one detail that i love is that lisa is less doctor frankenstein but more mary shelley despite the movie's title. lisa's introduction is her stone rubbing the creature's headstone while mary learned to write using her mother's gravestone. lisa isn't a scientist she's a seamstress which is closer to mary's profession as a writer. they're women who lost their mothers at a young age and were outcasts in their respective societies. both having an odd relationship with death, finding love and comfort in it. mary connects with her mother through her grave like how lisa does with the creature's. at it's core it's a movie about grief and the non-finality of death.
it's also a campy movie about a devoted zombie romantic who would chop dicks off for their goth wife which i think stays true to the spirit of mary shelley.
3K notes
·
View notes
Does anyone else ever think about that time q!slime backflipped onto a landmine in an attempt to kill several eggs, cause I do, a lot
135 notes
·
View notes
Part 7: There, In The Sunlight
All players are in position. Time to end the game, apprentice.
8AM AEROBICS CLASSES DON’T FUCK AROUND
“Obi-Wan, explosion registered in your quadrant,” Cody barks out, the demand of an answer to his worry peeking through.
Obi-Wan turns around mid-air. There, another push and he lands on the side of the senate building, thrusts his lightsaber through the wall to break speed. He’s sliding down, down, coat and rubble and burning ash whipping past him. “A bit busy right now, my dear,” he finally replies, voice mild, jumps backwards and down and his hand catches on a durasteel frame. He hangs there for a moment. The view is quite nice. “The view is quite nice,” because it does need pointing out in his opinion. “I’m outside the Senate now,” he says, grits his teeth, and hauls himself up. “Estimate about 840th floor.” He squints through the glass. “Ish.”
Cody swears colorfully in his ear, so Obi-Wan guesses that his hang-up over the open comms can’t be too bad.
“Oh, Commander,” he smirks, “there were some interesting ideas in there.” And lets himself fall backwards from the window ledge for about another hundred stories, arms spread out.
Read The End On AO3
952 notes
·
View notes
next! your seasonal emme dose of parkner. I know you’ve missed it.
my absolute favorite thing to mention about harley is that he is a country gay. like. boy is born, bred, and breathing country. he’s got some drawl, a guitar, a set of polite niceities he doesn’t mean, and an old dusty cowboy hat in the back of his closet. he knows how to shoot a (potato) gun. he can karaoke springsteen like nobody’s business.
and peter? peter is dead. deceased. six feet under.
he doesn’t appreciate the music (HA)(look up george strait on ao3, I dare you), but holy shit he is so onboard for the rest of it. the darlin’s, the sass, the boots harley wears unironically with jeans and cut-off tees. THE HAIR-
for reference:
and let’s be so real right now; harley is theoretically smart, but goddamn if he didn’t magically inherit his mentor’s lack of social awareness. he’s smooth as hell until he isn’t. he simply cannot tell you why peter starts making stuttering noises and excuses as to why he suddenly needs to leave the room when he stretches just so in the lab.
(read: peter is just as oblivious. he honest to god thought harley hated spider-man for a solid month and a half before mj flat-out told him harley just couldn’t handle seeing peter in spandex and functioning like a regular human being at the same time)
abbie- harley’s little sister- gives them so much shit for it all. peter can’t deal when harley acts even a smidgen southern, and harley forgets how words and sentences work when peter’s wearing tight clothes. she solemnly informed them that they’re dangers to society, and harley tried hitting her with a baseball bat.
they’re dumbasses, your honor.
73 notes
·
View notes
httyd < httyd when making fun of fight club
51 notes
·
View notes