#i don't recall what prompted this actually. the fic i'm writing i guess?

[sisterdivinium]

It’s tempting to think of Jillian as an atheist given her connexion to science, her confrontation with the church in s1 and simply as a counterpoint to all the religious characters around her. I’ve used the word for her myself in fic before, but I did it fully knowing that Jillian is perhaps the character who most wants to believe.

There’s an implication that she speaks from experience when she tells Kristian one doesn’t ever really leave the church…

… And her firm principle of proving faith and science can coexist shows she has no intention of dismantling faith in itself or the value people find in spirituality.

When Luther supposedly nailed his objections to that fateful church door, he didn't intend to shake the core of what faith actually is—quite the contrary, one could argue.

Neither is Jillian trying to destabilise faith in itself... The difference is that she just decided to build her own door instead.

The church might stand in her way, yes, but one could could make a case about how it is more due to their keeping of divinium than to the criticism she directs at Vincent on the subject of Hell and the subjugation of women. She might well believe it—or any part of her performance during most of season one, really—but her conflict with the institution lies less in the way of ideology than in matters of practical consequences.

Were it not so, wouldn’t she have been a little more resistant to her son’s visions of an angel? Why believe in a child’s prophetic drawings otherwise? Even if she by any chance didn’t consider the giver of those visions an angel, the very fact of taking a vision seriously would suggest some degree of fidelity to the very idea of there being something more, something else than the life we know in this plane of existence.

If she doesn’t admit the existence of a god outright, she at least lends credence to the idea that there is something. We might not be able to take her fully at her word in the scenes where she’s playing her part as a seeker of knowledge maligned by the Vatican, but there is some amount of truth to what she says. She might not have truly found Heaven, she might not be able to prove her portal actually leads there...

… But she most certainly wants to be right. For Michael’s sake, there must be something else, even if not precisely what has been foreseen by scripture.

And, even so, she finds worth in that very scripture she doubts.

Perhaps she’s being honest when she tells Vincent she likes the stories—there’s a lot of knowledge to be found in even the simplest of them to she who knows how to seek it.

Perhaps there’s an underlying attachment of hers to the Bible, a past she cannot really abandon. It’s not all that common for people with absolutely no ties to Catholicism to have something like the image of a saint as decoration hanging in the background.

Sure, there are other religious elements scattered in her workplace including a Buddha, but it’s a man who used to be an archivist at the Vatican she hires, not a defected monk or rabbi.

Yes, she will work with anyone who is equally willing to work with her. It’s not from the goodness of her heart as there is a component of selfishness in such cooperation—one to which she admits herself—but her attitude is also a testament to the openness she has concerning the results she might obtain. Maybe the OCS is right, maybe there’s a God and saints and Heaven and Hell…

It doesn’t really matter as long as there is something, something to work towards, something to seek.

Or it didn’t matter—while Michael was alive.

She has had her proof of there being more... And she has paid a high price for learning of it.

It’s a pity we don’t know what she would have done with this information. How do we react when what we believe is confirmed to be true but not in the way we expected or desired?

Whatever shock the nuns have experienced to their faith in this business with Adriel, the perversion of the power of prayer and all else they've survived during season two, Jillian is likely to have felt the very same blow right alongside them.

[amugoffandoms]

Could you do a director's commentary on "Are You In There" from Whumptober?

Heyo, kyanako! I'd be down to! Lemme pull up the fic and I'll be pulling out passages that I remember small details from. So, here we go! Mug's Director Commentary!!

First of all, the title "You in There?" That's basically the Whumptober prompt as its name, but the exact phrase is not used that often in the fic because I didn't feel like Muu would use that exact phrase? At least, she says something else on her birthday, so I decided to just reword the question multiple times.

Ever since the Warden’s second interrogation, she was starting to feel on edge about everything. So, her sleep wasn’t the best. She can probably deal with it eventually, though. It’s not a big deal. She’s going to get forgiven again, anyway. They know it’s not Muu’s fault.

There's no specific time when this beginning scene occurs, but I have a feeling it's a few days after Muu's voting ends. I'd like to think all of the prisoners hear the Voices, so Muu is kind of just actively denying them because she can't be wrong.

