#and the sin bin is always entertaining | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taesiccc · 2 years

Text

~Café Notes~

PAIRING: Taehyung x Reader (f), Namjoon x Reader (f)

GENRE: Yandere au, fluff, slight angst?

RATING: Teens and up.

WORD COUNT: 6.4k

DISCLAIMER: Mentions of all characters and events occurring in this writing are fictitious and only written solely for entertainment purposes.

SYNOPSIS; You receive these peculiar notes and it's no longer appealing or cute when they start appearing in your bedpost. It's only starting to get creepy..

AU/NOTE: This is an oneshot/drabble. I wrote this in a hurry so editing is a joke.🤡 Read the end for more notes.

The bell chings as you enter the cafe. The shift was usually light during the noons which didn’t totally mean relaxing in the aroma, It also meant lesser staff. As an university student, part time jobs weren’t surprising to you but it still meant extra effort. Also, working in a cafe was not always fancy like that. Every job has its own cons and yours was the shift timing. It constantly changed to its own comfort, destroying every other plan you schedule for the day. Just another month and hopefully you'll hopefully be able to get an organized agenda like your manager promised.

Converse feet drag along the familiar tiles immediately putting you in character. The same apron, the same name tag, the same ambiance with a slightly different set of people but, one thing remains the same.

The note.

‘Luv ur smile! :)’

The note read. You’d normally appreciate compliments but this was starting to get a little creepy. These notes simply keep coming and it was growing evident with the fact that it was meant only for you. No 'from' name was ever mentioned, nor was there any evidence of this person.

Eventually, It felt cute when they started; even so having you write back notes and sometimes even storing them but once they’ve started appearing on personal visiting spots or even your front door; nothing has been the same.

You weren't seeing anyone at the moment and its not like the cafe staff were super close or this nice to begin with. Except for some staff, same aged as you but to think those female staff were lesbians, didn't set accurate to your accusations. Costumers? Well..your shift was never the same and you haven't heard from any other staff of receiving notes like these. You were turning worried, fearing if you've acquired a stalker or some sort. You weren't an influencer to attract weirdos but you were aware that its very much possible for an ordinary student like you as well.

Changing shifts or even writing them back to stop didn’t work. The notes were still very visible and still very readable. You feel yourself become more like a paranoid, skeptical with anyone you met. You stare at the note once again before crumbling it and tossing it over the bin.

“That was so close!” You flinch at the sudden invite.

“Oh- I thought…your shift was over?”

“That’s no way to greet your coworker, I mean I understand- I’ll just leave if you hate me” he pouts as he states, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Will you ever stop being so dramatic Taehyung?” you stare in disbelief.

“Maybe, one day…but the world will live to regret missing a sweet person like me” he grins knowing he'd earn a sigh from you.

“And uhm, looks like your secret admirer left you another note!”

“About that-

“Didn’t you store them? Like you always do? And why? didn’t you like the message?” he interrupts and you feel your body tense at the moment.

“Hey relax- it was just sticky and nasty so I.. uh preferred to pass that out” you lied.

Taehyung was soo convinced that it was your secret admirer! At times you even find yourself contemplating if that was true. But to you, it just seemed like a novel thing. He was nothing to blame since he has a knack for fascination. He just self proclaims his love for romance and hearing another lecture leaving his mouth about how it’s apparently a “deadly sin” to deny a ‘pure form of love’ can wait for another week. He even says that you're lucky for something like this. Taehyung is not necessarily delusional but in most cases he does behave like one. He’s basically a childishly adorable dude that you’ve managed to befriend but definitely don’t regret.

At times he makes it look like he's left the notes then later tell you that he was lying all about it. and it wasn't one day but several times making you check him off the list, a lot frustrated. He is most probable to do stuff like this but, you'll immediately be able to make out since he's built like 'captain obvious'.

You still have an eye on him in case he's actually doing it; so you can get back at his ass for having you in constant dilemma for all this long!

“This feels so nice!” You sip the hot beverage. It was usually another staff that worked this shift with you but leave takes for substitute.

“I didn’t know you guys drank off of the company! Should be illegal right?” he sounded baffled.

“Yeahhh? But we kinda just accidentally switched off the cameras one day and started drinking some”

“Did you just say ‘acci-den-tally’? Geuss what? You can miss me that shit!“ he scoffs.

“It’s okay then. Just pay for that beverage you’re drinking right now and hopefully 'Sir Taehyung' can live in righteousness” you spoke rather unamused as he peaks through the fifteen bucks worth drink before reviewing your comment.

“Never mind. I think our boss deserves this for the ridiculous prices” he gulps the hot liquid while you spurt out a hearty laugh.

It was great spending time with Taehyung. He was like the only genuine friend you owned. Even tho you only got to see him at the cafe, he was always there by your side when you needed someone. He’s taken care of your sick self at bed, sometimes even buying you chocolates and candy during your cramps. It surprised you to experience so much care coming from a somebody. You weren’t necessarily childhood friends but still friends to an extent. To be honest, you just loved how he was being sincere with you and you appreciated it a whole lot. That was something really remarkable about him.

He insists recording all your favorites or anything to begin with yourself as a sense of growing your friendship. You were initially weirded out by the fact that he lend ‘matching charms’ for both of you within four days of meeting but nothing surprises you now that you’ve known him. He’d send birthday cards and cupcakes for the entire birth month until it was finally your birthday. He got attached way too quickly and his actions constantly make you question his sanity; only to conclude that he was being nothing but a sweetheart and much of a gem you didn't wanna miss!

“See ya dingus!”

“Goodbye beautiful! Sleep tight!!”

You wave Taehyung and shut the door behind you. Hurriedly you shake yourself off the clothes before plopping yourself on the bed. You feel slightly uneasy laying down as you toss over to the other side. The scent feels oddly different but puts you to sleep very soon.

---

The next day you leave for university and seat yourself through the lectures. Calculus class was always shit but it feels more terrible today. Your eyes droop uncontrollably, barely seeing anything around you. You’re feeling a lot sleepier than usual so you stretch your limbs hoping to feel refreshed but it seems impossible for you to focus.

Would a class of sixty three know if you were to take a friendly nap? The lecture itself sounds like lullaby at this point. You cross your elbows and lay your neck by the seat soon dozing off officially.

I woke up feeling a little cold. It was as if I could finally open my eyes for the first time. My limbs ache and I wish to lay a little more if not my attendance begging for dear life. My cheeks felt moist; it’s probably just my drool.

Once I’ve lifted my head up I immediately feel the urge to sleep again. Regardless, I stretch my hands above and yawns leave my mouth a little too loudly. I wipe my cheeks with my sleeve, ready to finally get out.

As I rummage through my bag I feel a pair of eyes on me. I look besides me and a boy, almost twice my size looks at me while I stare back confused. The corner of my vision distracts me to a stain on his shirt that looks crooked. I keep looking back and forth until the thought finally hit me.

‘Did i lay on him? And god- could that be my drool? Shit!’

You feel your lids widen at the sight also feeling very much embarrassed of yourself. You quickly look over to his eyes that crease in a matter of seconds. He presents himself before you could; interrupting from telling anything.

“It’s okay! Don’t worry about it!” he says as he overlooks your panic.

“I’m really sorry about that! I really am! Is there something I can do to-

“It’s completely fine miss, you don’t have to do anything” he smiles but it only makes you more guilty and embarrassed.

“I apologize again, I-I probably gave you a lot of hassle all this while- is there something I can-

“Hey- calm down. It’s no big deal, really! It’s a normal thing so no biggie!-' he assures still having you look anywhere but his face.

'-Do you think I’ve not drooled when I sleep? let go…Don’t even worry about it!” He smiles again patting your shoulder. You feel awkward standing there visibly having nothing to say. The silence falls; his tall frame standing there while the clock ticked. Your insides torture you to tell something that could maybe help fill the void-

“How about I treat you a drink!" I ramble and his eyebrows furrow at my offer. I was scared for a second; Later realizing how I sounded; I regret putting that up like some creep trying to hit on him. Should have sounded absurd and sudden..

"or...or this would make me feel terrible for the entire day” I say, trying to make the intention much much clearer this time.

Relief rush through me as he chuckled, highlighting his dimples to my sight. He looked handsome and appeared really polite with his gestures. A smile crept down my lips, feeling rather comfortable this time. A good man like him definitely didn't deserve drool stains! At least I was convinced..

“You don’t have to” he smiled ruffling his hair, still flaunting the pair of hollow dimples.

Maybe it isn't too bad to hit on him after all..

“I insist”

I was practically jogging beside him. His steps were wayy too longer and faster for someone with an average height. It wasn’t really my shift but I’ve decided to get this over with. It just felt like I was deserved to waste my twenty bucks on a drink especially for a stranger in consideration to what I did. I totally deserve this. I confess, my sleep schedule is trash but blaming it for my actions? That's a little too much.

You were in the midst of classes, still hurrying to buy this guy his drink. You didn’t know how many classes you have missed but dear, you had to hurry.

“What would you like?” your fingers tap the counter slightly impatient.

“Uhm how about we both get drinks? It’s a little awkward for me to drink while someone watched” he chuckled lightly, rubbing his nape.

Normally at these situations you would lie to someone about your financial status basically being a bitch to your expenses and excuse it with something else but it was not like you were gonna see him everyday and engage in amazing conversations about space and neither could you come with a lie so quickly. well.. it didn't even matter if you lied anyway! did it?

“Erm..I’m kinda low on budget right now, it’s cool if only you had it. It's fine, I don’t feel like drinking one” you admitted with utmost decency.

Although these are some very embarrassing series taking place altogether in a day, you didn’t currently care but you knew you’d recall this one day and fall down a pit of dipshit you’ve done all along.

“If that’s the case, I’ll pay for the drinks!” He supposed as you feel yourself blush at the sudden offer, making you appear slightly tinted due to the embarrassment.

“Uhm..I’m the one that’s supposed to pay for you.. some other time?..maybe?” you speak in uncertainty, not sure where this was going.. as if you expected to meet him again?

“I insist. How about you give me company instead of buying one?” he anticipated for your reply while you froze in serious thought.

“Take this as my favor miss?” he smiles, tilting his face to look at yours.

You didn’t know if it was him that made you come to terms with his deal or if it was your budget anymore. You didn’t know what to say either but couldn't bring yourself to deny with whatever he had to offer. You’d be hesitant to agree but you were certainly welcomed by his charms that appeared way too attractive than it should have.

The drinks were bought and being slurped on by it's owners. You haven't talked a lot other than the basic things exchanged in a conversation; to even call it a conversation would be a crime. You just sat besides this random guy, pretending to be very calm and casual while in reality you sucked the life out of this drink, wanting to get to your classes. You just wished you didn't choke on it and make it any awkward.

"May I know your name?" he spoke a little sudden as you successfully choke on your drink like you hoped not to, startling the boy beside you. He leaves and hurries back with some water lending it to you also putting your drink aside in the process.

You don't divert you gaze as you feel your cheeks burn to his actions. You concentrate on drinking the water before answering his queries.

"Are you okay?" he assures as you nod in response.

"Yes and thank you for this" you say between coughs pointing to the bottle.

"Don't mention it"

Soon the silence fills, hurting you physically to stay there.

"We never- "And about my-

You interrupt eachother making a very clumsy conversation. You did not enjoy any impressions you were giving him from the beginning, even so wondering if he regrets inviting you for a drink.

"ha ha so uhm like i was saying, we never exchanged our names?" He talks again bringing you out of your thoughts. He seems to want to know about you while in your perspective, you start to contemplate if he was interested in you.

Your mind takes a turn suddenly making you anxious to face him but you set aside these temporary thoughts, finally stating you name. Something you should have done in the start.

"Right! Yes. my name is y/n. you?"

"Namjoon. Kim Namjoon." He pronounces as he smiles.

"That's a nice name. It's got a wise meaning to it actually, I'm not sure if you know that-

"Wait..Really? I've always been interested in name analogy- just that I wasn't sure if anything was ever authentic. They say name analogy varies from horoscopic inspection which i think is utter hogwash! There is a clear line distinguishing both astrology and and scientific observations! Don't you think?" He rapped them all in one go. He sounded really consumed in topic making him look like a reporter.

You took in all of his words, somewhat amazed but still managed to scrutinize them. His eyes glistened as he looked at you; really eager to know your opinion.

"Woah- so name analogy is not fake after all." You mumbled at the thought.

"Mind elaborating?"

"My uncle does these things and I basically grew up listening to them and he's had people asking him to analyze the name 'Namjoon' and according to him, it means 'something genius from the south' and surprisingly, It's not fake at all!" You tell him, getting a little lively about the experience also complimenting him on the side.

"Damn..Thank you! I'll flaunt that around for a bit now!" he jokes earning a genuine chuckle from you.

The day passed but it didn't even look like it! You spent all your time talking with Namjoon and maybe even walking around for a while and it felt really warm having his company. It's safe to say you liked his calm but talkative nature or that you simply liked him. You observe attraction to Namjoon but also do not want to make a fool out of you in the end. It could be an infatuation but until then you just know you've got that crush!

Like wise, like the gentleman he is, he leads you safe at your doorstep, biding you with a goodbye and pleasant night wishes. This day was not any other day but a very pleasing day in your life. It was certainly very pleasant unlike your first impression but turned out way better and modifying than you expected it to go like. With that being said, you flee off to your bed with circling thoughts about him.

The bell chings as you enter the cafe. Converse feet drag along the familiar tiles immediately putting you in character. The same apron, the same name tag, the same ambiance with a slightly different set of people but, one thing...disappears?

You don't see the note.

As much things made you felt suspicious and off, you were equally happy it was ending. The door chings again as you look over. Your moody face turns contented as you watch him walk in.

"Taehyung!" you wave but he seems nonchalant. His lazy steps make their way into the counter, completely ignoring you. Now, you were sure something was very off with his behavior. You look out the counter making sure no one came, before strolling behind him. He works like a soulless frame, showing no acknowledgement of your presence. It almost makes you cringe.

"Tae? You okay?" You halt. His hair fled down like he'd just woken up. He ties his apron around his abdomen, making it clear that he refuses to face you. You think before your hand flinches at the shudder voice.

"Yesterday. Where were you?" he sounded stern, tying his apron repeatedly for what took like two seconds.

"..I...was..." your words trail to think of something else. You didn't know why you didn't just expose the fact that you met someone you liked but you knew that you wanted to tell it first to him more than anyone else until the second you really saw him.

chime!

The café calls for service and you leave the place. It wasn't disturbing to you the way Taehyung acts but it set you at unease to see a different side of his.

You lavish yourself, free from thoughts and continue blind copying orders.

"What can I get you sir?"

"Your company?"

Your eyes deviate at once looking over to the man with a greenish trench coat. Foxy eyes, rough yet supple hair, and undeniably adorable dimples. You almost sigh as he coughs catching you off guard. Your cheeks blush severely burning your insides. He grins in return, quite flushed himself.

"The usual" he says, making you frown; "yes?" your voice sounding almost like a whisper. You clear your throat collecting your voice, gulping down any signs of fidgety.

He chuckles, before he talks, quite rasp as you find- "You know what? drop it. HEY! EXCUSE ME?!"

He beckons Taehyung to the front. Taehyung roams his way around reaching out to your side. "Just get me a Espresso con Panna and y/n what do you want?" you struggle to grasp before he orders something else for you, pulling you out with him. You look back at Taehyung who stares back idly.

You smile sheepishly, before sitting down with Namjoon. Things were escalating quicker and you didn't even wanna judge. Although you liked spending time with him, it still concerns that you were very much at work.

"HELLO? YOU" not too long but you hear from the counter. His loud voice captures everyone as Taehyung signals Namjoon to come over while you insist that you leave. "Why? doesn't he work here? Sit." he orders. You hesitate to sit nonetheless follow.

He removes his trench coat revealing a thin fabric shirt poorly covering his buff chest. Your eyes wander elsewhere, shocked over the impact over sized clothes can hide. He retracts backwards gesturing Taehyung to come over instead. It makes you uncomfortable to see Taehyung act so unfamiliar but watch helpless.

His walk slugs along your table finally scenting his scent.

"What's the matter?" Namjoon demands rather harshly. "We don't have whatever you asked for" he replies, detached. "Fine. Just get me coffee black".

Taehyung turns to leaves but halts when he comments "Work better and maybe I'll spare tips".

You suddenly feel so scabby of Namjoon. You look over to him and his aura is something very contracting. Your eyes meet and his lids crease in a matter of seconds, and you already feel so used to it.

"I come here everyday but I never see you around.."

"Wait..Really?"

The conversation continued.

You had forgotten all about today just like the last time. You no longer felt irked nor did you worry about Taehyung. You're just captured when he's around; Like a picture of a flower in the of midst a war.

Long fingers slide past your vision. The order is served by Taehyung on the table. He carefully places your drinks before leaving. Once again, you feel some what unpleasant. He brings back all that had happened; Like the flames behind the flower.

"It's on me." Namjoon reminds as you nod knowingly. Your hands pick on the straw and just as your lips touch Namjoon grabs it away. You look at him baffled before he yells out to the counter.

A wearisome Taehyung walks out only to get yelled at by your infuriated crush. You don't seem to make heads or tales out of this situation.

"THIS IS THE WRONG ORDER!" he yells at his face and your eyes immediately diverts back to the drink. You rotate the cup reading out the name. 'cold brew'. It was your drink!

"Joon stop! it's the right order!" you yell and pull him back as an attempt to stop this unwanted drama. Taehyung seemed unaffected to the scene and looking at him upsets you. You were no good to his strength as he pushes you away gripping his collar.

