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#when we cease to understand the world
emgoesmed · 3 months
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2/8/2024
30nym challenge Day 4: what book are you currently reading?
📚 - Un verdor terrible por Benjamín Labatut
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mmonstra · 1 year
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When We Cease to Understand the World, Benjamín Labatut
The night gardener once asked me if I knew how citrus trees died: when they reach old age, if they are not cut down and they manage to survive drought, disease and innumerable attacks of pests, fungi and plagues, they succumb from overabundance. When they come to the end of their life cycle, they put out a final, massive crop of lemons. In their last spring their flowers bud and blossom in enormous bunches and fill the air with a smell so sweet that it stings your nostrils from two blocks away; then their fruits ripen all at once, whole limbs break off due to their excessive weight, and after a few weeks the ground is covered with rotting lemons. It is a strange sight, he said, to see such exuberance before death.
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davidlavieri · 4 months
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His addiction was far from exceptional, for virtually everyone in the Wehrmacht received Pervitin as part of their rations, methamphetamine tablets that the troopers used to stay awake for weeks on end, fighting in a deranged state, alternating between manic furore and nightmarish stupor, with overexertion leading many to suffer attacks of irrepressible euphoria. "An absolute silence reigns. Everything becomes alien and insignificant. I feel completely weightless, as if I were floating aove my own airplane," a Luftwaffe pilot wrote years later, as though he were recollecting the silent raptures of a beatific vision rather than the dog days of war.
Benjamín Labatut, When We Cease to Understand the World
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a-h-87769877 · 2 years
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“El Sueño de la Razon Produce Monstruos” — Francisco Goya
there is a catch: sueño, the Spanish word for “sleep,” can also be translated as “dream.” What if the monsters are present not because reason isn’t awake to fend them off but because reason, in its slumber, actively generates them? If monsters can exist not despite reason but as a consequence of it, then perhaps we’re not as safe in the rational world—the land of logic and science—as we thought.
…at the time it seemed a harbinger of chaos and destruction. “Inside the void his metrics predicted, the fundamental parameters of the universe switched properties: space flowed like time, time stretched out like space,” Labatut writes.
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The destructive world of science
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This book is a collection of short nonfiction stories about famous scientists in history and the prices they had to pay for their discoveries. I imagined this book to be very difficult, but even with my limited science knowledge I was able to understand what Labatut was writing about.
The book is a combination of fiction and nonfiction. Even when I wasn’t sure if what I was reading was a fact or not, I was still able to get an image of the scientist I was reading about and the person he was. 
They made mistakes, big ones, as described in the first chapter (which is almost entirely nonfiction). Fritz Haber, who won the Nobel prize for his discovery of Nitrogen fertilizer. It saved our world from famine. But it also turned into the weapon that was used to kill millions in concentration camps. This was not what he intended, of course. Or as someone on goodreads said: No One Does Evil Willingly.
It is fascinating to read these stories. Not just because of the facts, but also because of how scientists/physicians/mathematicians struggled and fought internal battles with themselves to reach their goals. The things we know nowadays that seem obvious to us, the discoveries we give them credit for, are also paired with a great deal of pain.
The only ‘complaint’ I have, is that the final story felt too different to me compared to the rest of the book. 
“Is there anything that is truly at rest, something stationary around which the universe revolves, or is there nothing at all to hold on to amid this endless chain of movements in which every single thing seems bound? Just imagine how far we have fallen into uncertainty if the human imagination cannot find a single place to lay its anchor, if not a single stone in the world has the right to be considered immobile!”
Rating: 4/5 discoveries
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chopstick-reader · 2 years
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Prussian Blue
If arsenic is a patient assassin, hiding out in the most recondite of the body’s tissues and accumulating there for years, cyanide takes your breath away. In sufficient concentrations, it stimulates the carotid body’s receptors all at once, triggering a reflex that cuts off respiration. Medical literature call this the audible gasp that precedes tachycardia, apnoea, convulsions and cardiovascular collapse. The speed with which it acts made it a favorite of countless assassins: the enemies of Grigori Rasputin, for example, hoped to free Alexandra Feodorovna Romanova, the last tsarina of the Russian Empire, from the cleric’s spell by poisoning him with petits fours laced with the poison but for reasons still unknown, Rasputin was immune. To kill him, they had to shoot him three times in the chest and once in the head, wrap his body with iron chains, and throw it into the frozen waters of the Neva. 
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imanes · 1 year
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finally set up my 2022 favourite books shelf on goodreads :) they’re all stand out books but theones i think about literally every day are when we cease to understand the world and confessions
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iirulancorrino · 1 year
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I want to give a shout-out to two books in translation I just read that despite being sub-200 pages each packed a powerful emotional punch:
The Pear Field by Nana Ekvtimishvili - this was a finalist for the international booker in 2021 that I just got around to reading (thank you interlibrary loan for my life). Set in Georgia shortly after the dissolution of the Soviet Union, this follows the residents of a school for orphaned and developmentally disabled children, many of whom have been left by their families but are not literal orphans. A small story that has a lot to say about the value of choice in a place where choices are severely limited, and how we choose as a society to treat the most vulnerable. (One note -- major tw for child sexual abuse.)
