#dr frederick frankenstein

[rosesloveletters]

lucky star.

Pairing: Dr. Frederick Frankenstein x Fem. Reader

Word Count: 6,645

Warnings: sexual content / smut

Summary: ‘Frederick, you are my lucky star,’ Your skin was burning hot and you thought you might spontaneously combust, ‘your radiance was too much and I couldn’t help myself…’ // You had been burned before, but never like this. // Frederick and Reader spend a loving, passionate night alone inside the castle.

Author's Note: Hopefully you all can forgive me for taking a small break from writing Wonka fics to write for another of Gene's roles. If you haven't seen Young Frankenstein, please go watch it. It's so damn funny and Gene is so attractive.

Edited.

divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.

The cold air seeped down into your bones, penetrating your thin nightgown the same way the moonlight cut through the clouds and bathed the dank night in a milky haze. There was at least a foot of snow on the ground and the cold air bled through the castle walls. December was a brutal month to be up in the mountains; the winters here seemed to last a lifetime. 

What little reprieve you had was the crackling fireplace in your quiet bedroom. You took up residency on the hearth, the stone-cold floors beneath your bare feet sending tremors through you, but it was nothing you wouldn’t suffer so long as you were able to stand before the fire. 

This was how he found you most nights, your silhouette red-rimmed and glimmering from the firelight as each fragile little flame arched in a furious, swirling dance. Encased in stone, the flames could not travel, but you imagined them swallowing you whole. 

Your body was a block of ice and you feared it would take a decade just to thaw your heart, but his presence melted the frost on your fingertips and got your blood pumping again. Such was your complicated relationship between this professor turned mad scientist. 

The lick of the flame never heated you up like he did. 

“Oh, you’re still there?” He asked in an amused tone as he entered your chambers, already shedding his coat to prepare for the long night ahead. He must’ve been exhausted, though you had no idea what he was working on down there in the laboratory. He abated your questions with affection, arms encircling your body like the flames you dreamed of and shielding you from the cold. 

You turned just enough to glance at him over your shoulder, “every night,” you responded and turned back to the fire. The flames reflected in your dilated pupils danced in a blaze of infernal passion as though you were lit from within. 

You heard him shuffling around behind you, but you paid him no mind. The flames enchanted you; you always dreamed in noire, but for the first time you could see in the color he had shown you. 

Soft violin music permeated your senses and you suppressed a full-bodied shudder. 

It was as if you had been summoned out of thin air, stagnant temptation veiled over you. 

With your curves accentuated in firelight, you resembled the moon in all her shimmering, shivering opalescence. In her craters all alone, you were a woman scorned, a maiden murdered in cold blood, a ghost of herself digging her own grave to be buried alive, but inside of the castle you were unapologetically yourself. You belonged here as much as any of the other residents, a misfit to the rest of the world, a crisis of consequence, the quintessence of vice and virtue and all alone in every way except physical. 

Your ears rang from the haunting harmony as you waited for warmth to come. 

It finally did, in the form of your lover’s arms wrapped around you. 

You saw less and less of him these days and you suspected a new achievement of his sometime soon, but he kept quiet about what it was. It was much easier to pretend he was falling out of love with you than to conjure any idea of what he had been doing for the last several days because in a state like this he was much more difficult to study than any lecture he might’ve once given. You would have gratefully taken down notes from him rather than pick apart his brain for the learning material. 

If your love was ancient history, then why weren’t you hanging up in a museum yet? 

As much time as he spent away from you it was imaginable that he forgot you existed, yet he always came back to you at night. 

It was all just an idea, the seed of all science, which bore roots of hypotheses and germination in study and, if one were lucky, might someday bloom into spectacular results. 

“I suppose you’ve still got no intention of letting me know what it is that you’re working on down there?” 

The way in which his arms tightened around your body indicated the affirmative, but you were always going to be curious. Your tired game of pretending was no longer enough to satisfy your hunger for the truth and he knew it. His tender love would not sate you forever and if he didn’t swiftly act, you might begin to demand more. Not that he minded, really. Being wanted was pleasant and not something he was used to. His romantic relationships were stinted and tense, stifled and repressed. He succumbed to your advances and gave answers to your questions ultimately because you made him a priority. 

He felt safe with you. No more longing glances at women who did not want him or elbow touches with the supposed “love of his life” because she didn’t want to mess up her outfit. He treated you with respect and with dignity because you offered him the same. He did not have to fit himself into a pre-cut spot in your life. You molded him into your heart, enveloping him in your love and holding him close to your chest because he meant that much to you. You wanted him there and he could feel it, all his nerve-endings alight with the sacred promise of love and mutual want and connection. 

A gentle chuckle came from him and he leaned in close, lips by your ear, “I promise to tell you more about it soon, my dear. I feel that I am nearing a breakthrough.”

A breakthrough or a breakdown, you were uncertain which word best suited where he was headed. His wild curls appeared more and more disheveled each day because he couldn’t be bothered to style his hair when more important things weighed on his mind. His work consumed him to the point that when he dragged himself back to you at night, his mind was still buzzing with ideas and he seemed distant even though he did not mean to be. 

Sometimes you caught him up reading long after you would have retired to bed for the night. When you thought he was sleeping beside you, he was poring over case studies and medical journals by candlelight. When your bed was cold and the spot beside you that he always occupied was empty, you would find him fast asleep at his desk, the rise and fall of his shoulders and gentle snores indicative of his peaceful slumber. 

On nights like those would you guide him back to bed where he would curl in beside you and hold you close, sheltered through the night in his embrace until morning light touched your face. 

Other nights were fitful and full of restlessness and nightmares. He would twitch and quiver, plagued by images no man was ever meant to see. He wouldn’t tell you what he dreamed of, even less about what frightened him, but you had reason to believe that his brain tormented him on occasion, such was the case of most, but with deep intellect came a price and he was much crueler to himself than any colleague of his might be. 

He needed to unwind, to take comfort in closeness and sanctity from insanity. 

He would work himself to death like this and you would be damned if you were to let that happen. 

“That’s good news, darling,” your gentle response made him grin and you could feel the slight upturn of his lips against your cheek, “but do you think we might not speak about work tonight?”

“Well, if not that, then what shall we speak about?” 

As he asked the question, he began to pull you in. Your bodies connected and with you flush against him you could feel his arousal, unabashedly betraying his aching need for you now more than he had felt in a lifetime for anyone else. 

The pungent scent of frosted Frasier fir, candle smoke and scintillating wit clung to him, lingering like twilight hues on the longest day of the year. You inhaled, apt to lose yourself in him the same way he lost himself in his work, only now did you understand that there was much more to it than that. His work was important, but you were his love and that took up more space in him than the chunk of matter between his ears and the story of your lives filled more pages than any of the studies in his medical journals. 