"CAN YOU NEVER MIND YOUR BUSINESS? YOU'RE SUCH A SHAME AND I EXPECTED NOTHING LESS FROM YOU!" His words, very spiteful, outraged you leaving you speechless to his behavior. You didn't know why he was making such a big deal out of a darned drink!

"JOON PLEASE STOP! HE'S GOT THE DRINK RIGHT! STOP IT" you yell on top of your lungs stopping the brawl. The café falls silent, having many people even leave the once peaceful ambiance.

Namjoon sighs as he collects himself. You look at Taehyung who looked pathetic and weak but somewhat aggrieved by the look of his eyes.

"See. This is not what I ordered. I ordered this." He points to the board, in a way explaining it to you. You ignore him, making your way to Taehyung instead. "Taehyung why?" you ask distressed. "That's not your favorite" he ends simply, softening your eyes and wavering heart.

"And? did I ask your opinion?" Namjoon heated back. Taehyung simply apologized to him and accepted to pay for the drink. You no longer wanted to stay there. You pitied Taehyung so much so you claimed the drink beyond Namjoon's quarrel and as a result he simply left.

Only you and Taehyung remained.

You took glances as you swept the counter. He stood by the cash register recording funds. In a way to lighten him up you quickly finish the chores and and discreetly get to the register.

"Hello! I'd like to pay for this!" you exclaim to which he simply doesn't spare a glance instead, passes you a slip. You look through the contents to find he had already paid. He abruptly leaves before you could catch hold of him. His moody self or anything else other than the Taehyung you know only perplexes you and it only gets worse when he doesn't talk. You follow him to the backroom and he's left.

You didn't expect many chaotic events to occur but one thing you did expect was a headache. You lay your head on the marble counter but soon remember to dispose the towels. As you dispose the waste, something catches your attention. Something that looks like a note.

You pause for a moment but reach out to the note. You open the crumbled paper and it stated a single sad smiley. The note lies lifelessly on your hands instantly making you conscious of your surroundings. 'Did this supposed stalker watch me the entire day? Was he present in the café?' You feel yourself twitch at the thought.

You crumble it back throwing it in the bin; this time more palpitated from the scenarios. Not a second later you hear the backroom door unlocking and you rummage the desk acquiring a knife. The front exits were locked, leaving only one option. Maybe if you haven't looked at the note you wouldn't have to be this paranoid. You clutch the knife through your sweaty palms agreeing to commit also feeling lumps of sweat deposit down your chest.

"Time to close. Hurry up." you recognize the voice,

At once bringing you out of your dilemma. You lift your quivering self and collect your belongings dashing to the source.

As soon as you see his face, a pressurized urge pushes you to embrace him. Your hands lock around his figure, almost crushing his ribs. Your cheeks stain pathetically that tumble down his sharp collar bones as you let out your compressed breathing onto his nape. You wish to never let go off of him, feeling confident that no one would harm you if he was beside you. Your heart rate bang through your ears nearly making you pass out.

You don't notice until he backs you away. You look at his face but it looks the same. You don't understand why he behaves this way and it annoys you how he doesn't even look at you. Your hands slid back onto his torso and you continue to deliberately stare at him. Determined you'll make him talk. He clicks his tongue, portraying clear annoyance. He doesn't even wish touch you nor speak to you.

Unexpected, your tears well up disconnecting yourself from Taehyung. You seem to have forgotten the fear that over took you moments ago, replacing it with guilt and humiliation. You never realized how much his actions mattered until they actually showed.

His shadow passes yours and you stay still condemning yourself. The lamppost flickers, glistening your replacing tears. You look back one last time and see yourself left out in darkness. It perplexes you and you walk home mundane.

Feeling weak, You reach your door and chills run down your arms feeling a distanced gaze from somewhere. You stand by and watch for moving bushes or stomped on leaves. But instead, you see a note. Not any normal note, but the same exact note you still receive.

Your head watches over the sides while you gulp lumps of stored saliva down your throat. You contemplate but regardless curiously pick the note and rush through doors. You make sure they're locked before reading them out. You open it at once and all you find is a single word with a smiley.

'SORRY! :('

The note flees down from your palm and lands graciously on the floor. You simply stare at it knowing that you were being watched. Watched by 'them'. You hated how silent the home was. It mad you mad very second. You could even be watched right now and you wouldn't know. They could even be inside your cupboards. Your thoughts surround your actions and the people you have met.

'T-taehyung?'

You analyze just as you receive a text. Afraid to even read it but your thumbs slid through as his name pops up.

'Have you reached home? I'm so sorry! Let's please talk!'

The message ends with a '-joon'. You look through the number before texting him back with a reply. Such activity clearly makes you feel at ease, feeling like you're not alone. Just as the message sets in, you see a received text from Taehyung.

It seemed quite normal at first sight but it makes you anxious and hideous to think about it. You no longer feel safe or doubtful as you keep reading his simple yet concluding message.

'good night'

You watch the clock as it strikes 1Opm sharp. The message reads at 9:57pm; the time you should have reached home. The time you should have picked up the note..

The time he must have been here..

Gone crazy you collect yourself in a corner. The clock sounds, Joon's spamming messages, and lastly settling silence, make you shudder every now and then. To think you've trusted him makes you feel shitty if you were him. Your head feels unsteady with visuals of a psychotic bastard like him.

Taehyung. Taehyung. Taehyung.

You fall ill by the thought of something sickly startling. You just don't trust yourself the moment everything reflects itself. You finally start to understand moments better and nothing helps considering the fact that you loved him very much dearly. You grow self conscious and concerned by every passing minute not allowing a bit of drowsiness to settle in. You refuse to lay and even wished the same for torturing yourself with an unsound mind.

With no darned sleep and aching heels that stayed up the entire night watch guarding the house, there was nothing you can do but to get your job resigned. You didn't wanna go back to seeing Taehyung or holding any ties with him. It's been almost a minute and and you've left the job by a spoken fake reason for the owner. Of course you refused to go the café but you made sure it wasn't his shift.

You didn't know if Taehyung would stop stalking you or not sure how to restrain him without any clear proof. You were convinced and he was still much of a stranger to you and why would there ever be a reason for defending his actions? Nothing would stop you from ever being paranoid and cynical here after and he was all to blame. Just the thought of him made you quiver under nothing and to think of the mask he wore was something even disturbing.

Namjoon helped you find an apartment conveniently close to his so you didn't have to feel unsafe. He was sure he'd help you move out but after he's heard all about Taehyung, he insisted you stay with him.

Not sure if you had to share anything at all with him in the first but he's all you've got, closest to not being a stabber. He's been with you for a while and you knew he sincerely cares about you unlike an obsessive psycho. You've heard from Taehyung a crazy amount but it's only best if he'd stay the hell away.

You haven't briefed Namjoon on anything but keeping it cut short. You were happy he didn't dig deep on it and offered to help instead. The notes still remain a traumatizing part and you'd rather keep it to yourself.

"That's way too much!" You panic taking the seasoning away from him.

You both engaged in weekly cooking for fun and this time it was your turn. He'd make a mess out of your apartment in just a matter of minutes!

Namjoon suggested you'd both spend time together, so you didn't feel uncertain. You very much appreciated his thoughtfulness and understanding; and shifting apartments were more entertaining.

"ALRIGHT! How about I cut these onions?"

"OH PLEASE NAMJOON! Don't even think about onions anymore!" You yelp remembering the time he'd cut them with the knife held upside down.

He simply sighs and instead watches you stir the dish. You flush feeling his chin rest down your shoulder. At this point you were very much aware that you liked him but you weren't ready to get rejected just yet. Love was always something hard to understand for you cause you've only had experiences of the wrong kind. Namjoon made you feel special in ways you didn't know you could have. You'll be sure to confess, but not anytime soon.

"oh! my phone.." you excuse yourself to the ringing call.

"JUST STIR!" You yell across the hall while he gestures standing like a soldier.

Your lips slip a smile as you attend the call but soon wither as you hear his voice. A voice you haven't heard all month.

"Y/n listen to me! PLEASE JUST LISTEN! GIVE ME A CHANCE!" he begs aloof of the volume, crying by the line and you feel your pits sweat through your clothes. You try to stop the mild headache that kills you with memories and betrayal.

"No" you manage to speak and its barely even subtle. He continues screaming through the call, not being able to hear the whisper of words you're letting out. You keep an eye on Namjoon, in case he hears about Taehyung. He's got a terrible temper when it comes to Taehyung and you're least interested in including him with this.

"PLEASE! PLEASE Y/N! MEET ME THIS ONCE! ONCE! I CAN EXPLAIN EVERYTHING!"

"n-no..i won't-

"IF YOU'VE EVER TRUSTED ME, MEET ME THIS ONCE! PLEASE! AT THE CAFE! FOR ME! THIS ONCE.."

The line trails and you panic through every second. Your hand clutches the phone tighter when you hear small sobs. You always cared for Taehyung and hearing him cry, burdens your heart to your stomach. You wait in line, unable to cut the call until you hear him again.

"..please..this once. please" His voice trembling and distant. You decline immediately feeling your lids moist up.

'Were you wrong all this while? Was this fair?'

Your mind collapses with consecutive thoughts. You certainly couldn't bare how he sounded and your gut signs you to meet him. He was someone very important to you and he was such a jem you promised yourself never to miss. Things would only kill you to desperate curiosity if you didn't meet him but you also needed to know that he was nothing but a stranger.

The sun falls and you finish your dinner quicker. You've made up your mind. You don't really inform Namjoon and rather excuse yourself to a sick friend. Your brain appears fogged to think of anything but only Taehyung. His words ring continuously, stirring you with advance guilt.

All you ever wanted to do now was to meet him and get answers.

You wrap the towel by your wet body and turn down the door knob. You let a slight welp feeling a strong electric shock pass through the metal. Clueless, you proceed to open it once more getting shocked the second time. The knob falls down heavily and you reach out to fix it. You push it through the door only to get shocked third time in a row. You look into it and find a lean thin black wire sparking red lights.

You stand unmindful until the thought finally seemed to have hit you. You hide yourself away feeling your knees strain weak while your palm shuts your mouth tight, other holding the towel. Fear settles down your gut realizing something disgusting and horrific happening to you. Your heart beat dooms through your ears and you curl yourself feeling disgusted and unreal by the happening.

You hear your room door creek through the silence making his footsteps echo around. The door bangs with no voice or exposure. Goosebumps settle behind your neck as you sob into your hand flooding it with salty tears. The bangs get louder and louder making you horrendously anxious and frightful.

"y/n? I know you're there. Open the door and I won't hurt you darling.."

His shadow lurks around the door while he bangs it like he'd break it. His voice so smooth but the sound makes you quiver in fear, bunching your swollen lids. You whimper helpless and betrayed by him. You're aware he'd break the door anytime soon and you sit put not knowing what to ever do. Recording your nudes was the last thing you've imagined that might happen to you. Your toes curl by the thought of him watching your videos for god knows how many days.

"y/n...Y/N! I SAID OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" He bangs the door as it slightly crashes from the sides.

You quickly attempt taking the nearest vase seeing how he'd still catch hold of you. Cries leave your mouth wailing to leave you alone and nothing more. You scream in fear asking for help from someone who you thought was your savior but a sickening bastard in disguise.

"YOU BITCH! UNLOCK THIS RIGHT NOW! DO IT BEFORE I FUCKING CHANGE MY MIND!" He screeches banging the door violently.

Your hands shake making you nauseous and unfocused of the situation. The more the door broke the more you feel yourself loose control.

Next thing you know, the door crashes open to his view. Your eyes widen and your feet backs up to his vile appearance. His body glistened with absurd amount of strained muscles and sweat, really making him look like a monster.

To your defense, you swing the vase by his head but he switches your arms in one tight grip strangling your neck.

"How cute!" You hear his wicked chuckle as you suffocate under his arms.

You struggle to hold your towel and at least manage to stay alive while his corrupt eyes overlook your dreadful ones. He drags you outside as you choke pathetically attempting to yell for help.

He lifts you up in ease, hovering over your frame then spraying a familiar scent. You feel yourself ahead of huge pain and torture in the midst also crying over your aching heart more than anything. You last wished Taehyung would appear to save you from a psycho you're going to be condemned to..

let me know if yawl want a bonus where all the truth is unveiled cause there are more parts to this. It was initially planned that I would just include it in here but it's already too long.

HAND! (iykyk)

43 notes · View notes

liljubjub · 2 years

Text

Hold on boys N girls ima bout to drop a wedding. Like call we Winnie the Pooh... Lykewww crack hands....

Book Now

Wedding Fun Facts

Elvis Themed Weddings are shaking up the traditional ways of matrimony; yet, they are so very VEGAS, Traditional!

When in Vegas you must do as the Las Vegans do and that is to create the special memories you can share with your family and friends.

Las Vegas is the top wedding destination with over 100,000 weddings a year, followed by Hawaii at 25,000 weddings a year.

Seventeen tons of gold are made into wedding rings each year in the United States – try something else!!!!

Ancient Greeks and Romans said that the veil protected the bride from evil spirits. Brides have worn veils ever since.

Brides have “something old” on their wedding day to symbolize continuity with the past.

The “something blue” in a bridal ensemble symbolizes purity, fidelity, and love.

For good luck, Egyptian women pinch the bride on her wedding day. This is not nice, Egypt!

Middle Eastern brides paint henna on their hands and feet to protect themselves from the evil eye. That’s right, shield up friends!

Moroccan women take a milk bath to purify themselves before their wedding ceremony. So silky and milky, fresh!

Engagement and wedding rings are worn on the fourth finger of the left hand because it was once thought that a vein in that finger led directly to the heart – aww dang that’s deep!

In the symbolic language of jewels, a sapphire in a wedding ring means marital happiness. Somehow we missed this memo! “Diamonds are a Girls Best Friend!”

Most expensive wedding ever? The marriage of Sheik Rashid Bin Saeed Al Maktoum’s son to Princess Salama in Dubai in May 1981. The price tag? $44 million – pocket change, duh!

The tradition of a wedding cake comes from ancient Rome, where revelers broke a loaf of bread over a bride’s head for fertility’s sake. So incredibly interesting, most of us will never eat cake again!

Queen Victoria’s wedding cake weighed a whopping 300 pounds.

In many cultures around the world — including Celtic, Hindu and Egyptian weddings — the hands of a bride and groom are literally tied together to demonstrate the couple’s commitment to each other and their new bond as a married couple (giving us the popular phrase “tying the knot”). So incredibly fitting for the city of Sin!

Valentine’s Day and New Year’s Eve are the two busiest “marriage” days in Las Vegas — elopement central! Truest of words here folks!

Men who kiss their wives in the morning are said to live five years longer than those who don’t. Words of the wise!

In many cultures, the groom historically often kidnapped the bride, and the groom’s friends would help him, leading to the modern-day groomsmen. At the alter, the groom always stood on the bride’s right side so his right hand —or his sword hand—would be free to fight/defend a jealous rival. What happened to chivalry people?!!!

Guests in ancient times would tear off part of the bride’s gown as tokens of good luck, leading to the tradition of the bride throwing both her garter and her bouquet. Umm excuse me, this dress was 12 million dollars…

Greek brides believed that tucking a lump of sugar into the wedding gown would bring sweetness throughout married life. Pour some sugar on us… but why the gown? Hmmm

More than 40% of couples now plan their weddings together, and three out of four grooms help select items for their wedding gift registries. Stellar sauce – keep it up all you fine couples. After all, it is about you two!

Because eyebrows are considered intensely alluring in the Orient, historically the bride’s eyebrows were shaved entirely, rendering her powerless to attract a man. We are in the land of eyebrow expertise being in the Entertainment Capital of the World – there was no way we were leaving this one out!

youtube

It all started when she was down on her luck gambling for a lighter.

.AND MFIN THENNN

I'm not kidding she solder Heer materialistic jacket that look like

youtube

Lykeeeeer ehyyyy wud U sell ur JACKET BRINTNEY it's ur major hobo jacket. AKAA MEEEEE the BF HOBO

AND THEN THE MAGICAL SUCKERISH BRIGHT LIGHTS LURED HER IN LIKE A. STEAM ROLLER

youtube

AS IF LABRYTHN BUSTED IT OPENNNNNNNN... AND THE LABRYNTH OR SEB CQPTURED THE DAM PINECONE.nonomono we were just high and that was Karissa Gomez drivingALL PRAISE. SHIVVAAAAAAAAAAA BETCH

youtube

AS GOD ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS AND IT FLATTENED P°°°°°n.. lykeeeeeeErEEeeee

BC HE WAS PLAYING THIS SATATNIC GODLY SONG AND HE PUT IT ON VINEEEEEE DUDEEEEEE

AND HE PUT IT ON VINEEE.... AND THIS HAPPENED. YAAAAAA PINECONES

youtube

AND THEN IT HITS [my] FACE GET IT SHES YELLING

AND. THEN ALL HE SHUDDA DONE IS STAYED HOME AND WATCHED ALL OF THESE RHIINGS AT HOME WITH DIS.

LYKEEEE MY EYEBROWS FLEW OFF

LYKEEEEEE IN GREEN SEAFOAM LOOKIN LIKE... YAS SELL MY COAT IMA TRIPPPPPP ON IT DURIMG A VINE

AND AFTER REVOMSIDERING HIS FASHION JOB OH WQIT THIS IS ABOUT PEMMA THE FEMALE PINCONE. BEWILDER'D HE FOUND HER IN SLIME GREEN....