”You have to eat, Haruka.” “Aah… I… I guess I do…” “…You have to come out of your room to eat.” “…!! Yes, yes… Um… I can’t do that.”

I wanted Haruka to still lean into what Muu wants because she shows him attention, but then suddenly realize he has to keep his promise first. His promise is the most important thing right now.

...also, it's kinda funny to see the quick switch back and forth.

Mikoto stands in the kitchen area, staring at something. Muu starts slowing down and looking away. Mikoto is a very nice guy, but ever since the end of trial one, he’s gotten a little scary…

I don't actually recall if Muu ever said this, but considering her reaction to Kotoko in trial 1, I kinda think she'd have a similar reaction to Mikoto in Trial 2.

As she turns away from Mikoto, he calls out to Muu one last time. “Hey, tell Haru I hope he’s alright. I’m glad he’s all confident now, but he seems upset now… Or something.” “I will.” ”Thanks.” When Muu makes it back to Haruka’s cell, she can barely hear Haruka inside. “…they forgave me. They forgave me.” “Haruka! I brought you some food.” Muu calls out. “…o-oh! Thank you, Muu.” Something inside Haruka’s cell moves around, probably Haruka before the door slowly opens to half of Haruka’s face.  “Y-you can leave it there…” ”Can we talk in your cell today, then?” “Oh… um… I guess so.” Haruka fully opens his door and Muu finally can talk to someone who listens.

OOOH boy, here's a long one. breaking it down time we ball!!

I feel like, despite pulling away from the group a little out of fear of himself, Mikoto would still notice a few things, especially Haruka changing so much. Plus, I'm pretty sure he's noticed Haruka change even before Trial 2. He's noticed Haruka pulling away, too.

We never actually see Muu tell Haruka that Mikoto hopes he's alright, but I'd like to imagine during their conversation she does. (Not because I forgot that Mikoto had just done that. Definitely not.)

I enjoyed throwing Haruka murmuring that he was forgiven in because I thought it would be nice to include his thoughts on his verdict as well. He cares about Muu's, but he also cares about his because Es affirmed him, right? They said he was good and forgiven. So, why did they take it back? He was right, right? RIGHT??

oops sorry writer mug came in there (that may happen a lot, I like explaining my fics by accidentally writing more in character stuff), anyways.

Once again, going back to Haruka leaning into what Muu wants. He thinks that maybe it's not time just yet, that he has a little longer to think.

“You haven’t left your room in a few days, Haruka… It’s not healthy to be inside all day.”

This sentence implies she's been doing what she was doing in the previous scene every day now. Also kinda funny considering they're inside a prison, but she's telling him that's it's not healthy to be inside all day. I know what I meant inside his room, but STILL!!

Also, side note, i really enjoyed this next passage, so yeah :D!

Yuno sighs. “Fine, then. Even if Haruka clearly wants to be alone, do whatever you want.” “Muu is at least trying to be friends with Haruka. You stopped trying to be friends with anyone after the first trial verdicts were revealed! Can’t you be happy you were forgiven by the Warden?” “Forgiving everyone basically ruined the fun atmosphere here, so I’m upset. The Warden can do whatever they want, but what they’ve done has caused MILGRAM to be entirely bothersome. I don’t want to bother with any of it.” ”Upset? Bothersome? What are you even talking about? Does it even matter if MILGRAM is bothersome? You were forgiven, can’t you relax and enjoy it?”

Yuno's first line is kinda just a reference back to how she has opinions but doesn't act on them that often. She believes that Haruka should be left alone, but if Muu wants to do whatever, then so be it. It's all up to her.

Muu kinda makes a good point here where Yuno pulled away, but it's because of what happened after them. (Which is what Yuno mentions next.) (Also, "forgiving everyone" was an odd term to use here, I think it would've been better to say "Judging everyone," but "Forgiving" works considering how most people acted because they were voted FORGIVEN...