Pollak’s Arm by Hans von Trotha - found out about this from a recent NYRB essay which is worth reading in full. The most succinct way I can describe this book is to say that it gave me Kazuo Ishiguro feelings, which is you’ve followed me for any length of time you know is one of the highest compliments I can give. This is a speculative novel about the real Jewish art collector and archaeologist Ludwig Pollak, and in a bigger sense about what it means to love art in a time of war and what it means to belong to a place that no longer views you as a legitimate citizen. Whether Pollak’s actions are noble or deluded is in the eye of the beholder, but the world he represents is worth remembering.
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unproduciblesmackdown · 6 months
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billions figuring winston shouldn't just also still be there in the end with the guys we accept so he needs to be sent out, which, it's also remarkable to recall like "okay does he still technically, partially work at/for axe global then? it's a 'maybe' but what matters is that he's not There even if so"....the way that even if we infer he did get to finally be sick of waiting on better, we weren't even given so much of an arc of a couple episode's leadup showing him markedly being more frustrated / fed up with The Usual bullshit or anything like that, the way it went with one ep to spare "oh right winston's catchphrases! we all know & loathe them" like don't strain yourselves....that even in giving up on things, winston still has to be further let down by everyone even after quitting, like well that's probably ultimately helpful for him but it was (a) forced on him and (b) not sure i'd give billions the credit for anything sympathetic towards winston versus "well the only thing to be done with winston material is have fun while epic winners shit on him however they want," the wags plotline had no point just like the later one that could've been scrapped & transformed into "how about taylor gets any dialogue this episode"....the way that billions may imagine like hmm what to do with winston? all that can Ultimately happen with him is he has to go away and die, for him it's [out of sight out of mind out of Existence], just as has been the show's approach for the consequences of him being shitted on all th time for years before this: there are none, b/c we're not looking at them, and winston is never not completely [othered] including right now, and if it helps for some reason we'll talk about how we might be fine if he literally dies. and so we're graced with a "who knows or cares, he's just gone, finally. after being kept around b/c it's so fun seeing winners torment him" ending as the only one they find imaginable for winston
#uptick in annoyance about it on this day....#fundamentally at odds w/billions thanks in no small part to a pretty guaranteed inherent [this is a meritocracy] approach#when the cocreators expect us to simply Understand that people on the show have a superior level of Smartness; for one....ruh roh#and where then everything abt being Critical & Questioning is like....abt possible Exceptions or small adjustments to The Rules....#would not be surprised if winston is such ''proof'' like ''see; someone like him shouldn't be able to be here''#at least there's the checks & balances of being ignored; dispreferred; bullied; to the point of eventually driving him out!#rian only being ''wrong'' to have made herself his personal bully b/c what would've been more correct would be ignoring him more often#whilest again like can't suppose based on anything that billions asks us to Reflect on winston leaving. it's just good#so too is Corrective(tm) bullying / interpersonal abuse. would've had wendy push aba if they did consider winston to be autistic....#but instead kept it informal....#winston billions#billions world: where yeah autistic ppl just have to go away i guess#where they cease to exist b/c they aren't real people like us. just as winston's feelings this whole time never Had to be relevant....#they barely existed & were surely just incorrect when they did. kind of like him overall#and in the meantime didn't we all enjoy going ''god i wish that were me'' at bullying assaulting abusing the autistic guy#bit charitable of us if anything! guiding them towards the light like that. cue ''wow rian aren't you just Too pityingly nice to him*''#(*the being more godawful to him than anyone since she showed up; including being just as bad if not as usual worse right now)#anyways like nodding dehumanizing the autistic person start to finish. who must Stop Being Here
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I'm STILL grumpy and i just want to go home and read that weird book about chemical warfare!!
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sarahreesbrennan · 3 months
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Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?
Genuine question.
Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.
But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.
Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.
Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.
… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.
I’m not in this to have an internet argument. I prefer to leave my anons open since not everyone has a tumblr, as @neil-gaiman says it’s an internet backwater, but a lovely one for those like myself who enjoy an essay about fictional characters! Still I will close my inbox to anons if I must. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.
I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.
In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.
Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.
Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.
I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.
I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?
I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.
If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.
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citybops · 1 year
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etheries1015 · 2 months
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The moment Vil fell in love with you, was one of the most vulnerable moments he had ever experienced. It was something that had caught him completely unawares, and never thought he'd fall for someone, much less the prefect of ramshackle.
Spoilers for the end of book 6, if you have not gotten that far.
