A collection of some of my favourite Nimona reviews on letterboxd
*SPOILERS FOR THE TOTK DRAGON QUEST*
I drew this as an excuse to draw Zelda in her new dress and then that never happened. ALSO THANK YOU @katydoodles FOR DOING THE BACKGROUNDS <3
also the way that the nimona movie showed that hate is a taught behavior?? the way that gloreth, the hero worshipped for slaying monsters, was fully accepting of nimona until her mother told her what to believe? until that generational bigotry was passed down? the way the director’s motive wasn’t even power like most evil government figureheads in media, but rather a fear of monsters destroying the kingdom because that hate had been instilled in her too, like it had in gloreth? the way ballister was also indoctrinated into hatred of “monsters” until he was just as outcast as one? because only then was he willing to change and learn?? and how even people with good hearts and good intentions like ballister and ambriosius and even the queen herself are still capable of perpetuating bigotry and unnecessary violence when they don’t take the time to understand or learn about the “others” they supposedly hate????????? i need to lie down
Miguel: well at least you're sensible
Noir, barely eighteen, been broken out of prison, has killed a man and will do it again, just bit someone, building a bomb: sure. Sensible.
due to his era typical manners and dress, Noir gets away with being seen as the "cool, old detective spidey who's mysterious and experienced" for much longer than he really should have. he is even relied upon as a voice of reason, and has an unwitting authority over others due to their admiration for his endurance and style
it's not untill Hobie Brown (fellow cop hating, anti fascist, riot starter) steps out of a portal one day that things change. the boy strikes up a surprisingly close friendship with the "old man", the two getting along much better than anyone would have ever expected. it's only after Hobie helps Noir open up that the ppl around him (namely, Miguel and possibly Peter B.) realize what an utter fucking agent of radical chaos Noir is, and that he is just as much of a fucked up young adult as any Spider-Man. Even arguably a slightly more fucked up young adult than on average, seeing as he's dealing with shit like Great Depression, cannibalism, nazis, the fucking 1930s in America, and more. At least Noir has an understanding friend in Hobie who is a ride to die, always ready to start some shit.
(It's quite possible that the pair's getting-along-like-a-house-on-fire friendship, strong moral opinions that feed into each other, and their very flexible attachments to things like "laws" is what got Noir kicked out/put on probation, which is why we don't see him in ATSV)
This has been playing nonstop in my head it had to be done
lou wilson I'M A FUCKING PUPPET in an incredibly strained high pitched voice at a cricket vs lou wilson YOU LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIED about wanting to get in a bowl of pasta's pants
You know what I'm thinking about? That trip to Vergessen.
Not the memorable one. The super innocuous one, in which Ludinus and Trent insisted they'd just dug this weird rock out of the ground weeks ago, it's nothing to them, the Bright Queen can have it. The one where Eadwulf told Caleb he looked good despite having just crawled out of an eldritch horror's sludge and then showed off his super muscular, super tatted arms.
Let's return to Eadwulf's arms in a moment.
AU where Red and Gunther drop Hardwon off at the crick instead of the Dwarfanage…
"fireball this, banishment that—" do you think wizards have to call their moms for help making potions bc theirs never work quite like hers. do you think they sit there struggling to write down coherent recipes while their moms dictate based entirely on vibes and made up units of measurement like "a pinch" and "some." do you think they bicker w their moms over the proper order to add ingredients, and how no they're not going too slow, and what the hell do you MEAN it'll be done in '20-ish' minutes. do you think that when they fall in battle and need to be healed they wake up to the taste of home lingering in their mouths.
There’s something really fascinating about the different ways in which the Hungry One is understood and conceptualized in Calorum. In the Bulbosi Church, it’s characterized as an apocalyptic Satan-figure, the cause of suffering in the world and the thing that will one day come to devour everything just because that’s what it does. Where things really get interesting is in the different sects within and around the Church. Adherants of the Ramsian Doctrine, for example, believe that it is necessary for the Hungry One to devour the world so that the Bulb can triumph over it - and they believe that the Hungry One will not devour the world so long as it contains “junk food.” In a similar manner, the Prophidian Heresy and the FDA believe that the Hungry One will not devour the world if it is full of waste -only the FDA consider waste to be general rot and decay rather than the Candians specifically, misanthropy vs xenophobia GO- and that this is therefore the key to preventing the destruction of the world.