Muu wants to enjoy her... um, past forgiveness, I guess. It's because in that moment, it solidified the fact that she was right. That she was never in the wrong and it could never be her fault, right? So, she's finally able to relax. No one's out there actively trying to hurt her. (Actively look away from Muu's verdict please PLEAS)

“It does matter when people almost died because of MILGRAM! Why are you acting like what happened to Fuuta, Mahiru, and Mikoto never happened? Because it did!” ”What does that have to do with Muu? They deserved it after all.” Yuno stares at Muu. “What the fuck do you mean they deserved—”

OHH I needed this scene emotionally actually JAIODJOWIA I really wanted Muu and Yuno to fight, especially over this because they definitely have differing views on this. Yuno talks to Mahiru, who was severely impacted by Kotoko's attacks. She even mentions in her second voice drama that Kotoko is the type of person to make an assumption and not go beyond that.

On the other hand, Muu mentions that Kotoko's attacks were sorta deserved because Es did not forgive them.

so. woo D:!

”P-please stop f-fighting…!” Haruka squeaks out. Yuno and Muu quickly turn to Haruka standing in front of his cell door. “I-I know it’s my fault for not leaving m-my cell, so… it’s okay… Yuno, um… I’ll walk with Muu. I love walking with her.” “See! It was a good thing Muu didn’t leave Haruka alone!” Muu grins. Yuno stares blankly at the two before shaking her head and walking to her cell. “Oh, and, Muu… Just to let you know…” ”Eh, what does Yuno want?” “The Warden said the forgiveness was temporary.” With a chill going down Muu’s spine, Yuno enters her cell without another word. Glancing at Haruka, they both already realize they knew that.

Looking back at this, I sometimes have like a fifty-fifty opinion on Haruka's lines, but I think they kinda work. (I don't remember if he's ever broken up a fight as well, so this could be a first for him and he doesn't want to mess up. Not after everyone thought he was being so good.) He wants them to stop fighting about him. He appreciates the attention, but he doesn't want to be the source of someone else's torment again. He blames himself because that's all he's ever known.

Also, I really wanted to drop that "Forgiveness is temporary line" because 1) It's coming from Yuno, who believes she can't even be seen as something other than forgiven and 2) it's towards the two prisoners who lost their forgiveness. That line drills in the fact that they weren't forgiven again. And, it's terrifying.

"Haruka?” Muu knocks on the cell door. There is no response.  “I brought you some food.” Muu holds the food up higher as if he would see it through the door. “Are you alive?”  There is no response. She’s… starting to get scared now.  "You haven't grown mold or anything?” Muu tries joking. There is no— Haruka’s cell door slowly opens with Haruka looking at the food and Muu. Haruka looks down. ”.....Oh, thank you very much. Muu, I'm sorry, that ..... I..” Muu shakes her head. ”Don't shut yourself up in that cell forever! You have to eat properly too, you know? I understand if you feel this way though, the recent atmosphere has been feeling bad lately.” "Um, I said it's okay..... I, thought of what I should do, a little.” Haruka mumbles.

You might recognize this! It's because it's Haruka's birthday timeline from a while back!! I really wanted to include it because this fic is very much based around Haruka pulling away to fulfill his promise and Muu checking in every time.

This is when anaphora my beloved comes in and I begin to repeat the phrase "There is no response." more often :D. You could actually see it in the last scene, too!!

“Thought about what you should do…?” Muu blinks before slowly nodding. “…oh, Muu remembers.” “…I’m glad.” He smiles. “…” Muu exhales. “I think that you should… do what you want to do, Haruka.” “E-eh… What does that mean…?” "I'm... worried, that's all." Haruka looks up at Muu, who, even if she still seems confident, has a bit of fear behind her confidence. “Muu, you… you don’t have to worry… I’m just thinking about what to do, for you, right…?” Haruka smiles. “Y…yeah. Okay. Yeah.” Muu exhales before giving him a small smile, which he returns. She hands over some food which he takes with a nod. “Muu hopes she sees Haruka next time she drops off the food.” “…yeah.” Haruka nods. Muu looks around before finally leaving. “What do I do, what do I do, to keep... My promise. For Muu’s sake....”

I believe this is the only time I write in Haruka's POV? I kinda wanted to have a small glimpse into Haruka's side, but not too much considering this is a Muu-POV fic!