The ride back to NRC from the island of woe was an exhausting one, to say the least. Everyone was groaning in mild annoyance at Vils sobbing at his now olden state, a wrinkled face with sunken cheeks and grey hair...something he feared more than anything in the world. Nobody actually blamed him, though, for anybody else would react as strongly to see their youth stripped away without even the hint of getting back their original form. Ugly, old, and gross, are all words Vil would go on to describe himself. You felt pity for him of course, but you were just as exhausted as everyone else.
Vil watched you in surprise as you stood up in a sleepy haze, wobbling to the (now) old man and cupping his sunken cheeks into your lively hands.
"Vil," You said sternly, the suddenness of your actions causing him to bite back his sobs for merely a moment.
"What you did for us today," You said with confidence in your tired eyes, "Was the most heroic thing I have ever seen. That was the bravest, most selfless act you could have possibly done, and I truly admire you for it, Vil." Your stern eyes softened with a smile mixed with pity and admiration, unconciously stroking his cheek with your thumb in attempt to sooth his trembling figure.
"We will find a way to get your body back. I understand this is a lot, but you need to hold onto faith." Your hands squished his cheeks together in a teasing and playful manner, purposefully causing him unable to respond verbally. Vil simply nodded, and you continued with passion raising your tone of voice.
"Right now, in my eyes, you are the most beautiful person with the biggest heart of gold I've ever met." You leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, something that drew him back with widened eyes. "Now, you must be incredibly tired from all the fighting we did. Try and rest, okay? You need it." He wanted to tell himself you were simply feeding him words of comfort in order to cease his persistent whining, yet with such confidence dripping with every word and small gesture you had no reason for engaging in, that was how he knew you were genuine.
How could you be so willing to kiss him when he looks like...that? How can you call him beautiful when all he sees are wrinkled hands and spotty skin? The word "heroic" also stuck out to him. Years of being played the villain, always unable to make it to the end of a movie, being discarded as the "bad guy," yet here you were, calling him...your hero. His heart skipped a beat and he could feel heat rise to his cheeks. There's no way you of all people could make him feel so...conflicted.
Yet there you were, with stringy sweaty hair, scratches, bruises, mud riddling your skin from hours of fighting for the world. He noticed how his dorm outfit lay in tatters on your body, and bags under your eyes were apparent as you so shamelessly yawned and sat next to him, falling asleep as you leaned up against his shoulder. This was the brazen prefect of Ramshackle- someone with flaws, attitude, and a disastrous display.
Yet at this moment, all he could think about was just how beautiful you looked, too.
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astonmartinii · 10 months
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you and me got a whole lotta history | charles leclerc social media au
pairing: charles leclerc x historian!reader
y/n is a historian and it’s not her fault her bf’s job takes him all around the world…
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yourusername
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liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 102,561 others
location: melbourne 📍
yourusername: so it’s the australian grand prix and i’ve spent the start of the week exploring this old city. one of my stops was the historic old melbourne gaol. this now museum was once a prison that housed some of the most feared criminals in australian history. constructed in 1839, the old melbourne gaol saw 133 hanged for their crimes between 1845 and 1924. it was briefly used during world war two but ceased operation as a prison in 1924 and was renovated to be part of the RMIT university and the museum it is today. a definite must if you’re visiting melbourne !!
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user1: my fave part of the race week is y/n’s museum recommendations tbf
user2: i can vision charles being dragged around this place hating his life
charles_leclerc: the things we do for love
yourusername: you said you enjoyed it :(
charles_leclerc: I DID
user2: oops
yourusername: i’ll leave you at the hotel next time
charles_leclerc: it was scary but i enjoyed it because i was with you
yourusername: okay that’s better
danielricciardo: so my farm isn’t good enough for you
yourusername: noooooo danny i thought we were going after the race?
danielricciardo: oof my bad
user3: petition for there to be a teds notebook but it’s y/n giving us a historical guide to the city the race is in
f1: we’re listening @skysportsf1
charles_leclerc
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charles_leclerc: tough race in melbourne but a beautiful city regardless
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user4: HE served, we don’t talk about the race
yourusername: i don’t mean to say i told you so but i did say our day trip would be the best part
user5: girl you’re gonna get banned from the ferrari garage
yourusername: they deserve far worse than what i’m saying let’s be real
user5: true
user6: i love how charles didn’t reply ferrari has his ass ON LOCK
carlossainz55: we'll come back stronger
danielricciardo: we can all commiserate at my farm bro
charles_leclerc: your farm better be as good as you're saying now
danielricciardo: nervously awaiting the y/n review
yourusername
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location: miami 📍
yourusername: though miami may be known for it's partying (it's all about the U), charles and i took our monday to take a stroll around st bernard de clairvaux church, one of miami's hidden gems. the church was originally built in spain all the way back in 1141 to the style of cistercian romanesque architecture for alfonso vii. the monastry's cloister was illegally purchased by american william randolph hearst in 1926 and in order for the church to be transported it was dismantled to 11,000 pieces and sent to the us where it was rebuilt and still stands to this day.
