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mci-writing · 11 months

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Warmth (Midoriya Izuku x Reader)

Warnings: Obsessiveness (near the end), implied major character death, reanimated corpse (it’s Deku), necromancy, Deku is the equivalent of Frankenstein’s monster kinda, a little ooc, mentions of pain, descriptions of skin burning (not exactly but yeah idk how to explain it)

Kofi

Viridian irises glance over the form laid before them, a longing sigh passing through chapped lips and landing on deaf ears. Fingers, cold to the touch and tinted blue from lack of flowing blood and oxygen, slide across the small expanse of exposed (s/t) skin, the thumb stopping just under a closed left eye and softly, lovingly, tenderly rubbing the area. It leaves the warmest goosebumps, so warm it should ache, dulling once the contact is distanced.

Whispers of ‘patience’ sound through the air, chilling down to the bone and causing him to pull away out of instinct. The reactions of those around him tell him that they aren’t really there, but he can’t help his response after being told such for so long. For so achingly long.

“Deku-kun,” He feels himself straighten at the voice beside him, a hand setting itself at the small of his back. The thumb rubs small, circles in an attempt to soothe his worrying, “If you keep tugging at your lip like that, you’ll rip it off.”

He becomes self-aware of his habit after his companion points it out, cheeks warming as he quickly lets it go. He wets his lips with his tongue after, teeth grazing over the bottom one as they pop out. He’s unable to stop the awkward chuckle that follows or the way his eyes flit from those around him to the body on the table.

“I’m sure (L/n)-San wouldn’t mind reattaching it once they wake, Uraraka-San,” Todoroki stands near the door, his eyes never straining from beyond the frame as he speaks to them. It’s hard to miss his tense demeanor from where they’re placed, one of his fangs pointing past his lips.

Izuku feels himself sweat at that, a wobbly smile forming on his face as he brings his full attention back to the other members of their group. The best he can manage out is a small “T-Thanks, Todoroki-San” as his hand connects with (Y/n)’s and laces his fingers through theirs.

Silence fills the room again after that. Midoriya can hear his heart racing and feel (Y/n)’s faint pulse. They pump in tandem together, like always. Yet, it does nothing to ease his fears. He knows that spell they cast was powerful, but they’ve been out for a few days now. The only reassurances he’s received of them still being alive was the small noises they’d make as they rested, the way their hand tightly holds his each time he holds it, and the addictive burn he receives with each touch to their skin.

The book of necromancy did say that some spells would be harder to cast for users with less experience, but Midoriya didn’t realize that translated to needing to rest for so long to regain the little strength of power (Y/n) knew how to use. He would’ve tried harder to suggest something else for their escape.

“Oi, Deku!” The rough voice of his childhood friend wakes him from his thoughts, his thumb and forefinger making themselves known on his lips as they tightly squeeze from the small jump he makes. He’s being side-eyed by shades of crimson, but not many would catch the soft worry behind them, “Me n Shitty Hair’s got the ship waiting at the dock. Cargo truck’s outside.”

