#young frankenstein imagine

[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. 

[snowsinterlude]

doll parts.

(coriolanus snow x bella baxter!reader)

summary: having been brought back to live recently, you seemed to have lost your memories and still had a lot to re-learn. with that being said, you were personally intrigued by whatever 'fucking' is. luckily, coriolanus knew exactly how to teach you.

based on this ask.

c.w: horror (based in frankenstein and poor things), smut, coriolanus snow, nymphomaniac behavior (on the part of reader), spitting, p in v, porn with plot, rough sex, slapping (m. recieving), overstimulation, angry sex, squirting, edging, creampie, unproctected sex, innocent reader, naïve behavior, dumbification. casca highbottom is mentioned but he's not the main focus, 'virginity' loss, there's gonna be a lot of 'of course's" here

with the shocks of the electricity running through your new brain, you had opened your eyes to the sight of casca highbottom, a scientist who wanted to prove the point that he could bring people back to life.

of course, playing god wasn't exactly allowed, but what does corruption doesn't do?

with a white curly lock in your lustrous hair being something new to your forgotten appearance, you stared at the man in front of you, whom claimed to be your father. and of course he wasn't. he wanted to prove a point; this point being that he could create the perfect woman and shape her into the submissive obedient element you were supposed to become.

you didn't like that idea, and on the first minute he looked somewhere other than you when he brought you to see the outside world, you ran away, wanting to learn whatever you had to learn without the chains that casca highbottom had you in.

it didn't took long for you to come across coriolanus snow, a renowed academy student who was always against highbottom's experiments in dead people and animals. and he was so gentle to you, probably because of your doe heterochromatic eyes (another result of highbottom's tests on your previously dead body), or probably because of your innocent smile and the way your experience with the dead of living beings was killing mosquitoes and butterflies, saying that "there is no meaning for me to let this thing live if it annoys me."

of course, he took that out of your head with the argument that "then, if i, someday end up annoying you, would you kill me?" and you seemed to thought for a long while (that was his concern and the moment he gulped down), shaking your head, but saying "if you gave me anything other than kisses and books and shelter, i would." and he laughed at the way you said that, your eyes almost jumping out of your skull, always so sickeningly wide. you were so naïve, he truly wanted to open your kull, unspool your brain and sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down whatever it was that passed through your head.

he would never do it, though. not when you looked so pretty when swallowing his spit on that same night, licking your lips after a kiss.

then, in the day before, sitting on the couch on his studies, you looked at the page of the book you were leavmfing through, you saw an image of a woman and a man's silhouette. taking advantage of the few things highbottom teached you, you read outloud:

"mis...sio...neh...ry" of course, you still had a lot of difficulty reading, but nothing that could cause harm, coriolanus still tried his best to teach you how to read. he was always so... kind. you wanted to eat him up. but pretty things sometimes are accessories that can't go into your stomach, and that's what coriolanus told you when you tried eating a ladybug, claiming she was too cute for you not to eat it. "coryo,"

"yes, doll?" he asked, reading the papers he had on his hands.

"what is missionary sex?" that caught him off guard.

so now, after explaining how it worked and why it existed, the platinum blonde man finished by saying it could bring pleasure to your body, but it was mainly used for reproduction purposes.

you didn't really care about that last part, the second you heard him talking about 'pleasure', you immediatly got up, almost abruptly walking to him, your bare feet stepping on whatever it had on the ground, the skirt of your dress, that he got used to seeing you without, the shows you were supposed to wear to an early party that you never put on, his jacket, some papers, and finally, you were in front of him.

"i wanna do it," you voiced, taking the papers out of his hand "i wanna do it with you." and "i wanna have missionary with you." you said, eyes wide open to stare at him, you almost never blinkedat all.

"it's sex, doll. missionary is just a position." he said, laughing. though the thought of you riding him made his dick throb.

"position?" you asked, cocking your head to the side. "then there's more?" he nodded to you.

"there are much more positions on the kamasutra than pages on the bible." he said, and you smiled happily, your teeth showing up as well as your voice echoed:

"show me." you said "sex me- fuck, is fucking, right? fuck me. in the positions of the kamasutra." you said.

and god, he was so happy to take you by the waist, kiss you and lead your leg to wrap around his waist.

it didn't took many minutes for you to be without your bloomers, your panties put aside for him to grind his cock on your cunt, teasing you, and you didn't knew, but you felt like you were soaked up in something sticky- your wetness. "t-that's not missionary," you moaned, bucking your hips back at his teasing moves.

"you're right," he answered, groaning as he kissed your frowning face. "that's the clasp position, doll." with his hands on your waist, and yours on his shoulders, he finally penetrated you, earning a long moan out of your mouth.

you weren't a virgin, though you didn't know that, you used to have a husband on your previous life before you died, but you were never satisfied and you have never been- not until he slowly thrusted inside your pussy, making you feel every inch of his dick inside you.

"fuck!" you cried, a cry without tears as you undid the buttons of his shirt.

"what is it?" he asked, a moan leaving his throat as you ripped the shirt and bite his neck, too impatient to unbutton all of the buttons that were prohibiting you from seeing his body.

"i wanna see you," you moaned, slowly bucking your hips back, mouth agape as you let a rude moan leave your head "i wanna see your body."

he chuckled at your words, his hands still holding your body to keep you still as he fucked you. however, it wasn't bad, but you wanted to see how it would feel if it was fast.

"f-faster, please. just wanna see- s-see how it feels." you pleaded, your eyesight blurry as you looked down, seeing how your bare pussy took him in so well, almost devouring him into you.

he promptly obeyed you, going faster and deeper, a moan leaving your throat as his skin slapped against yours. and to see you squirming under him felt like heaven- a sight that no one but him could capture.

even when your walls squeezed his cock and you came around him, your pussy gushing around him, your stamina was still higher than his, which led to you edging him, not letting him cum until you felt so tired that you'd be passed out by his side.

which didn't happen for a long time. for at least six rounds, you were still edging him, slapping him every time he was ready to cum. you didn't allow it.

and by now, you were riding him non-stop, your eyes shut closed as you yourself abused your cunt on his cock, who throbbed painfully and made him throw his head back when he finally cummed inside you, stuffing you rope after rope.

"hey!" you called out slapping his chest, as he still gripped his nails on your skin, marking small crescent moon phases on your skin. he looked at you with an angry frown. "i don't wanna stop just now! i want more!" you said, not caring about his growling state, you thought it looked cute on him.

"god, you're terrible." he grunted, changing positions. "just this one more time and it's over." you nodded, agreeing with him as he finally slapped your clit, making you mewl and squirm under him. "see? you're too sensible, if we keep going," he thrusted "you're gonna have a difficult time walking straight."

"i can always dance." you said, legs spread to let him pound into you. he chuckled, slapping your thigh.

"let's see." he kissed you with a slight open mouth, his tongue battling with yours as he thrusted into you, letting you be a pillow princess for once in the day as you scarred his back with your nails, his pace was quicker than before, probably quicker than yours, and it made you melt entirely, your breathing became heavy and rapid.

when he pinched your clit, you felt strangely dumber, moaning into the kiss that was soon broke apart.

he spit into your mouth, his eyes boring into yours. "swallow it." and you did, crying from the pleasure as he rubbed your clit. "good girl, doll." he smiled.

"d-don't stop, coryo, please. just a bit more and i'll cum- i-i promise i'll let you rest after!" you mewled, squirming as he pound into you.

"hm, i don't know, doll. when i said i wanted to cum you didn't really allowed me to. why should i allow you?" he asked, pecking your temple.

"please. please! i can't hold it in!" you said, your boobs bouncing into the corset you were still wearing. he got rid of it in the blink of an eye, and you didn't even noticed where it had gone, too focused on the pleasure in between your legs as you cried.

he smiled to the view of your body. of course there was a bunch of scars there and there that were already healed, specially the one that connected your neck, but it didn't really mattered to his dick, neither to him. he loved just how doe eyed you were, how dumbly you asked about things and how you didn't questioned him more than once about something, like now.

"i-i'm sorry, i-i just wanted more. i didn't thought about your pleasure- s-sorry, please, let me cum! pleease!!"

"hm. no" he said, grabbing your ass and kissing your temple oh so kindly as he fucked you raw. "let's see how long you will last since you were so hungry for it."

and you didn't last much, just likenhe thought. the more you concentreated on the feeling of his dick on your cunt and the way his balls slapped against your ass, the closer you were to cumming again, and you did just after he came inside you again, smiling dumbly at him as you squirt on his cock, too sensitive from your previous orgasms.

"i'm sorry, coryo" you said, still teary eyed as you hugged him, hand pawing at his chest.

"for?" he frowned, he had already pulled his trousers up, guarding his dick into the fabric.

"f...for edging you, 'm sorry." you said, sleepy and pouty. he chuckled.

"it's okay," he said, caressing your head "at least you said sorry."

and you slept the most comfortable sleep of your post-mortem life, even drooling a bit on his chest, but he loved you just too much to do something about your innocent, naïve nature other than love and cherish it.

[an-aura-about-you]

lying on my couch eating chips and wondering when people will give me money for my brilliant idea(the local symphony orchestra should do one of those live movie soundtrack nights with Megamind)

[sleepdepravity]

I don’t remember if o ever mentioned this before but every once in a while I just sit and think about how the song “join the family business” from young Frankenstein the musical is great for Sanji and the vinsmokes.