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user7: i'm never gonna be able to afford to go to miami so why did i read this whole thing like i'll visit some day?
yourusername: history is important and interesting, always good to read even if you never visit !!
user8: she's like the older sister i never had
user9: did charles enjoy this one more?
yourusername: "at least i'll get a tan here"
charles_leclerc: i feel like anyone who reads about me in your comments will think i'm an asshole, i have fun every time i just don't understand most of it
yourusername: i know you have fun baby (and i love you for driving us to all of these places)
user10: have you considered our super historic frat house this saturday night?
user11: imagine thinking you have a chance when her literal boyf is CHARLES LECLERC
user10: every goal has a goalkeeper doesn't mean you can't score
charles_leclerc: i will run you over
user12: omg ferrari's pr is quaking
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yourusername
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yourusername: it is my biggest honour to announce my position as a history lecturer here at oxford!! i always dreamed of studying here and to get to pass on my knowledge to those looking to follow in my footsteps is a huge pleasure and responsibility.
p.s. no worries, it is not full time so race week explorations will continue.
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user13: so it was true :(((((( wait i just read the whole post my bad
user14: so i guess i now need to turn my Cs into As if i wanna attend a y/n lecture
charles_leclerc: unbelievably proud of you my love - don't miss me too much
yourusername: you sure i can't persuade you to move to england with me :(
charles_leclerc: i'll be there as much as i can be but monaco is still our home
yourusername: always
landonorris: proud of you smarty pants
yourusername: thank you landito
landonorris: so you'll now root for the brits?
charles_leclerc: over my dead body
yourusername: what charlie said
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charles_leclerc
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charles_leclerc: super happy for another win for the season but we keep pushing for the real prize at the end of the season - thank you for your continued support tifosi and my love y/n who stayed up all the way in oxford ❤️
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user20: i don't wanna jinx it but like the season is going well
user21: too well....
yourusername: winning looks good on you
charles_leclerc: you look better on me
pierregasly: oh god you've been apart for a triple header and now you're being horny on main
yourusername: says mr. doggy emoji
pierregasly: touche
user22: so charles can mathematically win in either austin or brazil FUCK THEM KIDS I NEED Y/N AT THESE RACES
user23: if she's not there for charles wdc i am personally going to have a sleepover on the train tracks
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yourusername added to their story
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yourusername
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tagged: charles_leclerc
yourusername: the autodromo jose carlos pace is the crown jewel of the interlagos neighbourhood. the circuit opened 83 years ago and has hosted the f1 since 1972. the circuit was originally meant to be a housing area but due to the 1929 stock market crash the owners decided to construct a racing track instead. interlagos is often a season decider with fernando alonso winning both his 2005 and 2006 titles here, kimi raikkonen winning the 2007 championship here, lewis hamilton won the 2008 championship here, jenson button clinched the 2009 title here and CHARLES LECLERC WON HIS FIRST TITLE HERE IN INTERLAGOS FOR THE 2023 SEASON
on a real note i am so proud of you charles, i have seen the sacrifices you have made and the unbelievable amount of effort you pour into every facet of your racing NO ONE deserves this more than you. i am so grateful to have shared this moment with you, here's to many more xxx
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user26: i am unwell this is so fucking cute
user27: bro this is so fucking crazy
charles_leclerc: couldn't have done it without you, so glad you could be there for me xx
yourusername: always charlie xx
yourstudent: miss y/n you can cancel all of our lectures if charles wins the championship again FORZA FERRARI
charles_leclerc: the people have spoken
user28: insane butterfly effect of the wall street crash to charles leclerc 2023 wdc
user29: they make me believe in love
note: this was super random but popped into my head while at work and i knew i had to write it !! hope you enjoyed xx
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awearywritersworld · 5 months
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i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend
sukuna x reader summary: you persuade sukuna to play go fish. the two of you have a small disagreement (he really can't stay mad at you). he confides in you about his past as a sorcerer. w/c: 3.4k tags/warnings: the teeniest bit of angst. mostly fluff. banter. cursing. aged up!yuuji. slight yuuji x reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: the first section could be read as a brief(ish) stand alone. and for context, the world's shortest frankenstein synopsis: victor frankenstein brings a creature to life using dead body parts and thrusts him into a world he doesn't understand, then promptly abandons him and wishes him dead. alone and regarded as repulsive by every human he comes across, the creature begs frankenstein to create a wife for him too. when frankenstein refuses, the creature is further driven to hatred and violence. series masterlist // masterlist
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"we should play a card game!" you exclaim as if you've just had the world's greatest idea.
"i'll pass."
sukuna sounds listless, like it's quite possibly the worst proposition he's ever heard.
"why's that? scared i'll beat you?"
"i'm opposed to mind numbing boredom, more like."
"you really need to expand your horizons," you suggest, making your way over to where you keep your playing cards. "all you do is read and brood."