Emerald eyes meet the fiery shades, an understanding spoken between them that only their little bubble could process. Without a beat, Bakugou comes forward and lifts the end of the slab they're laying across and Todoroki is quick to grab the other end. They load it into the cargo truck's trunk, careful to ensure they're strapped down in the back before Todoroki hops out. Midoriya watches on, eyes longing for the warmth he’s just lost.

~~~~~

The car only holds four people, debatably three if you wanted to argue whether or not Midoriya could still be counted as human in his current form. He was undead, that much he could confirm from the way his body had been stitched together and the ice cold feeling of his skin when he wasn’t within a certain proximity of (Y/n). He was something like Frankenstein, but the context seemed less science fiction and more fantasy. He had no clue why he had been brought back to life, just that he had been. (Y/n) and Kacchan always avoided the question when he’d ask how he’d died.

That’s another thing, it’s always the three of them. Even now, only Kacchan and (Y/n) were going to board the boat with him. Kirishima was only here to take them there and back.

His gaze pans away from the passing scenery outside to the body pressed against his. His cheeks warm as bright a red as they possibly can at the proximity, yet he can’t force himself to move away from the burning sensation of their skin touching. It hurts in the nicest way possible, making him feel way more alive than he thought possible. It’s why he thought he had just woken from a long sleep instead of immediately thinking he’d come back to life, the warmth too comforting for him to question anything at the time. Both of his companions joked about it being out of character for him.

He takes in the low rise of their chest and the serene look of their face. It’s one of the very few times he hasn’t seen them worried out of their mind since being brought back to life. He’s tried not to keep count of their smiles, one of his favorite aspects about them. If with their lips held in a neutral shape, he’s fighting the urge to kiss them until they swell.

He feels himself warm more at the repeated thought of laying a kiss on their unconscious form. He should be ashamed, but he’s been wanting to be intimate with them for a while now. It’s gotten so bad he gets a little jealous when he catches them and Kacchan away from him, whispering between themselves in a bubble of their own that he feels he won’t fit in.

That thought sours his feelings a little, especially when he knows he could never take them from Kacchan and he could never take Kacchan from them. The idea of them moving forward without him, leaving him out, and further pushing him away from the picture he'd perfectly fit in before his current state, gives him a deep pit feeling in his chest that he doesn't enjoy dwelling on for too long.

But right here… Right now…? He could just give them a quick peck and pretend it didn’t happen. No one would know… Unless they woke up from it or something…

He weighs his options, emerald eyes measuring and tracing the outlines of your lips. He has vivid memories of the one time he managed to get a kiss from them, in the dead of night when the only witnesses aside from themselves were the twinkling constellations. He doesn't remember how long ago it was, but he can perfectly picture the sight of them shyly smiling, their face warm, and (e/c) eyes dilated like a super moon. Their lips fit perfectly against his, slated and locked like they were meant to be attached for eternity, and delectably soft like fresh baked goods straight from the oven. He'd press his lips against them as much as he possibly could, suffocate against them even.

The cons would be them waking and beating the shit out of him... Or Kacchan catching him and beating the shit out of him...

Midoriya leans forward, hand burning as he cups their cheek. He rubs his thumb against their skin as his lips finally meet theirs again. It feels like home, his lips feverishly sucking against the plump flesh like he'll never be able to do so again.

He pulls away once he realizes he's being too greedy, too desperate. He sucks in a deep breath, the butterflies rising to his chest as his heart pounds against his ribcage. He can feel the warm honeydew in his cheeks, worsening when his eyes dart up and meet a certain pair of crimson ones. They stare at one another for a moment, but Midoriya can't read what Bakugou is thinking at all. Bakugou sends him a small smile, or something close to it. His lips quirk upward on one side before he turns back to the road. Kirishima is talking about something, but he's obviously not paying attention.

"'Zuku?" The soft call of his name has him looking down, meeting the dazed stare of (Y/n). They're still relatively exhausted from their overuse of magic, a bit of light missing from their pupils. They press their cheek into his hand, the bags under their eyes heavy, "Are we... heading there?"

"We're going to the dock right now, (Y/n). Kacchan's in the front seat and Kirishima's driving us there," Midoriya informs them, voice low as to not cause them any discomfort. He knows they typically suffer from headaches after too much use of their necromancy abilities, "I'm sure you should be able to rest a bit longer-"