HE PERKED HIS HEAD AND SAW A MAGPIE (POTENTIALLY REQLLY DEMOIC AND COCKED EYED BIRD

AND HE GAVE IT AN APPLE PIE FROM MCDOMALDS

BUT ALL SHE SAW WAS A. PINECONE. CUZ SHE W°SNT HIGH

AND THEY MET IN A FORREST OUTSIDE. THE GAMBLARYIAAAAAAA AND FOUND IN LOVE WITH ONE. COMMON THINGY:

Dis.

youtube

ANND. LYKEEEEE [she] WAS A RABBIT

AND IT WAS LOUIS

youtube

ALL TO GET HER DAIGHTER A MIC

youtube

AND. THEY WERE. EDCUATED ABOU' lLOUIS behavior BY NON OYHER THAN PROFESSIONAL DENTIST MRS. G

AND THEN SPUDNICK TURNS INTO A WORM mmmmMmmmm

#SoundCloud #Youtube

2 notes · View notes

cloudedmist · 1 year

Text

Waking up in cold sweat

Because I always fear being misunderstood, and blamed for things I’ve never done.

How the lies of recalcitrants always seem to entertain the ears of sinful people.

I woke thinking of how the lies of Callistar Chen Zhi Bin has affected not just me, but surely, many others.

By looking at how his mother talks and do things, we can also tell that he, a divorced mother’s child, have his character and mind from his mother - a manipulative, lying, mind.

So why do I fear? Because in the minds of such people, there is no fear. Think about the times when she blatantly lied continuously to the police of the things I had done (damaging her property, taking drugs and having drugs in my bag). She had no fear. She was not afraid of what would happen if her lies were caught. And true enough… nothing happens to her.

So from her divorce with her husband… who knows if it was really his fault. No one can find out. After all, the stories of what he did may have been fabricated in the first place.

In the same way, I can imagine that Callistar Chen Zhi bin will try to lie his way into causing problems for others.

but if one thinks proper and in-depth, what he says will make no sense. After months of such distress, I can think of penetration in 2 ways.

The anus, or the mouth. Both of which, are ridiculous to have been done with snowball jumping on every human who stands and walks around my room. On top of that, everyone can testify to the fact that my room is packed to an unwalkable state. Just sufficient for one to step in, sit on a chair, and do their work. It’s been this way for over what? 20 years now? And my bed is out of bounds to any misconduct because of a window, where the opposite side of the block can see right into.

So unless he thinks he is a flying angel, able to have sexual penetration in the air, or that he is a prostitute who is open to being seen naked by the whole world in the opposite block, his allegation is ridiculous.

Besides, let’s just suppose he was really abused sexually… check his passport. If I recall, 2-4 weeks after I gave up on this useless abnormal human, he went alone overseas to Genting highlands with a guy, and they stayed in a single room. Why does this matter? Because obviously you must have read many times before how abused people no longer trust the gender that abused them.

Even during the alleged abused period, this abnormal person Callistar Chen Zhi Bin was sneaking out constantly to be with other guys who would fetch him around in a car (can’t recall bmw, or Audi). So what do 2 males in a car do, riding constantly up and down the expressway every night? 🧐

And recall how he met me multiple times after I gave up on him, just to wait on shoes, and to ask me to help him buy a shaver. Lol… if I were really a monster, he would have asked any of his car sugar daddies, or Escoot hangouts or cigarette buddies to give him $14 to buy a shaver. Logic breakdown again.

Finally, if I recall, the alleged story claimed it happened in 2017… and it took me a long time to realise this, but I realise that in 2017, he was pri 6. And any of his friends who know me, know we met only around Nov 2017. During that time, check the cctvs. I am very sure he wasn’t even at my place before, and we were not allowed in his. So his story breaks down again.

I figure, yet reason why he would quote that year, is because back then when he made the allegation, he did not think of the details. He thought of the story of how a penetration happens, but did not think of the details of how everything would fit into the grand scale of life, situation, condition of the environment etc.

Furthermore, the younger he claim the incident happened, he has better reason to feign forgetting things, and he can “increase” the severity. So he thought of the short term stories. And I’m very sure he keeps to them well (how else does this abnormal human, a master manipulator, escape the school’s punishment, and the law for so many years?).

0 notes

beeseverywhen · 2 years

Text

A few years ago a family moved in to the apartment above mine and they unleashed something within me that had me worried

I went from being unbelievably chill about any noise 'Oh that's just part of living in a shared building' 'I actually like it, the noise of humans around me just living reminds me I'm not alone in this world' 'kids will be kids' to like a hare trigger. This time last year, the slightest noise from above just made me fall in to deep deep rage. Id go from going about my day to somewhere in my head i never want to be. Seeing red. At one point I was ill and I actually stormed out of bed and thundered on the door to ask them incredibly politely to turn down the TV (the level of rage I had to reach to actually leave my house and say something was immense but even then, with them actually in front of me I wasn't about to be anything but deadly nice. I may be bolshy OK but I'm not about to yell at my neighbours man I'm not an idiot, we've gotta share a bin cupboard).

By the end any noise i heard from them made me so angry I was actually scared this was like a sign of things to come. I'm becoming that shitty single middle aged neighbour who hates anything you do. Have I always been that person. I hate who I've become, who I'm ever increasingly becoming more of.

It was a single dad and his kid but it turned out like he had like 5 other children and they were on a constant relay. There was never not a child in his house and it was a 2 bed flat. Oftentimes I could hear even more children than he could possibly be responsible for. It was like I had a middle school above my bedroom. He also didn't seem to have given any of them bedtimes. Every night, non stop preteen arguments, chasing each other, the worst TV possible on max. And even worse! The guy was really fucking nice. So I couldn't say shit and felt terrible for being so angry at him all the time.

And then!!!! Like it couldn't get any worse something goes wrong with his heating system and this dumbo this complete eejit of a guy fucking doesn't tell our mother fucking landlord. His radiators have me thinking this guy is systematically killing elephants at 3pm, 6pm and 1am on the dot every single day. And it gets louder as time goes on. I didn't actually realise what it was for months and was like desperate for answers. By month 4 I was sure he was on a juice diet and kept his blender on the floor. When I finally finally realise its the water, I'm like ah I see. Just gotta get it sorted. That's fine. I just gotta wait it out, something so much easier now I know its a simple fix and the end is in sight. Then a few more months pass and I'm thinking, this is becoming frustrating again.

I thought maybe it was a tricky fix you know. I check in when I see him and it seems to me things aren't running too smoothly with the fix, you know, gotta chase them a bit. I can sympathise. Then. Month 9. I see a tradesperson. I get excited. I call out to the guy 'hey are you fixing flat 4? I'm so happy' turns out he's an electrician. Disappointing. Then! Electrician is so entertained by my tale of sorrow, he shares it with the neighbour when he comes out. And then. This is the worst bit OK. This motherfucker. I thought he'd been telling me these past months he'd chase the fix. No. No. He hasn't even fucking logged it. Here he is cheerful as fucking Larry going oh yeah I really need to get to that. Not get to chasing it. No. He needs to get to telling them there's even a problem. Now when I tell you I wanted to throttle the man.

So for his sins: too many children and a lax approach to bedtime, terrible taste in TV and a prenatural ability to ignore his radiators sounding like a foghorn every single day paired with a frustrating inability to hold those responsible fucking responsible and tell the landlord there's a problem so they can fix it

I was worried cause not any one of those faults seemed great enough to fuel this rage and yet, there was a fire burning within me so hot it seemed it'd never burn out. I'm honestly thinking this is my slide in to terrible, boring, whiny, middle aged sad sack

And then, dude buys a house. I get a new neighbour. Another single dad but the kids a bit older. He apologises in advance they're a family of musicians.

And you know what. These last few months have been the most comforting in my life. This dude right, he's an insomniac. I hear his TV at all hours of the morning. I don't care. His daughter sings constantly, her favourite time to record guitar tracks is 1am. It's pretty nice actually. Sometimes I hear his water system complaining. No skin off my back. His daughter always has friends over, they are very loud. I'm just soaking in the happy atmosphere of humans laughing and singing and being so very alive. It's great.

Not one noise that comes from above is annoying to me.

This is fantastic news. This is a sign of great things. I'm fine as it turns out! I'm not slowly aging in to the spoilsport i apparently always was all along. I'm patient again. Not only that, but I'm back to being good natured about things that'd piss off anyone else. This guy keeps apologising and I'm just like 'Thursday night was particularly good.' He's like I'm so sorry she decided to practice at 2am yesterday I'm like, get her to do wild horses again, I like that one. He's like oh my god how can you hear whole songs I didn't realise the soundproofing was that bad and I'm just 'Yeah it is. However, I don't actually care, I listen to music when I can't sleep anyway, may as well be whatever you're playing'

So, there it is. Turns out I'm not slowly aging in to a miserable git, I'd just reached my very upper limit of tolerance, as is human. Very reassuring. I'm incredibly pleased.

0 notes

newlyacquiredbois · 3 years

Photo

we love sinning boys

#look i still havent decided who i want to win or score or anything #so right now im just being entertained #and the sin bin is always entertaining #casey cizikas #isles #new york islanders #nyi #isles lb

3 notes · View notes

levithestripper · 2 years

Text

Modern AU! VDL Gang Headcanons

✩ Masterlist! ✩

✩ Warnings: None! ✩

✩ Taglist: @reddeadrevolutionn, @floup-doodles, @mesangelique, @the-1-sin-bin, @mrsarthurmorgan7, @orphangrinder187✩

✩ If you want to be added to a taglist, fill this out! ✩

✩ A/N: okay i've scoured my blog up and down and i couldn't find this?? i posted it on ao3 but not tumblr a month ago???? if this is a repost tell me but i don't think i've posted these here before lol ✩

If Arthur had access to today’s music and entertainment, he’d unironically really enjoy traditionally ‘girly’ pop music. No, he doesn’t give a shit what anyone has to say about his music taste. He enjoys what he enjoys, and he’s not ashamed about it.

He absolutely loves old TV shows. Every day like clockwork, he sits in front of the TV at 5:00 to watch Adam-12 and watches until M*A*S*H is over at 8 pm. He skips Happy Days, though. He thinks that show sucks ass. Sometimes Hosea joins him too. Just two old men, watching old man shows.

Continuing on the train of Old Man Things™ Arthur does, he falls asleep slouched over on the couch. A book still open in his hands, the TV still on, and Arthur’s out fucking cold.

He has a Doberman that he adopted from the local animal shelter. Every morning, Arthur takes him out for a walk before work, a walk when he gets home and one late at night before bed.

Arthur spends more time at Dutch and Hosea’s house than he does at his own apartment. He can’t help it; he misses them too much if he’s away for too long. ‘Specially Hosea. Whenever he comes home, Hosea just wraps him up in a warm hug that makes Arthur melt. It’s not every day Arthur gets a hug from the one and only Hosea Matthews.

Okay, I’ll be honest with ya’. The first thing that came to my mind when thinking of modern Bill; was him moonlighting as a Drag Queen. I’m just gonna leave that there lmao.

But anyways, Bill would definitely be really into fantasy shows and other nerd shit like that. It was Kieran that got him into it, too. Bill, being the gay disaster that he is, immediately accepted Kieran’s invitation to join him at a D&D campaign he was hosting. It only hit Bill after the fact that he had absolutely no idea how to play D&D. Like at all. He was too caught up in staring at Kieran’s cute, blushy face for anything Kieran said to process. Let’s just say that watching Bill flounder as he tried to keep up with the campaign made Kieran fall for him even harder.

Charles takes pottery classes at a local art studio in town. It’s mostly filled with single moms taking their kids to dance classes or the other art classes the studio offered. Charles could feel the stares the women gave him while he worked the clay on his pottery wheel. His hair is always pulled back and tied up into a sloppy bun or a half-assed ponytail. He used to keep it down, but clay got stuck in the ends, and it was almost impossible to get out. Charles ended up having to cut an inch or two of hair off after his first class.

When he’s not making art, you’ll usually find him playing video games or volunteering somewhere. Usually, it’s either the shelter or the zoo. Charles genuinely enjoys handing out with all the different kinds of animals there; they all seem to really like him.

Javier owns his own boutique that bordered the town square. It wasn’t the biggest store, but he had everything you could ever want and more in stock. He loves working around Halloween since that’s when all of the little kids came in to look around for costumes. All of the kids are so nice, and if they need it, he’ll help them pick out the perfect outfit. Seeing the smiles his clothes brought to other people is what makes running his own business worth it.

On his days off, Javier’ll be drawing new clothing designs in his sketchbook, or he’ll be taking a nap on the couch. After Lenny’s done with his own shift at the boutique, he’ll sometimes stay over at Javier’s and makes dinner for them both.

Poor Johnny Marston is a college dropout. He originally went just ‘cause Arthur went, and he wanted to be just like his big brother, but when he got there it was nothing like he imagined it be. John was ashamed of himself at first, refusing to tell Hosea or Dutch about what he did. They both were paying so much to send him there! John wouldn’t be able to handle Hosea being disappointed in him. Dutch, he could deal with, but making Hosea upset with him is something John would never do.

When John did end up telling them, neither Dutch nor Hosea was disappointed. They didn’t even seem upset, surprisingly enough. They both pulled John into a big group hug; even Arthur joined in this time. John and Hosea were the shortest out of the four, so they were snuggled in the middle while Dutch and Arthur held everyone close between them.

Even though Arthur teases the hell out of him and vise versa, every once in a while, he has to tell John just how much he loves him. John really couldn’t ask for a better brother.

Kieran is a textbook gay kid. He’s only ever had two jobs, one at a bakery; and the other at a florist’s shop. Funny enough, he met Bill during a shift at the bakery he worked at. Kieran was in the middle of frosting cupcakes when Bill rushed inside, clearly late for something important. The sudden entrance caused Kieran to yelp and mess up the cupcake he was working on, smudging the once perfect frosting. It was obvious how bad poor Bill felt when he saw the damage he caused, so he bought a dozen donuts instead of only one like he had planned on.

It almost became a tradition after that. Bill always seemed to be late for work or some prior arrangement, and Kieran always had a box chock-full of the man’s favorite donuts ready for him. Neither of them was confident enough to grow balls and ask the other out, but when someone asked them how long they’d been dating, they both realized how much the other was just as emotionally constipated. Like a ‘holy fuck, you’re gay too??!!?’ moment, combined with an ‘I want to kiss the hell out of your pretty face’ moment if that makes sense.

Lenny works at Javier’s boutique full time while attending the local college, studying to become an english teacher. It was the best of both worlds, he gets to hang out with his best friend all day, and he gets paid enough to live comfortably while putting himself through school.

I’m sorry, but I can’t not see Lenny being this universe’s version of lil nas x. Maybe not as famous as lil nas, but he definitely still has his style and makes/enjoys that genre of music. And you can’t forget the gay part. (arguably the best part, but I digress).

If you think Mary-Beth works anywhere but a library/bookstore, you’re wrong. Incredibly wrong. She lives there. You have to convince her not to spend her entire paycheck at the second-hand shop the library has on weekends. Seriously, it’s almost impossible to keep her from thrift shops and other flea market like events. If she’s not buying hundreds of knickknacks, she’s baking. I’m tellin’ you; she’s the perfect package!! I’m this close to marrying her on the spot. Mary-Beth’s food is to die for, regardless of what it is. Brownies, cookies, cake? Divine. Omelets, french toast, steak, BBQ ribs? Heavenly. I swear, I’m gonna marry her, so help me god-

In general, Mary-Beth is just the sweetest person alive. She doesn’t care who you are to her; if you’re her friend, you’re getting hugs and kisses and are taking midday naps together. And don’t you dare assume that she always wants to be the little spoon! She likes to hold you close just as much as she likes being the one held.

Micah likes to pretend he’s a bad boy greaser from the ’50s, wearing a leather jacket and riding a showy motorcycle. Don’t get me wrong, he looks hot as fuck dressed like that, but he thinks he’s intimidating, and it’s hilarious to watch.

Good ‘ole Sean MacGuire is a bass guitarist/drummer for a band he joined in high school. They’re still a garage band, not yet making it big, but he’s confident that he’ll be rocking out on a big stage in front of millions of people one day. Sean wears one of those thick cloth headbands that people will wear when working out when he performs. Why? ‘Cause Sean thinks it makes him look hot, and it really did do a good job at keeping the sweat out of his eyes. It’s almost concerning how much he sweats, though, like really. After a couple of hours of practice, Sean looks like he took a bath in his clothes. He’s like a walking shower with an Irish accent haunting it.

150 notes · View notes

alhamdulillah10 · 3 years

Text

What happens on your profile is your responsibility, just because it's on social media doesn't mean you won't be held responsible and that somehow it's ok and "not for real".

Many of us start with the intention of making dawaa and that is a noble cause but we need to always question ourselves about our aim, our goal, our methods and last but not least our sincerity. Are we making dawaa or have we decived ourselves and become mere entertainers for likes?

That leads to turning a blind eye on haram that happens infront of our eyes on our profiles while we see and can do something about it, but we let it go because of "the people", and that is the evil of shaytaan turning du'aat into entertainers. Don't fall for the tricks and traps of shaytaan. (Ofcourse if one has noticed and doesn't change the evil, sometimes everyone can miss occasional things).

Do not mind the people who ridicule you so that they can sin in peace, do not care about the people who claim you have to be sinfree in order to enjoin the good and forbid the evil, nowhere is this a requirement and it does NOT make you a hypocrite. It's not and has never been a condition as we are all sinners while enjoining good and forbiding evil is an OBLIGATION from Allah ﷻ. If being sinfree was the case then no one would've fulfilled the requirements. We are here to please Allah ﷻ and not the people.