[stalkerthetiger]

Learning that a show I watched as a child was from the 30s and 40s is quite remarkable

[endemise]

✻ DEMO

→ Latest Update: Prologue — 3 February 2024

17+ The Fall of House Black — A gothic, supernatural, mystery interactive fiction story. Lightly inspired by The Fall of the House of Usher and Frankenstein media. (Work in Progress)

Synopsis has mentions of death and suicide. See extended content warnings below.

The fall of House Black, your house, was an imminent thing. A name had never been so cursed that all it could do was bring about death.

First, your younger sister in a swimming accident, then your older brother in a case of mistaken identity. As the rest of your family sought to grieve and bring justice to your brother, your older sister was killed in a hunting accident at the end of your father’s bow.

The three of you, mother, father, and child, became inconsolable. Broken beyond repair. Your mother unable to bear the weight of life any longer took her own while your father disappeared, gone into the night. When you remain the sole survivor of House Black, you know you must leave, and on the night of your decision, your home goes up in flames with you inside.

Then, you awake, dazed with no recollection of anything, and when you look down at your body, you scream. It is wrong. So wrong.

Play as a reanimated, customizable character.

Learn how to be a person again.

Try to survive in a society that fears the unknown.

Develop relationships. (4 ROs: All gender-selectable + 1 secret RO)

Aid in the investigation of your family’s untimely deaths.

Learn about your family’s curse.

Aesop/Almira Hammond | Detective | 36 Years Old | RO

[Profile] [Portrait]

A is an observant and clever person, stoic in nature. They put their all into their work, striving to find the truth in every case. They take on the case of your family’s sudden deaths despite pushback from others. It was an occurrence of events all too strange, and they are determined to figure it out.

Cyprian/Cecilia Atterton | Writer | 28 Years Old | RO

[Profile] [Portrait]

C is an imaginative and creative person, quiet in nature. They write not only from their own experiences, but the experiences of others as well. They are interviewing people about House Black, intending on writing a book about your family’s ill fate and eventual demise.

Sebastian/Sabina Farwell | Doctor | 34 Years Old | RO

[Profile] [Portrait]

S is an intelligent and kind person, caring in nature. They are a most trusted doctor, hardworking and honest. They were the young doctor that tried to help your father and sister. They helped without question, never calling your family cursed as you so often were.

Elias/Elosia Osborne | Coroner | 30 Years Old | RO

[Profile] [Portrait]

E is an empathetic and hardworking person, cheerful in nature. They put their heart into their work, aiming to bring closure to people as swiftly as possible. They are the one who investigated and confirmed the death of your elder sister. They never could for you though.

Unknown | ??? | ??? | RO

A secret. Who knows when they will appear.

SUBJECT TO CHANGE

Mentions of death, child death, suicide, violence, blood, injury, burning alive, body horror, mutilation, slight gore, amnesia

asks are welcomed!

DISCLAIMER

this is a demo/work in progress. everything is subject to change until the final version. it is by no means a finished or polished work.

LINKS

✻ demo | same one, just another link

✻ itch.io | my creator page

✻ @ethersic | my main, art, etc. blog

INFO

word count w/o code: 6.3k

made with tweego + vscode + sugarcube

[naofairy]

Haikyuu!! June fic recs

Happy July everyone! Honestly I am so surprised that I still haven’t run out of fic recs, I love whenever I stumble upon a really great fic or when I see my favourite authors post something new! Here are my favourite fics that I had the pleasure of reading in June! I hope something in this list will pique your interest!

As always, remember to support these wonderful writers with kudos and comments! Be mindful of the ratings and tags!

sakuatsu

soft landing in a crater heart by discokonomi

Again, until it's perfect. by fairycake

Miya Atsumu, Adored By All (loved by some) by honest_pebble

frankenstein's monster by starbeyy

bokuaka

How I’m Imagining Him by Novus_deusz

I'll Always Be With You (Even When We're Far Apart) by Fawn_Eyed_Girl

venus tonight by eldureira

ushiten

Like a Sunflower Unto the Sun by discokonomi

The years shall run like rabbits by ladyoflalaland

daisuga

Soulmake Adventures by KingsHighway

drop in the ocean by Mooifyourecows

The Rules by semipeaceful

kagehina

Silver Linings by KarmaHope

An Atmosphere Enveloped by Young Love by sailorkooks

Pinion by KarmaHope

getting to know you by emleewrites

MSBY

The MSBY Black Jackals Read Thirst Tweets by cherry_apples22

Akaashi & Udai

werewolves coming into the light of day by eurydicees

my fic recs masterlist

[starrysvn]

angel | park seonghwa

pairing: fem!reader x non idol!park seonghwa

genre: soulmate au

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mentions of food, fluff

playlist: inception - ateez, francesca - hozier, unknown/nth - hozier

networks: @cromernet

author’s note: happiest birthday to my lovely star bai @hwaightme , i love you more than words can say <3 i hope today has been filled with nothing but happiness and laughter and love. thank you for being a precious friend and my partner in delulu. ilysm, sending the biggest warmest hugs <33333 please enjoy this delulu frankenstein

masterlist | navi

“Are you quite sure we should be doing this?” 

The night was drawing to an end, and so was your wit. You could no longer stand to be in the suffocating ballroom, the amount of people spinning around was making you dizzy to the point of nausea. That was when he offered you a way out, seeing you struggle to maintain composure while sitting all alone.

“Absolutely not,” you heard the smirk in his voice while he led you out to the garden, sure you were following after him.

“How irresponsible of you to draw a young lady away to a dark secluded corner of a garden,” he laughed. “Should I be fearing for my life?”

When he stopped walking you almost ran into him, looking around to see you standing in the heart of the English Garden of the palace. During the night it was almost dreadful, as opposed to its beauty in the daytime, if it weren’t for the few scattered lights. 

“Not at all,” he turned, but you couldn’t see his face. The thought confused you only for a second, for you knew this man. You trusted him with your life. He reached for your hand, holding it in his warmer one. “Not long, now.”

“Not long,” you whispered back, your surroundings slowly fading as he pressed his lips to yours. 

Sometimes it was more than just a dream, you could feel it in your bones. It lingered during the day, the unshakable conviction that it was all true. That it had been true. It could not have been just your mind making up the ballroom dancing, whispered poems and a soft piano echoing during a sunny afternoon. So you wrote it all down in letters you kept under your bed. Most times the dreams had already escaped your memory, so all there was were jumbled thoughts scribbled quickly before even those could fade away. Other times, you woke up in the middle of the night, so convinced you were still there, still surrounded by warmth and love you never dared imagine could exist. Your hand blindly reached for the notebook you kept on your nightstand, chasing after the vivid imagery in your head. 

The words you kept closer to your heart were the ones he whispered one night, you could hear vivid chatter from somewhere far away and the evening breeze making goosebumps erupt on your skin. But he was there, standing tall and faceless beside you, his hand guiding yours to his lips. 

“Farewell, my angel,” he had whispered against your knuckles before you woke up. 

In shades of dark and moonlight, you waited for the distinct feeling of the lingering feather-like kiss to vanish, both hoping it would and wishing it wouldn’t. Alone in your bed you hesitated to turn and reach for the notebook like you usually would; you had the feeling you could never forget the way his voice spoke the words that made every hair stand on ends. 

And you never did, for each night you would be in his company in dreamland and, each night, he would call you his angel. He showed you a world of colors, of hushed whispers in the dark, a warm murmur by your ear as he enveloped you in his arms. It was all you ever wished to hear in the daylight rather than just inside your head. 

It was another day waking up itching to know more, wanting to know if you were going insane or if this was the twisted way in which fate had decided to assign you your soulmate. All you had ever had were dreams that made no sense, yet gave you hope. Even when you did not know where to start, if to even dare at all.

There was little you could do, really, except live in a dream. Because even as you made your way down a busy street, en route to work, chopped away whatever you needed for lunch or dinner, every other thought was stuck on him. This illusion of a perfect man who faded as moonlight gave way to another day. Sometimes it felt so real that it was hard to discern from reality itself. The phantom brush of a hand, the faint memory of a scribbled note, of his contagious laughter. It was as if you could hear them, as if they refused to go and stay where they belonged. 

But you couldn’t live in a dream, could you? You could hold out for however long it took, but you could not give up life in the meantime. 

“I swear, just trust me!” Your colleague would not give up. The constant nagging had become almost unbearable, so much so that it made you want to give in. “One date and if it sucks, I’ll leave you alone forever, I pinky promise.”

The copier rapidly dished out the papers you needed to bring back to your desk, giving you the perfect excuse not to look up at San. You sighed, he had been on a mission to get you to go out with this guy for a while now. He swore up and down that you two were destined, but you usually were able to dissuade your colleague pretty fast. Not today, it seemed. 

“Listen,” busying yourself counting the copies, you won another few short seconds before the time came to face San’s begging eyes. “Just one coffee?” 

“Please, please, believe me you guys would be perfect togeth- hold up,” smile opening up on his lips, eyes shiny and wide, San almost did a double take. “Are you saying yes?”

Sighing again, you fiddled with the top corner of your papers - that you were now hugging to your chest - before nodding. 

“One date,” you agreed, holding up your pointer finger right in front of his face. “And you have to stay near in case he’s weird and I need to escape.”

Proud of the conditions you laid down, you watched as San furiously nodded along, albeit a little offended that you’d think I’d set you up with some random weirdo. Thus, he ran back to his desk, murmuring about texting his friend. You let out one last sigh before returning to your station, too. 

You hoped you’d made the right choice. 

The first hints of autumn were making themselves known, a cooler breeze than usual surprising you as it caressed your face upon walking out the glass doors, the sun already on its way to set. You hid your face a little further into the scarf around your neck, walking out of your workplace beside San. 

