m0nt3cr15t0

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So you're telling me. I'm about to be a mentally ill alcoholic man from the 1920s that got hit by a train and then made a deal with his world's equivalent of God so that he'll be stuck as the embodiment of death / the grim reaper for 100 years? yeah. ok. sounds about right. im cooked

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Once again you deliver great analysis and point out a great line from one of my favorite chapters. The count himself appearing "afraid to hear it" always makes me giggle and kick my feet because oh my stars is he damaged. And that's just scrumptious and so so very entertaining

Caderousse Season

I'm going to speak into the ether and talk about my favourite Monte Cristo passages. Firstly, the chapters The Burglary and The Hand of God

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This scene takes place after Caderousse is discovered by the priest M.l'Abbe, one of the count's personas. Caderousse is climbing out the count's windows, thinking he just escaped with a pep talk from a priest about needing to repent his sins (lmao). Then the count brought the taper to the window, so that it might be seen in the Champs Elysees that a man was getting out of the window while another held a light. "What are you doing, M.l'Abbe? Suppose a watchman should pass?" And he blew out the light.

There's just something about this scene that was so vivid in my mind. Caderousse climbing out the count's window, just after his attempt to burglar him. While count holds a torch over his enemy like a neon sign. Signalling Benedetto that his accomplice has betrayed him.

The count Bugs Bunny-ed him lol.

(Caderousse season)

After Benedetto stabs Caderousse. Count comes rushing in like an angel of providence. Count takes his wig off for the big reveal: "Yes, Caderousse, you have seen me, you knew me once." (Caderousse says) "Who are you?..." After playing a little guessing game, we get this: The count had watched the approach of death. He knew this was the last struggle, - he approached the dying man, and leaning over him with a calm and melancholy look, he whispered: "I am - I am -"

And his almost closed lips uttered a name so low that the count himself appeared afraid to hear it. Caderousse goes straight into prayer to repent his sins, because he quite literally thinks this is Jesus. The count doesn't correct him (if the shoe fits, I guess?). 😂 When Caderousse breathes his last breath, the count just says:

'One!'

When you've waited 900 pages for this to finally happen, for the first domino to fall. I was unwell. The fact that he is counting them like a kid with a magnifying glass and a jar of ants T_T He is unwell too. Let's talk about the count not being able to say his own name for a bit. Because this is a big theme throughout the book. Even in the face of sweet sweet vengeance, one that he waited years for, the count is met with one problem he didn't account for - facing himself.

Argh, glorious.

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Thanks for this analysis. The Insult has got to be one of my favorite chapters. Monte Cristo also just has so many amazing lines in this chapter and I love how, as you pointed out, his trigged was the mention of Albert's father loving him. I don't see that specific moment talked about enough <3

Sins of the Father

It's time for another episode of me shouting into the void about The Count of Monte Cristo. Firstly, let's bring up a fun foreshadowing quote from the chapter The Trial:

Albert has just received a letter stating that his father did in fact betray Ali. (Still unaware that his father also betrayed his friend Monte Cristo) Albert reacts very strongly to this news.

Upon seeing his young friend in despair, Monte Cristo says:

"Poor young man!" said Monte Cristo, in a low voice, "it is very true that the sin of the father shall fall on the children to the third and fourth generation."

After a couple of scenes where Albert gets more information. He also finds out who is behind revealing his father as a betrayer. Let's see who is behind door number 1?

"No other than your friend Monte Cristo." (said Danglars)

Bring in chapter 89: The Insult

Albert goes to find Monte Cristo at the opera. He makes a point to call MC out on being elusive. 😂 Always taking 'refuge' in his house - bathing, eating and sleeping. (God forbid a wrongly-accused-man has hobbies, Albert... gees.) Albert's strong emotional reaction is a great contrast to the stoic MC.

"Ah, I shall know how to make you leave your refuge!" replied Albert, clasping in his convulsed grasp the glove, which Monte Cristo did not lose sight of.