Hudhaifa ibn Al-Yaman reported: The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said:

وَالَّذِي نَفْسِي بِيَدِهِ لَتَأْمُرُنَّ بِالْمَعْرُوفِ وَلَتَنْهَوُنَّ عَنْ الْمُنْكَرِ أَوْ لَيُوشِكَنَّ اللَّهُ أَنْ يَبْعَثَ عَلَيْكُمْ عِقَابًا مِنْهُ ثُمَّ تَدْعُونَهُ فَلَا يُسْتَجَابُ لَكُمْ

By the one in whose hand is my soul, you will enjoin good and forbid evil or else Allah will soon send the punishment upon you. Then you will supplicate to Allah and he will not accept it from you.

Abu Sa’id al-Khudri reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “Whoever among you sees evil, let him change it with his hand. If he is unable to do so, then with his tongue. If he is unable to do so, then with his heart, and that is the weakest level of faith.”

Source: Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 49

Sa‘eed bin Jubayr (rahimullah), said, “If no Muslims enjoined good and forbade evil until they have duly reformed themselves, no one would enjoin good or forbid evil.”

Al-Hasan Al-Basri (rahimullah) said to Mutarrif bin ‘Abdullaah, “Advise your friends.” He replied, "I am afraid that I would be advising them to do what I do not do myself.” Al-Hasan Al-Basri replied, “May Allah have mercy upon you! Who does everything what he says? Satan would love all Muslims to give up enjoining good and forbidding evil.”

A scholar was asked: Can i advice someone to stop doing a haram which i'm myself doing it?

The scholar replied: Advice people to stopthat haram while yourself repenting and making intention not to fall into it anymore.

You are and will be held fully responsible for what is under your control if it's in real life or social media makes no difference.

1. Your posts and what you intend, you're responsible

2. People acting shameless or unnecessary freemixing in your comment section, you and your post has made it possible while not interfering.. you're responsible

3. Whatever haram is going on, deviant mindsets and thoughts from all kind of filthy "isms" that make it into your comment section and you do not stop them, refute them or delete them while you see and know, you're responsible

4. Adding shameless people knowingly with the intention of "dawaa" while you know, you're responsible

Don't make your profile a hub for haram, shameless behaviour and the anger of Allah ﷻ ultimately.. Don't become an entertainer if your intention was dawaa for the sake of Allah ﷻ, always question yourself and go back to your original intention and the noble cause of calling to Allah ﷻ. And fear Allah!

May Allah forgive us for that which is known and that which is hidden and all our shortcomings as we are all sinners and the best of sinners is the one who oft repents.

27 notes · View notes

goth-girlfriend · 4 years

Note

okay, but mirio with a crush/friend that’s in 1a? like the reader is lowkey a bit more shy and quiet and everyone thinks their dating.

I SQUEALED, I LOVE IT 😭🥰

🤍🤍🤍💛💛💛💙💙💙💛💛💛🤍🤍🤍

The first you saw this boy, he was at the front of your class, smiling, and you made eye contact. Your eyes widened, and you forced your eyes closed gripping at your skirt and you ducked your head. The words leaving his mouth didn’t make it to you, but his laugh, it was more than enough to make you blush and avert your gaze to anything other than the boy in question. Now, being this way, wasn’t much different from how you usually acted. You completely collapsed on the sideline the moment his clothes fell off when he challenged your class, luckily your stoic friend to be questioned was there to help you stand up.

You didn’t dare approach the grounds where he took your class out one by one, you were amazed by his strength and the story he told you. Inspired really but, the shell you were in held you in tight and you weren’t exactly determined to break out, so like a starved man to a king crab, Mirio took a liking to your shy personality and wanted to help you the same way he’d helped his friend Amajiki. Slowly he approached you outside of class or in luck with a smile and wave, and sheepishly you’d wave and smiled with a whisper of a greeting back. It wants until one day you found him while taking out the trash.

*********

“Hey!” I screamed and fell back the bags of trash I was just hugging fell scattering on the floor as I struggled to breath normally looking at the wall to see the face or Mirio, “Sorry if I scared ya!” He stepped out I sighed.

“Oh, it’s fine,” I whispered looking down feeling heat spread to my cheeks I install felt vulnerable.

“Let me help you!” I watched as he picked up some of the bags I’d struggled to carry.

“Ah, thank you.” I nodded and stood up, he definitely still towered me, we walked in silence, I was a bit fidgety, until he spoke up.

“L/n?” I turned to see him staring at me already, I snapped my head away.

“Y-yeah?” I asked looking down at the floor.

“Let me walk you to class tomorrow, I’d like to get to know more about your quirk. You remind me of a friend and I think I know exactly how I can help you! But I don’t have much time so the morning are better if your free?” I blinked a few times, feeling the heat on my cheeks intenseify.

“I-uh,” you shook you head, “y-yeah, thatd be great.” You lied, honestly, you don’t how great this would be, Mirio Togata, a BOY, you struggled to talk to boys you didn’t like now him? Someone who you think you might fancy? ‘This is gonna be terrible if can’t get a word out!’

“Great! I’ll come by the dorms tomorrow and then we can head to breakfast!” He smield as we finally stoped and threw the bags into the large bins.

“Yeah,” I nodded with a smile, “I’ll see you then.”

“Don’t say bye now (l/n), I still have to walk you back to the dorms! What kind of hero would I be if I let a lady walk herself back in the dark.” He smiled brightly, and I felt like I should’ve shirked my eyes, the sun, he definitely shines brighter than the sun.

We made our way silently to the dorm buildings in silence, I fidgeted with my fingers and the hem of my skirt, I was dying both internally and externally. We stopped at the door and I sighed, and turned to Mirio, he smiled and I smiled, I HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING A THANK YOU AT LEAST DO IT NOW COWARD!

He turned to walk away and I screamed “Mirio!” He turned around a bir shocked looking, “Thank you for walking with me...” I whispered and could hardly manage to look up at him.

His face changed to a gentle smile, “No problem, I enjoyed our talk,” he gave a small wave, “I’ll see you in the morning (l/n).”

“Y/n,” I mumbled. “Hm?” He hummed, “Call me y/n.”

“Alright then y/n,” he faced me completely and tilted his head closing his eyes as he smiled, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”

I gave nod and a small awkward wave as he laughed and turned to leave, sadly I didn’t know I was being watched. I enetered and let out a heavy shaky breath, that was a lot of effort. I made it to my dorm door and was stopped by Minas Pink hand grabbing my wrist, “Tell me everything.”

***********

I got ready in the morning, having been kept up all night by Mina as she squeezed everything out of me, my feelings, what happened, what I was going to, what I was going to wear, I don’t exactly have much of choice considering it’s STILL a school uniform. I made my way down the building to the front door where Mina was standing with my bag.

“Don’t take your bag! Carry a book! If he’s a real gentleman he’ll offer to carry it! I’ll take your bag for you!” She shoved a my English book and notebook into my hands, I felt myself start to shake.

“Mina!” I whined, “It’s nothing! I promise!” I felt like crying.

“Just try it please! Entertain my ships, Kaminari isn’t doing to good with my plans pLEASE!” She begged.

“Okay,” I gave in quickly and took the books rushing out before she started crying.

I ran straight into Mirio, “so hard,” I mumbled feeling plastered against his chest. He hands touched my shoulder and moved me back a little, “Are you okay y/n?”

I flushed and looked down, “Oh! Yeah.” I mumbled, why did I say my first name yesterday?!

“Well let’s get going then!” We started to walk and it wasn’t long until it came, “Do you need help? You don’t look to comfortable carrying those!” He said and took my books befor I answered, “thank you, my bag, was... being held hostage so I ended up carrying my books this morning.”

He laughed and I smiled, “That’s a weird one.” I smield slightly feeling a bit comfortable.

The weeks passed slowly, every morning meeting with Mirio, he’d carry my books we’d eat breakfast and talk briefly about my quirk, and that lasted the first day, after that he just started talking to me the rest of the week telling me stories about himself during breakfast and the walk to class. I found myself smiling meow openly and being able to look at him, every now and then I still looked away and get flustered at just his bright smile. That wa sinful one day I bumped into someone while we walked to my class.

“Watch where your going idiot!” I stepped behind Mirio and held his hand with both of my knees weak and shaking.

“Mirio,” I whispered tears stinging my eyes as the guy got closer glaring at me as I moved further behind Mirio.

“Hey!” He smacked a hand on the shoulder of the guy, “We don’t wanna cause any trouble! I’m sorry my friend here bumped into you.” He smiled and the guy just scoffed.

“Whatever just make your girlfriend watches where she walks.” He turned and left and I sighed still squeezing his hand.

“Thanks Mirio.” I didn’t want to let go.

“No problem, now let’s get you to class, but you should watch where your going.” He said and brought his free hand to pay my head.

We got to class, my knees still a little weak, as he stood by the door, he waved at Midoriya and I didn’t let go of his hand, I clung, I couldn’t fight the feeling of comfort I got from holding his hand. He pulled me to the door, “Clas is starting soon you should get to your seat.”

He smiled and I nodded looking up at him, another cliche blush on my cheeks, “Right,” I nodded. “I’ll come by for lunch.” He called as he leaned into the classroom and disappeared. I felt the stares boring into me before Mina said it, “SO IS IT OFFICIAL?”

I tilted my head, “What?”

“You WERE HOLDING HIS HAND!” She shook me by the shoulders.

“It’s kinda obvious,” Denki shrugged in his seat, “What’s obvious?” I asked.

“That’s you two are dating dumbass.” My face went blank at Bakugo’s words.

“Dating?” I asked and looked at Mina, “YES!” She screamed.

“No, were not I j-” and class started.

***********

For the next two months I found myself being freed from the shell that held my captive, I smield more and laughed with Mirio, and my heart, always felt calm and content hearing his terribly cheesy jokes, but it didn’t change the fact that when it came to talking I was a mess, I couldn’t make eye contact and I speaking became more than just a chore.

But here we are, walking the trail behind the school around evening, “hey y/n, you’re a girl.”

“Mm, yes, I am.” I answered looking ahead at the sunset, “So how do girls like getting love confessions? In public? private? Letter? Out loud? Because there’s this girl, I didn’t know when, but I think I fell in love with her.” My heart sank, it’s probably Nejire... “We started off as friends, and I don’t know when but know when I talk to her it’s the highlight of my day, her smile, her laugh.” Definitely sounds like Nejire... “I don’t know how she does it but now I feel like if she leaves my life, it’ll be like the sun will never coming back up.”

“Oh, well,” I shrugged feeling a bit bitter, “Most girls like letters usually in private, something to keep, but honestly, even with the way I am, I’d love to get a vocal confession infront of someone, I feel like it shows their not afraid to say it or prove it.” I shrugged.

“Huh, that’s great advice,” he pat my head and smield, “I’ll keep that in mind.

***********

Another month passed and Mirio kept me company on the walks to school, class, lunch, breakfast, dorms and everywhere else he could squeeze in. The time we spent together started to add up and I can see why people thought we were dating especially my class that saw all of this happening, as this point I couldn’t deny it, I could but they wouldn’t believe me anyways. I sigehd day dreaming about what a love confession would feel coming from someone who genuinely meant it.

I tried to pay attention in class but I couldn’t, Midnight definitely caught on to this having called me out three times. Each time I was scolded and teased by Mina about day dreaming of my ‘boyfriend,’ sadly, I couldn’t say he was. I was deflated, defeated feeling when I watched him walk to my class with Nejire, beside him, “y/n! I hope you don’t mind Nejire is joining us!” He smield and I smield back feeling weak.

“No problem, the more the merrier right?” I lied.

We spent lunch eating, they talked and I just poked around at my food, I didn’t give much thought on the conversion until I noticed Mirio stepping into his chair and then the table. He smield and got everyone’s attention before he started, “I want everyone to know this!” He screamed.

“Right now, I’m about to tell the most beautiful girl in my eyes that I love her I want everyone to know that I’m not afraid or ashamed to do it!” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, Nejire looked up at him stars in her eyes. I sulked looked down at my food, feeling a familiar sting in my nose.

“Every morning I wake up and the first thing I do is think about your smile, and your laugh, you always seem full of life and I love that about you. The way fidget when your anxious and the way you cling to me when your anxious or nervous always make me feel like I could be so much better than hero. Our endless conversations and the time we’ve spent together never leave me. When I always feel like I’m at my lowest or to the point of defeat I remember your smile and encouraging words and I know I have so much more to fight for. I love the way you smile, the way your eyes shine when you let the passion flow. This might be embarrassing especially infront of everyone here but I wouldn’t do it any other way, I want everyone to know how much I love you, and care for you, so,” he paused, “Nejire,” I felt the tears drop and looked straight down, I heard Mina gasping and then curing along with a few recognizable mumbles from my class mates.

“Please move so I can’t get to y/n.” I got whiplash form how fast I looked up at him, he saw the tears in my eyes his face softened, he whispered a she jumped down, “y/n?” He took my face in his hands thumbs wiping the tears, “Will you be my girlfriend.”

I smield as tears feel and his eyes widened, “Mirio,” a shaky breath, “Id love to.” He smield and crushed me in a hug, I hugged his chest and felt him kiss the top of my head.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, “you can cry if you want to, I’ll be here for you always.” He rubbed my back and I just smiled against his chest letting the tears fall.

“I don’t know when I fell for you, but I know, I’d never change it.” He whispered.

“I love you,” I mumbled, “and your cheesy jokes.”

He laughed and I could feel smield as he squeezed a bit harder, “good because I never run out.”

💛💙💙🤍🤍💛💛💙💛💛🤍🤍💙💙💛

I hope you like it 🖤

167 notes · View notes

the-original-b · 3 years

Text

Just a bit of fun screwing around in Photo Mode

V brought his Avenger to a stop at the opening of the alleyway, just like he’d done a thousand times before on thousand different nights. Any other time he’d have ignored his gut feeling that something was terribly wrong there and kept driving, but he couldn’t walk away this time. He’d just beaten three teeth out of a ripper who’d pointed out this exact corner of Arroyo as the epicenter of something rotten. It hit his nose the moment he stopped the engine and stepped out of the car--the stench of neoamphetamine. The 6th Street Gang was up to no-good.

They made him the moment they saw him, and drew their guns to greet him with a hail of bullets. V replied with his own, each pull of the trigger sending shock waves up the metal bones of his mechanized arms and waking the night sky with flash and thunder.

It wouldn’t be long before all of Santo Domingo was on him. He had to move quickly--not a problem given his implants and augmentations.

But eventually that wouldn’t matter. Eventually his luck would run out, and it wouldn’t matter how durable the armor in his coat was. He would become a statistic, just one more in the pile of bodies Night City claimed daily.

When it was over he scanned the barrels of raw material around him, and identified several sporting Arasaka’s logo. Why would they supply 6th Street with the materials, V thought to himself. Do they even know? Dumb question, of course they do. But nobody who can do anything about it would believe it anyway, or confront them. He needed something more concrete, something physical he could touch and present as irrefutable evidence.

And after his most recent dance with death, he needed a joytoy on Jig-jig Street.

Not just any toy, he needed her, a pretty thing named Amber who’d entertained more than her share of drug peddlers and corpo-rats. He knew better than most that Amber had a way with people, getting them to spill their deepest secrets, and if anybody could get him reliable information on a corporate-sponsored drug trade takeover, it was her. She was the only person he could trust in this city.

He passed the usual merchandise on display to head to where he’d always seen her before, but she was gone. Still, for as long as she’d been working that corner, she’d have had friends there.

Friends who could point V in a direction.

Dark Matter. The upscale lounge that just opened up half a kilometer south, a stone’s pitch from Corpo Plaza. Amber had come a long way from shaking her tail in some Watson sin bin.

He spotted her, beside the main stage where the more seasoned patrons knew the upper-tier merchandise was on display. They locked eyes from across the atrium and V made his way toward her, a smirk pilling at his lip.

“Vergil,” she charmed, crossing her shapely legs as she placed her champagne flute on the bar. “Good to see you again.”

“Amber...” he said. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

He was right about her, and whatever feelings were left were mutual. She freely divulged everything to him--Arasaka, Militech, Kang Tao, they were all in bed together, funding the lower gangs and their illicit activities to pit them against each other, then taking over whatever turf is left from their skirmishes bit by bit. She even named an ex-Arasaka employee who had all the details written.

“You sure I can’t convince you to stay?” she offered with a libidinous smirk.

“Any other night,” V said.

“I’ve got a job to do.”

He’d gotten there five minutes early, the rendezvous point in North Oak where she said he’d be waiting, to find nothing but a smoldering wreck and half a headless corpse. Arasaka had gotten to him first, eliminating the mole and erasing the evidence, and framing it as an accident. Or cyberpsychosis, V thought, whichever the media can better sell. He sighed and turned back for the Avenger; in his mind’s eye, he could see Yorinobu Arasaka’s smug shit-eating grin grow wider as his best chance to take them all down shrunk into his rear-view mirror.

V reflected on all he’d lost, the friends, family, and lovers Night City took from him. He remembered how an old friend once described this place as a “machine fueled by people’s crushed spirits, broken dreams, and emptied pockets.” The good guys seldom win here, and if they do Night City just comes back stronger and swallows them whole. He was born here, figured he’d probably die here. But before that he’d make sure Night City--no, the world, remembered him.

This was just a quick yarn I spun in the spirit of fun, my attempt at a pulp noir one-shot with no real beginning or end. I have no intention of continuing it or doing it again, I was just screwing around in Photo Mode here.

B out.