It had been a week since you gave into his pleading and he’d been very secretive about the infamous date. You were starting to worry. Maybe his friend had said no? Or was he planning something elaborate? Was he not saying anything because, really, this friend of his truly was just some weirdo?

You were pulled out of your thoughts by San himself, catching him wave and say something along the lines of there he is. He quickly found your elbow, gently hitting it with his, snapping you back to reality. You barely caught any detail of the man walking towards the two of you.

“Alright, that is the friend I was telling you about,” your head snapped into San’s direction, eyes wide as saucers. “Looks like you’re going on a date.” 

Your friend was smiling his Cheshire grin, making you want to wipe it clean off his face.

“Choi San, this is an ambush!” You yelped, alarmed by his quiet giggling and eyebrow wiggling. “High treason even, could you not warn me at least-”

“Hi.”

Stood there, wrapped in a warm looking coat, was quite possibly the most gorgeous man you had ever seen. His smile was timid but friendly and his eyes were just as bright and warm, reflecting the lights from the lamppost. A few strands of wavy, chocolate hair fell delicately just above them.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys now, have fun!” 

Oh, you were going to kill San.

“Hi,” you greeted, eyes leaving the retreating figure of your friend to focus back on the man in front of you. 

“I’m Seonghwa, San’s friend,” he smiled again, melting your heart a little just by the sound of his voice. “It’s nice to meet you and I apologize for the suddenness of this all… it appears he didn’t need help with document boxes after all.”

“He sure didn’t,” you tried to keep the bitterness out of your voice, for it was San’s brilliant planning that landed you here, not his friend’s. So, you introduced yourself as well, suggesting to go to your favorite cafè just around the corner and trying to take the surprise blind date in stride. 

“It’s the only place I could think of,” you said, almost apologetic as you sat down. Truth was, the little hole in the wall cafè was special to you. It housed memories of tranquil mornings where you got there early enough to sit down for a coffee before work, joyous lunches with friends to celebrate achievements, quiet afternoons spent in the company of your favorite books. Your feet had taken you here on auto-pilot. 

“It’s lovely,” his smile could melt snow, you figured right then and there, after he’d looked around with curious eyes to the unique decor and shelves of literature, poems and papers.

Seonghwa was just as San had described him, after all. He made sure to open the door for you as you entered the cafè, he asked your order so he could go up to the register while you found a table you liked and even offered to pay. He was charming and a great listener, and he had managed to make you laugh until tears pooled in your eyes. It was so warm to be around him, easy to talk to as if you’d known him your whole life, almost as perfect as two puzzle pieces fitting together. 

When it was time to leave you almost didn’t want to. You wanted to stay there with him and keep talking, keep sharing your interests and favorites, exist inside the cozy bubble that had formed around you two. So, with the promise of another date and Seonghwa insisting to at least walk you to the nearest bus stop, you went home. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, taking you by surprise when he dipped down to land a kiss on your cheek before you could get on the bus. It stayed with you, making you feel like a teenager all over again. 

You went through the motions of preparing dinner and getting ready for bed as if floating on a cloud, barely believing you had it in you to feel so light. And if, while laying down on your bed with the lights off, you had felt so full of hope for something good, happiness and giddiness enough to make you giggle to yourself, then you woke up the following morning as empty as ever. A foreign hollow in your chest, that you had trouble identifying, was steadily painting everything gray, from the breakfast you made to the commute home. It was only then, sitting on the bus staring out to the traffic, that you realized you hadn’t dreamt of him that night. For the first night ever, you weren’t chasing after his fading figure. 

Each night you went to bed hoping to hear his voice and see on which adventure sleep would take you. Then, each morning you woke up well rested and clear-headed: no more piecing together the fragments of dreams you couldn’t remember, no more trying hard to see the face of the man that made you feel loved. Months of empty nights went by until, with time, you even forgot to remember him unless you stumbled upon your notebook. 

“You seem quiet today,” Seonghwa piped up, still browsing through the vinyls in front of him. 

“I was just thinking,” you shrugged, making your way over to him and taking his hand in yours. His smile, soft and contagious, made your heart flutter. Still focused on his search, now led with one hand only, he intertwined your fingers. It was at times like these, when he would kiss the back of your hand, that you wondered.  

“About what?” 

Finally, he looked at you, eyes bright and welcoming and saying what his words hid: you can tell me anything. You just shook your head, smiling back at him, shrugging as if the wandering thought didn’t lie heavy on your head whenever it knocked on the doors of your consciousness. 

“Alright, then, I have a surprise for you,” he pulled you away from the vinyl stand, almost as giddy as you felt, and into the busier paths of the market. Under string lights that festively shone, between the other passersby, it was easy to feel like you were the only two people in the world. That’s how Seonghwa made you feel; in his presence, living life was easier. If he was holding your hand, you were sure you could face any hurdles that may come. It was a feeling so real that you could almost taste it in his sweet kisses, his loving embrace, and no longer only dream of. 

As he dragged you - arm lazily thrown on your shoulders or hand on the small of your back if too many people forced you two to walk in line - remnant, persisting memories almost made you dizzy with deja vu. His hand squeezing yours to make sure you were still following, to tell you he was still there, his voice pointing out whatever caught his attention as you passed by, the wintry breeze and the cacophony of voices, laughs, faraway music surrounding you. 

“Here we are,” you almost bumped into his back when he stopped and stood facing the cafè that held the memory of your first date.

“It’s closed,” you pointed out, hearing his chuckle shortly after.

“Good thing I’ve got the keys,” he jingled them in the space between the two of you, a proud smile on his lips. You cocked your head to the side, brows furrowed. 

“You’ll see.” 

Seonghwa made quick work of opening up and leading you in, turning on the softer lights, leaving the sign on “closed”. As if on autopilot, you wandered around the room to the one table that had caught your eye. On it, laid few of your favorite pastries and pictures of you together, a colorful bouquet in the middle. 

“Seonghwa… what’s all this?” 

“Happy birthday,” his arms embraced you, bringing you to rest your back against his chest, holding you close. Speechless, you turned around in his hold, ready to speak but the words wouldn’t come. “I know you said you were working and were probably going to go home and do something on the weekend, but I didn’t want to just text you happy birthday and go about my day. Today is your day and you’re very special to me and I wanted to do something to wish you-”

You kissed him - interrupting his rambling and pulling him closer - gently like his arms were around your waist, warm like your cheeks and slow as if you had all the time in the world. 

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, hands still playing with soft strands of his hair. “You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to,” he pecked your lips once again before sliding away from you and pulling out the chair for you to sit. As he did, another confused memory swirled in your head. You pushed it away. Sitting in front of you, Seonghwa asked about your day and let you ramble on and on, so you asked about his, too. He left his hand out on the table for you to hold, so you did, not missing the way he quickly hid a smile after you intertwined your fingers. Whenever he was close to you, Seonghwa wondered if you could tell how furiously his heart was beating in his chest; be it by brushing your finger against his pulse or resting your head against it. 

When he deemed dinner over, he pulled out of its box a little cake and stuck a candle right in the middle of it for you to blow out - only after he’d sang happy birthday to you. Seonghwa found the way you covered your blushing cheeks with your hands the most adorable thing you could ever do. He seemed antsy, itching even, to give you your present, though. So you pushed the platter with your slice of cake aside. 

“You could’ve finished,” he pouted, making you laugh over the rustling of a paper bag.

“You looked like you were about to explode, Hwa,” you accepted his present, wrapped pristine and precise, insisting that he didn’t have to. He kept on saying he wanted to (and also, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?).

A smile so bright it rivaled the sun opened up on your lips, seeing the art cover of your favorite artist’s album peeking from the torn wrapping paper. 

“Is this why you were hogging the stand earlier?” You beamed at him, who sat with wide eyes hanging by your every word. You could tell his leg was bouncing. 

“I couldn’t have you buy it when I got it for you,” he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his you’d noticed, with a sheepish smile. You stood and, on the way to the record player of the shop, you kissed his cheek, murmuring a soft thank you. It was a look you wished to forever have engraved in your mind, the one he gave you when you offered him your hand to take, asking if you could have this dance. 

Seonghwa stood as if in a trance, nodding his head, only for you to guide him where less tables were. He pulled you close once again, slowly swaying to the beat of his fluttering heart or the music, he wasn’t sure. Time and time again he’d asked himself, in his time with you, how could he have been so lucky to meet you. To somehow hold your attention for long enough to make you see him, care for him. For you to want him to be this close to you. He hoped you’d allow him to be forever.

He twirled you around and waited for you to land back in his arms, feeling as dizzy as he often was when you found yourself there. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, cheek resting against his chest.

“Please, don’t thank me, my angel,” he whispered back, freezing time. 

The first time he’d called you angel, your heart had leapt from you. And yet, it wasn’t then and there, but back in your dreams. You didn’t know whether you were breathing still, all you knew was that when you looked up, Seonghwa was already searching for your eyes. 

“Say that again,” your voice was barely above a whisper, just as fragile as a piece of glass. 

“My angel,” his was too, broken by emotion and you had a feeling you knew just why. Seonghwa’s hands came to cup your cheeks, eyes drinking you in as if it were the first time. Perhaps it was, because you were looking at him like you finally found who you had been looking for. Like you could finally see the face that had populated your dreams. 