Within the FDA and the Prophidian Heresy, there’s also an intriguing link between body and soul that contradicts mainstream Bulb theology. Whereas most of the Church believes in a rigid delineation between body and soul, that after death, the body returns to the ground and the soul (if it is not damned) goes to the Bulb, the FDA’s plan of filling the world with rot and decay so that the Hungry One will not devour it suggests, quite radically, that the body just as much if not more so than the soul is what the Hungry One devours. Mainstream Bulbians believe the stomach of the Hungry One is Hell for damned souls who do not go to the Bulb - the FDA seems to believe that the state of the material is just as important to the Hungry One as the metaphysical and that large enough volumes of rotting decay (which could also be the moral decay that comes with actions in war, but in this case the FDA themselves have the most rotten souls of all) can keep this Devil-figure from consuming anything, regardless of the state of the soul.
On a different level, with Karna, we find the idea that the Hungry One is not just a powerful over-arching entity but rather something which people can relate to and personally interact with. When Karna kills Sir Drunon and the woman, she takes part of their bodies and burns them “in offering” to the Hungry One. As the audience, we know that Karna is mechanically a warlock of the Hungry One, with the specific subclass of The Great Old One. Combined with the offering, the characterization of the Hungry One is as an active, powerful being who, to some degree, can engage with people personally. Not necessarily in a reciprocal way -you can burn an offering as a sign of respect or acknowledgement without any expectation of receiving something in return- but people like Karna can and do engage with it on an individual and personal level. Given the fact that when she kills, a new rotten spot appears on her body, it suggests that her relationship to the Hungry One does, in some part, go both ways, that there is something on the other side receiving her votives and responding to them.
Also fascinating to observe, when she kills Sir Drunon, she says “We are all eventual food in the maw of the Hungry One,” and immediately thereafter as she kills the woman he’s with, “I’m sorry, but we are all eventual waste.” This presents another perspective on the relationship between the Hungry One and the concept of waste. In contrast to the FDA or the Ramsian Doctrine, which believe that the Hungry One won’t devour the world if it is full of waste or junk, Karna’s statements suggest that the process of dying inherently involves becoming waste - and that the Hungry One will still eat that waste nonetheless.
Then there’s Cumulous and his specific monastic tradition (which is not actually one and the same as the Order of the Spinning Star because it’s stated that there are monks in the Order who draw power from the Bulb; overall, the Order seems to be more an organization of people dedicated to the same goal rather than a religious enclave of people with the same spiritual beliefs). In ACOC, the first thing Cumulous ever says is, “The Hungry One must feed.” It’s an interesting phrasing because there’s a very passive connotation - not “The Hungry One must consume” or “The Hungry One must eat,” but rather the use of the term “feed” suggests a little less agency and purpose. It isn’t going out looking for something to eat, but rather it is feeding on whatever it is given.
Later, Cumulous explains to the party that he does not worship the Hungry One and that it is just a source of power to him. He can tap into it, just like the Bulbosi miracle workers can tap into the Bulb, but it’s not something that has a real consciousness or its own will and he does not interact with it as if it does. Combined with his monk subclass (Long Death), the characterization of the Hungry One is less a supernatural powerful figure but more a manifestation of inevitable death and entropy. Very similarly to Karna’s perspective, it’s going to feed on everything eventually because everyone’s going to die one day. It might be today, if you happen to be a cheese sailor trying to murder your lawful child duchess, but that’s neither here nor there.
And as Lapin realized in his last moments and as he later showed to Liam, this seems to be the closest understanding to the actual nature of the Hungry One which we have encountered so far in either campaign. The Hungry One is just a cosmological ball (add that to the list of significant TTRPG orbs!) and while it certainly contains a lot of power, it doesn’t do anything with it other than eat what is delivered into its mouth. The power and the destruction and the death associated with the Hungry One? All of that has only been wielded or used by living people, for their own aims and agendas.