I love how Dumas gently nudges our POV to Monte Cristo's without having his character break the act once.

There's no 'telling' of his emotion or intention right now, just a simple glance and we know the hamster wheel is spinning. Because one thing with Monte Cristo, every tiny movement is calculated.

... Albert understood the allusion in a moment, and was about to throw his glove at the count, when Morrel seized his hand... held him back.

And then we have this golden passage:

But Monte Cristo, without rising, and leaning forward in his chair, merely extended his hand, and, taking the damp, crushed glove from the clenched hand of the young man, - "Sir," said he, in solemn tone, "I consider your glove thrown, and will return it to you around a bullet. Now leave me, or I will summon my servants to throw you out at the door."

Now what the movie adaption did wrong is that Albert throws the glove directly. Thus, prompting Monte Cristo to accept the duel. But the book did it better. Albert never throws the glove. Dumas only indicates to us that Albert is holding it and might have thrown it if not stopped by his friends. Monte Cristo then plucks it out of Albert's hand and accepts the duel. 😂

Once Albert leaves with one glove, Monte Cristo goes back to his usual order of business as if nothing had happened. Dumas even writes to us:

... he certainly must have had a heart of brass and face of marble.

Morrel, the soundest of minds in this moment, asks him what on earth Monte Cristo has gone and done:

"I? Nothing - at least not personally," said Monte Cristo.

Well of course Monte Cristo hasn't done anything, it is the sins of the fathers. Him taking the glove was only him speeding up the process.

There are a few exchanges here, as Morrel tries to speak reason into his friend. Dumas makes it known to us a few times that Monte Cristo is as calm as a cucumber. Even when Morrel takes MC's hand in his and "...he shudders to feel how cold and steady it was."

This is how we know Monte Cristo - the man doesn't break the act.

Well, not until Morrel says this:

"Ah count," said he, "his father loves him so much!" "Do not speak to me of that," said Monte Cristo, with the first movement of anger he had shown; "I will make him suffer." Morrel, amazed, let fall Monte Cristo's hand.

Bingo, bango, we've got a trigger.

And as if it never happened, Monte Cristo snaps back to the mask, commenting on the opera and his great eye for actors.

It's a quick break of his act, the first I would say. So sudden that even when I first read it, I got a shock. 😂

"I will make him suffer" is a direct reaction to hearing Fernand has love for his son. The same love MC's father felt, and it is that suffering his father felt that he wishes to bring upon Fernand.

It is this poetic opportunity of seeing that tempting glove in Albert's hand, the son of the sinful father, that brings us to Monte Cristo breaking the act for a split second.

I have more to say on this chapter but for now this is enough 😂

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omg YES this is so important to me, thank you 🙏

hate hate HATE when an adaptation makes Henry persuade victor to not make the female creature like PLEASE give victor ONE good decision he makes on his own

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My alarm has been the Weezer buddy holly riff for goodness knows how long and I hate it, I hate it so much, but it's the only damn thing that gets me out of my loft bed. Everything else I can tune out but this shit either gives me the most painful and unpleasant awakening or it worms into my dream and I dream I cover my ears to try and muffle it to no avail until eventually it's so annoying I have to wake up. Fuck you Weezer riff

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Trying to use Krita for the first time should be considered a torture method because WHAT IS THIS I CANT EVEN DRAW VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN MY BELOVED PAINT TOOL SAI IS BETTER SMH

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potato-lord being one of my favorite artists again oml

more of the bisexuals to stare at longingly

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My mom once said that Victor wanted to be Prometheus, but instead he ended up as Icarus. I think about that a lot. That is all.

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Monte Cristo: chilling at the opera

Countess G: Ho is you a vampire ‼️💥 Count Ruthven looking ass 😂🗣️🔥💯

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Albert: Mom you look sick, are you unwell?