“It’s you,” it sounded crazy, absolutely mad to say something like that, but when he nodded back with unshed tears in his eyes, you knew. Seonghwa’s arms were quick to hug you to him once more, holding close like he never had before. Both your figures were shaken by sobs, but your hearts were being mended. Behind your eyelids, scenes of you through time played; all your dreams finally making sense as memories of past lives spent together, consumed by a love so fierce that it found you in every life. 

 “I can’t believe I found you again,” Seonghwa whispered as your sobs died down. He was still holding you, in the middle of the cafè while the music played, as if he were afraid you’d vanish. 

“I can,” you sniffled. “I dreamed of you for so long, I should’ve known…” 

“I thought I was going out of my mind,” his watery laugh pulled a chuckle out of you. “I longed for the day I’d see you again.”The record had gone quieter, maybe because there was only so little you could focus on when you finally were in the arms of your soulmate. There was no need for words, not now. Not when you could feel the love pouring out of your fingertips. Not when Seonghwa was placing kisses on the tears running down your cheeks, your temples, your forehead, your lips. Not when his whispered my angel made up for the time you’d spent apart. All this running around in circles every night, chasing after figments of what you thought could only be your imagination had finally brought him to you. You both laughed at destiny for making you dream for so long, secure in the newfound conviction that you’d be together no matter where it brought you.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Could you do a yandere Idia, Malleus, and Floyd with a darling who acts like Jane Doe from ride the cyclone? (If you can’t do this I understand!)

I liked the play

and I love her ballad

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Jane Doe Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

(Y/n) (L/n) is known best for your stiff motions and disconcerting observations. Usually met with fear, impervious to insults you don’t understand, and often forgetting your name you certainly become a person of interest to many. And the many that get to know you realize you’re not nearly as frightening as they perceived nor do you mean to be creepy just confused. Unfortunately for them the more people who begin to realize this about you tend to get closer to you. Not on their watch:

Idia Shroud

“You know what I think is scary? That a bear who happened upon some cocaine started eating and became addicted. What stopped the bear was not his desire to use the energy he got from this new prey but because he died. It disturbs me how far addiction can disguise the hand of death.”

“If this is some round-about way to tell me to stop gaming then I don’t buy it.”

He’s not as off-put when he realizes you don’t fit into that ‘normie’ category

Nor do you fit in his slot as an ultimate gamer

Well he can fix that really fast

It starts with putting a controller in your hand

And he slowly finds he doesn’t get nervous around you…for awhile

He still finds his hair alighting in pink flames when your cheeks touch as he governs you over your shoulder

Or how he overheats at your willingness to follow his menial acts for your friendship affection

“Y-yeah n-normal friends sit very close no matter the setting!”

“Like this?”

“Y-yeah!”

“And I should wrap my arms around your waist like this?”

“Y-yup!”

And you are none the wiser when you’re practicing all his lessons with others that he’s watching with absolute rage

So like the game master, he is he keeps his eyes on the field having cameras anywhere and everywhere watching your every awkward movement

Fanboying when he gets the perfect angle of you curiously tilting your head

And for the trash NPCs that bother you him+ he’s using his technical prowess to put them six feet under

“Ha, stupid NPC they really thought I’d let that slide?! Fat chance.”

Malleus Draconia

“Would you like to brush my doll’s hair?”

“I would like to but it seems her head is missing.”

“Hmmm, that reminds me of something.”

“Oh? How so?”

“I’m sure I can–” 

*Detaches head from body Frankenstein style*

“Oh yes I still can.”

“Oh my–”

Not only do you have no fear of him but you are the most interesting character he has the pleasure of meeting

You're so unorthodox he’s never bored

Not that he ever would be

He truly falls when your blunt affection for him as friend lover+ stirs something deeper in him

He can’t begin to imagine life without you being beside

Him learning from him and freely sharing your observations

And despite many others cringing at your creepy statements

He delights in them

“It truly is horrific how easily guinea pigs decide to cannibalize their young.”

“Haha! Yes, that is true. If you were in their place would you do the same? I ask because I can relate to the jealousy of the male. I would rather keep you to myself for all eternity.”

He doesn’t hide his affections and immediately dives into courting you 

And you don’t have the knowledge to turn him away though

But should any unfortunate interloper put it lightly on your radar that you don’t have to accept

He’s smiting them then and there

“See. (Y/n)? He says such negative things and the lightning struck him immediately after. It is only the balance of cause and effect.”

Floyd Leech

“(Y/nnnn)!”

“....”

“(YYYYY/nnnnn)!”

“....”

“(YYYYY/NNNN)!!!!

“Ah, that is what I’m called…right?”

“Hmmmm nope, your name is Shrimpy!”

He’s had the most fun with you in a long time

Anything with you around is fun

Whether its because everyone’s reactions are fun when you talk 

Or how you make people run perfect for an ambush

To say he gets angry at your occupied attention is an understatement

It's more than joy 

its you 

your his, his territory, his name-forgetting shrimpy that belongs to him

“Your eyes are nice.”

“Ahah that’s cute Shrimpy! I share them with Jade!” 

“They’re wild…like that of a carnivorous predator. The kind that gut their prey while still alive.”

“Awww Shrimpy! Marry me.”

If it isn’t a given that he squeezes anyone who diverts your attention

But he can’t help but decide you don’t need to move at all from his reach

[canyousonicme]

Frankenstein: The Read with Alex Kingston

Alex Kingston breathes life into Mary Shelley’s gothic masterpiece.

A young and gifted student, Victor Frankenstein, develops a secret technique to “infuse a spark of being” into lifeless matter - but his unorthodox scientific experiment backfires. His Creation is not the perfect specimen he imagines that it will be, but rather a hideous creature who is rejected by Victor and the world at large.

Written more than 200 years ago, and published when Mary Shelley was just 20, the story of Frankenstein and his monster still resonates today: a classic horror story and a tragic romance which examines the battle between ambition and morality.

This performance reading by Bafta-nominated Kingston is an abridgement which preserves the hard-hitting and politically charged aspects of Shelley's original writing, as well as her unflinching wit and strong female voice.

A Rural Studios production for BBC Four and BBC iPlayer. It is directed by Rachel Lambert, produced by Julie Colman. The Executive Producer is Grant Black and the commissioner for BBC Arts is Stephen James-Yeoman.

BBC Four on 3 March at 7.55pm to 9pm

[lolahauri]

✎ Introduction ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Requests are always open, and you can send as many as you want, as detailed as you want! I just get to them whenever i can/feel like it.

Anon's: 🌹-🕯️-🍁-❤️-

Other Accounts: @lolas-favfics @lolamultifandom @lolahaurisfw

AO3: Here

-> MASTERLIST <-

-> EVENT MASTERLIST <-

DNI: MAP, ZOO, Pro-Para, Pro-Ana, TERF, Zionist, Bigots, Minors!!!, Discourse Blogs. ❤️🖤🤍💚

Things I Won't Write:

Sex Crimes of ANY KIND, Super Violent/Xtreme Kinks, Inflation, Feederism, Abuse, Puke, Shit, DDLG, Age Play, Raceplay, Wound Fucking, Gore, Vore, Misgendering, Lesbian x Male, Gay Man x Female, Stepcest etc... no exceptions!

Fluff, Angst, Platonic. (Go to my other fanfic blog for that.)

Things I Will Write:

Genderbent Characters, Mild Yandere, Daddy/Mommy Kink, Cheating, Mild BDSM, CNC, Dubcon, Monsters, Hybrids, Sex Pollen, Legal Age Gap, Power Imbalance (Prof/Student, Boss/Employee), Feet, Armpits, Piss, Breeding, Mild Bloodplay & Knifeplay, Cock Warming, Dry Humping, Voyeur, Public Sex, Orgy, 3somes, Sex Toys, Overstim, Edging, etc... etc... :P

*if you aren't sure, just ask!* :)

HC's, One Shots, Multi-Chapter, Drabbles, F/O Imagines.

Canon-friendly, AU's, Canon Divergence, Out of Character.

Ch x Ch / Ch x Reader / Ch x OC / OC x Reader / Poly Ships of any kind.

F/F, M/M, F/M, GN/F, GN/M, Poly Ships of any kind.

Now that that's out of the way, here's the list of fandoms and characters i'm familiar with and will happily take requests on! (you can request other characters from these fandoms, but it might take me longer!)