Anyways, all this to say that while I don’t think it likely to happen, my dream scenario is for a couple FDA members to flee the scene of whatever plan they had that some or all of the Scrumptious Scoundrels have managed to foil, and as they escape, they run straight into a group of Candian monks (aka what they were actually doing during the Ravening War). The last thing they hear, after all their scheming to “save” the world, is “The Hungry One must feed.” And it does.
lotr coming after the hobbit is so funny Tolkien was just like fuck ok I gotta think of SOMETHING. wait Ive got it. Bilbos funny invisibility ring he won in a riddle contest is evil now
Like if the sticky hand you got from the dentist turned out to be possessed by the ghost of Musollini, and it could make you levitate, but every time you did, a skinhead got a text with your home address
"You Should Date My Nephew"
"433-6296". Wayne mouthes to himself. He visualizes the little slip of lined paper that's taped to the wall above their phone at home. 433-6296. He could call. But he wont.
Wayne grunts as he lowers himself to sit on the curb outside the plant. He got off work --he pushes up the sleeve of his jacket to check his watch-- 36 minutes ago. It's 3:36 am and god dammit Eddie how many times did he remind the kid to set his alarm. How many times did Wayne remind Eddie that his truck was in the shop and that he'd need a ride home in the morning. And every single time he'd mention it, Eddie responded "I got it old man! I'll set an alarm" with an exasperated eye roll and would go back to whatever he was doing. Wayne has tried calling the trailer a dozen times already and damn that boy for being such a heavy sleeper.
433-6296. Wayne could probably solve his problem with a single call, but that would be completely inconsiderate and borderline inappropriate, so he wont. A gust of cold November wind hits Wayne unforgivingly in the face and makes his eyes water. He pulls a pack of camels from his chest pocket and with stiff, shaky hands, lights one. 433-6296. He could call or he could walk home. The walk wasn't easy in ideal weather when Wayne was fully rested. Right now it was freezing, Wayne didn't have his good jacket, and he just finished an eight hour shift. 433-6296. Fuck it.
Wayne stands up and hurries toward the phone before he can talk himself out of this. It's insane, and he knows the poor kid barely sleeps as it is. Knows from Eddie that he'll pick up the phone anytime Eddie has a nightmare and drive over to talk him out of the bad dream, keep him company, or fall asleep on the floor of Eddie's bedroom so his nephew doesn't have to go back to sleep alone in a haunted trailer. 433-6296 Wayne dials and waits with baited breath.
The phone rings a handful of times before a quiet voice greets him on the other side of the line.
"H'llo? Eds?"
"Uh hi Steve. It's Wayne?" Wayne says quietly into the phone. Steve seems to sober immediately.
"Mr. Munson? Is everything okay? Is Eddie okay?"
"Yeah no everythin's fine. I'm sure Eddie's safe and sound at home. Look, I'm real sorry to wake you, kid, and I'm sorry to even be askin' you in the first place. I know it's mighty unfair of me to call at this time but uh- My trucks in the shop and Eddie was supposed to pick me up from work forty minutes ago but I think he mighta slept through his alarm. And it's too far for an old man like me to walk. Was wondering if I might owe you a helluva favor if you could pick me up tonight, son." For a few moments there is silence. Wayne worries he has crossed a line, for a brief moment he fears he might have burnt the most important bridge in Eddie's life. He's immediately regretting waking Steve up for this. Worries Steve'll hang up and neither of them will hear from him again.
But then he hears the distinct rustling and thump of someone putting on shoes.
"Of course Mr. Munson, I'm leaving now. I'll be there as soon as I can." And Wayne is once again floored by this kid's kindness.
"Steve, thank you. I owe you son. Whatever you need."
"It's no problem! I'll see you soon."
"See you." Wayne mutters in disbelief and hangs up the phone.