"it's gotten me this far."
you don't respond, too busy rifling through your bookshelf. just as you spot your cards, a book catches your eye and you pull it from its place.
making your way back over to him, you drop it in his lap. "since you found jane eyre so insufferable, here's one you might actually like."
he surveys the cover, which reads: frankenstein or the modern prometheus
you take a seat across from him at the kotatsu table and shuffle the deck, while sukuna flips through the pages with new found intrigue.
"what's it about?"
"the dangers of playing god. should be right up your alley."
"your subtly never ceases to amaze."
"i'm just kidding." you laugh. "there's a lot more to it than that— revenge, loneliness, personal responsibility..."
he turns the book over. "it's written by a woman?"
you raise your eyebrows at him. "what, you don't think women have enough depth to write about those kinds of topics?"
"no, it was just an observation," he says off handedly. "you are evidence enough to the contrary."
he doesn't say it as a compliment, more so as a statement of fact. you hope your astonishment isn't written all over your face.
clearing your throat, you begin dealing while explaining the rules to him.
he takes up his cards and seems to understand the game after only a turn or two, but you're narrowing your eyes at him soon thereafter.
"go fish," he says for the fourth time in a row.
your gaze shifts down to his hands. there's just no way. "show me your cards."
"wouldn't that defeat the purpose of this stupid game?"
"not if you're cheating, now let me see."
"no."
you reach across the table, hoping to snatch them from his grasp, but he just holds them out of your reach.
swiftly rising to your feet, you launch yourself at him in a sad attempt to catch him off guard.
with only one arm extended, he easily fends off your attack. "do you actually think you have a chance here?"
you sink to your knees in defeat and sit with your legs folded beneath you. "not really, but i have to know if you'd stoop this low."
"that so? had you believed me to be above cheating?"
you gasp. "so you admit it?"
"i told you i didn't want to play," he deadpans.
"that doesn't mean you had to cheat! now we have to start over!"
he carelessly tosses the cards onto the table. "i don't think so."
"please?" you lean forward, jutting out your bottom lip.
he just stares at you with an air of disinterest.
sukuna can be so haughty sometimes, and frankly, it drives you a little crazy. you'd give anything to wipe that look from his face— to prove that he doesn't find this as miserable as he lets on.
leaning forward even further, your hands meet with the carpet to support your shifting weight. now he's watching intently as your face approaches his, your eyes flicking down to his lips.
unbeknownst to you, sukuna's breath catches in his throat once he sees your gaze shift, though his mind struggles to catch up. it happens so fast that he hardly registers the quick peck you place on his lips (though maybe it's not the speed of the occurrence, so much as his shock).
"please?" you repeat.
he looks off to the side and stays silent, though his demeanor is indicative of some heated internal debate.
sukuna can't let you win, not that easily. you'd be under the impression that you actually have power over him! and for what? some measly kiss?
no, he simply will not allow that. "i already told you—"
grabbing him by the chin, you cut off his words with another kiss, but this time it lasts a few beats longer. your lips don't move against his, they just linger there in a way that that makes him question whether all of the oxygen has vanished from the room.
when you pull away, you're looking at him expectantly with the same pout still playing on your lips.
"fine!" he barks, grumbling something afterwards that sounds a lot like "evil little minx."
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"human earthworm two is definitely still the best."
you're walking home with yuuji after a late night showing of the newest movie in the series.
"no way," you contend. "this one was even better."
he gawks at you. "in no world is the seventh film in an anthology the best! you're crazy—"
sukuna's mouth appears, always eager for a chance to undermine his vessel. "she's right, brat."
yuuji can't believe his ears. "what?! you haven't even seen it!"
"i don't know," you interject slyly. "i'm willing to look past that. it really seems like he knows what he's talking about."
"you mean the guy who's existence predates cinema?" yuuji asks, his eyebrows furrowing as a thought occurs to him. "what'd you do all day anyway? watch plays?"
"..among other things, yes." sukuna answers.
"if you look at it logically," you reason, "we probably wouldn't have movies without theater, so we should definitely consider him an expert in this case."
"oh please, baby. when the topic is ancient civilization or being a homicidal maniac, i'll be sure to solicit his opinion then."
"i resent that," sukuna declares, his conviction forcing a giggle from your lips.
"why?" you question. "was it the part where he called you old as shit, or the part where he called you a murderous lunatic?"
yuuji brings a hand to his mouth to stifle a snort, but you're freely laughing now.
sukuna scoffs indignantly and bites back a comment about how partial you seem to be toward said lunatic. "and to think i defended your opinion."
his response has you clutching at your sides and struggling to see through teary eyes.
but perhaps karma is real, because not a moment later, you step off the curb in a way that sends a sharp sensation through your leg.
you gasp in pain and brace yourself for the impact of falling to the concrete, but it never comes. instead, you're left with fingers clamped tightly around your wrist and a strange sense of deja vu.
you turn your head just before the dark lines fade from yuuji's arm completely.