FNAF Movie: Vanessa, Mike, William/Steve. Turning Red: Ming Lee, Jin Lee. YOU: Joe, Love, Beck, Peach. Encanto: Isabela, Bruno, Dolores, Julieta. Regular Show: Mordecai, Margret, Eileen, CJ, Benson. (Human Ver) Attack on Titan: Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, Levi, Hanji, Annie, Historia, Reiner, Erwin. BNA: Michiru, Shirou. Stardew Valley: All Adult Humans. (Including SDVE & RSV) Total Drama: All season 1 contestants, Chris, Chef, Blainley. SheRa: All Adults (Except Rogelio) King Of The Hill: Hank, Peggy, Luanne, Nancy, Dale, John Redcorn, Kahn, Min. Shameless: Lip, Fiona, Kev, V, Tony. Riverdale: FP Jones, Jughead, Veronica, Hiram, Betty. Creepypasta: Ben, Jeff, Jane, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Slenderman, Masky, Hoodie, Toby, Nina, Clockwork, Splendorman, Kate. Gravity Falls: Stan, Ford, Soos, Giffany Steven Universe: Jasper, Amethyst, Blue Diamond, Peridot, Lapis, Garnet, Rose, Bismuth, Greg. Adventure Time/Fiona and Cake: Princess Bubblegum, Marceline, Marshall Lee, Winter King, Candy Queen, Simon, Ice King, Fiona. COD: Konig, Ghost, Mace, Keegan, Krueger, Valeria. Desperate Housewives: Bree, Gabby, Edie, Mike, Lynette. DC: Batman, Harley, Joker, Ivy, Lex Luthor (Jesse Eisenburg). Slashers & DBD: Brahms, Ghostface (general), Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, Pyramid Head, The Spirit, Wraith, Huntress, Trapper, The Trickster, Pearl, Carrie White, Jennifer Check, Stu Matcher, Billy Loomis, Tiffany Valentine, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Eric Draven. Nintendo: Link, Zelda, Peach, Daisy, Rosalina, Luigi, Waluigi, Bowser. Squid Games: Gi-Hun, Sae-Byeok, Ali, Sang Woo. Rick and Morty: Rick, Beth, Jerry. Stranger Things: Robin, Billy, Eddie, Chrissy, Hopper. Bee & Puppycat: Bee, Deckard, Cass, Toast. Princess & The Frog: Shadow Man, Tiana, Lottie, Naveen. Ratatouille: Collette, Linguini. The Nanny: CC, Fran, Maxwell. Full House: Danny, Jesse, Joey. BigBang Theory: Raj, Leonard, Amy, Penny. Spiderverse: Miguel, Jessica Drew. Black Dynamite: Honeybee, Black Dynamite. Breaking Bad: Skylar, Jesse, Walter. National Treasure: Benjamin Gates, Riley Poole. Superstore: Jonah, Amy, Dina. Spongebob: Man Ray, Dennis. Tangeled: Flynn, Rapunzel, Mother Gothell. Lisa Frankenstein: Lisa, Creature, Taffy. Jane the Virgin: Jane, Micheal, Rogelio, Petra, Xiomara, Rose, Luisa. Young Sheldon: Mary, Connie. Twilight: Edward, Carlisle, Alice, Charlie. Scott Pilgrim vs The World: Kim, Gideon, Ramona, Wallace. American Animals: Evan Peters (Warren), Barry Keoghan (Spencer). The Batman (2022): Batman, Riddler. Little Mermaid (2023): Ariel, Eric. Bob's Burgers: Linda, Bob. Avatar: Jake, Neytiri. Frozen: Elsa, Anna, Kristoff.My Hero Academia: Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa. Futurama: Leela, Amy, Fry, Bender. Earth Girls Are Easy: Mac, Wiploc, Zeebo, Valerie. Supernatural: Dean, Sam, Castiel.

Sherlock (2010): Sherlock Holmes, John Watson. Silverado: Slick, Rae, Mal, Paden.

Nani Palekai (Lilo & Stitch) Paul Cable (Last Stand at Saber River) Peter Mitchell (3 Men & A Baby) Randy Marsh (South Park) Charles Ingalls (Little House on the Prairie) Master Chief (Halo) Ian Hawke (Alvin & The Chipmunks) Poe Dameron (Star Wars: The Force Awakens) Linda Gunderson (Rio) Bruce (Beyond Therapy) Jack Harrison (Transylvania 6-5000) Peggy Bundy (Married… With Children) Kitten (Breakfast on Pluto) Scarecrow (Batman Begins) John Wick (John Wick 4) David Levinson (Independence Day) Jackson Rippner (Red Eye)Mike (5lbs of Pressure) Santa/Babbo Natale (Violent Night) Dan Conner (Roseanne) Tate Langdon (AHS: Murder House) Lt. Robert 'Bob' Floyd (Top Gun: Maverick 2022) Francine (American Dad) Beverly Goldberg (The Goldbergs) Fujimoto (Ponyo) Thomas Magnum (Magnum, P.I 1980) Doug Remer (Baseketball) Ian Malcolm (Jurassic Park 1993) Rose Tyler (Doctor Who) Moe Doodle (Doodle Bops) Astarion (Baulders Gate 3) Trevor Phillips (GTA5)Shaun Murphy (The Good Doctor) Georgia Miller (Ginny & Georgia) John Doe (John Doe Game) Paul Blart (Paul Blart Mall Cop) Fezzik (Princess Bride)

[mswyrr]

an object in motion wishes to stay in motion: corrupt societies and the Capitol adults in THG

I wrote about here and here that I think of Ballad as a powerful depiction of the acculturation of a young person into a corrupt society. IMO, the quote from Frankenstein Collins chooses to start the book with very much supports that view. Coriolanus is still in formation, on the cusp of adulthood. He's deciding who he will be and his choices are all shaped by his society. But I think it also shows us, through the adults, what that looks like once it's become ossified. The adults show us why these books are about teenagers and their agency in how they treat other kids, rather than the adults.

They've become such a part of the perverse incentive structures of their society that they act them out almost thoughtlessly. Even Highbottom, who hates what he's done, sees no other choice besides slowly killing himself with morphling as he nonetheless perpetuates this thing.

In that sense, while the adults are responsible for what they do in shaping the next generation--and, with Snow, actually helping shape someone who will make things worse--they're acting out decisions made long ago. They help create a future that is in keeping with the sins they, in their turn, chose when they were young. And it's all for nothing; within a short period of time, this system will become so hollow that a slip of a girl with a bow can light the spark that sets it ablaze. It won't even outlive this child they're shaping. There's an overtone of dramatic irony to all of it.

1-Highbottom is a morphling addict who is rarely, possibly never, sober. When he looks at the child in front of him, all he sees is Coriolanus' father. There IS a possibility for things to go better - but he's so absorbed in the horror of a decade of watching children die due to his idea (an idea he NEVER meant to be realized) he can't see it, he won't do anything but push things further.

He's given up on life and just drags himself through the day, lashing out at the image of a man he hates in the face of a child. He is not capable--he has made himself and been made incapable--of the self-awareness and inner strength to change this story. That's partly why his death has bitter dramatic irony too it: Coriolanus kills him with the morphling he was slowly killing himself with anyway.

2-Strabo Plinth is a war criminal and an arms manufacturer who refuses to really connect with his own son, his only child. If he did, he'd have to look at what he is and what he's done. In many ways, his son is lost before his death because Strabo refuses to see; he wants the resources and power of the Capitol and refuses to see what a death of the soul it is and how someone like Sejanus just... can't live like that the way he can. There's too much truth in his own child's eyes. Like Highbottom, at first all he sees when he looks at Coriolanus is his father. In the end, though, Strabo gets the perfect Capitol scion son he always wanted, a boy who would never challenge him or make him look at his own sins; he gets that son in the form of the boy who got his own child killed.

3-And Dr Gaul -- obsessed with war and the necessity of control, her only legacy to find and shape a child to make sure the spirit of the war continues as long as possible. She's pretty clearly neurodivergent and seems prone to sadistic impulses. HOWEVER, there are plenty of neurodiverent, low empathy people and/or people who are sadists who never commit any crimes, who are decent people. I can only imagine what being neurodivergent in the kind of society the Capitol was in her youth was like. It's the kind of society that rewards people like Coriolanus' father. For someone with her brain - well, I can see why she came to believe people are fundamentally chaotic and violent and need to be controlled. It explained the things she must have gone through and it justified her desire to inflict pain on others. The war, as she says, was a gift. It proved her "right" about people and it made her skills in science very important. Finally, people saw the world as she saw it. Finally, nobody could push her around. She wants the Hunger Games to continue because she wants to keep pushing on other peoples' trauma so they don't forget she's right and don't stop seeing her relevance as someone who designs weapons.

And I think it's important that this idea of control that she believes in is one that Collins references in another quote, to Hobbes' Leviathian. As I wrote here, that kind of idea isn't simplistically evil at heart - other people historically irl who had seen war and chaos have truly believed in it too. There is evidence she's not seeing, about how she's applying pressure and creating the "human nature" she believes is there already - but it's not as if there's not plenty of experiences and povs of people who see it too. It's not as if the horror and trauma of how people behave toward each other (especially if, for some reason, a person feels cast outside the circle of community and acceptance) isn't a real thing people experience.

However, I think there's a bitter irony for her too - ultimately, Snow makes the Games such a success as an entertainment that younger people in the Capitol lose track of it as a memory of war, an object lesson. He keeps it alive, but her intent dies over time. Someone like Seneca Crane truly doesn't understand what this thing IS, what it is for, not even--in the films--when Snow tries to outright tell him the realpolitik of it. The thing Gaul feared happens: people forget and "chaos" overcomes her beautiful, violent order she wants to keep alive in Snow as an instrument of legacy.

4-Adult!Snow's legacy himself is of failure. Unlike Gaul and Strabo, he actually doesn't have a legacy for someone else to continue at all. Nothing of the schemes and ideas he gave his entire life to survives to rule. The chaos he feared wins and, specifically, it wins in the form of someone who is able to break the cycle truly - if the Games with Capitol children had been allowed to go forward--and it's entirely possible they could have! That's the thing; they're not "insane" people basing their bs entirely on nothing, there's reasons and experiences and a whole social structure of very real rewards and punishments motivating them-- that would have supported Gaul's and Snow's beliefs.* Instead, they are repudiated by Katniss ideologically as well as practically.

Why don't any of them do better in Ballad? For the same reason 84-year-old Snow cannot and will not: he's already committed. He doesn't even really see what is possible in the now, he's so stuck in the rut he's made for himself. Adults can change, sometimes, but they find it harder and harder to as they walk deeper into their lives, build themselves and their identities and their material comfort around certain ideas and practices. They are responsible for their actions, but they also made themselves instruments of this society, serving to perpetuate it for the survival of their own sense of self and for their material survival.