Here's also where I branch off from the original timeline but go right back to it. I really wanted for them to have a conversation about Haruka's promise. Although Muu seemed pretty nonchalant about what Haruka's promise was in Queen B, she also believes that friends are people who let you do what you want because they listen to you. She cares for Haruka. If she didn't, she wouldn't have done everything she's done for him. She's worried, and she doesn't want him to go through with it because she can't lose another friend, another person who listened to her because who else would?

“Are you there? Are you alive?” She tries joking. It worked a couple of times before, but this time, no response. Muu swallows; her fear is slowly rising. “You have to come out… It’s… bad for you! And, you have to eat, too!” Muu knocks on the door a little longer this time. She places the dish on the ground as she knocks even more. No response. “Haruka! Please!” Muu screams at the door. “Muu— I miss talking to you. I miss talking to someone. The atmosphere has been feeling so bad lately and… I’m scared— Please. Just— Just come out this one time…! Or, write something to me and slip it under the door! Please!” No response.

Oh, here comes hell (and my friend anaphora!). Alright, so this is when Muu really shows how terrified of losing friends again. Last time that happened, she was left to deal with the bullying of everyone and she can't do that again.

She tries joking because that's what she believes will work first. Then, sorta telling him that he has to come out because it's not healthy because it worked last time.

Then, she loses it because she's terrified. She can't let this happen again.

She even stops using "Muu" (which, although I don't use it often when writing for Muu, it's an intentional switch). She just needs someone.

“Haruka!” Muu places her head against the door and begins banging the door with her hand. “…please, please…!” No response.

This is a reference to her After Pain scene where she's banging from the inside of the hourglass. She's begging. She's back to where she once was and she can't have that; she can't have that.

“I’m begging you. Please— Please just leave your cell! I’m scared. I’m scared. I don’t— I don’t want to lose you. You’re my friend, Haruka. Please don’t leave me—” Muu sobs. No response.

This is basically a repeat of what I said, but Muu is terrified of losing Haruka. She's gotten "better" in her eyes and she can't go back to when she was on the ground, getting kicked around and ignored again. She can't lose someone who listens and cares. She can't lose Haruka because he's her friend. She can't lose someone to something stupid like judgment again.

“Please… Haruka…” Muu begs. “I’m scared. I can’t… I don’t want to lose a friend again…” “…Are… you alive…?” No response.

She's terrified. She can't do this again. (It can't be her fault, right!? It was Rei's fault first. Is it hers? Is Haruka dying her fault? She didn't mean this. She didn't mean anything wrong. She was supposed to be FORGIVEN.)

She's in the same position as when she killed Rei, except it's worse because Haruka cared. He listened. He listened.

And, he's not listening, and he's not responding. Say something! Anything! Muu needs to know he's still alive.

“…you in there…?” Muu quietly asks the door. There is no response.

Muu needs Haruka to be alive, in there, because who else would be there for her?

Anyways.

I mentioned this in the ending notes, but I was intentionally vague with how it ended, so you can interpret what really happened to Haruka. Is it a dream? Is he sleeping in? Did he fulfill his promise?

As a fan standpoint, good God, he has to be sleeping in. As a writer, honestly, let's see where MILGRAM goes.

So, that's my director's commentary! Thank you for reading through this longgg post ahah. Sorry for the moments where I blended commentary with writing, it helps me explain sometimes ;;

If anyone else would like to give some commentary (whether long or short, a whole fic or selected passage), I'd love to do this again ^^!!

[cranky-kyrati]

😅, 😈 and 🎃 for the ask game!! I'm so excited for the upcoming chapters of pagan poetry, I feel really happy when I get the notification of a new chapter, you're amazing!! - 🐻 anon

aaaaaaaaaaaaaa thank youuu and I'm always so happy to hear from you ^^

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

So uh. My first forays into writing fanfic were Sailormoon self-inserts. I was 13, had like four years of half-assedly taught English, and. It ... was a very long time ago. A VERY long time ago. Come to think of it, they probably don't really "exist" anymore. But if they did, I'd probably be a bit embarrassed, even if I also feel a great deal of fondness thinking back on that era of unbridled creativity.