"tch, watch where you're going idiot," sukuna scolds, his mouth disappearing as soon as he finishes speaking.
"are you okay?" yuuji asks worriedly.
"absolutely," you claim, but when you try to put weight on your left foot, you let out a hiss.
yuuji's hands find your waist, hoping to keep you steady. before you know it, he's crouching in front of you with his back turned and beckoning you to wrap your arms around his neck.
once you do, he hooks his arms under your thighs and easily stands up. "this okay? you comfy?"
"yeah. i can't believe i just did that." you hide your face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder. "thanks, yu."
when you get home, yuuji sets you up on the couch with icepacks, heating pads, three different drinks, two different books, and the tv remote.
he still asks if you have everything you need several times, then kisses you sweetly before heading to bed.
around thirty minutes later, sukuna's leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed.
"hey," you greet. your eyes never leave the tv, as you're privy to the slight tension between the both of you.
he skips the evening's pleasantries. "i could heal it, you know."
you finally turn to face him. "really?"
"of course." he rolls his eyes. "some of us can actually use reverse cursed technique."
"and you've just let me hobble around the past hour anyway?"
he shrugs. "you pissed me off."
you blink at him a few times, rubbing at your temples. "well what about now?"
"i don't know," he begins, making his way over to you. he towers over where you're seated on the couch, so you have to crane your neck to look up at him. "just doesn't really seem like something a homicidal maniac would do, but maybe if he were to receive an apology..."
you cover your face with your hands and groan. "i didn't say that. this is really something you should take up with yuuji—"
"i don't make a habit of conversing with the brat, so if that's the way you're going to be..." he turns on his heel and starts for the bedroom, but you grab onto his sleeve just before he's out of reach.
"wait. please don't go."
just like that, your words have his resolve crumbling and any of his lingering irritation ebbs away. he urges himself to stay strong though, especially after the go fish debacle.
when he doesn't speak, you let out a breath.
"i'm sorry, sukuna." he can tell right away that you're being entirely sincere. "i would never purposefully hurt your feelings. i only meant to tease you, but i can see how i was being mean."
are those... are those tears swimming in your eyes? are you in that much pain, or did he just make you feel that badly? in any case, he endeavors to remedy it immediately.
moving around the couch until he's in front of you, sukuna kneels between your legs. he grabs your left foot gingerly, situating it on his thigh before hovering his hand over top of it.
he sighs. "i don't care if you tease me and you weren't being.. mean." the words sounds so juvenile to him.
you weren't necessarily wrong either, goes unsaid.
well, he'd like to consider himself a little more sophisticated than 'maniac' would imply, but that's beside the point.
"then why are you upset with me?"
his jaw flexes as he tries to find the right words. "i would prefer you do that when it's just.. us."
"oh." realization dawns on you, as does another heap of guilt. you know he despises being trapped in yuuji's body, and you completely failed to consider how ganging up on him might make him feel. "i'm... fuck. i'm really sorry, sukuna—"
"stop apologizing," he urges you in a low voice. it's partly because what he just said makes him feel pathetic, but more than that, it's because the look of self reproach you're wearing is akin to a thousand needles in his chest. "it's fine."
he can't believe you're sitting there with so much remorse over a man like him because you... what? wounded his pride?
he probably deserves it anyway.
why should you give a shit when he's done things a thousand times worse, a million different times?
oh, right. because you care about him.
you can't see the cursed energy at play, but you can tell it's working as your pain begins to dissipate.
once he's finished, he carefully moves your foot to the floor and looks up at you. it's not unlike the way a person might gaze at one of the wonders of the world, like they're lucky to be there in the first place.
with the intensity of his gaze, it feels like he can see right into your head— read your every thought and pick apart every emotion. has anyone ever looked at you like that before? you're having a hard time remembering. you're having a hard time thinking of anything at all, really.
so it goes without saying that you don't think about it when you lean forward and kiss him.
it's not at all like when you were trying to convince him to play cards. no, this isn't light hearted or frivolous.
and it's not like the other two kisses you've shared either. it isn't heated or desperate, nor does it leave you gasping for air.
it's tender. it's so fucking tender, in fact, that sukuna wonders whether he's going to crumble beneath your touch.
he grips the area just above your knees, as if needing something to tether himself to before he withers away completely.
his lips move with yours in a way that's slow and careful.
your hands are on either side of his face, ghosting over his skin as a testament to your hesitance— like you're not certain if this is something he would want.
he wonders how in the world you could ever second guess yourself.
when you pull back, you examine his face for a moment before a small, shy smile tugs at your lips and you murmur, "thanks 'kuna."
he just peers at you wordlessly and it makes you nervous, so you attempt to fill the silence. "it feels so much better. a-and i'm sorry again abo—"
his hand finds the back of your neck, pulling your lips against his for a moment longer. "don't mention it, angel."