And to think... Wayne used to hate Steve. The thing about Steve Harrington is that his name is haunted, in a way. And the thing about Wayne Munson is that he's a stubborn son of a bitch who will hold grudges on Eddie's behalf longer than the kid himself will. There were countless days in high school when instead of shooting through the front door of the trailer after school with a devilish smile and music blasting from his headphones, Eddie would turn the knob slowly and he'd drag himself into the trailer, giving Wayne a small nod before disappearing into his room quietly. Wayne felt like crying or punching something when Eddie came home in low spirits. He knew how evil the kids at school could be, and he knew the names of all the bad ones. Wayne always gave Eddie 10 minutes of quiet before he'd knock on his door and gently ask if he wanted to talk. It was a routine they had. He'd ask and Eddie would say no. But then like clockwork, Eddie would open up about his day later in the evening usually while they ate dinner and before Wayne left for work. He'd complain about all the kids that made him feel bad: Hagan, Harrington, Perkins, Hargrove, Carver, and so many more.
So imagine Wayne's surprise on March 27, 1986 when he briefly left Eddie's hospital room to get coffee and returned to Steve Harrington, the bully son of Richard and Nicole, sitting next to his nephew's hospital bed. It had been a long week of worrying on Wayne's part, and an emotional 48 hours spent at Eddie's bedside, so Wayne had very little patience for whatever was happening in front of him. In retrospect, Steve Harrington was looking at Eddie... sweet and tenderly, even back then. But in the moment all he could think about was Eddie returning from school with hunched shoulders and his head hung low.
"'The hell are you doing here?" Wayne asked using his gruffest and most intimidating voice, arms crossed, standing in the doorway. The way that Steve startled was like nothing like Wayne had ever seen. He jumped a foot into the air and folded into himself.
"Oh! Mr. Munson. I'm sorry I didn't know you were around. Just, uh, didn't want him to be alone in case he woke up." Steve had said rising from his seat. When Wayne didn't budge from the doorway or respond, Steve nervously fiddled with the zipper of his jacket.
"How do you know Eddie?" Wayne asked trying to keep his firm tone.
"From high school sir. But also through a mutual friend. Dustin Henderson? They play DND together. Dustin and I brought him in after we found him like this..." Steve lifted his head again gauging Wayne's still stern expression and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry sir I didn't mean to interrupt anything I'll get out of your hair."
And Wayne wanted to be skeptical of Steve, wanted to accuse him of doing this to Eddie, but the truth is that Steve sounded painfully earnest. And there's no human explanation for the tiny bite marks all over Eddie's body. Wayne stepped out of the doorway and let Steve take a few steps down the hallway before calling out to him.
"Hey Harrington?" Steve turned around quickly, looking back with a startled expression, maybe surprised that Wayne knew his name at all. "D'ja see what happened? I mean d'ya know anythin about what hurt him?" Wayne asked more softly. Steve looked around the crowded hallway, with nurses buzzing from door to door. Steve shook his head slightly, apologized, and continued down the hallway.
But Steve didn't stay out of his hair for long. The kid was exasperatingly persistent in being around for Eddie. And while Wayne kept a watchful eye on him, he was starting to get the idea that Steve Harrington was not who Wayne thought he was. He cooked for, cleaned after, and tended to Eddie, asking for nothing in return. Often refusing to stay for dinner when Wayne was home, even if he was the one who cooked it, because he didn't want to interrupt family time. If he brought food from out he always brought something for Wayne, and never took the money Wayne tried to push into his hands for it.
"Here Mr. Munson. I wasn't sure what you wanted from the diner, but Eddie said you're not picky so I brought you a burger and fries." Steve had said that first time, holding out a bag in front of him.
"You brought me food?" Wayne asked perplexed.
"Well yeah of course. I wouldn't have shown up with dinner for just me and Eddie." Steve set Wayne's bag on the counter when he made no move to take it.
By now Steve knew Wayne and Eddie's order at pretty much every food place in Hawkins and Wayne and Eddie were getting real creative at finding ways to slip money into Steve's wallet.
On top of that, almost every other day, Wayne gets home from work to find a maroon bmw parked outside his place while Steve helps Eddie through bad dreams. So what could Wayne be, besides grateful, for Steve Harrington's slightly confusing devotion to his kid?