#Cyberpunk 2077 #photo mode #quick story #noir

2 notes · View notes

xhanisai · 5 years

Text

Puppeteer 2.0 rewrite

I was inspired by all these fix-it fics for Puppeteer 2.0 and thought: "Hey! How would this play out in my Dark Adrien AU?". I personally enjoyed the episode but I think Marinette deserves a break from all the embarrassment that she endured from the very beginning ;-;

As we already know, Adrien figured out Ladybug's identity from the beginning but now, in this period of time, Marinette has figured out Chat's. Neither know that the other knows. The whole misunderstanding each other does happen (Adrien starting to think that Marinette no longer loves him (THANK YOU FOR THAT LAHIFFE) whilst Marinette feels pressured to confess in a situation she has no control over). Enjoy~

"I am very cool, I am VERY cool-" Marinette yelped and jumped midway as soon as she spotted Adrien in front of her. Stammering his name out a few times, she spun her arms around in wild gestures but then calmed down at her revelation.

"Phew, it's just a statue," She chuckled to herself lightly, trotting closer.

Adrien mentally pat himself on the back for being able to pull off his stunt, anticipating for a good moment to come alive and give Mari a scare.

That way they can laugh it off, he'll pull a smooth line, she'll blush and then he'll kiss those kissable lips-

"Strange...I don't think I saw this one on the way to the toilet..." It took everything for Adrien to not twitch when her eyes turned calculating.

'Uh-Oh...' He thought pathetically.

"Out of all them, he seems so realistic and..." The girl placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it gently and trailed it down to his jaw. He couldn't blink. He couldn't swallow. He couldn't breathe. "...Warm..."

'Well fuck. I'm busted.' He allowed one more melancholy thought and was about to break out of his stance.

Marinette's next actions made him pause instead.

Comically, in a way that was pure Marinette, she glared to the left and then to the right, slipping her hand into her purse and in turn, her lips smoothed into a smirk that screamed 'LADYBUG!'.

"Shame that you're not my real hot stuff,"

'HER WHAT NOW!?'

One hand stroked his chest in a way that had his heart pounding painfully whilst the other hand let its finger stroke his lips. His knees nearly buckled at the contact. This isn't what he expected at all!

"But I've always wanted to do this to you...guess I'll just use you, dear wax figure as practise,"

Her voice dropped down to a breathy whisper as she spoke, inching closer and closer. Her lips appearing even pinker and deliciously glossed yet Adrien's body refused to move despite his mind wailing to jump her and kiss her senseless.

Marinette's eyes fluttered close, her eyelashes fluttered against his skin, deeming it safe for Adrien's eyes to follow suit.

Her warm breath hit against his lips and the boy mourned the loss of inhaling her sweet saccharine scent that always accompanied her. Though, the silver lining overpowered the loss; after all he's gonna get some lip action from his future wife- not that she knows about it or anything.

Adrien didn't get the chance to savour the subtle contact of her lips upon his.

A cold, sticky and wet streak against his cheek snapped the blonde out of his daze, forcing him to jump back remarkably far with a gasp.

It didn't end there.

He tripped backwards on one of the statues, caught himself by grabbing another's faux arm, causing it to crumble under his weight and the boy found himself tripping inside a convenient yet terribly placed bin.

Adrien stared out at the ceiling, his mind still in shock and his legs tragically dangling out the thankfully clean but cramped bin. Marinette's laughing in the background didn't make the situation any better and if he was Chat Noir right now, Adrien's faux ears would've been dropping.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. Help me get out of this, please." The boy's deadpanned tone only encouraged the girl to chortle even louder to the point where she was gasping for air. He could even feel Plagg vibrating in his pocket, clearly cackling along too.

Finally, Marinette's dishevelled face appeared above the bin he was oh-so comfortably reclining in, lipgloss in one hand and the other bunched up in a fist against her lips to stop snickering. He eyed the cosmetic with malice fit for a feline, understanding where the slick sticky stuff came from.

"If you take a photo, I will carry you like a sack of potatoes and parade all around Paris like that." Marinette burst out laughing again at his attempt at threatening before shaking her head and tugging the model out in one pull by the arm.

"Pfffft I'm not- Haha- not that mean! I wouldn't even wish such embarrassment upon Lila! Hahah!" She was now clutching onto him, trying not to collapse into a fit of giggles again by the mental image of her Chaton stuck like the alley cat he is.

"I hope that's because you know she deserves worse?" He was met with a mock glare from his Lady till she rolled her eyes fondly and sat down on a bench, trying to catch her breath.

"Why were you pretending to be a statue, Ch- ehem! Adrien?" Marinette amended her slip up with a fake cough and then plastered a sugary smile, ignoring how the boy cocked up an eyebrow. Much to her relief, he thought nothing of it till he retorted with:

"I dunno, maybe you can entertain me about your wildest fantasies of- mmmhm- attacking my poor face with strawberry lip gloss?" The way he licked his lips midway his sentence and let them turn into a sinister smirk towards the end, froze Marinette on the spot.

She felt the blood rush to her face immediately at the hidden meaning behind his question.

Adrien relished in her embarrassment, sitting right next to her on the bench so teasingly close. Resting a hand on her leg, he leaned into her face.

"Or did your fantasies include my lips getting stolen by you in a breathless kiss, Marinette?"

He was pure Chat Noir right now, making his words sinful yet alluring. Marinette only needed to tilt her head forward so that the hero could claim her lips-

CRASH!

The duo whipped away abruptly only to gawk at the last person they expected to come across.

"LE PAPILLON!?"

~(x)~

Of course after getting cockblocked by Papa-illon, the rest goes according to canon (Chat shows visible joy in slicing up the wax akumas and stomped on Papillon's face for good measures, much to Ladybug's dismay). During the car scene, the duo confess that they were joking with one another but when Adrien inquires about the kiss, Marinette blatantly denies that it happened. She looks away defiantly because she knows that Adrien knows she's lying. He simply replies with "You could've taken me to dinner first~" earning a light slap on his arm and their hands entwined. Hope you lot enjoyed~

#my writing #my fanfics #dark adrien au #ml #mlb #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #Adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #adrinette #this was fun to write #puppeteer 2.0

235 notes · View notes

bluewatsons · 4 years

Text

Michael A. Peters, Wittgenstein and the ethics of suicide: Homosexuality and Jewish self-hatred in fin de siècle Vienna, 51 Edu Phil & Theory 981 (2019)

If suicide is allowed, then everything is allowed. If anything is not allowed, then suicide is not allowed. This throws a light on the nature of ethics, for suicide is, so to speak, the elementary sin. And when one investigates it is like investigating mercury vapours in order to investigate the nature of vapours. —Wittgenstein, L. Notebooks 1914–1916, Tr. G.E.M. Anscombe. Harper: New York, 1961, p. 91

Introduction

One of Ludwig Wittgenstein’s cousins and three of his four brothers committed suicide. Hans committed suicide most likely throwing himself from a boat in Chesapeake Bay in May 1902, having run away from home. Rudi committed suicide in a Berlin bar, administering himself cyanide poisoning in 1904, most probably because of homosexuality that he referred to as ‘perverted disposition’ in a suicide note. Kurt shot himself in 1918 at the end of the war when his troops deserted en masse.

The profound influences upon young Ludwig were the physicist Ludwig Boltzmann who committed suicide in 1906 and Otto Weininger, author of Sex and Character, who committed suicide in 1903. For the most part, these suicides were committed before Ludwig had turned 15. Young Ludwig was also profoundly influenced by Schopenhauer who he read while still at school. Schopenhauer denied that suicide was immoral and instead saw it as the last supreme act of freedom and assertion of the will in ending one’s life. In ‘On Suicide’ in Studies in Pessimism, Schopenhauer writes that none of the Jewish religions ‘look upon suicide as a crime’. Yet, these religious thinkers:

tell us that suicide is the greatest piece of cowardice; that only a madman could be guilty of it; and other insipidities of the same kind; or else they make the nonsensical remark that suicide is wrong; when it is quite obvious that there is nothing in the world to which every mail has a more unassailable title than to his own life and person.1 https://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/s/schopenhauer/arthur/pessimism/chapter3.html

Schopenhauer remarks ‘the inmost kernel of Christianity is the truth that suffering – the Cross – is the real end and object of life. Hence Christianity condemns suicide as thwarting this end ... ’ As Jacquette (2000) notes, despite his profound pessimism Schopenhauer rejects suicide ‘as an unworthy affirmation of the will to life by those who seek to escape rather than seek nondiscursive knowledge of Will in suffering’ (p. 43). Young Ludwig while of Jewish origins was baptised a Catholic. It is well known that Wittgenstein loses his faith while still at school.

Wittgenstein entertained thoughts of suicide from his early teenage years throughout his life. This suicidal ideation came to the fore even more intensely, if we are to judge from his letters to Paul Englemann, during the years he spent as an elementary school teacher in the mountain villages of Austria. In the period 1919 when he trained as a teacher until 1926 when he abruptly resigned after hitting a boy who fell unconscious as a result, Wittgenstein suffered intense bouts of depression (Peters, 2017).

This essay is devoted to the question: in view of his suffering and the Jewish cult of suicide in fin de siecle Vienna why did Wittgenstein not take his own life? I investigate this question focusing on Wittgenstein’s sources of suffering around what I call his ‘double identity crisis’ caused by his homosexuality and his Jewish self-hatred.

Identity crisis; suicide in Vienna

Under the heading ‘Suicide Squad’ Jim Holt (2009) reviewing Alexander Waugh’s The House of Wittgenstein: A Family at War begins rather sensationally with the following:

“A tense and peculiar family, the Oedipuses,” a wag once observed. Well, when it comes to dysfunction, the Wittgensteins of Vienna could give the Oedipuses a run for their money. The tyrannical family patriarch was Karl Wittgenstein (1847-1913), a steel, banking and arms magnate. He and his timorous wife, Leopoldine, brought nine children into the world. Of the five boys, three certainly or probably committed suicide and two were plagued by suicidal impulses throughout their lives. Of the three daughters who survived into adulthood, two got married; both husbands ended up insane and one died by his own hand. Even by the morbid standards of late Hapsburg Vienna these are impressive numbers. But tense and peculiar as the Wittgensteins were, the family also had a strain of genius. Of the two sons who didn’t kill themselves, one, Paul (1887-1961), managed to become an internationally celebrated concert pianist despite the loss of his right arm in World War I. The other, Ludwig (1889-1951), was the greatest philosopher of the 20th century. https://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/01/books/review/Holt-t.html

At the end of World War I, troops under the command of Wittgenstein’s second oldest brother, Kurt, rebelled against his orders, and Kurt became the third brother to commit suicide. This is how Waugh describes the suicide of Rudi, a 22-year-old chemistry student at the Berlin Academy:

At 9.45 on the evening of May 2, 1904, Rudi walked into a restaurant-bar on Berlin’s Brandenburgstrasse, ordered two glasses of milk and some food, which he ate in a state of noticeable agitation. When he had finished, he asked the waiter to send a bottle of mineral water to the pianist with instructions for him to play the popular Thomas Koschat number, Verlassen, verlassen, verlassen bin ich. As the music wafted across the room, Rudolf took from his pocket a sachet of clear crystal compound and dissolved the contents into one of his glasses of milk. The effects of potassium cyanide when ingested are instant and agonising: a tightening of the chest, a terrible burning sensation in the throat, immediate discoloration of the skin, nausea, coughing and convulsions. Within two minutes Rudolf was slumped back on his chair unconscious. The landlord sent customers out in search of doctors. Three of them arrived, but too late for their ministrations to take effect. https://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/3559463/The-Wittgensteins-Viennese-whirl.html

His father forbade any mention of Rudolf in the Wittgenstein household, a decision that caused a rift between parents and children. Johannes ‘Hans’ the eldest son had died in a canoe- ing incident in America. As Waugh (2010: 29) writes: ‘the most likely scenario is that he did indeed commit suicide somewhere outside Austria, that the family had prior intimations, or direct warnings, of his suicidal intent, and that the spur that induced them to declare openly that he had taken his life was the very public death in Vienna, on October 4, 1903, of a 23-year-old philosopher called Otto Weininger. Weininger’s suicide caused a significant stir in Viennese society. The newspapers ran pages of commentary about him, and his reputation rose from that of obscure controversialist to national celebrity in a matter of days. All the Wittgensteins read his book.’

Weininger (1903/2005) had a profound influence on Wittgenstein through his notorious Sex and Character that he wrote and published in 1903. The book argues that all people are fundamentally bisexual and all individuals are composed of a mixture - the male aspect is active, productive, conscious and moral/logical, while the female aspect is passive, unproductive, unconscious, amoral and alogical. While emancipation is only possible for ‘masculine women’ it is the duty of the male to strive to become, a genius forging sexuality for the abstract love of God in which he can find himself. He was a Jewish convert to Christianity, and Weininger analysed Jewishness in terms of feminine qualities, later used by the Nazis. Weininger was a tormented soul who became a cult figure influencing a wide range of people. His genius was acknowledged by ‘Ford Maddox Ford, James Joyce, Franz Kafka, Karl Kraus, Charlotte Perkins- Gilman, Gertrude Stein, and August Strindberg’ as well as William Carlos Williams, Freud and Hitler (Stern & Szabados, 2004). He was a deep misogynist, an anti-Semite and self-loather (Rider, 2013). He also deeply influenced Wittgenstein, who writes:

I think there is some truth in my idea that I am really only reproductive in my thinking. I think I have never invented a line of thinking but that it was always provided for me by someone else & I have done no more than passionately take it up for my work of clarification. That is how Boltzmann Hertz Schopenhauer Frege, Russell, Kraus, Loos Weininger Spengler, Sraffa have influenced me. (CV, 16)

Engaging the work of Otto Weininger (1880–1903), one of the most widely discussed authors of fin-de-siece Vienna, can help illuminate this sense of a ‘crisis of the subject’ and its relation- ship to the world that informed so much of Vienna’s cultural production and debate at the time. Of all the books Wittgenstein read in his adolescence Weininger’s Sex and Character has the greatest influence (Monk 1990, p. 25). Achinger (2013, p. 121) reads Weininger through the lens of Critical Theory to suggest ‘viewing “the Woman” and “the Jew” as outward projections of different, but related contradictions within the constitution of the modern subject itself.’ She goes on to argue:

More specifically, “Woman” comes to embody the threat to the (masculine) bourgeois individual emanating from its own embodied existence, from “nature” and libidinal impulses. “The Jew,” on the other hand, comes to stand for historical developments of modern society that make themselves more keenly felt towards the end of the nineteenth century and threaten to undermine the very forms of individuality and independence that had previously been produced by this society. Such a reading of Geschlecht und Charakter not only can help illuminate the crisis of the bourgeois individual at the turn of the twentieth century, but also could contribute to ongoing discussions on why modern society, although based on seemingly universalist conceptions of subjectivity, continues to produce difference and exclusion along the lines of gender and race.

Certainly, such a critical interpretation coheres with the reading of a ‘double identity crisis’ facing the younger Wittgenstein growing up in fin d’siecle Vienna. Le Rider (1990) argues ‘The crisis of the individual, experienced as an identity crisis, is at the heart of all questions we find in literature and the humane sciences’ (p. 1) and remarks that ‘Viennese modernism can be interpreted as an anticipation of certain important ‘postmodern’ themes’ (p. 6). He has in mind, for instance, the way in which Wittgenstein’s philosophy of language ‘deconstructs the subject as author and judge of his own semantic intentions’ (p. 28). He remarks in terms of the crisis of identity how Wittgenstein, ‘like all assimilated Jewish intellectuals, found his Jewish identity a problem’ and the problem of his Jewish identity was coupled with a crisis of sexual identity, when at least at some periods of his life he sought refuge from his homosexual tendencies in a kind of Tolstoyan asceticism (p. 295). He suggests:

Wittgenstein, who ... looked back nostalgically on a well-ordered world where everyone had his place, found modernity uncultured because it had lost its power to integrate, and left individuals in a state of confusion. The only ones who can keep their balance and personal creativity are those whom Nietzsche calls the strong men, that is the most moderate, who need neither convictions nor religion, who are able not only to endure, but to accept a fair amount of chance and absurdity, and are capable of thinking in a broadly disillusioned and negative way without feeling either diminished or discouraged. (p. 296)

He argues that the consequences of this double crisis of identity, much more than is commonly accepted, are intimately tied up with the fundamentals of his thought and with a number of his intellectual preoccupations: his interest in Weininger and in psychoanalysis, his mystical tendencies, but also his reflections on genius, on the self, and on ethics^ı (p. 296). The importance that Le Rider(1993) places upon Nietzsche as part of the cultural fabric of Viennese modernism exericised upon a young Wittgenstein is borne out by other scholars of fin-de-siecle Vienna.

There is a kind of Wittgensteinian hagiography that for years has prevented the investigation of these questions which is of itself an interesting question in the anthropology of philosophy, especially that form of analysis that insists on a sharp separation between the man and the work. This line of argument suggests that the realm of ideas properly belongs to that of the mind that can be discussed dispassionately and in a technical way that pays attention to the space of arguments and the structure of argumentation; while the realm of biography belongs to that of the body, to the temporal dimension of existence emphasising its finitude. Thus, the mind-body dualism lives on and also prevents the influence of arguments and observations of psychobiography on philosophy per se.