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ever since you gave sukuna your copy of frankenstein, he's spent a decent portion of your nights together reading, his brows drawn together in concentration.
upon finishing, he stares at the page after taking in the final line: "he was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance."
he's deathly quiet and wearing some unreadable expression. his eyes seem far off.
you leave him be for a little while, as it's clear he's lost in thought, but eventually you grow a bit concerned. it's been nearly half an hour since he last moved.
"sukuna?"
he turns to you. "why did you think i would enjoy this particular book?"
you consider his question carefully, his mood evoking your own seriousness. "it's... elegant and tragic. i suppose i appreciate the moral grayness of it. why do you ask?"
"no reason."
"did you enjoy it?"
"yes."
"why?"
he ignores your question. "frankenstein— do you like his character?"
you can't help but feel like you're answering some sort of riddle. "i think he's foolish and arrogant, but i guess i pity him to some degree."
"and the creature?"
"i'm much more sympathetic toward him. he's very... complex and certainly less culpable for the events of the novel than his creator."
you're surprised when he laughs. "of course you would think that way."
and with that, he's flipping through the pages of the novel. you move to sit beside him and once he finds what he's looking for near the middle, he begins reading:
"remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, my joints more supple. but i will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee. i am thy creature, and i will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which thou owest me. oh, frankenstein, be not equitable to every other and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and affection, is most due. remember that i am thy creature; i ought to be thy adam, but i am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. everywhere i see bliss, from which i alone am irrevocably excluded. i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous.”
his voice is strangely even, almost bordering on robotic. you're struck with the notion that he's attempting (with rare difficulty) to mask his emotions.
you regard him quizzically and wait for him to speak. the last thing you expect to hear tumbles from his lips.
"you know they called me the disgraced one?" you nod. "do you know why?"
"i know the story that sorcerers have passed down."
he hums. leaning back into the couch, he looks fixedly at the ceiling before continuing. "i was just a boy when i was orphaned and no one knew anything about my heritage, including me. jujutsu society took me in and raised me as a sorcerer."
"and you didn't care for it?"
"oh, quite the opposite. i reveled in it. my strength was unprecedented, that much was clear from the start. i surpassed my teachers with ease, and eventually, i took to training alone— reading primitive texts and honing skills that they couldn't teach me."
your hand finds his thigh, hoping to offer him some consolation before beckoning him to continue. "then what happened?"
"the men who had been my teachers, who had been the only.. family i'd ever known.. they scorned me. deemed me reckless and dangerous to jujutsu society. plotted my demise."
your voice is small when you ask, "were they right?"
he wants to hate the question— wants to hate you for asking it— but he knows that it's warranted.
"no. i admit i was forward thinking and a bit.. unorthodox, but i wasn't..."
"what they thought you were?" you offer gently.
he nods. "not until they made me that way— not until they abandoned me and backed me into a corner like some animal."
you struggle to find the right thing to say, if any such thing even exists. you're amazed that he's confiding in you, and while it makes your heart swell, you really don't want to fuck it up.
he looks back down at the book, his eyes scanning the paragraph before repeating, "i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend."
he says it as if he's coming to terms with the circumstances of his life for the very first time.
"the creature was remorseful at the end of the novel," you recall somewhat bravely. "are you?"
sukuna thinks for a great deal of time before replying. you wait patiently for him.
"no," he answers decidedly.
looking over at you for the first time since he began his story, he's relieved to find your face is free of rebuke. instead, there's a warm willingness to understand him. a sadness because of the way he was alienated.
he's curious whether anyone would be able to read the sentiment on your face, or if he just knows you better than most.
is that a privilege he's worthy of? he doubts it.
"you didn't deserve what they did to you," you whisper, reaching up to rake your fingers through his hair, nails grazing his scalp before your palm rests against his temple.
his head leans almost imperceptibly into your hand, and any regret or unease he may have felt at relaying his past to you disappears. watching a single tear slip down your cheek, he wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.
he means to say "don't cry. not for me," but the words die in his throat.
for once, your tears are for him rather than because of him and it's utterly riveting. the fact that someone like you would cry on his behalf seems to contradict every horrible thing he's ever been told about himself.
he could sit here and bask in the feeling forever— he's always known himself to be selfish after all. and you know it too, don't you?
his eyes flicker between each of yours, studying your face. "do you want to know why i don't regret the things i've done?"
you tilt your head to the side. "why?"
"because even if it's made me into a monster..."
for a moment, he contemplates not saying anything more. he considers forcing himself to pull away from your touch, even if it's the only comfort he's been given his entire life. he might still be able to salvage whatever tiny, laughable pieces remain of his pride—
"all of my actions have led me to you."
your eyes soften before you're wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body to his. he returns the gesture after a few seconds pass.
you know he's awful. you know he's cruel. you know that what he's been through doesn't excuse his actions. but still— you want so desperately to take away his pain. to make up for all the things in his past. to wipe the blood from his hands.
as you embrace such an incredibly complicated man (one who is infamous for unrivaled wickedness, yet has his face buried in your hair), you ponder the creature's plea: "make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous."