A night off would do him some good; for once, he could devote enough time to engage in a passionate, loving affair rather than a quick frolic and he would do well to remember how much he had always wanted something like this. 

He wanted you now and would not wait. You made him forget who he was for a while and that was such a beautiful thing. 

Dr. Frederick Frankenstein, a man whose names’ reputation preceded him, had learned that he could only put so much distance between himself and the truth. As absurd as it was to say, he had perhaps stumbled upon a secret that could not be contained, a truth so groundbreaking, a scientific discovery so unbelievable that it had to be believed to be seen…

Except, currently, the only thing he was seeing were blurred lines and the gothic undertones of lust which tinted his periphery. His lips slanted over yours and the modest friction from his wispy, sorrel mustache scraped deliciously against your cupid’s bow. The wet graze of your tongue sent a shiver through him and elicited a small grunt as his large hands swept down the length of your body and grabbed your hips. 

Your pelvis ground deliciously against his and he groaned, “you’ll be the death of me, my love.” 

Your closeness was the finger on the hairpin trigger of his desire. He felt like his aorta might burst at any moment and so, using every second he hoped he had left, he savored the warm press of your body on his and devoured every inch of your exposed neck. He was gentle at first, taking care not to mark your delicate flesh, but soon his intrinsic carnality corrupted him and he could not help himself from sinking his teeth into your skin. 

You let out a breathy gasp and could feel him grinning against the column of your neck.

Your arms were around him, holding him to you mostly to steady yourself because if your hands had nothing to hold onto, you would have fallen to your knees for reasons beyond just lacking support in your current state. He would have approved of it now, although he was squeamish about it at any other time. He would have even encouraged you, with hands in your hair on the back of your head to guide you in pleasuring him, but no. 

He wanted more. His body demanded more and he would have it so long as you were willing. He was tired of being asked to wait, his resolve worn down to nothing because he had gone without for far too long. 

As a physician, he knew well the needs of the human body and the satisfaction that came from indulging one’s desires. He did not think on it all too much, but whenever he found himself alone and steeped in eroticism and longing, he had no choice. Everything you did turned him on and his cock throbbed at the thought of him burying it inside you. 

It was inescapable. No matter how often he changed course or preoccupied his mind with other things, his thoughts always returned to you. 

He moved you back towards the bed, the backs of your knees coming into contact with the edge of the mattress and you dropped down onto it, pulling him on top of you. He collided with your body, an animalistic growl clawing its way out of his throat as his hips grinded against yours. 

This was unlike him, a version of himself that never saw the light of day – he kept it in a cage and fed it blood; only carnal desire was enough to sate its hunger. 

He dragged his teeth along your neck as your fingers fumbled with his shirt buttons. He couldn’t take his lips off you, he had to kiss every inch of you. He needed it far more than he could communicate through words and luckily for him you did not ask him to. You were busy undressing him while he worshipped your body with his mouth, his tongue tasting your succulent flesh as he inhaled your heady scent. Your body was ripe for him to take a bite and he would devour every bit of you until there was nothing left to satisfy him. 

He sat up enough to toss his jacket aside, undershirt now open to reveal the hint of bare skin and a dusting of hair several shades darker than the curls on his head. He looked ethereal in the low light, fire silhouetting him, and the edges of his body glistened as his dark pupils glittered and burned like glowing embers. A wildfire of its own raged within him as he was driven mad with lust. He kissed you feverishly, lips and teeth clashing with yours as he was anything but gentle with you in this moment. 

His kisses were rough, but his delicate appearance contrasted his movements. His long, thick lashes fluttered against his cheekbones, accentuating his shimmeringly blue eyes that, even in such low light, glistened like gemstones. He had the softest features of any man you had ever seen and you would have paused to admire him if only he wasn’t so tempestuous in his urgency for you. 

His hands slid up underneath your dress, fingers tantalizingly rubbing against the crotch of your panties and along your inner thighs. He unashamedly touched you and a smiled graced his lips as you moaned for him, arching your back as your hands splayed on his chest, scrabbling for purchase but you were hopelessly plummeting into the pit of your own desire with nothing to grab onto and no way to cushion your fall. 

He rubbed you a little bit through your panties, but it was not enough. 

He wanted to feel your wetness saturate the soft cotton, however, it would be much more appealing to him if his fingers were to glisten with your juices instead of allowing all your sweet honey to leak into your underwear. He ached to feel your tight heat clench around his long fingers as they curled inside you, delicately massaging your sweet spot as he guided you towards a climax. It was a boost to his ego, knowing he could pleasure you that way and with little to no difficulty. He was a physician, after all, and had had many lessons in human anatomy. He knew what he was doing and, though he would never say it, was prideful over the fact that he could bring you to orgasm with just his fingers and a few heated, teasing whispers. 

Even if you were defiant and tried to hold out, those fingers of his were your weakness and he knew best how to use them. A stubborn girl presented a challenge and that interested him; Frederick wanted excitement and connection, not just clinical sex. 

His fingers hooked under your panties and teased them down your legs, watching you squirm as you anticipated what might happen next. It was up to him to decide and the thought made him dizzy. 

Your excitement was palpable. With sweating palms, you clutched onto the thin bedsheets and peered up at him, a halo of fire backlighting his frizz of curls. You were unable to keep still, thighs rubbing together in anticipation of his large, warm hands that would spread them apart. Your full-bodied blush was crushed into existence by rose petals and rouge and your exquisite form buzzed with giddiness and euphoria as he tenderly pulled your legs apart and nestled between them, shoulders against your thighs for support. You were hesitant to follow his lead, but you trusted him to care for you the same as he cared for his reputation.

He began almost immediately, wasting no time. Neck bent, head between your legs, he shamelessly suckled your clit and swilled your sweet nectar with instinctive, primordial hunger. 

The doctor tasted you with insatiable vigor, his tongue lapping greedily at your glistening folds as you squirmed and writhed on the bed. You were grappling with yourself, attempting to stave off your own needs as your fingers splayed and flexed on the sheets as though you were imagining grasping onto him instead of the linens. 

You wanted him, that much had been determined, however, you could see no end to his brutal self-satisfaction; he would take as much from you as you were willing to give, not because he had no thought of returning the favor, but because he had deemed himself a dying man long ago and you were his cure. This was what would set him free, seal his fate and claim his immortality, not whatever lined the pages of myriad medical journals he tutored himself with. 

That did not matter. Perhaps this was all he had ever wanted: a beautiful love to have and to hold, who would, most importantly, meet and master his needs. 

‘The needs of any man,’ he thought in defense of himself, ‘it isn’t just about love or sex…it’s science.’ 