He's snapped out of his thoughts when said maroon bmw pulls up in front of him. Steve is wearing a pair of wired glasses and his hair is all ruffled from sleep. Wayne opens the passenger door.
"You were waiting for forty minutes in the cold? Why didn't you call sooner?" Steve asked pushing up his glasses as Wayne closes the door quickly. And well... Wayne doesn't know how to respond to that.
"I- I shouldn'ta had to call you in the first place, Steve. I'm real sorry" Wayne says as Steve pulls the car out of park and starts driving back towards the trailer park. Wayne glances over at Steve waiting for the kid to say something. They sit in heavy silence until Steve breaks it by clearing his throat.
"Just... I know you're probably mad at Eddie but- but don't yell at him. He's barely sleeping so he really just needs the rest. It's not his fault." Steve ends on a whisper.
A tidal wave of different emotions rip through Wayne. Affection for Steve's caring nature, immense gratitude that Eddie has someone like Steve in his life, disbelief that Steve would say something like that after being woken at nearly 4 in the morning. Wayne was sitting and staring at the most selfless kid he'd ever met. Steve fucking Harrington.
"You should date my nephew."
Steves eyes widen and the car swerves.
"Uh- s-sorry- what?" Steve stammers.
"If I could choose someone for him, the best option out there, I'd choose you." Wayne says honestly, and he didn't even know he'd been thinking it until this moment. But it's so true. After so many heartbreaks over truly terrible men that Wayne could never see the appeal of, Eddie deserves someone like Steve. Steve face softens before checking to make sure Wayne was being sincere. Steve cracks a smile and chuckles to himself.
"What you think I'm jokin'?" Wayne asks defensively.
"No sir! Not at all. It's just Eddie and I have been dating for months already. BUT- but- thank you for saying that! It means so much to me and truly Eddie's the best thing-"
"You- what?" Suddenly Wayne is embarrassed. Blushing. How'd he... how'd he miss that? And well, he did have a few moments where he thought the two of them were awfully close for a pair of young men, at least one of which who was openly queer, but they'd been through a lot together.
"Why did no one tell me?" Wayne asks turning his face away from Steve who is desperately fighting a huge grin and losing.
"We thought you knew. We sleep in the same bed every night."
"You do what now? Thought you were sleepin' on the floor" Wayne knows he sounds like the protective dad of a teenage girl and not the uncle to an adult man, but his world was just turned sideways. Steve laughs at that and adjusts his glasses before stopping at the red traffic light which almost immediately turns green because no one is out at this hour.
"Oh well. Good, I'm glad then." Wayne says after his mind has stopped spinning. "And call me Wayne already, you basically live at my house." He punches Steve lightly in the shoulder.
"Okay." Steve agrees quietly. He pulls into Forest Hills and stops the car in front of the trailer. "Mind if I just check to make sure he's okay before I leave? For peace of mind?" Wayne opens the door and steps out.
"Oh so now you're playing coy about sharing a bed? Just sleep here, kid" Wayne closes the door and heads towards the house. Steve jogs a little to catch up. When they open the door, the sound of an obnoxious alarm comes pouring out from the back of the trailer which concerns both of them. But when Steve hurries to Eddie's room he sees that the idiot had fallen asleep with music blasting in his headphones. Wayne stops the alarm as Steve gently tries to remove the headphones from his ears pausing the tape inside.
Eddie suddenly stirs and blinks up at Wayne and Steve looking down at him.
"'S going on?" He croaks, rubbing his eyes. Wayne and Steve share a look before Wayne chuckles and pats Steve on the back once before thanking him and wishing him a good night on the way out. After the door closes behind Wayne, Eddie looks back up at Steve. "What's going on baby? What happened?"
Steve slips into the bed and scoffs, fondly. He curls around Eddie and pulls him into his chest. Once they've settled, Steve pushes his fingers through Eddie's until they're all intertwined.