That's why, on a meta level, the main trilogy and the prequel have to focus on the choices of children coming of age. Psychologically and sociologically, they have a period of decision and possibility - not without intense pressures on them, but with more flexibility and room to change than most adults who are already committed and most prone to doubling down. And it's important that what Katniss ends is the Games - and that is the key thing Coriolanus kept alive - not exploitation, not greed, not the tendency of corruption and cruelty even within democracies. It is a challenge scaled to their age, about other people their age and younger, and fits with Collins' refusal to do superpowered YA leads.

Beyond the scope of the Games, Panem finds democracy and change. But not certainty. That doesn't exist in history, in their world or ours. We, like Katniss, simply have to remember "every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do" and choose and choose and know there's always a price to be paid, so you might as well pay it for what truly matters to you--as Katniss and Peeta did--instead of living in fear, as Coriolanus did. Choose and hope.

*It's not as if there aren't plenty of examples of revolutions where that does happen. If the only reason you're being moral is because you think other people will be nice and fair and just if you do, that -- doesn't necessarily hold out long when it meets reality. Reality doesn't "reward" decency like that. You have to do it willing to pay the price and not expecting a reward - that's why Coriolanus choosing not to pay that price is human even as it is awful and why Katniss kills Coin believing she will die for it.

[candycandy00]

Trending Topics - A Dabi x Reader Fanfic

I intended to post this on Saturday in honor of Dabi's Dance being animated but I finished it earlier than expected and I have no patience so I'm unleashing it to the world now, a few hours early lol. I hope everyone enjoys!

Smut. 18+. Rough sex. Creampie. Probably some other stuff I'm forgetting. Oh yeah, spoilers for Dabi's Dance!

Dabi leans back on the couch and holds his phone up to his face. “Let’s see what everyone has to say about my old man now,” he mutters, opening various social media apps to see what the general public’s reaction to his shocking video was. He could already imagine the outrage over the abuse allegations, the anger over the number one hero raising a violent murderer. He could also imagine the fanboys who would defend Endeavor no matter what, who would go to online war with the detractors who were horrified by Dabi’s video. All of it would be amusing to read through. Dabi will enjoy the online chaos. So he grins wickedly as he opens Twitter.

The names Dabi, Endeavor, and Todoroki Touya are already trending. Naturally. But then Dabi notices a few other “trending topics” that catch his eye. “#Dabisofine”, “#Touyasohot”, and “#SteponmeDabi” are all trending. Surprised and curious, Dabi begins clicking through some of the posts. After a few minutes, he sits up from the couch and stares at the screen incredulously. The tweets flashing by his eyes are definitely not what he expected the result of his video to be.

“OMG Dabi is so fucking hot! How have I never seen this guy before?”

“Okay Touya is definitely the sexiest Todoroki. Just look at him!”

“All I can say is, Dabi can light a fire in my panties any day!”

“Y’all… the things I would let Todoroki Touya do to me…”

“I want Dabi to rail me until I can’t walk.”

Dabi isn’t sure what to think about this. On one hand, he’s a little mad that his big dramatic reveal has been overtaken by posts like this. There’s even a long thread of posts and replies arguing over whether or not his dick has staples in it (it does, and the urge to tell them so wells up within him for a brief moment before dying away). But on the other hand, he feels… flattered? He’s never once thought of himself as sexy or even remotely good looking. All that scarring, all those burns… he felt like Frankenstein’s monster.

Years ago, he’d pretty much resigned himself to never having a lover. Who would want to even touch someone who looked like him? But it didn’t bother him all that much. After all, he was so focused on his revenge, he didn’t really have time for romance anyway. He’d shoved any thoughts of sex or love far away into the back of his mind. Of course he has hormones. He’s human, after all. Occasionally he even has urges, but he takes care of those himself.

Now though, reading through these tweets, those urges he’d shoved down are resurfacing. Out of curiosity, he clicks on the profile of the person who made that last tweet about wanting him to “rail” them. There are pictures of a very pretty young woman who looks to be in her early twenties. He also finds more posts about him.

“God, Dabi is so fine. Those scars really do it for me.”

“I wish I could feel that skin. All over me. I don’t care if he’s a villain.”

“Endeavor is a fucking monster. How could anyone treat such a beautiful person so badly?!”

Then more pictures of the woman. One of them in particular catches Dabi’s attention. It looks like she’s standing on the balcony of an apartment. In the background, he can see a restaurant sign straight across from her that he recognizes. Also in the background are several plants in colorful pots, sitting around her balcony.

Dabi rereads her tweets, then comes to a decision. He grins as he heads out the door.

*****

You hum to yourself as you water your potted plants on your balcony, then check your phone. There are tons of notifications from Twitter. Your posts about Dabi, Todoroki Touya, are getting a lot of likes. They’re also getting the attention of some seriously pathetic Endeavor fans who are trying, and failing, to justify the hero’s behavior. Some of them are just outright saying it’s all a lie, that Dabi’s video is just a phony hit piece. You can’t believe how naive they are, or maybe they’re just willfully ignorant. Either way, you’re already running through arguments and points in your mind that you can shoot back with as you step back into your apartment, leaving the glass door to your balcony open.

You step over to the sink and pour yourself a glass of water, still scrolling through replies with one hand, completely absorbed in your phone. A sudden sound, like a heavy thud, comes from your balcony as you’re walking back toward the door, about halfway through your small living room.

You look up from your phone and see Dabi himself standing just inside the door. He gives you a grin and says, “What was it you want me to do again? Rail you until you can’t walk?”

The glass of water slips from your hand and crashes on the floor. You don’t even look down at it. Your eyes are glued to this extremely sexy villain standing in your living room. One who has apparently read all the pervy tweets you made about him. Your mouth falls open, but you have no idea what to say.

He takes one step closer. “Or did you want to feel my skin all over you? Well, here I am.”

“Oh my God,” you finally manage to say, still staring at him. “Is this really happening?”

He tilts his head to the side, his hair falling over one bright blue eye. “That’s up to you.”

You slowly step closer to him, as if he’ll disappear if you approach too quickly. He’s gorgeous, but he’s still a villain. You don’t want to upset him. But damn, you really want to touch him. Maybe just ask for permission?

“Can I… touch you?” you ask.

“That’s what I’m here for,” he says, his grin showing his teeth.

You take one more step, effectively closing the distance between you and him. You reach out one hand and gently touch the side of his face, feeling the spaces where the scarring and healthy skin meet, your fingers grazing over the staples and piercings. You watch his expression, but it remains unchanged. Clearly, he’s not bothered by this.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say in a quiet voice, the words slipping out before you think them through.

Something shifts in his eyes. For a split second, the playful deviance vanishes and something else, something heartbreaking, takes its place. But then he grins again and says, “Look who’s talking.”

Does that mean he thinks you’re beautiful too? You feel a blush creep into your face. “Are you really here to rail me?” you ask.

“Do you really want me to?” he shoots back.

When you answer, your voice is more breathless than you expected. “More than anything.”

He reaches behind him and pulls the door shut, then follows you to your bedroom. As soon as you enter the room, you begin pulling your clothes off. Dabi watches you, not yet taking any of his clothing off. You feel like you’re doing a strip tease, with his eyes following your every move. It’s making heat spread through your body.

When you’re completely naked, you approach him and tug at his jacket. He lets you slide it off his shoulders and drop it on the floor, then he pulls his shirt over his head. You’ve seen him shirtless in the video, but nothing compares to seeing that lovely two-tone skin in person. Dabi’s eyes shift to the floor for a moment. Is he self-conscious about the scars? It seems ludicrous to you, especially since he was willing to show them off to the world in the video. But maybe showing them to someone in person is different.

You can’t help yourself, you have to touch him. You press both hands to his chest and slide them down, gingerly feeling the staples and the different textures of his skin. “It’s amazing,” you whisper.

His eyes shift back to you, and there’s an unreadable expression on his face. Not exactly embarrassed. Not exactly proud. It’s something like surprise, like no one has ever touched him before. “You have a scar fetish or something?” he asks, the playful tone seeming like a mask for whatever he’s actually feeling.

“I don’t know if I’d call it a fetish. I do like scars though. They’re unique to the person who carries them. They tell a story.”

He’s looking into your eyes now as your hands slide down to unbutton his pants. “And what story do mine tell?”

You meet his gaze and say, “One that’s very painful, I can imagine. I’d love to know the whole story someday. For now, I just think they’re mesmerizing to look at, and they feel incredible to the touch.” By this point you’ve pushed his pants down to his ankles, and he steps out of them. He’s not wearing underwear, and you can see all the glorious lines of scarring and staples across his thighs and hips. His cock is unscarred, but there are a few staples in it. You wonder about their purpose, but don’t ask.

Your hands run down his body, over his abdomen, moving around him to brush over his well-toned ass, and then you take his cock into one of your hands and lightly stroke it. It’s been growing harder by the moment, and the motion of your hand is speeding that process up.

Dabi sucks in air through his teeth, his eyes closing and opening slowly like a cat’s. Once he’s fully erect, he reaches down and pulls your hand away. “You’ve been looking me over this whole time. I think I should get a turn.”

With that, he suddenly picks you up and carries you to the bed. The feel of his bare skin on yours sends shivers through your body, and you miss the feel of it when he sits you down on the mattress. You scoot back to give him room, and he gently pushes your legs apart. He hovers over you, his eyes moving all over you, his hands finally reaching out to grope your breasts. His hands are firm and warm as they knead the plump mounds, then he scoots back slightly and leans forward, so that his head is positioned close to your groin.