"No, no," They begin to sit up, getting a grip on his shoulder and using it to push themselves up. They let go and force themselves to sit up on their knees, getting in a position where they can easily look out the window, "I have to check that... we're not... Not being..."

Their voice trails off as they grab their head, another splintering headache racking their body from the sudden movement. Midoriya is quick to grab hold of them, leaning their body against his. Gravity lays them back across his lap, their face pressing into the fabric of his shirt while they close their eyes. Out of instinct, he presses his fingers against the nape of their neck, slowly sliding them upwards to press at various spots in the back of their head.

"No one's following us, (Y/n). We made sure of that..." He murmurs, pushing their hair out of their eyes. His hand eases down the side of their face, fingers hooking under their chin and pushing it up so they can see him better, "Get your rest."

"Izuku...," They stare at him for a moment, different emotions flashing through their (e/c) eyes. One of their hands reaches up for his cheek, the flesh feeling as if it'll catch on fire at any moment. They pull away too quickly for his liking, the same stricken look reaching their eyes like every other time they touch him and they're reminded of their afflictions. He's heard them apologize to him in the late hours before.

With little thought, he grabs their hand and presses it back to his flesh. He feels just a little closer to being human again at the touch. He nuzzles into their hold, keeping eye contact with them and watching the confliction beyond their irises. He doesn't care about the way his body screams to flinch away from the heat, pressing more into it as opposed to as opposed to running from it. He tightens his hold when he feels them try to tug away from him.

“Izuku, stop. You’re hurting yourself-,”

"No, it's okay," He responds too quickly, leaning into their touch. He presses his ear to their chest, listening to the steady beating of their heart and the movement of their breathing in their chest. The heat isn't as excruciating, simmering to an addictive warmth adjacent to bodies entangled in a hug. It crawls over his skin and wraps around him like a blanket, "Everything is okay..."

He never wants to leave from (Y/n)'s hold, (Y/n)'s warmth, ever again. He doesn't know how he could ever live without it, especially not now when the cold is even colder than before...

#midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #this is based on a Horikoshi sketch from a year or so ago and a WEBTOON I was obsessed with at the time #there’s some Bakugou x reader and bakudeku x reader if you squint #original draft had them very poly coded and it might still be there whoops #also slight Yandere!Deku at the end whoops #erm here’s your Halloween special for the year 👉🏾👈🏾#I will hopefully be back shortly with another piece ✌🏾#I mean it bc I have a few requests I actually like that I’m working on and a big fic that’s been years in the making #the big fic probs won’t get any notes tho 🫣#tumblr did not like this one 😭😭😭 she wouldn’t save it was crazy #thought my thing was too long but it’s only 4 pages on Google docs so #shawty was tripping #yes I did listen to Frankenstein the musical while I wrote this wdym

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sparring-spirals · 2 years

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oh. so. this dream and this vision and this exchange after and everything that has been building to here.

All that rage, all that desperation, Imogen's knowledge that Liliana's judgement is flawed and searching for any reason to understand, searching for a way to bring her out of it. Bring her back.

"Show me" and she does and.

Its- beautiful, its wonderful. Its the unmaking of the world and of history and it feels- so good. For a moment Imogen feels something she hasn't for YEARS. A life and a possibility and a future full of peace she hasnt had for ages, hasnt even bothered hoping for. For a moment, Imogen sees it, but more importantly- she feels it- the freedom, the peace, the dream. Stronger than any vision. She sees it. She feels it.

And she wakes up, and she- unknowingly, perfectly, mirrors her own mothers words, looks around, asks- did you see it? Did you all see that? (I wish you all could see what I could see-)

They didn't- of course they didn't. They saw Liliana, too far gone, spouting nonsense, they saw her reach out, they saw the refusal to listen to reason. They did not see the vision. (They couldn't have. Even if they'd seen it- would they have understood? How could they? No beautiful vision would have captured the thing that left the awe in Imogen's lungs- the peace. The freedom. The finality of, finally, finally, being free of this gift that has only been a curse.)

They didn't see the vision. They saw their friend, tapped on the forehead after hopeless pleas. They've been seeing their friend make further and further excuses for someone they know is a danger, someone siding with people they are working so hard against. That has hurt them. They've seen the way she can't quite denounce Liliana. They've hedged around it: If she's not on our side, will you be okay- You know if she's not on our side, we'll have to-

They've been watching. They're seeing plenty. They did not see the vision. They couldn't have.

They saw a fruitless conversation. They saw their friend rebuffed by someone she loves. They saw her wake up with a strange kind of light in her eyes and- say.

