“How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to form? His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion, and straight black lips.”
Makeup test for Frankenstein’s creature! I adore him, so I had an absolute BALL with this. And yes, there’s a fair bit of Erik in there. I can’t help myself. ;)
To hell with modern role models, really, Mary Shelley was so full of iconic shade and timeless lucidity; she carried herself off with such serene grace and supremacy and fantastic aptitude. She had class and queenliness and she was rare and she wrote well and she loved even better; she was brave and pure and she was majestic like that and I will always be thankful for her existence.
today is a sacred day, the day of our lord and saviour Mary Shelley’s birth: so, in celebration, i want you to think to yourself ‘WWMSD?’ (what would mary shelley do) and try to emulate her perfection. here are some ideas:
1) have a crisis about the god-like advances of modern science.
2) make out (or preferably, have sex) on a dead relatives grave.
3) or carry around your husbands head in a velvet bag.
4) create the sci-fi genre cause you were bored of listening to your husband and his boyfriend have sex.
“I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.”
Not my art // Edgar Allan Poe and H. P. Lovecraft remain some of my favorite gothic and horror authors. Currently diving into Frankenstein (or the Modern Prometheus) by Mary Shelley and am delighted thus far at the depth in which she forces the reader to observe the narrators plight from an angle both pitying and condemning🌙