#this is not a count of monte cristo quote

[winter2468]

No Count of Monte Cristo adaptation I've ever seen has potrayed Mercedes as poor.

In the book, she lives in a hovel with a dirt floor, and she has so little that she doesn't even own the nets she uses to fish - she has to borrow them from Fernand.

Yet in every adaptation I'm aware of, she's portrayed as either middle class or upper class. The adaptations refuse to portray an impoverished woman as desirable.

I think this is also partly to do with the fact that Hollywood will allow stories of an underdog sailor courting a wealthy woman, but they're less inclined to protray a working class man's devotion to a working class woman who's even poorer than he is, let alone two men finding her desirable.

[friendly-neighbourhood-librarian]

It was the end of November, all the verdure of the garden had disappeared, the trees were nothing more than skeletons with their long bony arms, and the dead leaves sounded on the gravel under my feet.

—M. Villefort, The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

[naneki-maid]

-The Count of Monte Cristo (1846) by Alexandre Dumas

[philosophors]

“It's necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.”

— Alexandre Dumas, “The Count of Monte Cristo”

[bookwormbeat]

The difference between treason and patriotism is only a matter of dates.

The Count of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas

[eridanidreams]

Sunday Snippet

Tagging: @bearlytolerant, @silurisanguine, @aro-pancake, @fangbangerghoul, @atonalginger, @aislingdmdt, @fshenkoescape, @ninjaofnaps, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, @thatsgoodsquishy0, @hockeydemon42, @fomagranfalloon, @violenceandviolets, @staticpallour and @artemis-crimson

As usual, share if you want or haven't already, but otherwise just enjoy!

from stars through my fingers like grains of sand

The 'final sweep' was mostly just an excuse for Cait to hang back and let Sam escort Cora back to the ship in peace. She stepped through the hatch to the sitting room just in time to hear, "—thank god, Cora. Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Cait couldn't miss the exasperation coming off Cora, but she didn't think Lillian heard it in the girl's voice. "I'm fine, Mom. I was so worried about you!"

"I'm fine," Lillian said, clearly trying to be reassuring. "You're fine. Everyone's fine." Lillian turned to look aft, where Sam was at the navigation table. Her voice hardened. "And now, it's time for me to kill your dad."

Cait set her jaw and started making her way toward the cockpit, but Cora spoke up first. "No! He wanted to keep me away, but I couldn't—I just couldn't—!"

Lillian made an annoyed-sounding sigh at that. "I swear, you two are both stubborn as mules." She would have said something more, but Cora caught sight of Cait and flung herself headlong to throw her arms around Cait.

"Mom's safe!" she crowed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I was so worried, but you did it!"

Cait returned the hug, uncomfortably aware of Lillian’s eyes on them. “I had plenty of help. And you did real good out there. Obeyed your dad perfectly, and saved my butt a couple times with what you saw.”

Cora muttered, “Mom always says to listen to your gut.”

“And she’s right,” Cait agreed. “And then you were extra smart to bring it to us so we could evaluate it based on experience. Gut’s gotta work with the head, you know?” She straightened up and tousled Cora’s hair. “Tell you what. Your mom and I have some Ranger business to discuss in private. Why don’t you go give your dad a hug? He’s pretty shaken from having two people he cares about in danger.” Cora and Lillian, she meant.

“Ca-ait.” Cora was radiating exasperation at her, now. “Learn to count.” Cait tried to give Cora her own version of the I’m-not-kidding face, but Cora seemed utterly unimpressed. “All right, I’m going.”

Lillian didn't even give Cait a chance to take a breath. "This is your ship, right? I hate to ask, but I'm going to need more assistance with my mission."

"What kind of assistance?" Cait asked warily. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sam pat Cora on the shoulder, sending her in the direction of the ladder.