Mercedes, who has just come face-to-face with the ex-boyfriend she would have married if he wasn't sent to prison on their wedding day after 20ish years : oh yeah, these perfumes are just really strong lol

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Live laugh love the phantom

don't mind me just (drops video)

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Y'all ever get so utterly feral over your special interests that when finally given a chance to talk about them you suddenly can't put to words why you love them so?

Like, my teacher gave me a little assignment at the end of the year where you'd get a bit of extra credit if you make a mini poster about any topic of choice. Of course, I picked The Count of Monte Cristo, but once I got to the writing portion I just. Blanked. I didn't know what to put down, even though my thoughts are almost always consumed either by it or by Frankenstein. It's so frustrating because I have so much to say and yet nothing at all

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His youth is crucial to the character. If he just creates the Creature without further thought while being a college kid, it makes sense, it's reasonable, and it's realistic. Now, if he's in his thirties or something??? That's just a whiny jerk that should be FAR more mature than they are. The book is meant to be a tragedy for EVERY character in it, not "lmao watch this weirdo loser get ratio-ed and wrecked by his own mistakes and then cry about it lmfaooooo"

What I say: I’m fine.

What I am thinking: How come Victor Frankenstein is always played by older people? One of the main points of Frankenstein or The Modern Prometheus is to show that Victor was a young college kid who made huge mistakes that came to bite him in the end. If he isn’t played by someone in their early twenties, it loses that point entirely. He can’t be a young idiot who makes bad choices if he isn’t played by a *young* person.

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EVERYONE LOOK AR THIS ITS SI FIRE IM SCREANING

Frankenstein Animatic wip

I did this for my animation class final

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My bestie made me a really nice card (and got me Metamorphosis + acrylic paint) for my birthday and ??? I'd just like to point out this ClervalStein doodle that was in the card

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I AM SCREAMING OH MY GODS MY DARLINGS MY OLD MEN YAOI RAAAAAGH

Someone who can’t do creative writing tries to write a j+h fanfic

okie dokie, so you see, i can only write scenes. And on discord. This is just copy pasted bear with me (note that this is the scene where lanyon figure out Hyde’s identity

Lanyon looked at the figure of Edward Hyde with disdain. Had it not been for the seemingly-apologetic (and desperate) letter Jekyll sent, lanyon would have never let Hyde into his manor. If someone had seen this, the great doctor lanyon would have his reputation torn away in seconds. He could almost see the news headings, reporting the latest scandal. 

“Renowned doctor spotted letting the infamous Edward Hyde into his home”

God damn Henry for still having a grasp over his heart. Despite the fact that the letter Henry had sent was the first time they had direct contact in years, lanyon still heeded to Henry’s command. He could have put his foot down and said no. He could have refused to retrieve the supplies from Henry’s study or he could have locked Hyde out of his manor. Yes, if he did that, he would then force Henry to come over and interrogate him on why in the name of everything good was defending Hyde as so. 

So why didn’t he?

The words of Henry’s letter rang in his head

“Lanyon, my life, my honour, my reason, are all at your mercy;”

Lanyon pinched his nose bridge and gave a long, tired sigh. Ever since the murder of Lucy, lanyon stopped from hosting any parties, gatherings, even leaving his manor. He broke all that for the ghost of his friend, his first love, because of one letter. His hair had greyed significantly, much more than the natural premature grey hairs he had. The bags under his eyes were evident, and maybe, he did all this holding on to the little hope that he and Henry would be friends again. 

He must have been lost in thought longer than he had thought, for he had failed to notice that had been Hyde tapping his foot and crossing his arms for quite some time now. 

“Do you have it?” Hyde spat and stamped his food down, shaking the table that held two glasses of whiskey prepared for lenyon and he. Perhaps he had realized that his tone was less than courteous, as he mumbled a half hearted “sorry” before repeating softer, “Do you have it, lanyon?”

Something about his tone and sudden switch of mood felt incredibly familiar to lanyon. 