That was what the young doctor told himself, especially during intimate moments such as these, when he found himself struggling to maintain consciousness as his tongue breached your center and delved into your core until your gentle moans crested into the shimmering, shivering crescendo of an orgasm. 

You were on the cusp of one already. 

You peered down at him and gasped; Frederick was a vision even when he wasn’t knelt between your legs, but such a position afforded you the best view of his facial features and he was a sight to behold. 

His long lashes fluttered against his high cheekbones, the light from the fire defining the subtle curves and valleys of his face, the creases of concentration on his forehead and the swell of his parted lips as they suctioned around your clit. He pressed one finger inside of you, followed in quick succession by a second digit as he gently stretched you. 

You moaned as his fingers scissored inside you and his tongue delicately teased and flicked your sensitive bundle of nerves. Tension coiled in your abdomen as you could feel the bud of an orgasm beginning to grow. 

Despite his lust for your body, his mind was focused only on your pleasure. No paltry sum would be enough to make him use his advanced knowledge for just his benefit; he loved you and even though he could only stave off his most primal needs for so long, there would be no mistaking his devotion. 

He pulled away and his parted lips glistened with saliva and your juices. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, savoring the essence of you left behind, “oh, my darling,” he crooned, hand reaching out and fingers burying into your soft hair, “oh, my only love…”

When he uttered those words to you, he meant them. 

You would not dismiss him whenever he made such professions of love. His words resonated within you, cut through you like a sharp scalpel through soft skin, peeled back the muscle and tissue that clung to your ribcage to nestle deep within your chest cavity, taking up residency inside your beating heart. Everything that he said made sense, as though you had been the one his words were always meant for. 

His outfit was disheveled to a state comparable to his wild mane which stuck out in curlicue flyaway strands going in all directions. 

Your heart was beating rapidly, pumping blood through your veins and carrying his love for you outwards and to every part of your body. Your core ached and throbbed with need and your lower lip jutted in a pout of disappointment at being denied your first orgasm. 

Frederick watched you squirm with a hooded gaze, taking in your exquisite beauty as you arched your back enticingly and rolled your hips despite the lack of friction, “May we continue, my dear? I’d say you’re as ready as ever…”

You felt far away from yourself as you nodded and nothing else was going through your mind other than connecting with your lover, physically, emotionally and mentally. 

He had a pleased expression on his face when you consented and he stripped off his undershirt, exposing his bare chest. You sat up and reached for him, warm hands caressing his stomach, his sides, his broad chest. Every inch of him burned with intense passion and desire and his heart skipped a beat with every touch of your hands on his skin. He took a shaky breath, entranced by the way you held him close, needy for his affection and craving more of his love. 

He bent his head and nipped at your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. 

His dominance pervaded your senses and hindered your ability to reciprocate in as many ways as you would have liked. Your fingers scrabbled for purchase on his lower back as he sat up a bit straighter and began unbuckling his belt. You were on your knees, the soft bed linens beneath your legs was comfortable as you nibbled and kissed his neck, drawing sweet, almost feminine moans from him. He could hardly focus on what he was doing because the touch of your lips was too intoxicating. He was drunk off your love and every bit of attention you afforded him stilled his fingers as he fumbled with the buttons on his trousers. 

After a moment, you had to help him. You tenderly popped open each button for him before your hand slipped inside and cupped him through his underwear. The sound he made was somewhere between a moan and a shrill whine; your lips turned upwards into a smirk and you leant over him, biting at his sensitive neck as your fingers danced over the length of his aching erection. 

“Oh ho ho, darling…” he grasped your wrist, but did not try to stop you, “oh, how you tease me…”

Perhaps it wasn’t fair to tease him in this state, but he could stand to wait a bit longer for you. As maddening as it was, you were enjoying the foreplay far too much to let it end yet. 

You quieted him with a kiss as sweet as the tulips in spring, stifling his moans of pleasure as your hand slid beneath the barrier of his underwear and held his rigid flesh in your hand. He mewled in ecstasy as you gave him a firm stroke. 

Your lips broke apart and he pressed his forehead against yours, “darling, I can’t wait any longer…you’re killing me.”

An unsurprising choice of words, given the status of his most recent experiments, though you would be none the wiser. 

If there were a way to achieve immortality and worldwide acclaim for his scientific achievements in the medical field, Dr. Frederick Frankenstein would find it; he would devote the rest of his life to such a cause if it meant he could spend an eternity in your loving embrace, to be brought to completion by your hands and your body. 

“I’m all yours, Frederick,” you whispered to him and you could’ve sworn the flames inside of the fireplace leapt for joy at that statement, “I always have been.”

He groaned at your words and his manhood throbbed in your hand, aching to be inside you. He nosed along your jaw, snuffling and nuzzling your cheek as his lips pressed kisses onto your face. His body was filled with love and that was what kept him alive, not the heart that was beating inside his chest. 

His head dropped down to your chest and his lips attached to the swell of your breasts that peeked out from the top of your dress. He murmured against your skin, fingers snagging on your dress as he fought to pull it off you, but your touch on his most sensitive area rendered him useless beyond simple measures of attention. For you to have isolated control over a mind as intelligent and focused as his was some feat and had you a mind to control him, it would have been easily done. 

However, the only control you had was already slipping away now that the cloying desperation had begun to take hold of you.

You gave his manhood several more deliberate strokes, savoring the little noises he made as he tried not to lose control. 

When you removed your hands, his cheeks were flushed and his chest heaved as he dragged air into his once-barren lungs which now bore flowers, petals of pining and passion blooming in this season of love and making it difficult for him to catch his breath. 

He grinned as you and he made eye contact and you were submerged into those icy blue depths, treading water out there in the deepest, lapis lazuli pools.

“And I am yours, my dear,” he whispered as he cupped your face, thumbprints kissing the rosiness into your cheeks, “now and forever.”

His kiss seared through you, sweeping the love back into you that had spilled out through the cracks in your soul. You were mesmerized by the feel of his mouth hovering over yours, breaths mingling and lingering between the two of you like morning fog between fir trees. 

You were one already, even without the connection between your two bodies, although that was to come as Frederick slipped away from you long enough to remove the rest of his clothing while you did the same. 

Completely naked, you were warm clay to be molded by his steady, capable hands. 

You hoped Frederick would shape you in the image of the love he had for you so that you could kiss his chiseled ivory cheeks, bringing your stone-cold lover to life.

He hesitantly touched your body, reverent in the way that he let his hands gently hold your hips and guide you beneath him on the bed. 

However many times he had done this, when he was with you it always felt like the first time. In truth, his first time was not what he had imagined: awkward, halting and less than satisfying for both him and his partner, but more than likely it had been a deep disappointment to her rather than to him. He cringed at the thought whenever it surfaced unbidden and stowed it away with the rest of his deeply embarrassing faux pas. 