Viennese Modernism has attracted much scholarly and public interest in recent decades, in part because some of the most enduring works of art, literature, and philosophy produced in Vienna around the turn of the last century question key concepts of liberalism and Enlightenment – such as the notions of progress, of the coherent and rational subject, and of a stable and unproblematic relationship between subject and world in which language is nothing but a neutral and transparent mediator – in ways that seem to prefigure contemporary debates. There are many stories of Jewish artists and philosophers who wrestled with identity issues in a hostile social and intellectual environment of Vienna sometimes internalising aspects of anti- Semitic ideology that no doubt propelled many to seek a new Christianised identity to help mask the transition. How Gustav Mahler, a Bohemian-Jewish artist of genius, responds to the challenges of a German culture that he has appropriated completely but into which he is never fully accepted is the subject of Niekerk’s (2013) Reading Mahler: German Culture and Jewish Identity in Fin-de-Siecle Vienna. Mahler was a frequent visitor to the Wittgenstein mansion when Wittgenstein was a boy. Mahler’s own artistic endeavours are determined by the complex responses to Goethe, the Romantics, Wagner, and, above all, Nietzsche and to rewrite German Romanticism at a time when German cultural history was dominated by Wagner’s anti-Semitic views. Another example is Fritz Waerndorfer who wanted to ‘His House for an Art Lover’ to ‘establish himself as an important participant in the Viennese avant-garde scene but also to promote a new artistic agenda’ and wished ‘to establish a new identity for himself as an assimilated Jew through the modernist redesign’ (Shapira, 2006).

Jewish self-hatred and homosexuality

The question of Jewish self-hatred has been an enduring issue for many years. Paul Reitter (2009: 359), author of The Anti-Journalist: Karl Kraus and Jewish Self-Fashioning in Fin-de-Siecle Europe (2008) indicates

The tendency not to lean too heavily on anyone else’s theory of Jewish self-hatred has no doubt helped a fairly small discussion produce a wide range of interpretive strategies: social psychological (Lewin), psychoanalytic (Gay), psycho-historical (Liebenberg), intellectual historical (Hallie), “topological” (Gilman), and cultural historical (Edelman and Volker).

He refers to Gilman’s (1986) Jewish Self-Hatred that ‘it is only natural, that where some measure of integration is a desideratum, and there is also bigotry in the ‘majority culture’, minority self-loathing will occur’ (Reitter, 2009: 360). He argues Gilman, like W.E. B. Du Bois before him, attempts to explain how ‘German Jews came to ‘accept’ and ‘internalize’ a distorted, decidedly negative image of their own group.’ Du Bois, as Reitter (2009: 360) reports, writes: ‘But the facing of so vast a prejudice could not but bring the inevitable self-questioning, self-disparagement, and lowering of ideals which ever accompany repression and breed in an atmosphere of contempt and hate’ (cited in Reiter, 2009). He quotes from Endelman, who as he remarks is an eminent historian of European Jewry:

Self-hating Jews were converts, secessionists, and radical assimilationists who, not content with disaffiliation from the community, felt compelled to articulate how far they had travelled from their origins by echoing anti-Semitic views, by proclaiming their distaste for those from whom they wished to dissociate them- selves. What set them apart from other radical assimilationists was that, having cut their ties, they were unable to move on and forget their Jewishness. (cited in Reitter, 2009: 366).

Reitter (2009) wants to retrace the evolution of the term ‘Jewish self-hatred’ as a more polite concept than ‘Jewish antisemitism’ with redemptive possibilities. The question is complex and the hypothesis that Jews who harboured such a negative self-image and possessed such a strong desire to be accepted in a society that was covertly and residually hostile to Jews’ might be true but it risks becoming ‘a rhetorical weapon to critics of assimilation’, as Janik (2013 Janich (2013, p.143) suggests in a review of Rietter. He refers to David Sorkin and Steven Beller, who ‘have provided us with accounts of how vigorous Jewish criticism of Jewish life, Socratic self-criticism, was part and parcel of a self-consciously Jewish ‘enlightenment’ (haskalah) from the time of Moses Mendelssohn.’

Wittgenstein’s Jewish self-loathing is a complex affair. David Stern (2001: 237) asks:

Did Ludwig Wittgenstein consider himself a Jew? Should we? Wittgenstein repeatedly wrote about Jews and Judaism in the 1930s (Wittgenstein 1980/1998, 1997) and the biographical studies of Wittgenstein by Brian McGuinness (1988), Ray Monk (1990), and Szabados (1992, 1995, 1997, 1999) make it clear that this writing about Jewishness was a way in which he thought about the kind of person he was and the nature of his philosophical work.

He answers his own question by reference to Brian McGuinness’ Young Ludwig (1889-1921) – ‘First, Wittgenstein did, on occasion, speak of himself as a Jew’ especially in relation to Weininger’s writings on Jewish character in a series of now famous remarks made in the 1930s recorded in Culture and Value. Second, ‘Wittgenstein did, on occasion, deny his Jewishness, and this was a charged matter for him’ (p. 239), in particular in his confessions to family and friends in 1936 and 1937 when he refers to his misrepresentation of his Jewish ancestry. Stern later comments: ‘Is there a connection between Wittgenstein’s writing on Jews and his philosophy? What did he mean when he spoke of himself as a “Jewish thinker” in 1931?’ (p. 265) and concludes

Wittgenstein’s problematic Jewishness is as much a product of our problematic concerns as his. There is no doubt that Wittgenstein was of Jewish descent; it is equally clear that he was not a practicing Jew. Insofar as he thought of himself as Jewish, he did so in terms of the anti-Semitic prejudices of his time (p. 269).

Wittgenstein’s sexuality also caused him much anguish and led to bouts of homosexual self- loathing. In Austria and the United Kingdom homosexuality was still outlawed and considered not only a crime but also a psychiatric treatable condition. There were many risks associated with homosexuality and even with writing about in as late as the 1970s. William W. Bartley III (1973) published his book on Wittgenstein that included references to Wittgenstein being gay, much to the dismay of the philosophical establishment that tried to ban such discussion and to deny that there was any link at all between his work and his sexuality and the feelings it generated. Barley made a few off-hand remarks about Wittgenstein’s promiscuous homosexuality while he was training to be a teacher in Vienna. The evidence for this claim has never been established (Monk, 2018).

Wittgenstein had relationships with David Pinsent in 1912, with Francis Skinner in the 1930s and Ben Richards in the late 1940s. The first was purely Platonic or unconsummated and it is unclear to what extent the other two relationships involved physical expressions of love. It has been a major problem in Wittgenstein studies to address and analyse his sexuality and homo- sexuality as though somehow Wittgenstein’s sexual feelings tainted the ascetic moral ideal that had been built around him as a philosopher. It is interesting the extent to which perspectives have changed – not only societal values and the embrace of gay and transsexual rights but also the legitimacy of sexual autobiography in relation to questions of philosophy. The fact that Michel Foucault was gay by contrast is considered strongly to influence his outlook and his work, and he is celebrated because of it. It was a very significant part of his work in his genealogical studies of the history of sexuality and coloured his view of women’s sexuality. For Wittgenstein, a generation older, the societal reaction was quite vicious and Wittgenstein agonised over his sexuality, without ever addressing it, even though there was an underground acceptance of homosexuality at Cambridge.

There is little doubt of Wittgenstein’s homosexuality or its importance in understanding the man. The more difficult question is the effects of his homosexuality on his philosophy and on his relationships when he was a teacher. Psychoanalytically, much could be made of this personal secrecy and the need to preserve confessional material from prying eyes that might be very damaging. The question is fundamental yet there is no extant work that risks analysis in relation to Wittgenstein to my knowledge. Sex and language as a particular focus of a wider debate on the issue of gender and language now seems almost commonplace. Wittgenstein may have taken some relief from Freud’s analysis of the bisexual nature of human beings where everyone is attracted to both sexes yet Freud’s determinism in ascribing biological and psycho- logical factors on the basis of deep libidinal sexual drives making it difficult to change would have raised questions for Wittgenstein at the point he was trying to change.

Gay male culture began to flourish in the late nineteenth century in 1920s Vienna (sodomy was still an imprisonable offence) and sexologists like Krafft-Ebing and Freud had begun to codify homosexual identity and to see it as a ‘perversion’. There were still very strong taboos in place when Wittgenstein was a teacher. It was not until the 1970s after the ‘Gay Holocaust’ that gay and lesbian activism saw a resurgence. Had Wittgenstein’s homosexuality been known at this time it would almost certainly would have led to his vilification. This anti-gay environment in general society and in teaching forced Wittgenstein’s sexual identity ruminations underground. Derek Jarman’s (1993) witty depiction of the gay ‘Wittgenstein’ is a path-breaking dramatic analysis of Wittgenstein’s opening up as a gay man.2

Wittgenstein on suicide

‘The Ethics of Suicide Digital Archive’ is an exhaustive work accompanying the book prepared by the philosopher Margaret Pabst Battin from the University of Utah3 that begins:

Is suicide wrong, always wrong, or profoundly morally wrong? Or is it almost always wrong but excusable in a few cases? Or is it sometimes morally permissible? Is it not intrinsically wrong at all, though perhaps often imprudent? Is it sick? Is it a matter of mental illness? Is it a private or a social act? Is it something the family, community, or society should always try to prevent, or could ever expect of a person? Could it sometimes be a “noble duty”? Or is it solely a personal matter, perhaps a matter of right based in individual liberties, or even a fundamental human right? https://ethicsofsuicide.lib.utah.edu/introduction/

The Digital Archive acts as comprehensive sourcebook, providing a collection of primary texts on the ethics of suicide in both the Western and non-Western traditions, with an archive based on Wittgenstein’s Notebooks 1914–16 and Letters. The introduction to these texts is prefaced by a note on Wittgenstein’s feelings about suicide during the years 1912–13 when how spent time with David Hume Pinsent, a friend, collaborator and Plantonic lover of Wittgenstein.

Wittgenstein friend and collaborator David Hume Pinsent, with whom he traveled on holidays together, describes Wittgenstein’s frequent thoughts of suicide at numerous places in his own diary. In Pinsent’s entry for June 1, 1912, he notes that Wittgenstein told him that he had suffered from terrific loneliness for the past nine years, that he had thought of suicide then, and that he felt ashamed of never daring to kill himself; according to Pinsent, Wittgenstein thought that he had had “a hint that he was de trop in this world.” In his entry for September 4, 1913, when they were traveling in Norway, Pinsent describes Wittgenstein as “really in an awful neurotic state: this evening he blamed himself violently and expressed the most piteous disgust with himself ... it is obvious he is quite incapable of helping these fits. I only hope that an out of doors life here will make him better: at present it is no exaggeration to say he is as bad–(in that nervous sensibility)–as people like Beethoven were. He even talks of having at times contemplated suicide.” In his entry for September 25, 1913, Pinsent reports that “This evening we got talking together about suicide–not that Ludwig was depressed or anything of the sort–he was quite cheerful all today. But he told me that all his life there had hardly been a day, in which he had not at one time or other thought of suicide as a possibility. He was really surprised when I said I never thought of suicide like that–and that given the chance I would not mind living my life so far–over again! He would not for anything.” (Italics in origin, https://ethicsofsuicide.lib.utah.edu/selections/wittgenstein/).

Pinsent (1891–918) was a descendent of Hume who gained a first class honours at Cambridge University in mathematics. Wittgenstein had only arrived at Cambridge to talk with Russell about whether he should take up philosophy in October 1911. During the Christmas vacation Wittgenstein comes to the end of a deep depression. He meets David Pinsent in Russell’s rooms and they quickly became friends, taking tea together, attending concerts, and making music. Within a month of meeting Wittgenstein proposed to Pinsent that they go on holiday together to Iceland in September 1912. They took a second holiday together at the same time in 1913 and were to meet in August 1914 before WWI intervened. As Preston (2018) has reported Wittgenstein received letters which he described as ‘sensuous’. Their relationship was fated when on May 8 1918 Pinsent is killed in an air accident while flying a de Havilland bi-plane. Preston writes:

In the immediate aftermath of Pinsent’s death, Wittgenstein was depressed to the point of planning to kill himself somewhere in the mountains in Austria. But at a railway station near Salzburg he bumped into his uncle Paul, who found him in a state of anguish, but saved him from the suicide he was planning. Wittgenstein kept in contact with Pinsent’s family at least until mid-1919, and probably beyond that. https://theconversation.com/how-ludwig-wittgensteins-secret-boyfriend-helped-deliver-the-philosophers-seminal-work-96557

Pinsent supported Wittgenstein and admired him. It seems clear that Wittgenstein was in love with Pinsent. He dedicated the Tractatus to him when it was published in 1921. Many of the reports on Wittgenstein’s depressed and suicidal state of mind during this period come from Wittgenstein’s letters and Pinsent’s diary.4

It is during this period that Wittgenstein (1961) comes to a resolution about suicide when he writes in what we know as the Notebooks 1914–1916

If suicide is allowed then everything is allowed. If anything is not allowed then suicide is not allowed. This throws a light on the nature of ethics, for suicide is, so to speak, the elementary sin. And when one investigates it it is like investigating mercury vapours in order to investigate the nature of vapours.

For Wittgenstein suicide is the paradigmatic case for ethics and while he seems to have entertained suicide as an idea from when he was a boy he steadfastly refuses to give into his despair. Suicide is an evasion of life and God’s will demands that we should come to terms with the facts as a moral task despite the sheer enormity of it and the difficulties of confronting one’s own nature. To his friend Paul Englemann (‘Mr E’ who edits the Letters) on May 30, 1920 he expresses how desperate he has become:

I feel like completely emptying myself again; I have had a most miserable time lately. Of course, only as a result of my own baseness and rottenness. I have continually thought of taking my own life, and the idea still haunts me sometimes. I have sunk to the lowest point.

And writing again to Mr E. he confesses that he is sinking more deeply into depression, that he is contemplating suicide but cannot will himself to take his own life:

I am beyond any outside help. – In fact I am in a state of mind that is terrible to me. I have been through it several times before: it is the state of not being able to get over a particular fact.... I know that to kill oneself is always a dirty thing to do. Surely one cannot will one’s own destruction, and anybody who has visualized what is in practice involved in the act of suicide knows that suicide is always a rushing of one’s own defenses. But nothing is worse than to be forced to take oneself by surprise.

One wonders about the state of mind of a man suffering from continual torment and living daily with the threat of suicide and his capacity to teach children under such circumstances. He writes to Keynes in October 18, 1925 just before the so-called Haibauer incident (hitting the boy):

I have resolved to remain a teacher as long as I feel that the difficulties I am experiencing might be doing me some good. When you have a toothache, the pain from the toothache is reduced by putting a hot water bottle to your face. But that works only as long as the heat hurts your face. I will throw away the bottle as soon as I notice that it no longer provides that special pain that does my character good.

Suicide could not be the answer for Wittgenstein. He had decided to learn to live with it as a test of his moral character. Paul Engelmann (1974) in a brief memoir writes:

Wittgenstein experienced the world as filled with ‘vile’ and ‘disgusting’ people, not exempting himself. He told David Pinsent, the close companion of his prewar years in Cambridge, that he felt he had ‘no right to live in an antipathetic world ... where he perpetually finds himself feeling contempt for others, and irritating others by his nervous temperament without some justification for that contempt etc. such as being a really great man and having done really great work.’ He began to think of suicide at the age of 10 or 11; a decade or so later he told Pinsent he ‘felt ashamed of never daring to kill himself,’ and in 1918 we find him ‘on his way to commit suicide somewhere.’ ....Though Wittgenstein eventually died of natural causes, he was clearly a tormented figure. His search for decency and honesty not only led him to give his entire fortune away but often took the form of browbeating others ... .

In The Myth of Sisyphus Albert Camus (1942/1997) declares ‘There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide’ (Il n’y a qu’un probl eme philosophique vraiment s erieux: c’est le suicide), a very similar definitive statement by Wittgenstein some forty years earlier: ‘Suicide is the elementary sin’. According to Schopenhauer, moral freedom – the highest ethical aim – is to be obtained only by a denial of the will to live. ‘When life is so burdensome, death has become for man a sought-after refuge’. Schopenhauer affirmed: ‘They tell us that suicide is the greatest act of cowardice... that suicide is wrong; when it is quite obvious that there is nothing in the world to which every man has a more unassailable title than to his own life and person’. Schopenhauer has a significant influence on Wittgenstein, especially in his the early period. Schroeder (2012, p. 367) notes that Schopenhauer influences his early thinking on ethics and the meaning of life:

His 1916 Notebook (NB 71–91) and the final pages of the Tractatus contain a number of echoes of Schopenhauer. Like him he describes aesthetic contemplation using Spinoza’s expression “sub specie aeterni[tatis]”; he repeats Schopenhauer’s criticism of the categorical imperative: that every imperative calls forth the question “And what if I do not do it?” (TLP 6.422); he also agrees with Schopenhauer (and Kant) that the good action should not be motivated by its consequences (TLP 6.422); like Schopenhauer he thinks that science cannot answer questions of value; like him he places “the solution of the riddle of life” outside space and time (TLP 6.4312), and like him he thinks that “what is higher” cannot ultimately be expressed in words. (TLP 6.432, 6.522)

Schroeder (2012) suggests that of greater philosophical importance are Schopenhauer’s thoughts on idealism and especially ‘world as idea’ (p. 368) and the notion that ‘the subject is ... a presupposition of [the world’s] existence’ (NB 79: 2.8.16) and the attendant idea that the metaphysical subject ‘cannot be encountered in experience’ but ‘must be identified with its experiences’ (p. 369). Wittgenstein came to identify both solipsism and idealism as errors, on the basis of early thinking for the private language argument. It seems the case that Schopenhauer did influence the early Wittgenstein’s thinking on suicide but this thought did not remain with him. Schroeder (2012, p. 380) writes:

As a young man, in times of crisis, trying to formulate his ethics and attitude towards life, he remembered and adopted various thoughts from Schopenhauer, some of which he tacked on to his logical-philosophical treatise; but they have very little to do with his philosophical achievements. His real debt to Schopenhauer lies elsewhere. For one thing, the young Wittgenstein was persuaded by Schopenhauer’s idealism (minus its transcendental side), and that proved extremely fruitful for his own thinking all through his life.