"Did you forget something, Bambi? Was there someone you had to pick up from work at 3 in the morning?" Steve whispers into his neck. Suddenly Eddie shoots up and dislodges Steve where he was leaning against him. Steve groans.
"Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit"
"Eddie it's okay c'mere. He's home now, it's all good babe." But Eddie just stares at the wall and pulls a hand through his hair. "No one is mad, just come back here. Let's sleep." And Eddie hesitantly lies back down.
"Did Uncle Wayne have to call you? I'm so fucking sorry Stevie." Eddie asks, sounding embarrassed.
"We had a nice conversation on the way home so it all worked out. You're okay. Sleeeeep."
And right before they both fall asleep, Eddie whispers, "Thanks Stevie, love you."
I love how both corvids and parrots are in general highly intelligent, but where corvids generally have strict hierarchies, solve disagreements in the pecking order by fighting, and have a strong dislike for anything new or foreign until they figure out how to make use of it, parrots are just here to party.
The New Caledonian crow, who knows how to specifically build a tool in order to build another tool, never engages in play. These motherfuckers are smarter than some people with the right to vote, and they are Extremely Serious Birds. They don't have time to play, they got work to do and kids to raise.
And then there's the kea, straight-up titled "clown of the mountains", that has a specific vocalization for "playtime!". Scientists decided to try what happens if they play the Play Call for two fully-grown adult keas that are together in an area and can clearly see there is no other, third kea to make the call, and they just go "great idea, disembodied voice! it's TIME TO FUCKING PARTY!" and start wrestling.
Imagine working really hard in order to make it into a top university to study astrophysics, making it to your first Very Serious Class, sitting down full of serious determination, and the dude next to you is taking notes without using his hands, with a glitter pen he's shoved up his nose. And his notes are good.
It's your first day of Bird University and you already fucking hate this guy.
So there's this gene in humans called PLXNC1 or "Plexin", right? So Plexin is associated with increased neuron function and is generally thought to be correlated to human's increased cognitive ability for the use of language, i.e., "language learning". Super cool, right?
Humans aren't the only animals with advanced language learning that have Plexin in their genome. We can actually find homologous plexin between humans and PARROTS!
Using genomic alignment search tools, we can actually break down the sequence of human Plexin and directly compare it to the Plexin found in parrots. (This was actually a project I ran for an upper division genomics class, and running the program literally takes like... ten minutes.) I wanted to see how similar the plexin gene was between humans and parrots, so I queued up the human sequence against all of the available records from parrot genomes and sorted by greatest percent identity (i.e., which bird species had the closest plexin to ours?)
It was this funky dude right here:
THAT'S RIGHT BABY! The kea, notorious for being a straight up motherfucking prank god, carries Plexin with a 79.42% identity comapred to humans'.
THIS LITTLE ASSHOLE HAS A HOMOLOGOUS LANGUAGE LEARNING GENE WITH US!!!! A GENE THAT IS THOUGHT TO BE CORRELATED TO HIGHER LEVEL LEARNING AND INTELLIGENCE!!!!! AND THEY USE THEIR INTELLIGENCE TO WREAK HAVOC ON TOURISTS
Also these guys have been found to literally have predictive reasoning skills, which we consider REALLY FUCKING ADVANCED for a lot of animal species. They pass the Aesop's fable test with flying colors. They're so goddamn cool, I love them so much. The kea really said: "I will use my superior intelligence to have a good fucking time" and that's so powerful honestly
One time at the zoo, a kea chewed a hole in my pants because I ran out of treats to give him.
reblogging for the Plexin thing, which is fascinating, and also to join the chorus of calling OP on their bullshit because corvids are extremely playful animals. Like…they’re kinda extremely famous for loving to get up to mischief. There is a reason why Raven is a Trickster archetype in quite a few cultures. As a matter of fact, they create and use tools FOR PLAY.
I'll never not reblog this. (Not least because something tells me that one kea has a whole nestful of sunglasses somewhere.)
yeah I was reading this thinking "wait, basically all animals play, and I KNOW crows play."
Fantasy High doodles 💥
I've been obsessed with dimension20 for the last month ಥ_ಥ