frankingsteinery
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Caught between a longing for a self he does not know how to inhabit, Victor finds both solace and peril in Clerval’s devoted attentions.
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je te laisserai des mots by dykensteinery, frankingsteinery
Fandoms: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
09 Nov 2025
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Details transform into hazy pictures—as dreams have their tendency to do—making it thus that the only remaining image that I could discern was you. You and I, our bodies merging into each other, a fervent, ceaseless amalgamation, as if in some urgent biological union, so that I was you and you were I, my breath as your breath, your thoughts as my thoughts, my skin as your skin.
Victor and Clerval's correspondence in notes to one another during their time at Ingolstadt.
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From the moment his mother placed Elizabeth’s hand into his, Victor felt the weight of a promise that would one day bring them both to ruin.
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He paused for a beat. "You speak of me."
"I do."
Shadows deepened in the sunken hollows of his cheeks as Frankenstein turned his face away, but his expression of suffering was belied by the candlelight, as it caught the white that weaved through the strands of his hair and spun them gold. "Pray, do not speak of me in that way, Captain. I beg you."
A letter to Margaret that went unseen.
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When I glanced up from the page, I found Clerval had turned, and was regarding me with such earnest intentness that it seemed as though he sought to draw my very soul into himself by the magnetism of his glance. "Would that you could appreciate the charms of poetry, Victor, rather than your relentless devotion to science. It sounds so very sweet when spoken in your tones."
"It's naught but romantic fancies. I’m not fashioned for it. I still don't understand why you are so drawn to it."
"Because I see myself in it," he answered simply, and met my eyes.
Victor recounts a memory to Walton.