“If you’re asking for the contents of Dr. Jekyll’s cabinet, yes. I do.”

Hyde immediately stood up. His hands shaking, 

“You have it! Oh, dear Hastie, you *must* give it to me this instant”

Lanyon furrowed his brow. He was hardly on a first name basis with Henry anymore, what gave Hyde the privilege to call him “Hastie”? 

“No.” Lanyon said bluntly. 

“No?” Hyde echoed. His voice unsteady. Hyde’s hands tightened into a fist. “What do you mean, no?”

“I want you to tell me exactly what you’re doing with Dr. Jekyll. Of all my years with him, I can say with all certainty that he is the proudest person I know and ever knew. He would have never- *never*, willingly be acquainted with someone such as yourself, let alone defend your heinous actions.”

In the eyes of Hyde flickered something strange, was it sadness? Regret? Anger?

“Well you clearly didn’t know him well enough” Hyde hissed. Hyde closed his eye right after he finished that sentence, almost as if he winced. Again, with a sudden change of mood, he said “give me the ingredients. Please.” He finished hastily. 

“Ingredients? What for?” Inquired lanyon. 

“Give it to me, and then I’ll tell you everything” 

What would he do? Lanyon was sure that, if he had given the ingredients right there, Hyde would run off without a word. This was a battle of desperation, and curiosity. 

“Let’s make a deal.” Lanyon finally replied. 

“Oh? What sort of deal?” Hyde irked his eyebrow.

“I give you these… ingredients, and you disappear from London- no, from England in its entirety…” lanyon paused. “And you leave Henry Jekyll and whatever you have against alone.” 

He expected a cruel taunt, or perhaps a tantrum from Hyde, but on the contrary, he was rather quiet. 

Hyde chewed on his lip and held himself, tapping his foot again. 

“I only promise to try” 

Against his better judgement, that was all lanyon needed to hear.

He slid the bag containing the ingredients across the table. Hyde quickly grabbed it and prepared to run out the door, only to be stopped by lanyon. 

“Now, don’t be in such a haste, dear Edward. Show me why you need these so terribly.” Lanyon uttered coldly. 

He watched as Hyde tried to stammer excuses, before giving up. The panic in his face now replaced with frustration and unwillingness. 

“Fine.” He growled. “*you* wanted to see this” 

Hyde stomped back to his chair, throwing the whiskey in his glass into the fireplace, the fire going up in blue flames for a brief moment, illuminating Hyde’s face. Lanyon watched as Hyde poured rough estimates of liquids, pinches of salt, and some other chemicals into his glass. He watched as the concoction change hues before his eyes, from purple to red to green. One thing was certain. That in no world of god was natural. Hyde held the glass to his lips, before taking a dink, he looked at lanyon one last time. 

“*You.* Wanted. This.”

Hyde tilted the glass and drank whatever was inside all at once. When he was done, he threw the glass away, the now empty cup shattered on the floor. Remnants of the concoction dribbled down his lip. He let a gasp and fell to the floor. The sound of crunching bones and Hyde’s screams of agony filled the silent air. Lanyon would never admit it, but seeing Hyde, who had tormented London for so long, on the ground, writhing in pain, felt guiltily satisfying. 

The sound of crunching bones eventually slowed, and Hyde’s raven black hair started to fall out. In its place, was familiar strawberry blonde locks.

On the ground, with heaving and laboured breaths lay none other the Henry Jekyll. 

Lanyon felt sick. Just *what* was he. What had Henry done to himself?  Lanyon’s shaking hand covered his mouth. He felt as if he were about to vomit.

Henry(?) looked up at lanyon with those damn, pleading eyes and the damn, pleading smile he had ever since they were in college. Now that Henry was not of the body of Hyde anymore, a sudden wave of vulnerability and shame washed over him. 

In a meek voice Jekyll whispered

“My dear, Hastie, promise me you’ll forgive me no matter what I do”

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More drawing memes w/ frankenstein