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

I confess: I love setting up cliffhangers. I love imagining readers biting their nails and tearing out their hair and grabbing their computers by the throat and shaking them in frustration. Mehehe.

I also know how fucking frustrating cliffhangers can be so I do try not to leave people hanging for too long. ;)

🎃 Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic?

Gotta admit, it's never actually occurred to me to do so. I guess I'm not a very holiday-oriented person? But who knows, maybe one day I'll get a fun prompt or something, I mean it's a great theme for one-shots :D I can't recall having read a holiday-inspired fic, either, sorry. xD

[sleptwithinthesun]

Can I request a prompt? Maybe Bucky having the sneeziest cold while training (either just with Sam or maybe the other avengers?) and he’s reluctant to admit he’s sick. Thanks and I love your writing!

aww, of course!! thank you so much for the kind words, you've been super welcoming to me since i started posting stories and i really appreciate that. here's ~1.5K words of fic for you, i hope you like it :D

a/n: i'm (surprise!) not right-handed. please don't yell at me if anything is incorrect in regards to orientation/positioning.

"So you're telling me," Sam says, hands on his hips and one eyebrow raised, "that you've never kickboxed before?"

Bucky shakes his head. "It wasn't around when I was being... trained. Even though it started in Japan in the late 50s, American kickboxing was popularized in 1974, during the PKA's first World Championships. My first mission was in the early 60s, and from there, HYDRA didn't teach me anything new, only expanded on the training I already had." He winces at the half-faded memories swirling around in his mind, trying not to recall the screams of horror and disbelief.

"Nerd." Sam grins at him, pulling Bucky out of his head, and then effortlessly slips into his stance, right leg back, hands up at his face. "Come on, it'll be fun. Plus, I promise to go easy on you."

Bucky scoffs, stepping back with his right foot as he clumsily attempts to mimic the way Sam's standing. He's been feeling strangely off these past couple of days, tired and lead-limbed. If he had to guess, he'd say that he's getting sick, but he's a supersoldier. That's not something he does. "Yeah, right. Once I figure this out, you'll be asking me to go easy on you."

"We'll see," Sam murmurs, already stepping towards Bucky to correct him. "Put your back foot closer to a forty-five degree angle; that'll give you a wider range of motion. It also prevents you from staying square while you're fighting, obviously, and it helps with balance. Stand a little taller, too. Usually, your first instinct is going to be to crouch down for more stability, but you have to trust yourself. Use your height to your advantage and stay tall— but not too tall —when you're kickboxing." He moves in closer, adjusting Bucky's fists so that they're right in front of his face, the first around eye level and the second farther out but not much lower. "There."

"How long have you been kickboxing?" Bucky asks, watching Sam as he slides fluidly into position again, although his hands are slightly lower than Bucky's are.

Sam shrugs, eyes skirting to the side and away from Bucky's face. "Only a couple of years, maybe five or six? I joined a gym after my tours, needed a place to blow off some steam." He readjusts, bringing his hands up a little higher and curling them into loose fists. "Alright, let's just start with a jab. You're going to use your rear hand— for both of us, that's the left hand —and just punch forward. Imagine you're aiming at your opponent's face. Keep your chin down and eyes up." He demonstrates the jab a couple times, the motion quick and simple. "All you're doing is throwing a punch."

"Simple enough," Bucky says. His arm clicks as he copies Sam, quiet enough that no one else besides him can hear it. He's not sure if he should remind Sam that he was a boxing champion in his school days (and fuck, don't those seem like they were a century ago) and that he probably already knows most of what he's being shown now, or if he should just let it be. It's true that while he doesn't actually know the specifics of kickboxing, he was trained in Muay Thai. The two fighting styles are similar, though Muay Thai incorporates elbows and knees where kickboxing doesn't, at least not as much.

Sam nods. "Pretty good," he comments, winking when Bucky glares. "You're fine, man. Try a cross and then a hook, and then I'll show you a sequence, if that's alright. After that, we can go through a couple kicks and drills and then start sparring tomorrow."

