. she thinks about the blanket nest and she thinks about holding his hand, and she lets out a shivery little sigh and leans tiredly against his hand. he can pick her up if he wants.]
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I'm sorry you didn't get a choice to tell me yourself. It's an awful thing to happen, but somehow even more awful to have someone else learn before you're ready to tell them. If you ever could at all.
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she curls up very tightly where he's holding her under his chin.
a pause, and then, unsteadily:] I've never... I've never told anybody. Ever.
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...yeah, I had a feeling. [ how the fuck could you tell someone like that? ] I'm not going to tell anyone. I...just want to help make it more okay, if that's even possible.
[ it's a rough memory. a rough experience. he can't really think of how badly it must have felt. (or maybe he can get close and that's why he's so adamant about helping her through this.) ]
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silence for a little while longer, and then:]
I - I was... [she starts, a little distantly.] That was the ending I picked for myself. Before I got here.
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sometimes you want to hurt everyone until your own hurt stops. but he lets his thumbs stroke over her fur and listens. ]
...sometimes it feels like the only answer when things get too out of hand. [ he doesn't necessarily agree with it, but he understands. ] And what about now? Is the ending back in the rewriting phase?
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her paws knead absently at nico.]
I want it to be. [she says, finally.] I can't do it again. I won't.
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as if he could do that by himself. but...there are a lot of them now. there are people who care for her who won't let her fall back into this story. ]
We're together still, and we're not leaving you behind. We'll rewrite your ending together.
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sometimes you have to keep hammering it in, and eventually it starts to stick.
she shifts, pressing up into his hands, against his chin, with a faint, tired little purr.]
Okay.
[she can manage this much.]
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...this is hard. I know it's hard on you, but I am proud of you for letting us try. Remember that. [ he's proud she's letting them get close and for letting herself try. but unfortunately it's memshare, so there is now a new comic panel appearing with a nico from about a year ago. ]
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but it helps, too. it's hard, and it's terrifying, and worth it, and it can make you feel like you want to die but like you could do anything, too. and so when he kisses the top of her head, when she watches him confront a god - there's a million things that she thinks all at once, but.
a pause.]
... Nico. [she starts, hesitantly, curling closer. trying to figure out where his head is at. it's a lot, and... well, that's jason, she thinks.]
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so the comic ends and nimona says his name and he's just kind of trying to wrestle back a wall of emotions he doesn't want to actually show her because he already showed her he's still weak about several things, like, two days ago. so he looks at the ceiling to try and avoid her gaze and he ignores the slight, uneasy shakiness in his tone when he replies. ]
Like I said. It sucks when you don't get the choice of when to tell people things yourself.
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Yeah. It does. [a beat.] Do you feel like talking about it?
[before she asks anything at all. or gets into it.]
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I feel like...I've done so much talking in the last month and a half than I have my entire life. [ counting here and the last week or so he was at home. ] It's a lot, but...[ ... ] It's you.
[ which doesn't really explain anything, except for the part where he thinks nimona will understand that he never wants to talk about these things but for her he absolutely will, because she deserves the chance to ask what she wants to ask. ]
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the trust inherent in that is a lot. it takes her a second to figure out what she even wants to say.]
... So that was Jason. [noses at him a little.]
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Golden boy Jason Grace. Son of Jupiter, praetor of the Twelfth Legion until he appointed someone he thought was more worthy and deserved the honor. [ ... ] ...Jason is one of the reasons I finally wanted to start learning how to not hate myself. And he was the first person in a really, really long time that actually said he was my friend. He was half the reason I decided to stay at Camp Half-Blood after the war with Gaea.
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