In ‘Wittgenstein, Schopenhauer and the metaphysics of suicide’ Modesto Gomez (2018) suggests,

the problems that Wittgenstein raised and the views that he emphatically endorsed are in keeping with his overarching transcendental conception of the metaphysical I, the fundamental character of ethics (NB, p. 79), the meaning of life, and the I as “the bearer of ethics” (NB, p. 80), as it is extensively advanced in the Notebooks 1914-1916 and tersely expressed in the Tractatus. Far from demanding further development, what Wittgenstein’s views on suicide would require is an appropriate background. Such considerations naturally stemmed from the core of the metaphysical picture that permeates Wittgenstein’s early writings. This picture is, in its essentials, Schopenhauer’s metaphysics of the Will (p. 299).

I think this is correct and there is no doubt that Schopenhauer was decisive in Wittgenstein’s early view of suicide but, at the same time, this ought not to detract from the biographical and autobiographical in explaining Wittgenstein ethics of suicide. Here, it is difficult to deny that Wittgenstein’s own experiences did not have an effect on his existential philosophy.

Notes

Schopenhauer writes that suicide is accounted a crime in England which is “followed by an ignominious burial and the seizure of the man’s property” and most often occasions a verdict of insanity.

http://www.openculture.com/2013/03/iwittgensteini_watch_derek_jarmans_tribute_to_the_philosopher_featuring_tilda_swinton_1993.html

https://ethicsofsuicide.lib.utah.edu/

http://www.wittgensteinchronology.com/6.html

References

Achinger, C. (2013). Allegories of destruction: “Woman” and “the Jew” in Otto Weininger’s sex and character. The Germanic Review, 88(2),121–149. 2013

Camus, A. (1942). The myth of Sisyphus (O’Brien, Justin, Trans.). London: Penguin Group. (First published by Gallimard)

Engelmann, Paul (1974) Letters From Ludwig Wittgenstein. With A Memoir. New York, Horizon.

Gilman, Sander (1986) Jewish Self-Hatred: Anti-Semitism and the Hidden Language of the Jews. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP

Jacquette, D. (2000). Schopenhauer on the ethics of suicide. Continental Philosophy Review, 33(1),43–58.

Janik, Alan (2013) On the Origins of Jewish Self-Hatred by Paul Reitter (review) HYPERLINK "https://muse.jhu.edu/journal/181" Shofar: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Jewish Studies, HYPERLINK "https://muse.jhu.edu/issue/29179" Volume 32, Number 1, Fall 2013, pp. 142-145.

Jamison, K. R. (2000). Night falls fast: Understanding suicide. New York: Vintage.

Le Rider, J. (1990). ‘Between modernism and postmodernism: The Viennese identity crisis’ (R. Manheim, trans.). In E. Timms & R. Robertson (eds.) Vienna 1900: from Altenberg to Wittgenstein, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Le Rider, J. (1993). Modernity and the crises of identity: Culture and society in Fin-de-Si ecle Vienna (R. Morris, trans.). Cambridge: Polity Press.

Le Rider, J. (2013). Otto Weininger: A Misogynist, anti-Semite, and Self-loather as Wagnerite. Wagnerspectrum, 9 (1),2013, 89–93.

McGuinness, B. (1988). Wittgenstein: A life. Young Ludwig (1889–1921). Los Angeles: University of California Press.

Modesto Gomez, A. (2018). Wittgenstein, Schopenhauer and the metaphysics of suicide. Rev. Filos., Aurora, Curitiba, 30(49), 299–321.

Monk, R. (1990). Ludwig Wittgenstein: The duty of genius. London: Jonathan Cape.

Monk, R. (2018). Bartley’s Wittgenstein and the coded remarks. In: Flowers, F. A., III (ed. and preface); Ground, Ian (ed. and preface); Portraits of Wittgenstein (pp.129–134). London; Bloomsbury Academic; 2018. (xiii, 489 pp.)

Niekerk, C. (2013). Reading Mahler: German culture and Jewish identity in Fin-de-Siecle Vienna. (Studies in German literature, linguistics and culture) Rochester, NY: Camden House.

Peters, M A. (2017). Les proc es et l’enseignement de Wittgenstein, et la « figure de l’enfant » romantique chez Cavell. A contrario, 25(2), 13-37. https://www.cairn.info/revue-a-contrario-2017-2-page-13.htm.

Preston, John (2018) How Ludwig Wittgenstein’s secret boyfriend helped deliver the philosopher’s seminal work, https://theconversation.com/how-ludwig-wittgensteins-secret-boyfriend-helped-deliver-the-philosophers- seminal-work-96557

Reitter, P. (2009). The Jewish self-hatred octopus. The German Quarterly, 82(3),356–372. 82.3 (Summer)

Schroeder, S. (2012). Schopenhauer’s influence on Wittgenstein, pp.367–384. In Ed. Bart Vandenabeele, A Companion to Schopenhauer, Oxford, Blackwell.

Shapira, E. (2006). Modernism and Jewish identity in early twentieth-century Vienna: Fritz Waerndorfer and his house for an art lover. Studies in the Decorative Arts, 13(2), 52–92. Vol. No. SPRING-SUMMER (2006).

Stern, D. (2001). Was Wittgenstein a Jew? In J. Klagge (Ed.), Wittgenstein: Biography and philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Stern, David and Szabados, Bela, (eds.) (2004). Wittgenstein reads Weininger, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 206pp., $24.99 (pbk), ISBN 0521532604

Szabados, B. (1992). Autobiography after Wittgenstein. The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 50(1), 1–12.

Szabados, B. (1995). Autobiography and philosophy: Variations on a theme of Wittgenstein. Metaphilosophy, 26(1/2), 63–80.

Szabados, B. (1997). Wittgenstein’s women: The philosophical significance of Wittgenstein’s misogyny. Journal of Philosophical Research, 22, 483–508.

Szabados, B. (1999). Was Wittgenstein an anti-Semite? The significance of AntiSemitism for Wittgenstein’s philosophy. Canadian Journal of Philosophy, 29(1), 1–28.

Weininger (1903/2005) Sex and Character. An Investigation of Fundamental Principles Otto Weininger, edited by Daniel Steuer and Laura Marcus, translated by Ladislaus Lob, Bloomington, Indiana University Press.

Waugh, Alexander (2010) The House of Wittgenstein: A Family at War. New York, Anchor.

Wittgenstein, L. (1980). Culture and value, edited by G. H. von Wright in collaboration with H. Nyman , trans. P. Winch, Oxford, Basil Blackwell.

Wittgenstein, L. (1980/1998). Culture and value. First published as Vennischte Bemerkungen, German text only, G. H. von Wright & Heikki Nyman (ed.). Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1977: Amended 2nd ed., traps. P. Winch. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1980; rev. 2nd ed., German text only, edited by G. H. von Wright and Heikki Nyman, with revisions by Alois Pichler. Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1994, rev. 2nd ed., new traps. P. Winch. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1998. (References will give the pagination for the 1980 and 1998 editions of the book; translations are taken from the 1998 edition.)

Wittgenstein, L. (1997). Denkbewegungen: Tagebiicher 1930–1932 1936–1937 (MS 183) ed. Use Somavilla. Innsbruck, Austria: Haymon Verlag.

2 notes · View notes

gizkasparadise · 4 years

Text

kdrama review: hotel del luna

Master Kdrama rec list.

Series: hotel del luna Episodes: 16 Genres: urban fantasy/supernatural, romance, horror, comedy Spoilers in the Review: first episode; mild ones for the “support characters: man wol’s past” If You Like, You’ll Like: goblin, gender flipped beauty & the beast, master’s sun, chicago typewriter, being human, bleach, moon lovers: scarlet heart ryeo, #fashion, reincarnation, ghosts!!!, some lowkey crouching tiger hidden dragon vibes in the flashbacks

Rank: 9.5/10

“to let go is harder than holding on”

Premise

GHOST HOTEL! WITH A CURSE

1,300 years ago, jang man wol was punished for A Grave Sin by ma go shin (god). to atone, she’s made the owner of Hotel Del Luna, a hotel for ghosts that helps them relax/prepare before they depart for the afterlife. her soul’s sealed up in The Metaphor Tree that doesn’t bloom flowers or leaves as a Metaphor for Time Standing Still.

one night, a man who’s still alive (gu hyun mo) stumbles into the hotel. in exchange for his life, man wol tells him his young son (gu chan sung) needs to come work for her hotel in 20 years. hyun mo agrees because he doesn’t want his son to grow up alone. #Sad.

20 years later, a now adult chan sung returns to korea after attending university in the united states. man wol finds him and gives him the ability to see and touch ghosts. He Does Not Like This. she also buys him fancy shoes. He Does Not Like This Even More. eventually, he ends up as the manager for Hotel Del Luna, helping ghosts cross over comfortably into the afterlife.

but as soon as he shows up, The Metaphor Tree starts blooming flowers............

Main Characters.

jang man wol

bandit thief turned fashionista. she’s a material girl living in a-

-transcendental state between life and death as her own personal hell. and also hospitality services. she’s the owner of the hotel, and the years have made her cold and greedy. champagne for her real friends and real pain for the sham friends. she’s spent the last 1,300 years waiting to confront the spirit of The Man Who Wronged Her, so she can disappear forever. in the meantime, she’s entertained herself by being a foodie, collecting the most fabulous outfits you’ll ever see, and buying people tiger print suits.

gu chan sung

our disney princess leading man. initially the living embodiment of I Want To Go Home, chan sung eventually takes to his position seriously and is the resident Token Good Teammate. after he gets to know man wol and the ghosts employed at the hotel, he takes it upon himself to make them better people as well as introducing man wol to Budgeting and Balancing a Checkbook. harvard man, people keep trying to give him flowers and marry him off.

Support characters: Hotel Del Luna

ji hyun joong

a ghost who died during the korean war and serves as bell hop/front desk as he waits for his younger sister to die so they can go to the afterlife together. omg he will melt your heart. daisies will grow around you when he smiles and wrinkles his nose. i stan. Does His Best. Giver Of Many Hugs. stay in school.

choi seo hee

a ghost who died 200 years ago and is waiting for a chaebol/rich business family line to die out before she moves on to the afterlife for Reasons. serves as the rooms manager and has Strict Mom Energy but will laugh at silly outfits. always looks low-key disappointed that someone’s not using a coaster.

kim seon bin

a scholar who ranked #1 in the state exam and died 500 years ago. he’s a bartender now. he likes to make cocktails that look straight up like kool-aid from concentrate. likes pretentious theme naming, does not care much for harvard.

Support characters: Living world

sanchez

chan sung’s friend from when he attended harvard and current roommate. he owns a pizza restaurant and is an adorable nerd. comes from a Family of Means. attends yacht club. does not care for PDA.

kim yu na

a high schooler who serves as an intern at the hotel del luna. you get nothing more from me because spoilers.

Support characters: Man Wol’s past

go chung myung

captain of the guard and a Very Handsome Young Man. man wol’s first love who enjoys day drinking and accessories.

yeon wu

tied with ji hyun joong for most sunshine daisy smile. his mother took man wol in when she was a Sad Orphan Child, and he is man wol’s only family/the person she loves the most. her, yeon wu, and go chung myung have some Power Trio and Forever Friends energy

princess song hwa

we don’t like her for awhile.

Support characters: Deities

ma go shin

actually god and masks her shit stirring as Grandmotherly Concern.

grim reaper

v. v. srs. he stands with his hands folded behind his back a lot and has absurdly good posture. escorts spirits to the afterlife and if you were really good he provides primo limo service. hangs out at hotel del luna’s bar a lot and scares the shit out of people on the regular

Drawbacks.

it stalled a bit in the middle which is why i couldn’t give it the full 10/10

Reasons to Watch.

legit my favorite kdrama OST (sorry goblin u got The Bump)

you’ll cry a lot lmao

Many Fabulous Outfits

i really like the love stories ;; chan sung is legit a sweet dude and that’s not super common in kdramas

LOVED THE ROLE REVERSAL. the majority of kdrama have the immortal being/cocky business person as a dude with an Earnest Young Woman. this flips the script and it makes the drama stand out all the more for it

a lot of really fun cameos including a brief #MoonLovers reunion

Final Thoughts.

#hotel del luna #IU #lee ji eun #yeo gin goo #pyo jihoon #kdrama #gizka does kdrama

47 notes · View notes

ashitpos-t · 4 years

Text

The Touch Of Your Lips

Chapter 4 of my Husk x Fem!Reader on my AO3 account.

CW: Murder, Suggestive Themes, and Alcohol

You faintly smiled into the sheets, letting out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding in. Slowly sitting up, your hand fumbled up to your bra straps clinging to your back, fumbling with the clasps until you got the underwear off, your baggy sweatpants following closely along onto the floor just next to your bed.

You re-positioned yourself, snuggling your face into the pillows of your bed, hand tugging on your lamps string, turning off your rooms lights.

Fluttering your eyes open, you looked up to see the black mass of night, glancing over to your open window, what must have been a thousand sparkling lights staring back at you from the city, honks from cars speeding down freeways complimenting the bustle of the city.

You hated to admit it, but sometimes hell didn't seem half bad, when you weren't doing god awful performances, that is.

---

You got up with a small start, arm shooting over your head to stretch from the long, lumbering sleep you had just experienced. Hell's bright sun was diffused by passing clouds, the dappled lighting dancing onto your more than tired features, a faint smile accompanying the tiredness at the sight.

Sure, hell had blood red skies, shit clubs, and even shittier people, but it had been your home for decades, if you could even call it that.

You sighed as you slipped out of bed, eyeing the bathroom that you swiftly stepped into, turning on the skin to let the warm water run over your hands, before splashing some onto your face, your free hand searching for the face wash you earnestly needed. After grabbing the bottle, you scrubbed your face of any dirt that had accumulated over the previous day, a refreshing scent of lavender wafting from the suds.

You breathed into your palms, sink now off, as you padded for the hand towel, eyes sealed shut when you finally dabbed the water free from your face.

You blinked, looking at your appearance in the mirror, hands quickly traveling under your sink, gripping the curling iron you planned to use on your hair, eager on giving it some kind of volume. You plugged in the iron, deciding to do your makeup as it heated up.

You trotted to your vanity, turning on its bright lights before you, sat comfortably on your vanity's stool. Opening you bag of makeup to pick out concealer, mascara, and lip gloss, you definitely weren't going for a glam look today, why would you? It's not like any of the inhabitants of the hotel would care, if anything, they urged you to feel at home, thought it made you feel better, or something like that.

You quickly applied the concealer to your under eyes, removing the unsightly bags from a relatively poor nights sleep, you couldn't even remember the last night you slept well. Next, you grabbed your mascara, lightly flicking your wrist just on your eyelashes, applying thin amounts of product to them. Lastly, you unscrewed your lip gloss, smearing the product to your lips elegantly, making sure to reach every surface, finalizing it with a satisfying pop of your lips.

A small beep knocked you out of your trance, and you immediately registered it to be your curling iron.

You stood, placing the sealed gloss onto the table, your small tail swaying with anticipation as you entered the bathroom, you have always had fun doing your hair, for whatever reason, you just found it, therapeutic, in a strange sense.

Hand gripping the iron, you sectioned off a piece of hair, carefully wrapping it around the heated metal, giving it a few seconds before letting go to reveal a curl that bounced in your sudden recoil. You smiled, happy at the outcome. With a tail wag, you continued to curl the rest of your hair, sending a comb to dissipate the sheer volume of the hairstyle, just to be left with beachy waves, definitely a win in your book. You smiled at the mirror, satisfied with your hair and makeup, which funnily enough, would be the most formal thing out of your outfit, never mind how blatantly casual it was. You had already planned out to wear grey sweatpants and a white tank top for the day, you almost always wore something similar to that, and decided that today wasn't any different from the previous.

You walked over to your closet, pushing open the sliding mirrored doors to see an array of different colored garments you've worn on many a different occasion. Your fingers lingered over the outfit you had planned, carefully grabbing a hold of the clothes before closing the closet once again.

Your manicured nails traced over the seams of of your comfy attire, you smiled to yourself, carefully undressing your striped pajamas from your body before slipping on your outwear, honestly excited for the day at hand. Your tail wagged and your ears perked at the happiness, your hand outstretching to the door nob, turning it before closing it behind you, quickly locking the door before prancing to the elevator.

You walked in, a small smile painted onto your face as you pressed the button for the first floor, the elevator jolting before descending to your destination. The elevator skidded to a stop, its worn out light flickering madly before returning to its normal function. The doors slammed open, and you stride out, being especially mindful of its snapping doors.

"Good morning!" a female voice greets, prompting you to look over to the sound.

Charlie was waving to you boisterously from the kitchen, while Vaggie waved faintly, a small smile on her face, which you quickly returned.

Just behind the pair, you spied two tufts of black and red fur which you instantly recognized to be Alastor's ears, glancing over to your right, you saw Husk sitting at the glass coffee table, staring mindlessly at the tv as he scooped cereal into his mouth. You smiled, glad you could eat with everyone, but before you grabbed yourself a bowl of cereal, you walked to Charlie, keen on asking her a question.

"Good morning Charlie," you grinned, tapping her shoulder, "would you mind if I got myself some breakfast?"

She smiled, "oh of course of course! Feel free to get anything you'd like!" she enthused, Vaggie nodding along, albeit less interested.

You walked past the two into the kitchen, seeing Alastor frying a few eggs by the stove, as you grabbed a bowl and spoon from their respective cabinets. Alastor simply side eyed you, seeming as though he didn't particularly see the point in greeting you, the way his somehow unenthused smile looked to be slightly lessened told you all you needed to know.