"Sounds good," Bucky says, nodding, then punches the air in front of him. Sam whistles, low and long, and Bucky looks up to see him smiling with admiration in his eyes. "What?"

He shakes his head, brushing Bucky's question off. "Nothing, man. It's just nice to see you back in the groove, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Bucky looks down at the ground, avoiding making eye contact, then goes back to the jab-cross-hook sequence. It's easier than trying to sort out everything that's happened between them, what with the way both their feelings have seemed to be changing since Sam accepted the role of Captain America.

-

Immediately after Bucky opens his eyes the next morning, everything is awful.

Correction: He feels awful. The previous ache has truly settled into his bones by now and there's a headache throbbing right behind his eyes, making the world swoop around him the moment he tries to sit upright. The worst of it all, however, is the sudden and relentless itch that runs around his nose and buzzes right next to his septum, quickly triggering a handful of sneezes that do nothing to quell it. "h'shhiew! heh'SHUH! ESSHh!"

Yeah. Today's going to be great.

He's never been so happy that Sam likes to wake up an hour before dawn to go for a run. It'll give him time to figure out how to hide his symptoms and make sure that Sam doesn't find out about any of this. The only real problem he sees is that he'll have to take a truckload of medicine to even make a dent in whatever this illness is, enough that Sam'll notice and be suspicious. Plus, judging by the time, he's probably going to be back soon, meaning he won't be able to go out and get anything for himself. Bucky's just going to have to push through.

"h'SHHuh! hih'ESHyew!" He sniffs and wipes at his nose after, checking himself in the mirror to make sure it's not noticeably red. Thankfully, it seems like he'll be able to pass for a little while longer, but that's pretty much dependent on if this tickle goes away or not. And from the looks of it, it's going to be a long day.

-

Sam puts in his mouthguard and straps his headgear on, smiling at Bucky as best he can. "Are you ready for this?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Bucky responds, doing his best to seem alert and energetic. In reality, he would pass out right now if he could, but he promised Sam that he'd spar with him. Kickboxing really isn't that hard for him, considering his background and if he didn't feel so awful, Bucky would definitely be excited about their training.

"Alright," Sam says, holding his gloved fists up. Bucky matches his stance and puts his chin down, meeting Sam's eyes a second before he throws the first punch, a restrained jab, considering that it's his left hand.

After that, the fight is relatively quick. They're not trying to hurt each other, but it's not like they're just standing around waiting to either hit or defend. Sam's a fierce fighter, and his new training regime has made him a lot stronger. Bucky's a supersoldier, though, so he'd naturally be hitting harder than his training partner, it's just...

Whatever the hell is tearing through his system right now is really doing a number on him. Sam keeps landing hit after hit, and Bucky's just managing to defend himself. The damn tickle in his nose is so distracting he's barely able to concentrate on the sparring match for needing to sneeze.

"Fuck," he wheezes as Sam lands a solid rear-kick to his ribs. "Hey, Sam, do you mind if we—"

"—take a break? I thought you might ask that soon," Sam finishes, frowning at him. "Come here for a second?"

"Yeah, just... h'hih'SHHUH! uh'SHIEWW! Sorry," he mutters, wiping at his nose with the part of his forearm right above where the glove is. Before he can move towards Sam, there's a wrapped hand landing on his cheek. "I'm not sick."

Sam rolls his eyes, although he does pull his hand back. "Sure, Buck. You're not sick."

"I'm not," he insists, ducking into his elbow again. "h'ESSHH!"

"Bless, man," Sam tells him, patting him gently on the back while he gears up for yet another sneeze. "Bless. Are you sure?"

Bucky scoffs. "I'm a supersoldier. I don't get sick."

"The current evidence says otherwise," Sam points out. "You're not feverish, I don't think, so it's probably just a cold. And before you try to tell me again that you 'don't get sick', you've also been in some pretty extenuating circumstances. That's sure to mess with your immune system."

"I guess," Bucky admits, sniffling as he pulls his gloves off, and then his wraps. Sam undoes his wraps as well, his own gloves already tucked under his arm.