What if its not so bad? (The world ending. Half of the world being eaten. Innocent lives lost. Our loved ones cut down for a fever dream and delusions of power and grandeur. Us, cut down, for some stupid plot for a moon and petty revenge against the gods and a desire to end the world.) They've been watching her, make halfhearted arguments, sidle away. Make increasingly desperate excuses. Ask: What if.

(Its so easy to ask, what if. Its so dangerous. Sometimes the if is used to hide away lives and lives of collateral, of blood red loss. Sometimes the if has already been answered and paid for, and the act of asking is its own form of violence, all over again.)

"Well Imogen, I wish my family didn't have to die for her brighter tomorrow."

And the way Imogen collapses, a little- presses her face into her hands and crumples under the weight of the reminder, like voices piling in after weeks of being in blissful quiet in a forest. Like reality breaking in after a beautiful dream. "You're right. I'm sorry. You're right."

"I swear, I wanna see this through, I do."

"She just presented this vision of- it didn't seem so bad."

And the Bells try to help, to be kind. They say: We understand why this must be hard for you. She's someone you love, its hard to deal with them thinking a different way. What did you see?

They are trying so hard, to reason through it, to balance their own hurt with kindness and sound arguments to lead her back. They want so badly, to lead her back. Have her back.

The problem however, is not the soundness of the argument, is not the reason or the logic- but the overwhelming allure of that sensation- of that promise- of the hope- of the ideal. Of a mirage that already drew Liliana in. That is pulling Imogen's gaze, despite. Despite, despite, despite.

Hope is such a tricky thing to kill.

#okay theres like three metas here i kind of wanted to write but it turned into one frankenstein one bc i need to sleep #critical role #c3e49 #cr liveblogging #character meta #imogen temult #bell's hells #liliana temult #the three things here are something like: imigen is compromised in the way the trope of duty bound people going 'im compromised' when they #love someone- THIS is that THIS is the compromise in judgement #2 is that all discussion about flawed reasoning is- not the point. so wholly not the point. imogen is not chasing the reasoning. neither is #liliana. imogen and liliana and probably others have the sensation- have the hope- have the mirage- have a promise (they cant have)#the reasoning twists itself from there. this is how cults work! this is how like! irl dangerous idealogies work! this is why something #technically making sense CANNOT BE ENOUGH FOR A PERSON TO FALL IN LINE bc humans can reason /anything/ if the purpose is strong enough #imogen KNOWS the reasoning isnt sound. shes not convinced by the reasoning. shes hoping and her reasoning is being swayed bc of it.#she apologizes to orym. shes caught up in a sensation #3 is that the bells are so worried and i havw so many feelings about it bc they want to help her they want her to see reason #but theyre so short on time. and this hurts /them/ too. to need to defend this. explain this. at a point they need to prioritize themselves #the mission. their own emotional comfort. they need to know when- when is a lost cause and when isnt. theyve already been worried. at a #certain point- what can you do? this has nothing to do with reason. if emotional appeals wont work- what can you do.#uagahaguagahaghghgg #okay i need to sleep #im going to continue yelling tomorrow and then finish watching this convo and watch the ashton laud convo and YELL MORE #imogen meta #my meta #speculation

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majorshatterandhare · 11 months

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Today I, an aromantic, was getting ready to attend a wedding… with Stranger on repeat.

#the mechanisms #stranger #ttbt2 #i knew what i was doing when i put it on but also i am working on an addtion to my brian-jonny foils post so i was thinking about brian #its always sad brian hours #i cant really read that song separate from him anymore. honestly not sure i ever could but. its just so unconnected from anything else.-#actaea and lyssa is pretty disconnected. but its still almost certainly on the city. alice is pretty disconnected but its a result of-#king cole’s war. the most disconnected songs are redeath. the ignominious demise of dr pilchard. drop dead. hereward the wake. and stranger-#(and frankenstein but i consider that its own thing). and redeath and drop dead are my least favorite mechs songs.dr pilchard i didnt-#really care for for quite a while. stranger has so few words in it. it’s my favorite song. but the story is minimal fron the song (ie w/o-#knowing the crane wife story) so making a story around it sort of makes sense? im having a hard time with the words here. like we expect a-#story. cause that’s what the mechs do. and stranger has a story. it just doesnt have context and so creatong that context for ourselves is-#understandable. to be expected even. hope that makes sense #side note: i think it would make sense for hereward to have been from the same place (system I guess) as the people that made-#fort galfridian. i mean hereward was more of a real person than arthur (since there was no one person arthur was based on. like thats a-#whole thing) and hereward was anglo-dutch. so it makes sense hed be related to that story somehow #its just a theory. obviously. theres nothing in the songs connecting the too as far as im aware.#OH also achilles pointed out to me the anti-amatonormative/aromantic reading of stranger and i liked that a lot #hereward was anglo-danish. not anglo-dutch. sorry danish and dutch people