Dabi uses his fingers to spread open your flesh and look at what’s inside. Then he leans even closer and runs his tongue along the inner folds, tasting your arousal. When his tongue hits your clit, you arch your back and moan. Dabi looks up at you with that unreadable expression again, like he’s just now understanding how much you really want him.

Then he grins again, because he’s discovered your weak spot. His tongue traces circles around your clit, making you squirm beneath him, wanting him to hit the bullseye again. He finally has mercy on you and closes his lips around the sensitive nub, sucking on it before running his tongue over it again. He even lightly grazes it with his teeth.

You cry out in pleasure, running one hand through his soft white hair and using the other to grip the sheets beside you. What name should you call out? Dabi? Touya? You’re not sure, so you so you stick to moans and wordless cries as he absolutely devours you. When you cum, it’s like a tsunami has hit your body, rocking it with wave after wave of rippling pleasure. Your whole body tenses up, your toes curl, and your hand in his hair tightens.

After a few seconds, your body relaxes, and Dabi pulls away, licking his lips. You feel weak, but you see the raging erection between his legs and know you can’t rest yet. He still hasn’t done what he came here to do. You reach for him, placing your hands on his scarred shoulders and pulling him toward you. You want, no need, him inside you. It’s an ache you felt the moment his video started. When you saw that body, those glowing blue eyes, that expression of carefully contained rage and pain… you wanted him like nothing before.

He lingers on top of you, not doing anything, just watching your face. Why is he hesitating? You try to pull him closer, but he’s not budging.

“Please,” you whimper, spreading your legs further apart, giving him the easiest access you can, “do it!”

Desire and lust seem to flame in his eyes. He wants to, you know it. But he waits. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do,” he says, his voice husky and low. Oh, now you see. He wants you to beg for it. Well, you can certainly do that.

You raise your hips from the bed and rub you drenched pussy across the underside of his cock. “Please, I want you inside me! Please fuck me!”

That seemed to do the trick. He smiles as he positions himself just right, then shoves his cock all the way in. He’s so much bigger than you expected, filling you up completely. As he pulls out a few inches, the staples scrape your insides in such a delicious way, you can’t help moaning again. He begins a rhythm of thrusting in and out, slowly at first and then picking up speed. You look up at him, and he’s thrown his head back, his eyes closed, his hands gripping your thighs.

He’s definitely railing you now, but it’s not enough. You might be able to walk tomorrow. In a panting voice, you cry out, “Harder!”

He opens his eyes and looks at your face, sees the lusty desperation there, and suddenly thrusts in so hard that you imagine his cock has entered your womb. His hands move to your waist, where he holds you steady as he pounds you into the mattress, every thrust feeling like it might just break your bones.

You love it. This is what you wanted. This man, this gorgeous, pained, scarred, unique person, being so deep inside you. One of his hands moves to your breast, where he roughly squeezes it. You’re going to be covered in bruises when this is over, but you’ll look at each one with joy.

Your hands are above your head, holding onto the brass headboard for dear life. Dabi moves his hand from your breast down to your clit, where he rubs it, hard enough to make you wince. You were already so sensitive from the earlier action, you cum again on the spot, your body convulsing with your orgasm.

Dabi doesn’t let up, continuing to fuck you as hard as he can as you tremble under him, tears falling from your eyes. You let go of the headboard and lift your weak, shaky arms to wrap them around his neck. To your surprise, he moves his hand from your sore clit and uses it to hold your head up, closer to him, his fingers intertwining with your hair in a gentle fashion. It’s an intimate gesture you didn’t expect from him, even as he rails you as promised. Finally, he cums inside you, filling you with hot sticky fluid, his grip on your waist tightening but the hand in your hair remaining soft. When he’s done, he pulls out and falls onto the bed beside you. You want to cuddle up to him, but you’re not sure how he would react to that. You just met. It’s not like you’re in a relationship.

After a few minutes, your naked body has cooled slightly, so you pull a sheet over the both of you. You reach over to the nightstand to get your phone and ask, “Would you mind if I take a picture of us?”

He looks over at you and says, “What, as a souvenir?”

You blush a little as you answer. “Yeah.”

He scoots closer to you and says, “Sure.”

You hold the phone up, pointing the camera at your faces. It’s obvious the two of you are topless, but you make sure the bottom of the image cuts off just before your tits are shown. You snap the picture and smile as you look at it. “Thanks,” you say.

Dabi gets out of bed and begins putting his clothes back on. “Are you gonna post it?”

You look up at him. “Hmm?”

“The picture. Are you gonna post it on Twitter?”

“Do you mind if I do?”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me.”

You smile and open Twitter, add some comments and hashtags, and post the photo. Dabi pulls on his boots and says, “I better go. If I found your place from looking at your pictures, I’m sure the heroes can too.”

You suddenly regret posting it. “Wait, does that mean you can’t come back here?”

He looks at you with that unreadable expression again. “Do you want me to come back?”

“Of course I do!”

There’s a small notebook and a pen lying on your nightstand. Dabi picks them up and writes something down. “Here’s my number. Call me and we can meet up somewhere.”

You feel an incredible sense of relief. You can still see him. You can call him, maybe even get to know him for real. You take the notebook in your hands and cradle it, as if it’s a treasure. “Thanks,” you say.

Dabi shrugs again, rubbing the back of his head casually. “No problem,” he says back, seeming just a little awkward about it. “See you around then.”

He leaves through the balcony door, and you start humming happily to yourself again as you head for the shower.

*****

Once Dabi gets back to the hideout, he pulls out his phone and checks Twitter. There’s a new post by his new favorite user. There’s the picture of the two of you. Beneath it is a caption, as well as some hashtags. As he reads it, a grin spreads across his face, and then he breaks out into laughter.

“Got railed by the hottest Todoroki! Best day ever! #Dabisofine #Yesithasstaples #Villainsdoitbetter #EatshitEndeavor”

[yellowbluemoonshine]

Naoki Urasawa's manga "Monster" Interview;

Naoki Urasawa is one of the most successful manga artists in Japan, having not only been awarded the most important prizes in Japan, but also in Germany. He celebrated his international breakthrough with the thriller series "Monster", which he drew in the 90s. It's about a Japanese neurosurgeon in Düsseldorf who saves the life of a boy and gives up his career to do it - actually he should have operated on the mayor instead of the boy - and then gets into real trouble because he is involved in a series of serial murders and a conspiracy device. Andrea Heinze : How did you come up with the idea for the series? Naoki Urasawa: The drama “Monster” was created because I really liked the novel “Frankenstein”. That really interested me and I thought about whether I could bring the story into today. The second aspect was that at that time in the USA there was this film with Harrison Ford, “The Fugitive”. It was about a doctor whose wife was killed and I really liked it. And then I thought, I have to do something that involves a doctor who is being chased and has to solve a mystery. And then I was interested in “Frankenstein,” this old Gothic landscape, and I wanted to bring the two together somehow. And then we somehow came across Germany. Blonde boy as a contrast to evil Germany

I heard that people saying Johan was inspired by Hannibal and other psychopathic characters etc but it never make sense to me. (Maybe some characteristic sides makes sense but generally no, he is different). It makes sense that Monster is inspired by Frankenstein story because Johan is portrayed as more like someone who became the way he is because of his past. He is the monster created by the real monster. (Mostly its Franz Bonaparta who stole his and many others name, biggest sin a person can do). Its really combined between two stories because Tenma wasnt/isnt wrong to save Johan.

Heinze: And what does Germany have to do with it? Urasawa: I wanted to do something dark. And I don't want to say that Germany is the root of all evil. But if you look at the Second World War - and this is present in Japan, also because Japan was an ally of Germany at the time - there were a lot of dark stories in Germany and also in Japan. A lot has been clarified. But some things don't. I also came up with this beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed boy as a character. I think that's a good contrast to contrast with this dark, bad thing. And the more you delve into history, the more clear it becomes that the roots of the conflicts lie in the Second World War. If you add all of that up, the manga could only take place in Germany.

I am glad that real life stories was brought up but its really sad that this actually happenned somewhere.

Heinze: How did you research the story for “Monster”? Urasawa : I watched a lot of documentaries. In the 1990s there were also reports of neo-Nazi attacks on houses where Turks lived. I've seen things like that and they've also found their way into my story. I made up the rest. For example, the boy, Johann. He is raised in a children's home where many human experiments take place. And shortly before I finished my work "Monster," there was a documentary on Japanese television about the end of the Nazi era, and it also reported on a camp in which blonde, blue-eyed young people were herded together and essentially had to undergo elite training . And this boy who was depicted there was also called Johannes. I was then asked if I had known all of this before - but that wasn't true, it was all in my imagination. A person becomes a monster

This is insane....chills. Its so ironic that a lot of people remember Johan's character as some evil psychopath but not only he isnt written that way in story but also, his origin is literally coming from actual victim, a child. Intentional or unconciously or maybe coincidence but still, wow.

Heinze: How is it that Prague also became the setting for the story? Urasawa: Because everything that was east of Germany, all the Eastern European countries, was not even known in Japan in the 1990s. It's completely different today, but back then people hardly knew everything that lay east of Germany. While on the other hand, Germany and everything further west was already developed for tourism. And Eastern Europe had never been featured in the manga until then. It also fascinated and really attracted me as an illustrator. If you go to Germany or France, it is much brighter in the evenings. But if you go further east, in my case it was Prague, it was much darker on the streets in the evenings in the mid-90s. And I wanted to explore this darkness, this night, for myself.

No wonder story feels so real, with both its characters and places.