You felt a shiver roll down your spine due to his gaze, yet you tried your best to not show it, instead distracting yourself with what cereal to get. Scanning the array of different boxes and bins of cereal, you pondered which one to choose, and ended up deciding on a sugary, marshmallow filled cereal.

You smiled to yourself, walking over to the fridge for some milk, just to quickly take it out of the fridge and pour some into your bowl, all the while feeling the crisp coolness of the milk jug against your skin.

"Going somewhere?" you jumped at the voice, your head snapping to the source, only to see Alastor eyeing you.

You laughed, pushing down your nervousness with a smile, "oh- oh no! I'm just thought it'd be nice to pretty up for the day, have to be prepared for tomorrow, I have a recording to catch" you finished, knowing you weren't particularly convincing.

He nodded, seeming to brighten up at the thought of whatever possible entertainment you participated in, "Marvelous!" he flourished, "I do adore singing myself!" he paused, "You do sing, correct?"

You nodded, putting a strand of hair behind your ear, you never much liked talking about yourself and occupation, "It's nothing too big, not even sure if it's going on the radio," you lied.

He grinned over to you, your last remark obviously going over his head, his excitement beaming over your lie.

Before he could ask you any other questions, you resumed making your breakfast, quickly returning the jug to its place into the hotels fridge.

You looked down to your bowl of cereal, admiring the way the marshmallows swirled into the milk, dying the milk delightful shades of blues, pinks, and reds. The plainness of it made you realize how downright strange your life had become, it was weird before, but it was on a whole different level now. You lived with one of the strongest overlords in hell who was cooking eggs in the kitchen with an apron on, the princess of hell and her girlfriend, the most popular pornstar in hell, an eccentric cyclops cleaner, and an alcoholic, cat demon gambler. You smiled at the thought, looking up and scanning the room, genuinely admiring the demons you lived with. Half of them were assholes, drug addicts, cannibals, and downright crazy, but you weren't much different. You weren't adverse to smoking, drinking, and even selling out your body to other demons.

You admired these shit people, they all were strangely good people, even if their sin outweighed their virtues.

"Quit spacin out an sit," a grumbling voice said, just below you.

You snapped out of your thoughts, looking down to see Husk glaring up at you, his spoon sitting in his cereal bowl.

"Oh! I'm sorry," you sat down next to him, crossing your legs to be eye level with him, "I was just uh, zoning out."

He grumbled a curse or two under his breath, his brows knit together as he continued to eat his cereal, looking up to the tv.

A small smiled painted onto his features, he was obviously putting a tough guy look on, the gleam in his eyes showing his true intentions.

You scooped a big spoonful of cereal into your mouth, looking up to the tv, wondering what weird program was on, "Uh," you gestured your spoon towards the tv, cereal in your mouth, "whats this about?"

He glanced over to you, "Just some hick show about beating the shit out of other demons? I'm not too fucking sure either," he responded, his claw gesturing towards the tv, seemingly unimpressed.

You laughed a bit at his words and hand movements, finding his description to be a bit funny.

He only grumbled in return, quickly shoveling the cereal into his mouth, prompting you to do the same, effectively mimicking him.

You saw a small smile on his face in your peripherals, whether it was from your laughter or the show didn't matter, you never saw him happy, and for whatever reason that made you happy too.

Before you knew it, you had finished the cereal, an empty spoon reaching your mouth alerted you to your finishing, you had become enamored in the show, becoming invested in the main character, his name being Davis or something of the other.

You chuckled at yourself, looking over to see husk had finished as well, and without a second thought, you grabbed his bowl and stood, keen on heading to the sink.

Husk looked up to you, surprise written on his face, "Ya don't have to get that for me," you smiled down at him, "yea, but I want to."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he shut his mouth, crossing his arms before hoisting himself onto the couch behind him, letting you do the work.He looked like he wanted to say more, but he shut his mouth, crossing his arms before hoisting himself onto the couch behind him, letting you do the work.

With pointed steps, you motioned towards the sink, eyeing the numerous dishes laying before you, and with an abrupt sigh, you left yours with the rest of the bunch, not too keen on cleaning the mountain of dishes.

You turned back around to the lobby, seeing Husk lounging on the couch and Angel finally making his way down the stairs, yawning into his hot pink gloved hand, while Charlie and Vaggie still sat at the kitchen table, talking about something you didn't care to ask about. An idea popped into your head, or better yet, a pang of guilt, it had just occurred to you that you weren't even paying Charlie for letting you stay here, much less work at the hotel.

You started for Charlie, giving her shoulder a quick tap, "Hey Charlie, is there anything I can do to help out? I mean, I'm not really doing much today," you trailed off, looking over to the side.

She perked up at your offer, smiling up at you, "I'm so glad you asked! I actually need to get some groceries, if you wouldn't mind." you nodded along.

She pulled a long piece of paper out of her bag, spanning over two regular sheets of printer paper, all jam packed with food items and other miscellaneous objects. The sheer length made your face go pale, you swallowed.

"Can i get some help with that?" you quickly said, pointing to the paper.

Her head quirked to you, her expression saying she thought it was a reasonable amount, she shrugged, "Hey Angel?" she started, "what?" he groaned in response, sounding tired, "Can you help y/n out with grocery shopping?" He groaned loudly, obviously not wanting to help.

"But I've got woooooork," he dragged out, spreading himself over the couch, his head falling to his face, nearly swooning.

Charlie held back a sigh, knowing Angel would try to avoid anything that helped others out, "Hey Husk?" she called hesitantly, "Do you mind helping?" You heard a quick grumble, followed by Husk standing up off the couch with his arms crossed, making an effort to walk over to the three of you slower than usual.

"I'll do it," he looked to the side, before pointing to you, "but yer gonna owe me a solid, got that?" you nodded, not caring too much on whatever it would be.

Charlie smiled at Husk helping out, her expression saying she didn't expect him to even get off the couch.

You glanced over to his slouched being, noting his grumpy face and overall disposition, you almost felt guilty making him come along to the store with you.

Charlie handed the long list to you, just before grabbing a golden card from her pocket, "Here's the list," she waved the card in the air before handing it to you, "and the hotels business card! Maybe you can get yourself something," she smiled.

Your jaw hung in shock at the gold laced card, shimmering in the light, "Charlie I- are you sure?" she nodded happily, quickly turning to Vaggies side after your talk.

You stood there dumbfounded, glancing over to Husk who looked just as confused as you, neither of you knew the hotel even had a business account, let alone a card. The two of you walked to the hotels doors, quick to shuffle out into the gloomy streets of hell.

"So," you started, looking to your left and right in search of a grocery store, "you got any idea where a store is?" Husk only shrugged in response, he obviously wasn't very familiar with the place either.

You sighed, plunging your hand into your pocket in attempts to find your phone, and thankfully, you found it promptly.

Opening your phone, you scrolled to goregle, typing in the nearest grocery stores that were in your area, finding a few that were only a block or two away.

"Alright, I found a store two blocks away, we might as well just walk over there," Husk nodded, seemingly not caring too much about the whole ordeal, it just seemed like he wanted to be out of there as soon as possible, but you couldn't quite blame him, it wasn't like you were friends, you barely even knew each others names.

You looked over to him, quick to notice his tightly knit brows, slouched posture, and his eyes glued to the floor, you honestly felt bad, you never much liked annoying people, or making them do things they didn't want to. You hoped he was doing this of his own personal accord, rather than only going just to get something out of you, but you really couldn't tell, as you were never very good at deciphering anyone's true intentions, especially demons you were unfamiliar with.

Husk glanced over to you, only to meet your own eyes, and upon noticing this, the two of you broke eye contact almost immediately, both unwilling to make the other uncomfortable, or even seem weird by having any kind of interest in each other. By that notion, you decided to pick up the pace, not walking only slightly faster than before, mainly in attempts to get to your destination faster and avoid any kind awkward interaction.

You'd be a liar to say you weren't embarrassed, you certainly didn't mean to stare, you just wanted to understand what was going in his head.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, looking over to see Husk gesturing to the right of you two, "This is it, right?" your gaze directed to his claw, alerting you to the large building in front of you.

You nodded, and scanned over the list, a grimace becoming apparent on your face, "Uh, why don't you grab a shopping cart too," you said, grabbing a shopping cart for yourself, setting the list into the small basket in the cart.

He grumbled in response, clearly annoyed that he had to grab his own cart, yet he obliged anyways, grabbing a cart in compliance.

You looked over the list Charlie had given you, seeing the large array of foods, drinks, and necessities for the hotels rooms, "Alright," you hummed, "why don't we go in different directions, I'll grab the food, and you can grab the drinks and everything else," he nodded, seemingly satisfied with this.

You ripped his required portion of the list and handed it over to him, obvious that you had an equal split of items to search for, and that you had purposely given him the opportunity of looking through the drink isle, knowing he had a better grasp of popular alcohols than you, even though you were well versed in many different drinks. Wheeling your cat right after Husk into the grocery store, you headed over to the food isle, nearly clearing out a few of their fruits, cereal, and other industrial foods. You looked over the list again, and smiled when you realized you had already gotten everything you needed, especially since the cart was nearly overflowing with all kinds of snacks and goodies for the residents.

After over looking your items, you wheeled your way over to the alcohol isle, only to see Husk staring down a few bottles of different high end whiskeys and scotches. You laughed at him, breaking him out of his trance, to see you finished with your side of shopping, a bit happy to see he could get out of there soon enough.

You looked over to the bottle he had been staring at, an idea popping into your head, "Hey Husk, why don't you take our carts to an isle, I have to look for something real quick," he was about o ask what, but before he could, you shooed him off with your hand, making him curse in annoyance, quickly leaving to find an open isle.

You smiled, knowing your plan had worked, you trotted over to the bottles, your tail wagging a bit as you read over the Whiskeys names, seeing many different expensive brands and tastes. You ended up settling on what Husk had been looking at, something called "Tanner's Fire," some kind of honey laced bourbon, definitely something to get you jazzed pretty quick. Grabbing the large bottle of booze, you walked just down the isle to see boxes and boxes of cigarettes and cigars, due to it being hell, they weren't put behind any kind of supervision like they would on earth. Looking over the large display, you settled on some hearty cigars, and a pack of cigarettes, both of them being for yourself, unless Husk liked to smoke as well.

You walked out of the alcohol isle, seeing Husks ear tufts peeking over the cashiers line, and with a smirk on your face, you trailed over to him keen on showing off your small gift.

"Look what I got," you declared, shaking the bottle in your hand in front of Husk, causing him to turn around and see your display, surprise written onto his features, "I- you-" he gestured, a smile threatening to appear of his face, "ya don't have to get that for me, ya know that, right?" he questioned, laughing nervously.

You nodded, a small wag finding itself on your tail, "and it'll be on MY tab," you winked at him, acting a bit more, risky, than you intended.

A nervous smile shown through his grumpy demeanor, making it clear he didn't expect you to even notice which alcohol he wanted in the first place.

The two of you waited for the line to move which, unsurprisingly, took a while, mainly due to your sheer amount of items, and the annoyed worker who wasn't too keen on scanning all the items you had accumulated. With some patience, that originated from the though of both of your vices that you were buying, you managed to make it through the seemingly endless process of waiting, scanning, bagging, and paying for all of the items.

After getting through the complete hell of a check out, you smiled over to Husk, to see him with numerous bags on each arm, and cradling his new alcohol like a baby. You laughed at his display, finding it hilarious he would work through the weight of all the liquor just to carefully hold his new bottle.

"Hey," he barked, a smug smile on his face, "I'll have you know I treasure this bottle, considering it was a gift," he side eyed you, a devilish grin now fully formed on his features.

You'd be a fool in denying you didn't redden at his remarks and grin, you'd never seen him smile like that before, or look at you like that. Yet on the other end of the stick, you'd be a fool to say you even liked the demon, but he definitely did catch you off guard, its not like he wasn't attractive.

He chuckled at your embarrassment, "What, never seen my smile before?"

You looked over to him, an impish smile on your features, knowing how to get him back, "No," you positioned the bags of one hand into the other, "but I'd like to see it again," you finished, your hand under his jaw and you eyes narrowed a bit, fluttering your eyelashes.

His face brightened in surprise, enticing a laugh to bellow from his throat, "I get it, I get it," he pushed your hand away gently, "I like yer smile too."

You only giggled at his compliment, hiding your fluster, promptly returning to your original pace back to the hotel. You both made it back shortly, and you were glad too, your arms and hands had been cramping thanks to the weight of all the food and other objects.

Charlie rushed to the two of you, directing you to the kitchen counter so you could place your things down, "Thanks so much for going out, and don't worry about putting everything away, I'll make sure to do it myself," you weakly smiled down at Charlie, she really was just a ball of joy.

"Thanks, Charlie" you replied, handing her the hotels card she gave to you earlier that day, "I hope you don't mind, we picked up a few things for ourselves."

She smiled at you, "Oh don't worry about it, I'm glad!"

Quickly sifting through the groceries, you grabbed your smokes, looking over your shoulder to see Husk already at the bar, drinking a new bottle of beer. You figured he was tired after the day out, considering he seemed to not like interaction much, and due to carrying those heavy bags.

After minimal thought, you decided to relax as well, plopping yourself onto the couch to watch some tv.

---

"Gumbo, everyone!" the call alarmed you, making you jump from your spot.

"Gumbo?" you mumbled to yourself, confused at the declaration, "but it's only-" you looked at the clock, realizing that you had in fact been watching tv for a few hours, straight up until dinner time.

With a sigh, you stood, making your way over to the kitchen, only to see a large pot in the center of the table, filled to the brim with vegetables, shrimp, and chicken. Bowls sat in front of each seat, a serving of rice planted in the middle to accommodate the main meal. You gulped, you wouldn't admit it looked positively delicious, especially since it was the radio demon we're talking about, you would never trust such a malicious demons cooking.

"Oh wow Alastor," Charlie spoke, clearly hungry for the meal, "this looks great!" she quickly sat in her seat, plopped right between him and Vaggie who took their seats just after her.

You repressed a grimace, seeing as Angel and Niffty made their seats next to Vaggie and Alastor, respectively.

Husk sat next, making sure to sit next to Niffty in hopes of avoiding Angel Dust.

Leaving you, sitting just between Husk and Angel, perfect.

The lot of you nervously glanced around, none of you making any effort to eat, all a bit scared that some kind of poison may be lurking in the dish. Well, all of you except for Charlie, you nearly immediately took a giant bite of the dinner, eager to know its taste.

"Charlie!" Vaggie enthused, "Are you Crazy? What it it's poisoned?" she glared at Alastor, gesturing a bit wildly.

"It doesn't taste like poison," Charlie trailed off, a big hunk of rice in her mouth.

Vaggie sighed, sinking back into her chair while a devilish smile was painted on Alastors lips, before parting to partake in his own cooking. Everyone nervously dug in after that, seeing as Charlie seemed to be fine after a few spoonfuls.

You regretted to inform that his cooking was delicious, and that you even had to hold yourself back from going back in for seconds, or even thirds. A quick glance around the room told you everyone else felt the same, and Husks angered expression enthused his particular distaste for just how good his cooking was.

You all finished your meal relatively quickly, Alastor sporting a grin of fulfillment on his gray skin.

"Sheesh," Charlie spoke, "that was really good, Al," he smiled even wider, "I'm glad you think so!"

Vaggie merely huffed, communicating she felt the same, while Angel and Niffty nodded along in agreement, both a bit more enthusiastic than the moth demon. You and Husk on the other hand, were more like Vaggie, neither of you liked the deer demon much, and more or less, had little to no trust for him, all for very good reasons, too.

"Well," Angel started, pushing away from the table to stand, fixing his hair, "I'm gonna split, see ya" he finished, trotting away presumably to his room.

Husk already started for the bar, and Niffty had begun to put away the dishes, while Alastor snapped away, seemingly to his room, or something of the other.

You merely waved at Charlie and Vaggie, mouthing a small goodnight before heading to your room as well for a good nights sleep, hell knew you needed it.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #husk x reader #x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #husk #alastor #vaggie #charlie magne #longfic #ongoing

4 notes · View notes

levithestripper · 3 years

Text

Modern AU! VDL Gang Headcanons

✩ Masterlist! ✩

✩ Warnings: None! ✩

✩ Included characters are: Arthur Morgan, Bill Williamson, Charles Smith, Javier Escuella, John Marston, Kieran Duffy, Lenny Summers, Mary-Beth Gaskill, Micah Bell, Sean MacGuire ✩

✩ Taglist: @reddeadrevolutionn, @leech-in-a-peach, @floup-doodles, @mesangelique, @the-1-sin-bin ✩

✩ If you want to be added to a taglist, fill this out! ✩

✩ Length: 1.4k || Read on Ao3 ✩

✩ A/N: me, posting rdr2 content two days in a row? what is this, march again? since i combined day 8 + 9, i wrote some headcanons instead for a change of pace! ✩

Continuing on the train of Old Man Things™ Arthur does, he falls asleep slouched over on the couch. A book still open in his hands, the TV still on, and Arthur’s out fucking cold.

He has a Doberman that he adopted from the local animal shelter. Every morning, Arthur takes him out for a walk before work, a walk when he gets home and one late at night before bed.

Okay, I’ll be honest with ya’. The first thing that came to my mind when thinking of modern Bill; was him moonlighting as a Drag Queen. I’m just gonna leave that there lmao.

Even though Arthur teases the hell out of him and vise versa, every once in a while, he has to tell John just how much he loves him. John really couldn’t ask for a better brother.

41 notes · View notes