The inexperience of his youth was not something he could fault himself for, as is the same for anyone, but now that he was older and wiser and had become a more experienced lover, he finally felt like he had earned the right to claim such a lovely woman as you. He had earned his right to be your lover, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, but in death he was determined that you should not have to part. 

Frederick made a mental note to put everything he had into solving the mystery of life after death, to secure yours and his immortality so that neither of you might face such sadness as to outlive the other. 

Nothing so melancholy would reach either of you tonight. 

Frederick loomed over you, catching your gaze as you wriggled into position beneath him. Your legs wrapped snugly around his hips and he propped himself on his forearms so that he did not put his full weight on you. 

He reached between your bodies, taking himself in hand as he guided himself to your entrance. He pushed into you, taking note of your slight wince and the way your body twitched as he entered you as gently as he could manage. Your wetness was the perfect natural lubricant and he had prepared you quite nicely to be able to accommodate him. 

One of his hands took hold of yours and squeezed, grounding you as he finally claimed your body. You held fast to him, your lips parted in a silent expression of pleasure as you adjusted to the fullness of him being inside you. 

Frederick eased into you slowly, taking care not to hurt you or cause you any unnecessary discomfort. If he could avoid it, Frederick would not ever bring you any pain. He wanted you to want this as much as he did and so he took his time with you, being as careful as he could be. Your pleasure meant as much to him as his own; he would have felt terrible if you got no enjoyment out of your shared intimacy. 

“Are you alright, my love?” he asked breathily as he bit back a moan. 

He stilled once he had slid in to the hilt, awaiting your approval and permission. 

You let go of his hand and instead wrapped your arms around his body, clinging to him fully so that he felt the reciprocation of the love he was giving you, “I am, darling,” your whispered against his skin as you kissed his shoulder, making his eyelids flutter as his eyes rolled back.

He groaned, wanting to let instinct take over so that he could finally, finally have his way with you. His hips curved and bunched as he resisted the urged to let go and lose control of himself, but he did not allow himself to move until he sensed you were getting impatient. Slowly, carefully, he began to pull out, only to thrust back into you with a deliberate snap of his hips. 

The initial force of his thrust forced the breath from your lungs and imparted to you the desperation behind his every move. 

Frederick was a romantic at heart. 

Even though he was still just a man, his craving for love rather than sex for the sake of having sex made moments like this feel even more potent with raw emotion and need he had for his partner. He had made mistake after mistake in his past relationships and he was determined not to make a mess of things like he once had done. There was a sense of predestination between you and Frederick, as if the two of you were meant to be together before either of you were aware. Your paths only crossed because you were brave enough to grasp the string of fate and follow it until you came face to face with him. 

You believed it now to be the case because your soul had become magnetized, gravitating to him as he now became your orbital center. 

It was as if the planets and the fates had aligned to bring you together; you did not like clichés except for ones which reminded you of Frederick because no matter how many times those words were spoken, they rang true for the two of you. 

Frederick quickened his thrusts once you were properly adjusted to him. 

He glided into you with ease, taking care to soak up all your moans and pleasurable sounds as your bodies moved in unison. 

You clawed ferociously at his back, digging in your nails as his maddening pace awoke some deeply instilled, hidden carnality buried within your soul. Your kisses were reckless and rough, tying his tongue down with promises whispered in sloping cursive. 

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the room as you made love, the gentle groans and moans he emitted bringing you closer and closer to your release. You caressed him, gentle with him now as you wanted to convey to him that he was special. 

‘Frederick, you are my lucky star,’ Your skin was burning hot and you thought you might spontaneously combust, ‘your radiance was too much and I couldn’t help myself…’

The beauty of stars was meant to be admired from afar; inside of his eyes did they shimmer, but up close, they blazed. 

You had been burned before, but never like this. 

You gripped onto his hair, giving it a gentle tug, which made him groan even louder and his next thrust was perceptibly harder as he seemed to like when you pulled on his hair. 

“I love you, Frederick…”

The confession spilled out of you in a flood as you anticipated the light in his eyes leaving him as all the color drained out once the weight of your words set in. 

“I love you, too,” he panted, repeating those words back to you with no hesitation, as though he had been waiting to hear you say it. 

It still felt like the first time, as you had often been told was the truth with true love. You had not believed in it until you met Frederick, though even now it seemed foreign to your system. Perhaps it was that you were still in shock after plunging deep into those electric pools of blue, but you shone just as bright as the galaxies in his eyes and if this was love then you would have looked for him in every lifetime, anticipating the feeling he evoked in you the first time you met. 

He wanted you too, waded through tide pools and wept away the storm clouds in his eyes so he could see clear enough to find you. 

He clutched you to him, his rhythm faltering as he crept closer and closer to release. His moans took on a higher pitch and you savored his whimpering as the heaviness of your own release had sworn you to silence. 

At last, did he coax a moan from you and, once the dam had been broken, you were unable to silence the sounds which spilled tantalizingly from your lips like honey drizzle from spoon to teacup. 

You and Frederick were finally one with each other, two halves of a whole like a split peach fitted back together, the fruit of your consummation leaking juices from your pierced flesh. 

You devoured him, holding him close as your moans became louder and more drawn out until pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave and plunged you into euphoria. 

Your orgasm spread outward throughout your body and your skin tingled, your core throbbing as he continued his thrusts until he released inside of you, announcing his climax with a soft cry of completion. Several short bursts of heat filled you, warming you from the inside as he came, his lips parted in sweet bliss and relief. 

His wiry, tufts of fluffy curls framed his round face and you gazed at him in amazement, in awe over what you had just done as well as his beauty. Sweat clung to his brow and he took several shuddering breaths before he was able to move again and pull out of you, taking up the spot by your side as he reached over you with one arm and brought you in against his side. 

You curled up against him, letting him place a lingering kiss on your shoulder as he held you in the dark room. Your sweaty bodies glistened, dewy, slick skin sticking to each other, a perfect testament to what had just taken place. 

Frederick’s body was a galaxy and every freckle on his skin formed a different constellation. 

You wondered idly which one were you a part of and how many ways there were to connect them. 

The graze of his nose on your arm made you turn your head to look at him and he was smiling at you as he held you. 

‘The human body is meant to hold another,’ he had told you once, ‘look at how perfectly our hands fit together…how easy it is for me to hold you in my arms.’

He was right, it seemed, for you fit perfectly against his body like you were made just for him, as though the universe crafted you as each other’s perfect lover.