"There's a shipment of armaments coming in on a heavy freighter—the Dumas. I know its itinerary. If we can track back to the arms cache, we can lure out a Seokguh underboss—Valerie Mosquera." Lillian explained. Her brown eyes were bright, hard, a raptor that had its prey in sight. "Valerie's the worst kind of criminal—she's smart. Too smart. And she's convinced some of the Syndicate to think outside the box."

Cait folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow. "Okay, so why do we have to go after it? Can't we call in some other Ranger support?"

Lillian sighed. "I think the Seokguh have found a way to intercept some of our secure transmissions. We can't trust traditional communications, and I have a limited window where the intel is actionable."

Cait scowled. "You mean like the secure channel Sam used to contact you when we came in?" She let out a long breath. "I knew something was off about the way the Syndicate was coming at us."

"Ridiculous," scoffed Lillian.

"You just said Mosquera's smart and thinking outside the box," Cait retorted.

"What are you thinking?" Sam ducked through the hatch, glancing between the two women.

"That they didn't have time to send reinforcements before we'd dust off," Cait said, thinking hard. "But they know what kind of information a mole's likely to be there to look for. So they pull back, let us think we got out clean; meanwhile, Mosquera is setting up an ambush based on the leaked intel. She figures you're going to find some way to pull in at least some reinforcements; why settle for taking down one Ranger when she can take down several? The Syndicate gets to make a statement—that not even the Rangers can stop them—and clear the way for further operations."

"If that's the case," Lillian argued, "then that makes it even more important that we stop her before she gets to that point."

"Are you for real?" Cait braced herself against Sam's frustration. "Weren't you just chewing me out about putting Cora in danger?"

"Think, Sam," Lillian demanded. "What if you were spotted—either here, or I assume Neon?"

"We weren't," Cait said flatly—she had a finely-honed sense of when someone meant her ill, and no one following them would have been able to mask that. She raised her eyes to Sam's. "Believe me," she said, more to him than to Lillian, "I would have known." His eyebrows went up, and he gave her a faint nod of acknowledgment.

"You can't be sure of that," Lillian snapped. "And as you just pointed out, they might have overheard Sam's call." She stared daggers at Sam. "The only way to be safe is to see it through."

Cait exhaled heavily; though she didn't like to admit it, Lillian had a point regarding the communications. "Fine," she growled. "For this, I think Cora should have a sleepover on the Eye—"

"We don't have time," Lillian protested.

"Do you realize how much of a hypocrite you're being?" Cait fired back, losing the thread of the others' emotions under the flood of her own frustration slipping free.

Lillian flushed. "If time weren't of the essence, I would never put Cora in any danger. As if either of you care about Cora’s safety, dragging her all over hell and gone.”

“The amount of wrong in that statement,” Cait retorted, “is like calling the Rock a pebble. Fact is, Cora’s safety comes first, last, and middle—and not just for Sam. He’s just not under the misapprehension that he can keep her safe by leaving her behind somewhere. He keeps her safe by being there for her.” Lillian winced, but Cait wasn’t done. “He keeps her safe by teaching her how to be safe. And he keeps her safe by having people around him that can back him up.” Cait shook her head in disgust. "Listen to you. You went haring off on your own, you didn't arrange for backup, and got yourself in deep enough shit that you damn near got killed. There was one person who insisted you were in trouble, and that's the brilliant girl who you're suddenly willing to put at risk because it's convenient for you. Everyone else figured that Ms. Super-Ranger Fire-Eatin’ Hart could handle whatever came her way.” Sam stared at her, wide-eyed with astonishment at her sudden burst of anger.

“Oh.” Lillian looked taken aback. “Well, I didn’t know that.”

“You didn’t ask.” Cait's response was quiet but laced with acid. “The minute you heard Cora on the com earlier you were ripping into Sam for bringing her along—and now you’re all ‘let’s get the Syndicate, no time to make sure Cora’s safe’? And barely a word for Cora herself besides telling her you were going to kill her dad?" Cait shook her head angrily. "And now, you expect me to put my ship, my crew, my friends, at risk to dig you out of the hole you dug yourself?"