Heinze: What does the manga “Monster” have to do with Mary Shelly’s novel “Frankenstein”? Urasawa : Frankenstein is about a scientist who created a monster, and it's also about human responsibility. There are certainly things that humans are allowed to do and that they perhaps shouldn't be able to do. These thoughts can certainly be taken further, and that's what I did in the "Monster" series. It's about the Japanese doctor who saved a boy, and later the boy becomes a monster, a murderer. And then the doctor asks himself whether he is not responsible for the fact that this boy has become a murderer. This is a different conflict than in "Frankenstein", but the question of responsibility for one's own actions is also an issue in "Monster". Dostoyevsky novel using the means of manga

Though, story is inspired by Frankeinstein, Tenma is clearly right to save kid's life. He isnt the 'evil' doctor who is responsible for the monster. He is the real doctor who saves this boy from destruction at the end.

Heinze : For me, this doctor is an ideal example of the good in people. He even saves this boy against the wishes of the clinic management, who would much rather use their best surgeon to operate on the mayor. Urasawa: Every good person has places somewhere in their hearts that are perhaps not so good, and it was the same with Doctor Hämmer - in the hospital there were also some disagreements with the management, where he also thought: "Preferably I would like it if everyone were dead." And later Johann also tells him: "I have fulfilled what you wished for." Then the idea came to him that he had also caused all of this and was to blame for it. And I wanted to show in my work that there is something good and something bad in every person, and that is just human nature. Also, what I didn't mention: There is the classic manga "Astroboy" by Osamu Tezuka in Japan. There is a scientist whose son died and he then creates a robot that looks like his son and that also has feelings. But somehow he says: "You are not my son." At some point he neglects this robot. This scientist is basically Doctor Tenma. So “Frankenstein” and “Astro Boy” are the two sides that belong closely together. I especially consider the artist Tezuka with his classic “Astro Boy” to be my roots.

Here's the real message of Monster, that noone is just a monster and every person has monster in them and that story, Tenma is being parallels with father who neglects his son...I wonder is it him realizing that he was never supposed to kill Johan (the son), he was right to save him, trying to kill him is the neglect/him failing to understand him and end up saving him. Maybe i am reaching but its makes more sense that way. Btw i love how Tenma visits Johan even at the end. Despite everything, they really give that father-son energy.

Heinze: Osamu Tezuka is considered the founder of modern manga, what do you like about him? Urasawa: It's hard to say in one word. Maybe you can describe it like this: The manga were initially comics for children. But Tezuka did it differently, he practically wrote something like a Dostoyevsky novel, but using the means of manga. Something much deeper, and ultimately it's not about justice winning, but it goes even deeper, practically conveying the feeling that even winning can bring with it something sad and empty. This is something deeper. And he was able to convey that in the beginning of the manga. Statements made by our conversation partners reflect their own views. Deutschlandfunk does not adopt statements made by its interlocutors in interviews and discussions.

Its really deep story.

This is the source of this interview, i really wanted to make comment/analyze about it.

[spunsugarmusings]

Young Frankenstein: The Musical Starter Sentences

Starters from the Mel Brookes' hit musical Young Frankenstein. Change pronouns and tenses as necessary, and enjoy!

"What happened in that castle made our lives a living Hell!"

"We're the happiest town in town!"

"Hold the happiness!"

"Please, do I look like the kind of madman who'd prowl around graveyards, digging up freshly buried corpses?"

"I don't indulge in hijinks or tomfoolery!"

"I live for truth and reason, that's the reason I exist!"

"Hearts and lungs are simply tinker toys when stacked against the brain!"

"His reflexes have no freedom to react when I mistreat him."

"Those naughty thoughts are fine with me as long as they stay locked away in your imagination."

"You can savage me and ravage me; I care not what you do."

"Oh everybody look! How unique. They're not touching."

"Please keep your hands off these."

"It'll be like old time, you and me, right up there with the world's greatest pairs!"

"We've only met in a dream!"

"Up until now it's been the worst time, but now that you're here, we're a team!"

"What good is a stooge if he ain't got a boss?"

"I'm very high spirited, doctor. I hope you won't hold it against me."

"So, have you thought of any ways you could use me?"

"Nothing's better than a hayride, underneath the sun."

"There! There wolves!"

"There wolves, there castle!"

"Don't risk my curse, it could be worse!"

"Join the family business, learn the family trade!"

"Make yourself a monster, and make the world afraid!"

"Follow in our footsteps and you'll earn eternal fame!"

"As you know, predestination, from the day of your creation has determined you vocation, that's a fact!"

"Just relax, create a serum; come up with a brilliant theorum!"

"This is one position that you never can decline!"

"Love dances in on a whim."

"He was a bully and a brute, he was as crazy as a coot!"

"He was my boyfriend!"

"He always treated me like dirt!"

"But I was happy to be hurt!"

"I was an innocent young lamb, and he was a dirty old goat."

"He was the one I gave my heart to, but we were never wed, even so."

"If I'd mention wedlock, he put me in a headlock!"

"When I asked to be his wife, he stabbed me with a kitchen knife!"

"Where did all the good times go?!"

"If he had an angry fit, I was the first thing that he hit! But I didn't give a shit!"

"So, now we hurl the gauntlet of science into the frightful face of death itself."

"Death has ruled without question."

"Tear the night asunder, cast your light upon the dark!"

"Give my creature life!"

"We're considered both a Death and a Tourist Trap."

"Rich and poor are all soft-shoeing it in hotels or huts!"

"Even dogs are also doing it, pedigrees and mutts!"

"Do the Transylvania Mania!"

"Catch the monster before he strikes again!"

"Hello heartaches, goodbye kvellings."

"Let's forget about thinking, thinking's never smart."

"Flush your brain right down the drain, and listen to your heart!"

"Lose your mind, 'cause love is blind, and listen to your heart!"

"You'll find such bliss in the kissin' you're missin'."

"Intellectuals are ineffectuals when it comes to making love."

"Don't resist cupid's dart."

"Everybody loves to get a surprise."

"It all can change, if your fates arrange a nice surprise for you."

"There’s nothing like a wonderful surprise!"

"Here’s what we advise, never bother people with a surprise!"

"It's been so long since I felt the touch of someone's hand."

"Oh, Lord, let's face it, we're talkin' LONELY here!"

"You don't know your left from your right."

"You'll be the greatest creation of man since the invention of fire!"

"You'll be cheered, never feared evermore!"

"You know, until now my life has been nothing but a meaningless world of silly parties."

"Again? Oh, you're incouragable, aren't you?"

"We will take a hay ride when we're on our honeymoon!"

"Even monsters fall in love!"

[suddenly-frankenstein]

Hello! Fellow Frankenstein freak here! I have to ask, what's your favorite Frankenstein movie you've seen? Not necessarily the best one, but your favorite one. I made myself watch about 25 last year for reasons (that's as many as I could watch in one week for free, dating from 1910 to the early 2000s) and they're all so bizarre. I love talking about them so much, I love watching peoples faces when I tell them that one time Sting played Frankenstein, and in that same movie The Creature and his buddy are targeted by the Circus Mafia. Or how at least one version of Victor Frankenstein has an alligator pit. Or how Kenneth Branagh made Robert De Niro be birthed out of instapot and then they spend like 30 seconds slipping in Mysterious Science Goop before the plot continues.

TLDR; I don't know anyone else who is as obsessed with this stuff as I am and would love to hear your thoughts lmao

damn, my biggest problem is that I've watched so many of then few years ago, that I mostly don't remember anything :")

but I definitely have some that I still think about constantly!! maybe the first one and the most special in my eyes is "Frankenstein: The True Story" (1973), because in this movie Victor REALLY cared about the Creature and TOOK THE RESPONSIBILITY. he taught him things, he spent time with him – and when the Creature started to decay and lose temper, yeah, he decided to lock him, but Victor was going to lock himself as well so the Creature wouldn't be dying alone. and they even had a hug!! (still everything ended up terribly, but it was interesting to see this responsible version of Victor, not canonical book version, but also not usual movie mad scientist either).

well, speaking of classics and mad scientists – I love first two movies of UNIVERSAL's franchise, rewatch them from time to time. And within the Hammer's franchise I like the third (if I remember right) movie – "The Evil of Frankenstein", even though it mostly is called the worst of them all lmao. I just think it was funny and not annoying like the other. and I also LOVE the first several minutes of the first movie – "The Curse of Frankenstein" with the young Victor played by Melvyn Hayes, because OH HE WAS DEFINITELY SERVING. for me this young Victor was the closest to the book from all of the versions of him.

(I even did a funny edit of him once, here, lmao)

the most controversial version but I can't NOT TO THINK ABOUT IT – it's "Flesh for Frankenstein" of course (not even speaking about the plot, but god how I hate color correction in most of the 70's movies, these colors usually make me sick almost physically).

but well, uh, how the hell I was surprised when Udo Kier's Frankenstein turned out to look SO DAMN CLOSE to like I always draw him (I mean just give him another nose shape and he will look exactly how I imagine Victor) :") just hello??? DAMN

also want to mention "Terror of Frankenstein" (1977) movie, because they have an interesting design of the Creature here (finally black lips yaaay!) and sweet sweet Clerval (I hate that most of the movies are throwing him and Justine out of the plot :(( )

AND ALSO!! not movies, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE these adaptations – Frankenstein: the Metal Opera, 2014 (you can find its official record for free on youtube) and Frankenstein, the Royal Ballet, 2017!! I, personally, enjoyed them both very much

well, these ones are some of the movies I think the most about, I guess :")

really thank you for your question!!