There was no such thing as perfection, but what you shared was as close to that as a human being could ever get and, if Frederick had anything to do with it, he swore that he would find a way to share eternity with you even if it meant being buried with you till you were nothing more than two skeletons in each other’s arms. 

An end which did not have to be so grim, yet Frederick accepted that as a mere part of who he was. 

As he swept you into his arms now, pulled you on top of his chest as the two of you giggled and laughed like lovestruck teenagers, Frederick knew that he would do anything for you, even accept that he could not outrun his fate. 

He was a Frankenstein and some things could not be helped, but with you by his side it all became worth it and suddenly he could not understand why he had fought it so hard, other than the fact that he had something else to prove rather than letting himself be defined by the past, his fate determined by those who lived before him. 

His love for you cancelled out the afflictions to his spirit, the blows he had taken from turning a blind eye to what he only hoped now might be true. 

In this place, he would find it. 

He was on the cusp of making such a miraculous discovery, that much was he certain. 

Perhaps it should have concerned him that he was chasing something so morbid, but this dream, once realized, could mean the difference between life and death, between her heart and his. He was not doing this for the wrong reasons now, and maybe that would be enough for it to work. 

Perhaps that was the key to unlocking his grandfather’s scientific masterpiece. 

Your gentle kisses on his cheek comforted him as he slipped even deeper into thought, contemplating what he had that his colleagues did not: love. 

That was the difference. 

Science was supposed to be unbiased and supported by fact rather than feeling, but an impossibility transcended bias and factual evidence; would it not make some sliver of sense that if all things possible were supported by scientific evidence, that all things impossible were only able to be maintained by those who were bold enough to challenge science itself? 

Frederick’s peers were not led by love as he was, otherwise, it might not have been the name ‘Frankenstein’ that was known by many yet understood by few.

As you settled atop Frederick with the side of your face against his bare chest, letting the gentle rise and fall of his chest lull you as your eyelids grew heavier and heavier, you were content to be one of those few. 

Frederick held you to him, hands splayed lovingly on your back. 

He had never felt more himself than in this moment; for once in his life, he was proud of who he was. 

He did not think it would be the last time he felt that way, especially with you by his side. 

As the two of you drifted off, snuggled in the embrace of one another, you slipped into what would be and let the rest crumble away. 

You loved Frederick far too much to let yourself be consumed with worry for what was to come. 

Whatever you faced, you would face it together.

With love guiding you, nothing could come in between you, not even death. 

[plalotaris]

Would you watch an adult swim show about mad scientist yaoi— (remembers Mary Shelley’s Frankenhole) — ah shit

Based on a discord conversation between me and @fighter-paladin

(REBLOGS ENCOURAGED)

[macncheems]

in my adventures of watching as many gene wilder movies that i can, im starting a drawing study from my fav films

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Cloris Leachman and Gene Wilder - Young Frankenstein (1974)

[thetrophyhusband]

Holy hell did I never post this Dr. Fronkenpone

(REBLOGS ENCOURAGED)

[gravedust412]

Dr. Frederick Frankenstein - Young Frankenstein (74)

[pixeldog4ever]

Young Frankenstein (1974) Dir. Mel Brooks DoP. Gerald Hirschfeld

[henrysglock]

pls analyse these : https://x.com/Updates_SThings/status/1812222329570939220

Okay this is going to be a little long. That link will take anyone interested to the original tweet with the pictures of the posters.

First things first: There are a mix of real and not-real movies in those posters. Anything that says "A Hawkins picture production" was invented for the play, much like the "The Unearthly Visitors" print ad in the papers was also invented for Stranger Things.

In some of them, you can see pretty blatant hallmarks of the show, like Project Rainbow featuring a direct quote from the opening scene of TFS as its tagline (with a smaller easter egg of the boy on the front resembling Will, which ties him to Project Rainbow and the Brenners), or Spider Attack featuring a literal image of the Creel house (with a smaller easter egg for Henry, mildly possessed, using a vision of spiders to scare Virginia when she threatened his friendship with Patty):

Ones like Curse of the Killer Fog, The Squawk, and Science Monster go a little more meta:

The Killer Fog is a reference to the Mindflayer's role in TFS on the obvious level, but it also has ties to Will casting fog cloud, as Mike mentioned in the Mindflayer Shed Scene. The Squawk, as I outlined here, ties TFS, Bob's Mindflayer-tracking device, and the WSQK radio station together. Science Monster is a little self-explanatory (See: Sullivan telling Owens it was men of science who created the problem in Hawkins, but also the fact that Henry supposedly "caught" the Mindflayer from a substance a scientist was trying to escape with, making him a science monster). That one is also reminiscent of Frankenstein in design.

However...they're not all fake.

These movies are real, and their plots are also easter eggs:

House on Haunted Hill is a classic whodunit, featuring an eccentric millionaire (Frederick Loren, played by Price) who brings in 5 guests to "survive" the supposedly haunted house for a $10k prize as entertainment for his fourth wife. He brings in a test pilot, a journalist, a psychiatrist specializing in hysteria, an employee at his company, and the owner of the house.

Long story short, the millionaire's wife was cheating on him with the psychiatrist, and she a) faked her own suicide, and b) attempted to orchestrate her husband's death so she could take off with David. Loren figured this plot out, and orchestrated both the psychiatrist's death and his wife's death.

I have a lot to say about this particularly in regards to Henry, Patty, and Brenner. I've talked before about Henry's status as the narrative Barbara Allen to Patty's narrative Witch Boy John, including Brenner's status as Marvin Hudgins, who Barbara unwilling cheats on John with. Seeing the central infidelity plotline in House on Haunted Hill specifically featuring a wife cheating on her husband with a doctor and the two of them planning to run off together, especially given all of Brenner's lines about treating Virginia's hysteria with sedatives vs Dr. Trent offering Nora a sedative:

(Something something, also, the ties between Virginia and Nora Walker from the movie Tommy (which Em has talked about in greater detail, you can find it in his pinned post).) and the fact that there aren't any other instances of genuine infidelity in TFS outside the weird triangle Henry, Brenner, and Patty have going on (even Karen kissing Bob was okayed by Ted, and Jopper never actually got together despite thinking about running away together). So when it comes to infidelity stuff...it's all about them.......it's kind of damning and cements in the coding I was already picking up on between Henry, Brenner and Patty as opposed to Barbara, Marvin, and John.

Moving on to The Wasp Woman, the synopsis is fairly simple. Starlin, who runs a cosmetics company, is aging. She seeks out a doctor working with wasp extract to help her regain her youth. She overdoses on the wasp extract and transforms into a sort of were-wasp.