Lillian took a deep breath, and it was obvious from the look on her face that she was trying to control her own temper. "Look," she said, her voice conciliatory, "whatever else you might think, Valerie Mosquera has plans larger than Neon, and she will not hesitate to go after anyone in her way. And at this moment, you're on that list. Now, you may be right about it being an ambush, but if we move fast enough, we have the opportunity to get ahead of it."

Sam added reluctantly, like he really didn't want to agree with Lillian, "Nothing blows an ambush faster than the ambushees being in on the surprise." A deep breath. "And the goal is good—always is with you, Lillian.

Cait hated the feeling of being stampeded into something she thought was a bad idea—but the problem was, she didn't have any better ones. "Fine," she said curtly. "Send me the coords."

"Gladly," Lillian said, her voice as clipped as Cait's. "We get the location of the cache from the Dumas, then we make our move."

Cait stared at Lillian for a long moment, then shook her head. "Do your worst," she quoted softly, "for I will do mine." And if Lillian didn't recognize the quote, well, she damned well should have.

[legendsoffodlan]

Dimitri, singing: Another day, another week, another month, another year, another night I spend alone until it’s day again.

Dimitri: Our little star has moved away, and all the world is a blur. I only see I am not me without her…

Dedue: Your majesty, Byleth just went out to get groceries. She’ll be back in ten minutes.

Dimitri: That’s ten minutes too long!

[hiddenvioletsgrow]

Edmond as The Count: What’s up! I’m back.

Mercédès: I know for a fact you are dead. You died. You were dead.

Edmond, planning 4 murders: Death is a social construct.

[mee-meez]

The Count of Monte-Cristo, Alexandre Dumas

الكونت دي مونت كريستو ، اليكسندر دوماس

[ohtheylovetolietoyou]

“all human wisdom is summed up in these two words— wait and hope.”— alexandre dumas, the count of monte cristo

[bison2winquote]

The Count of Monte Cristo, Melty Blood: Type Lumina (French Bread/ Type Moon)

[winter2468]

Edmond Dantes' surname is a reference to Dante. He went through hell and came out the other side. While he was in hell, he had a wise man to guide him through. How am I only just realising this.

[mzannthropy]

Edmond was to undergo another trial; he was to find out whether he could recognize himself, as he had not seen his own face for fourteen years.

Sam Claflin having his beard shaved August 2021 // The Count of Monte Cristo Chapter 22 by Alexandre Dumas

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

[Robert Stevens]  ::  After chasing lightning all over Utah and the surrounding states, I finally landed a shot I really liked, right in my own hometown of Manti City, Utah

* * * *

‘Do your worst to me, and I’ll do mine’ re: “What makes you a man is what you do when that storm comes.” 

~The Count of Monte Cristo

[litandlifequotes]

I have been aged more by sorrow than by the years.

The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

[writingskaska]

The last comfort we can grant ourselves in moments of crises - in hours of grief -, is looking for a reason.

Believing in an explanation for our suffering. A greater cause! If we only didn’t do this or that, it may have altered the outcome.

And how devastating is it to realize there was no such thing? Oh, how cruel and shattering it feels to come to the understanding of nothing making sense! Of nothing having to make sense.

Sometimes bad things just happen. Sometimes you get betrayed by your closest friends just because they follow a whim. Sometimes you lose what you have desperately clung onto just because it slips out of your fingers. Sometimes you are just at the wrong time at the wrong place.

Sometimes a second of your life changes the whole course of the rest of it.

So hold onto what feels good. Cling to a lucky thought, a fond memory and cherish it. Keep what you love close for in moments when something cruel shatters the ground underneath your feet, it can remind you of who you are. Of who you’ve been.

Don’t get lost in looking for a reason. Sometimes there’s none. And are you ready to accept that?