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partangel · 1 year

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look what came in the mail 🥺🥺🥺. very small october book haul due to the amount of time its taking me to read what i already have (mainly war and peace, which has been proven to be a very enjoyable but slow journey)

#i got too smug with my late acquisitions and all books i have to tackle are enormous. read les miserables & moby dick #im trying not to falter however and buy other books just to leave those unnatended because of intimidation #cant wait to read hesses the glass bead game however #i dont think ive said this before but steppenwolf was definitely one of my favorite reads ever. siddharta was fine in comparison i think #but steppenwolf really sold hesse for me. sorry #and yes i never read neither dracula NOR frankenstein which will be my spookyfest choices for this year #i was convinced by a friend on trying the waves although woolfs a room of ones own did nothing for me #but here we are giving second chances. very proud of myself #ANYWAYS besides war and peace im also reading the sea the sea (finally) and loving it #unfortunately did not pair them very well since they are both very long reads #BUT. it is what it is

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vickyvicarious · 1 year

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Frankenstein annotators vs Dracula annotators FIGHT (this Ask brought to you by the Frankenstein weekly annotator takes)

For real, there do seem to be some blisteringly cold takes going on in academic circles.

I think Frankenstein suffers more with people tending to identify harder with either Creature or Victor, and thus skewing everything the other one does in order to demonize them. They get plenty of material to work with either way, because both are extremely flawed individuals. Both are self-absorbed, make bad choices, cause harm to those around them. Both also are extremely depressed/self-hating, do not want to hurt anyone until they're well caught up in a self-perpetuating cycle of hatred, feel trapped and victimized by the other. I think a lot of the power of the book comes from being able to sympathize with both of them and spot so many moments of "if only-" while still feeling that the way things turned out was somehow inevitable. It's just ingredients of a great tragedy!

With Dracula, it feels more like people are trying to distance themselves from the characters. By reducing them to plot points, archetypes, and the like, these people stop engaging with them as characters. And as such, they try to force in negative nuance where it wasn't intended in the original, or view them only as a stereotypical Frigid Victorian Male (Jonathan) or say "this side character didn't do a lot so maybe they were secretly evil" (Quincey), or just get... super, super into horny symbolism everywhere in a way that actually saps away a lot of what makes the characters themselves. In doing so, they miss the heart of the story, which despite being a horror novel actually has some really uplifting stuff.

I haven't read tons and tons of academic takes on both books, but based on what I have read, I think those are the trends that seem to bring about some of the really weird or hostile takeaways. Getting too attached to a particular character in Frankenstein, and trying too hard not to care about the characters in Dracula. Opposite in a way, but both ending up missing a lot of heart/nuance that I think you can find in the original works.

I feel there also is an element of a kind of feedback loop in both cases. Each book has had a major impact on pop culture, but in ways which tend to diverge significantly from book canon. I do feel that some of the simplifications and reversals start out as either derivative of (Dracula must have a sympathetic backstory) or defiant to (actually, Frankenstein is the real monster) the film/pop culture versions. This as well as responding to so many other established lines of criticism and types of takes that have become almost a "standard" and which are somewhat removed from the actual canon of the page.

#anonymous #replies #frankenstein weekly #dracula daily #i know i personally have been guilty of going 'frankenstein was the real monster' all blase after not having read the novel in over a decad #and feeling in the moment like i knew better than most people who hadn't read the book. so i am at least partly speaking from experience #as well as observation #(once i actually read the book again it was very clear that this is not and was not meant to be a one-sided good vs bad story.#whereas dracula at its core IS. to a certain extent refusing to recognize the different goals here #feels like not being willing to engage honestly with the text on its level. like that joke about getting too opinionated on like #a marxist reading of green eggs & ham. it can obviously be interesting but you also have to be willing to consider #what the book was meant to be and consider it in that light. you know?)#dracula daily spoilers #just for the super vague quincey mention really

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