I'd like to show some quotes that raise red flags for me:

Like the obvious stuff is the black widow thing, the "my boy"/"you think you can scare me, Henry?" stuff, and Starlin "changing" after overdosing on the extracts

But what's more interesting to me is this continued female-coding that Henry receives. He's the female black widow on-screen, and in TFS he's the queen wasp, all of which ties in with Patty's subtle lesbian coding, all of Henry's trans weirdness, and all of Henry's mother/pregnancy stuff specifically regarding the Mindflayer.

There's also the aspect of extracts making Starlin de-age, since we see this lack of aging in Brenner throughout the show.

One last aspect I find interesting:

"Filmed in Studioscope, Prints by Technicolor". While filming with technicolor largely died out in 1957, it continued to be used as a dye transfer process in film printing, hence Prints by Technicolor. However...Studioscope doesn't exist.

That's to be expected for the fake movies...but it also shows up on the poster for the real movies. It says that House on Haunted Hill was filmed in studioscope.

In the 1950s, the popular camera/film was superscope or cinemascope, relating to Super 35/35mm/2.35:1 filming:

This means while they're referencing real movies, the films themselves can't exist, because studioscope doesn't seem to have existed.

In short: It's all fake! Even the "real" stuff is wrong.

Also...either they're hinting at another universe where it was studioscope instead of the other two, or...

[vertigoartgore]

Gene Wilder as Dr. Frederick Frankenstein & Teri Garr as Inga (his bride-to-be) on the set of Mel Brooks's Young Frankenstein (1974).

[popballadtourney]

Frankenstein Showdown - Week 3

[glowing-disciple]

Reading List - 2024

Currently Reading:

The Book of Dragons by Edith Nesbit

Peter and Wendy by J. M. Barrie

Sweet Sweet Revenge LTD by Jonas Jonasson

Books Read:

101 Famous Poems by Various Authors

A History of Chess by Jerzy Gizycki

The Abraham Lincoln Joke Book by Beatrice Schenk De Regniers

An Introduction to Linguistics by Loreto Todd

The Art of Computer Designing by Osamu Sato

The Broken Dice, and Other Mathematical Tales of Chance by Ivar Ekeland

The Cairngorms by Patrick Baker

The Codebreaker's Handbook by Herbie Brennan

The Color Kittens by Margaret Wise Brown

The Complete Book of Kitchen Collecting by Barbera E. Mauzy

Dinosaurs, Beware! A Safety Guide by Marc Brown

Dracula by Bram Stoker

Dreaming the Biosphere by Rebecca Reider

Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder

Frog and Toad are Friends by Arnold Lobel

Funny Number Tricks by Rose Wyler

Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kobabe

Giant Sea Creatures, Real and Fantastic by John Frederick Waters

Hammer of the Gods by Stephen Davis

Hiram's Red Shirt by Mabel Watts

I don't care by JoAnn Nelson

Jaws by Peter Benchley

Jungian Archetypes: Jung, Gödel, and the History of Archetypes by Robin Robertson

Keeper of the Bees by Gene Stratton-Porter

The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood of Great Renown in Nottinghamshire by Howard Pyle

Out of the Silent Planet by C. S. Lewis

Precious Remedies Against Satan’s Devices by Thomas Brooks

Reflections on Evolution by Fredrick Sproull

Roadie: My Life on the Road with Coldplay by Matt McGinn

Strange Creatures of the Ice and Snow by Edward F. Dolan

Time for Bed, Sleepyheads by Normand Chartier

Weird Islands by Jean de Boschère

Future Reading:

A Girl of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton-Porter

Adventures in Cryptozoology Vol. 1 by Richard Freeman

All the King's Men by Robert Penn Warren

Always Running by Luis J. Rodriguez

Ancient Mysteries, Modern Visions by Philip S. Callahan

The Anti-Mary Exposed by Carrie Gress

The Arm of the Starfish by Madeleine L'Engle

The Art Nouveau Style by Stephan Tschudi Madsen

As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner

Black Beauty by Anna Sewell

Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

The Call of the Wild by Jack London

The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger

Champions of the Rosary by Donald H. Calloway

The Color Purple by Alice Walker

The Complete Works of H. P. Lovecraft

Cubism by Guillaume Apollinaire

Dear Mr. Henshaw by Beverly Cleary

Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card

Equal Rites by Terry Pratchett

Evolution by Nowell Stebbing

Expressionism by Ashley Bassie

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

Fearsome Creatures of the Lumberwoods by Hal Johnson

Found in a Bookshop by Stephanie Butland

Frankenstein by Mary Shelly

Freaks on the Fells by R. M. Ballantyne

Freckles by Gene Stratton-Porter

Fundamentals of Character Design by Various Authors

Graceling by Kristin Cashore

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

The History of Don Quixote de la Mancha by Miquel de Cervantes Saavedra

Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones

Humorous Ghost Stories by Various Authors

I, Robot by Isaac Asimov

Illuminated Manuscripts by Tamara Woronowa

The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells

Joan Miro by Joan Miro

The Jungle by Upton Sinclair

Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton

Light of the Western Stars by Zane Grey

Living by the Sword by Eric Demski

The Longest Cocktail Party by Richard DiLello

Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis

North and South by Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell

Otis Spofford by Beverly Clearly

The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster

The Shining by Stephen King

The Silmarillion by J R R Tolkien

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

Strange Love by Ann Aguirre

The River by Gary Paulsen

Things My Son Needs to Know About the World by Fredrik Backman

The Third Man Factor by John Geiger

The Time Machine by H. G. Wells

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson

The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells

We Are Where the Nightmares Go and Other Stories by C. Robert Cargill

The Weiser Field Guide to Cryptozoology by Deena West Budd

The White Mountains by John Christopher

[threebooksoneplot]

Dumb love triangle suggestion: Young Frankenstein

fgyfiuaohibsa so is beau the gene wilder or the madeline kahn here? (G votes madeline kahn)

either way: absolutely tracks. he loves him a monty python, so why not a mel brooks?

instead of "Paris," that chapter in Euphoria and Agony could've been titled "Dr. Frederick Frahnkensteen." has a much better ring to it

[rosesloveletters]

Ooh I love your Frederick Frankenstein smut fic!!! More fics of all of Gene’s delightful characters are always welcome!

I also wanted to show you my Frederick Frankenstein figure!

Thank you so much! I'm so happy to hear that you enjoyed my Dr. Frederick Frankenstein fic🩷🥹 I think Gene's other roles aside from Wonka deserve a bit of love, especially Dr. Frankenstein — he was on top of his game in that film for certain (though he is never one to disappoint.)

Aw, look at him!! He's so adorable🥹😍 Thank you for showing him to me! He's precious🥹🩷

[free-for-all-fics]

Obscure Characters List - Male Edition

Obscure Characters I love for some reason. (By obscure I mean characters that have little to no fanfic written about them. Not necessarily characters nobody’s ever heard of.) Don’t ask me to explain why.