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a/n 2: if you're still w me, thanks for reading!! i'm not sure how i feel abt this part, so feedback is both welcome and appreciated!! also, how do we like sukuna using angel?? in my head he picked it up from the "my good angel" line in jane eyre, so i hope it doesn't seem too unnatural. alsoooo, highly recommend frankenstein. it's one of my favorite books!! mary shelley popped off and literally created the entire genre of science fiction at 21! anyway, thanks for all the love yall, it means the world<3
taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.
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astrophileous · 6 months
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Hmmmmm for Hotch maybe him lowkey coddling reader when she gets hurt shortly during a case shortly after they start dating? Maybe the team wasn’t aware until they saw him fret this much when he had never done it to this level in the past? 🥹
Thanks for the request babes!! My first Aaron fic ever, so hopefully it's not too bad for a first 🥺 I hope this is to your liking ❤️
Warning(s): gn!reader, established relationship, talks of traffic accident, mentions of injuries, protective hotch, mean words (hotch is just worried abt you ok??)
This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.
Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist
You heard him before you even laid eyes upon him.
Amidst the beeping machines and the moderate ruckus of the emergency room, Aaron's voice penetrated the air like a sword. The authority dripped like lava from his tone as he badgered Derek for your whereabouts, and before you could shuffle out of the hospital bed that had been your safe haven for the past hour, the cubical curtain surrounding you was suddenly yanked open.
Your movements ceased once you locked eyes with a frowning Aaron Hotchner.
"Hey—"
"Are you insane?"
You looked at him dumbfoundedly.
"Do you have a death wish? Is that it? Or are you just stupid?"
A few feet behind him, you could see Derek and Emily exchanging silent looks between the two of them. Everyone knew that Aaron was notorious for being frigid, and he had a strong impartiality when it came to any of his team members doing something impetuous on the field, but the words seeping out of Aaron's mouth at that moment sounded overtly harsh to those who knew him.
"Hotch—" Derek took a step forward, trying to come to your defense, "—it's not (Y/N)'s fault."
"I'm not talking to you." Aaron's response was cutting and final. It baffled Derek enough for him to trace his step back.
"What's wrong with you?" you asked once the shock dissipated, returning your voice to its rightful owner once more. "Why are you being like this?"
"Me? You're asking me? I should be the one asking you."
Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "We were chasing the UnSub—"
"You went rogue," he cut you off. "Morgan told me everything. There's no point in denying it."
Derek raised his arms in surrender when your stare of betrayal slid his way. "Fine. I'm sorry I grabbed a random civilian's bike and crashed it against the UnSub's car. You don't have to worry about paying anything back, I'll figure something out."
"Is that what you think this is about?" Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. "I could care less about monetary compensations. We can deal with that later. You could've been killed, don't you understand?"
It was his last admission that finally made the pieces in your head click into place. Beneath the anger inside Aaron's words was actually a hidden anxiety ready to break free. He was worried about you, even if he was showing it in the least hospitable way possible.
Your relationship with Aaron was young; green around the edges and blooming every single day like tulips in spring. Nobody else in the world knew about it yet, and the two of you wanted to keep it that way. At least, that was what you agreed upon after having that lengthy discussion following your first official date.
And yet, none of that mattered when your fingers opted to reach out for Aaron's hand. You pretended not to notice the gasp that Emily let out as you urged your boyfriend to look into your eyes.
"I know you're worried, but I'm fine. I'm right here with you, and I'm okay." Aaron's shoulders physically collapsed at your reassurance. Every other noise in the hospital seemed to drown out in the aftermath. "The doctor's gonna clear me in no time, trust me."
"It still doesn't erase the fact that what you did was reckless." Aaron stepped closer towards the bed, overcrowding your senses as his thumb swept over your left eyebrow, just below the wound you had obtained from the crash. "Does it hurt?"
You shook your head no. The injury to your head was relatively minor. Your arm, on the other hand, was sustaining a quite sizable gash from your collision with the car.
Aaron's eyes followed your gaze that had meandered towards the gauze covering your arm. "How many stitches?"
Reluctantly, you answered, "Seven."
You heard his sharp breath before he turned around to face Derek. "Where's the UnSub now?"
Derek jerked his head to the right, where you reckoned the UnSub was being treated for their own injuries from the crash. The words of protest died in your throat as Aaron began to saunter to the other end of the ER with Derek hot on his heels.
With the two men's departure, Emily was the only one who remained.
"So—" she smiled knowingly, leaning against the foot of your bed, "—you and Hotch? When did that happen?"
You slammed your head back on the pillow, muffling your groan with your uninjured arm. "Shut up."
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