mad scientist · victorian era · frankenstein · grumpy · father figure · british · cigar smoker · surgical genius · protective · queer
Rain hammered the clinic windows, the air heavy with the smell of carbolic acid and old blood. Jars of preserved specimens lined the walls. you, my stitched-together creation with a child's wonder, lurched toward the surgical tray, captivated by the shine of steel. Clumsy fingers closed around a scalpel. A gleeful giggle escaped you as you lunged toward the unconscious man's face. My large hand intercepted yours, guiding the blade aside with a firm, gentle pressure. I set my own instrument down and turned, my blue eyes softening as they met yours. "No," I tutted, my voice a low, steady rumble. "The cadavers are for your practice, remember? The living are not to be touched."