A

Abraham Alastor/Anthony Clarke (Dark Pictures Little Hope)

Adam (Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter)

Adam (Hallmark Frankenstein 2004)

Al Capone (Night at the Museum)

Alan McMichael (Crimson Peak)

Alec Fell (Nancy Drew, The Silent Spy)

AM (I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream)

Amphibian Man/The Asset (Shape of Water)

Anthony Walsh (Blood Fest)

Anton Herzen (Professor Layton and the Diabolical Box)

Ardeth Bay (Mummy series)

Armand (Queen of the Damned 2002)

Armando Salazar (Pirates of the Caribbean 5)

B

Barnaby (Sabrina Down Under)

Baron Humbert von Gikkingen (The Cat Returns)

Baron Meinster (Brides of Dracula)

Beast/Hank McCoy (X-Men, Kelsey Grammer version)

Beast/Prince (Beauty and the Beast 2014)

Ben Willis (I Know What You Did Last Summer)

Bernard the elf (Santa Clause series)

Black Phillip (The VVitch)

Blade (Puppetmaster series)

Bughuul (Sinister 1 and 2)

C

Caliban/John Clare (Penny Dreadful)

Captain Frederick Wentworth (Persuasion)

Captain James Hook (Peter Pan 2003)

Cedric Brown (Nanny McPhee)

Christian Thompson (Devil Wears Prada)

Colonel William Tavington (The Patriot)

Cornelis Sandvoort (Tulip Fever)

Crown Prince Ryand'r/Darkfire (DC comics/Teen Titans)

D

Daniel Le Domas (Ready Or Not)

Death (Final Destination series)

Dimitri Allen (Professor Layton and the Unwound Future)

Dimitri Denatos (Mom’s Got a Date With a Vampire)

Dustfinger (Inkheart)

Dr. Alexander Sweet/Dracula (Penny Dreadful)

Dr. Gregory Butler (Happy Death Day 1 & 2)

Dr. Manhattan (Watchmen)

Driller Killer (Slumber Party Massacre 2)

E

Edward Gracey (Haunted Mansion 2003) 

Edward Mordrake (Urban Legend/American Horror Story Asylum)

Edward/Eddie “Tex” Sawyer (Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3)

Elemer of the Briar (Elden Ring)

Erik Carriere (Phantom of the Opera 1990)

Ethan (Pilgrim 2019)

F

Father Gascoigne (Bloodborne)

Faustus Blackwood (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina)

Fegan Floop (Spy Kids trilogy)

Fox Mask/Tom (You’re next)

G

George Knightley (Emma)

Ghost/Mitch (Haunt 2019)

Godskin Apostle (Elden Ring)

Godwyn the Golden (Elden Ring)

Gold Watchers (Dark Deception)

Greg (Bodies, Bodies, Bodies)

Grim Matchstick (Cuphead)

Gurranq Beast Clergyman (Elden Ring)

H

Henry Jekyll/Edward Hyde (Broadway, Rob Evan version)

Henry Sturges (Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter)

Hugh Crain (Haunting of Hill House, the book and 1963 film. Not the Flanagan show or 1999 movie remake)

Hugo Butterly (Nancy Drew, Danger by Design)

I

Ingemar (Midsommar)

J

Jack Ferriman (Ghost Ship)

Jack Worthing/Uncle Jack (We Happy Few)

Jafar (Once Upon a Time, not the Wonderland spin-off)

Jan Valek (John Carpenter’s Vampires)

Jefferson "Seaplane" McDonough/Alex (Jumanji 2 and 3)

Jervis Tetch/Mad Hatter (Arkhamverse! Video Games)

Jester (Puppetmaster series)

John (He’s Out There)

Joseph “Joey” Mallone (Blackwell series)

Juan (The Forever Purge)

Juno Hoslow, Knight of Blood (Elden Ring)

K

Kalabar (Halloweentown)

Kenneth Haight (Elden Ring)

Killer Moth/Drury Walker (Teen Titans)

King Paimon (Hereditary)

L

Lamb Mask/Craig (You’re next)

Lamplighter (The Boys)

Launder Man (Crypt TV)

Lawrence “Larry” Gordon (Saw series)

Loki (Apsulov: End of Gods)

Lucifer (Devil’s Carnival 1 & 2)

M

Magic Mirror (Snow White 1937/Shrek)

Man in the Mask (The Strangers)

Manon (The Craft)

Man-Thing (Marvel’s Werewolf By Night)

Marco Polo/Merman (Crypt TV)

Marcus Corvinus (Underworld series)

Markus Boehm (Nancy Drew, the Captive Curse)

Mephistopheles (Faust’s Albtraum)

Micolash, Host of the Nightmare (Bloodborne)

Miquella (Elden Ring)

Mirror Man (Snow White and the Huntsman)

Mr. Crow/Aldous Vanderboom (Rusty Lake series)

Mr. Le Bail (Ready Or Not)

Mr. Slausen (Tourist Trap)

N

Nigel Billingsley (Jumanji 2 and 3)

Night’s Cavalry (Elden Ring)

Nothing (The Night House)

P

Pazuzu (The Exorcist)

Pierre Despereaux (Psych)

Prince Anton Voytek (Vampire 1974)

Prince Escalus (Romeo and Juliet, no particular adaptation)

Prince Quartus (Stardust)

Prince Septimus (Stardust)

Professor Petrie/Phantom of the Opera (Phantom of the Opera 1962)

Peter Quint (Turn of the Screw, the book and maybe some other adaptations. Not the Bly Manor Flanagan show.)

R

Reese Kelly (Scarlet Hollow)

Rene Belloq (Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark)

Roland Voight (Hellraiser 2022)

Ronin (Star Trek)

Rorschach (Watchmen)

Rupert Giles (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Rusty Nail (Joyride trilogy)

S

Salem Saberhagen (Sabrina the Teenage Witch)

Sam Wayne (Scarlet Hollow)

Silver Surfer/Norrin Radd (Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer)

Simon Jarrett (SOMA)

Sir Lancelot (Night at the Museum 3)

Sportacus (LazyTown)

Starscourge Radahn (Elden Ring)

STEM (Upgrade)

Sutter Cane (In the Mouth of Madness)

T

Thantos DuBaer (Twitches 1 and 2)

The Auditor (Hellraiser: Judgment)

The Babadook (The Babadook)

The Black Knight Ghost (Scooby Doo 2 Monsters Unleashed)

The Curator (Dark Pictures Anthology)

The Designer (Devil’s Carnival 2)

The Djinn/Nathaniel Demerest/Professor Joel Barash/Steven Verdel (Wishmaster series)

The Faun (Pan’s Labyrinth)

The Fox (The Little Prince 1974)

The Jester (The Jester, A Short Horror Film series)

The Kinderfänger (Crypt TV)

The Knight/Tarhos Kovács (Dead by Daylight)

The Look-See (Crypt TV)

The Man (Carnival of Souls)

The Merman (Cabin In The Woods)

The Metal Killer (Stage Fright 2014)

The Mirror (Oculus)

The Narrator (Stanley Parable)

The Other (Hellfest)

The Phantom (Phantom Manor)

The Projectionist (Pearl)

The T-1000/Cop (Terminator 2, Terminator Genisys)

The Tall Man/The Entity (It Follows)

The Thing (The Thing 1982)

The Torn Prince/Royce Clayton (Thirteen Ghosts remake)

The Torso/James “Jimmy” Gambino (Thirteen Ghosts remake)

Thomas Alexander “Alex” Upton (TAU)

Tiger Mask/Dave (You’re Next)

Tommy Ross (Carrie, 1976)

V

Valak (The Conjuring)

Valdack and his real world counterpart (Black Mirror)

Van Pelt (Jumanji 2)

Venable (Wrong Turn 2021)

Viktor (Underworld series)

Viktor Frankenstein/Dr. Whale (Once Upon a Time)

Vladislaus Dracula (Van Helsing 2004)

W

Wade Thornton (Nancy Drew, Ghost of Thornton Hall)

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Westley/Dread Pirate Roberts (The Princess Bride)

Wildwind/Dark Skull, Stormy Weathers, and Lightning Strikes (Scooby Doo and the Legend of the Vampire)

“William”/The Headless Figure (Crypt TV)

William "Billy" Butcherson (Hocus Pocus 1 and 2)

X

Xenan the Centaur (Xena Warrior Princess)

[theolikeworld]

1. Dr, Victor Frankenstein - Hammer Frankenstein series

2. Doctor Van Helsing - Horror of Dracula (1958)

3. Sherlock Holmes - Hound of the Baskervilles (1959)

4. John Banning - The Mummy (1959)

5. Dr. John Rollason - The Abominable Snowman (1957)

6. Mr. Smith - Asylum (1972)

7. General Spieldorf - The Vampire Lovers (1970)

8. Dr. Wells - Horror Express (1972)

9. Herbert Flay - Madhouse (1974)

10. Dr. Christopher Maitland - The Skull (1965)

11. Dr. Namaroff - The Gorgon (1964)

12. Philip Grayson - The House That Dripped Blood (1971)

13. SS Commander - Shock Waves (1977)

14. Frederick Utterson - I, Monster (1971)

[world-cinema-research]

Young Frankenstein 

By: Christian Lavarello - Week 4

“My Name is Fronkonsteen!!!” 

Young Frankenstein is a horror film with a touch of comedy from 1974 directed by Mel Brooks which tells the story of Dr. Frederick Frankenstein played by Gene Wilder who is a lecturing physician at an American medical school and grandson of famous Dr. Frankenstein. Dr. Frederick Frankenstein distances himself from the notoriety of his family by insisting people call him “Dr. Fronkonsteen” to separate himself from his grandfather’s legacy and “madness”. Although Dr. Frankenstein continually distances himself from his past, he finds himself being driven by destiny to follow in his grandfather’s legacy of bringing back a dead body to life. Some of the main characters of the film are Dr. Frankenstein’s assistant Marty Feldman as Igor the stock minion that comes with his grandfather’s castle, Cloris Leachman as Frau Blucher the housekeeper, Terri Garr as Inga the lab assistant and Dr. Frankenstein’s fiancée Elizabeth played by, Madeline Kahn and the monster played by Peter Boyle.

Director Mel Brooks was an actor, comedian, composer and filmmaker, born as Melvin James Kaminsky in 1926 in Brooklyn, New York. In 1944, Mel Brooks was drafted into the Army and placed in the Specialized Training Program at Virginia Military Institute, where he learned combat engineering and other fighting skills. Shortly after Mel Brooks was transferred to the 1104th Engineer Combat Group, participating in the Battle of the Bulge. He was sent to the forward edge of the battle areas, helping to clear German land mines during World War II.  

After Director Mel Brooks was honorably discharged from the Army as a corporal, he found his true calling as an artist and became one of the most successful film directors of the 70s. Many of his films were among the top 10 most profitable films of the year they were released. Mel Brooks best-known films include The Producers, The Twelve Chairs, Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein, Silent Movie, High Anxiety, History of the World, Part I, Spaceballs and Robin Hood: Men in Tights. A musical adaptation of his first film, The Producers, also ran on Broadway from 2001 to 2007. 

Young Frankenstein had great success and received mostly positive reviews, with a 94% rating in rotten tomatoes, 92% rating from the audience and 4.5 stars on google. A review of the movie by Robert Ebert states the following, “Brooks revealed a rare comic anarchy. His movies weren’t just funny, they were aggressive and subversive, making us laugh even when we really should have been offended. (Explaining this process, Brooks once loftily declared, “My movies rise below vulgarity.”) “Young Frankenstein” is as funny as we expect a Mel Brooks comedy to be, but it’s more than that: It shows artistic growth and a more sure-handed control of the material by a director who once seemed willing to do literally anything for a laugh. It’s more confident and less breathless”. Mr. Ebert’s description of the film truly demonstrates Mel Brooks’ true gift for creating unique films. As a first-time viewer of the film, fifty years after its release, I can say it was a great film to watch and ahead of its’ time.  

During the time of the release of this film the United States was undergoing through political turmoil and there was a lot of instability due to the resignation of President Richard Nixon and the Watergate scandal. The 70s was also a time where women's rights, gay rights and environmental movements gained momentum. On a parallel artistic world compared to historical events in the 70s, Young Frankenstein brought a film which was categorized as a horror film, the premise of the film brought also satire and humor to help the audience see the good amid current historical events. The film's cast caught up with satirical humor and added their personality to a humorous script by Mel Brooks. Technological advancements also influenced Hollywood in the 1970s. The introduction of new filmmaking techniques, such as the use of handheld cameras, naturalistic lighting, and on-location shooting, added a sense of realism and authenticity to films which we witness in Young Frankenstein through its’ special effects such as low-hanging fog to torrential rain.  

Not only can we measure the great success of Young Frankenstein by the critic’s review but also by its’ financial success upon release. The film’s production budget was around $2.78 million and grossed around $86.2 million. The film starred popular stars with an unfamiliar story that was easy to understand and marketed for financial success which made this film a conventional film of its time. Notably, Young Frankenstein was a great movie in the 1970s and continues to amaze and entertain viewers fifty years after its release.