"Come on," he says gently, starting back towards the house and pausing when Bucky holds a finger up. "Bless," he says in advance, grinning through his mouthguard when Bucky glares at him.

"hh... hih'SHIIEW! huh'ISH'uh! htt'SHYEWW!"

Sam rubs a hand over Bucky's back as he catches his breath, eyes softening. "You alright?"

Bucky shrugs. "I'll live."

"Of course you will."

[nine-mp3]

Your Neighbor Sungho | Ch. 1

Photo Credits:

- left hand corner, @116page

- center, @newat_rie

Rie (sungho) x (female) reader, fluff, slice of life, semi-angsty (?)

appearances of other OnlyOneOf and Dreamcatcher members will occur

hey so I rolled a wheel on who to write a fanfic first and got rie plus picked out a prompt to write from

warnings: alcohol, getting drunk; in this fic is PG-13, some light cursing occasionally, super tiny mention of smut in description beginning and that’s all;

btw i’m pretty sarcastic, there’s sarcasm thrown here and there, hope you enjoy :D

This is my first time sharing my writing on a public platform. As a writer, I always appreciate constructive criticism. Feel free to leave feedback in the comments if you have anything to say. Thank you in advance for reading as well

Also, please DO NOT repost my work anywhere without my permission or plagiarize.

Description: your neighbor, sungho, from the day you've moved in has kept you up countless nights with their significant other. dancing, muffled long conversations, and amongst other noises you wished you could wipe from memory. one day it suddenly stops. those days become months.

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Your neighbor, Sungho, from the day you've moved in has kept you up countless nights with their significant other. Dancing, muffled long conversations, and amongst other noises you wished you could wipe from memory. One day it suddenly stops. These days become months. Now, you couldn't help but to be concerned.

Sungho isn't a bad neighbor. You recall complaining to him at some point, amidst trying to focus on a report you had to write up for work, and he apologized for the noise. Many times. He seemed embarrassed, never realizing how thin the walls were in the apartment building, and promised to keep the noise levels down. These promises would last only about a week. Their significant other was quite the complete opposite of Sungho, a loud individual. From what you were aware, the two didn't live together. His significant other would come over daily to stay or visit.

As much as they were loud, they didn't seem to like you either. Looks of disdain thrown whenever you happen to cross them in the hallway, being in the same elevator cart, or when Sungho was trying to be a good neighbor by greeting you. They would pull him away immediately, putting his attention back on them. Sometimes you thought that they were being loud on purpose, knowing that you were next door, and very well aware of the complaints. The reason why? You had no idea. The best guess you could come up with was that they saw you as a threat to their relationship. Which was ridiculous. You hardly knew the male nor could the both of you call each other friends.

Sometimes Sungho left fruits or drinks at your door with little notes of apologies for their rowdiness. And for their significant other's behavior. For the most part, you bared through it or simply did all your work within the hours at your office now and prayed that tiredness would consume you once you hit your bed, blocking out any disturbances.

So, life goes on.

One weekend, you just happened to get home from going out with your friends. It was late, past midnight. You heard arguing through the walls between Sungho and their significant other.

"You're always like this, Sungho!"

Immediately, you felt very uncomfortable entering your apartment. It wasn't something you wanted to hear or should be hearing. Not that you could help it either since you lived next door. You backed yourself outside, considering going to the balcony on the floor for a bit. Stepping back outside of your door, their argument becomes muffled.

Why couldn't the landlord just keep the damn wall consistency the same?

Suddenly, Sungho's door flies open followed by their significant other storming out. You jump up out of surprise, the noise scaring you. They're heading down the hallway, to the elevators, without looking back. Sungho appears at his door not too long after, holding it open.

"Wait-" he calls out to them, his voice faltering.

The male notices you then, staring with wide eyes at him. At that moment, you were able to get a full picture of his current position. The hurt in his eyes.

"Oh...y/n. Are you here to complain about the noise again? I'm really sorry-"

"Uh, no! No, not at all. See, I just was returning home now. Don't worry about it," you said, awkwardly blinking a few times, reaching to grab for your keys from your bag once again.

"Um, I'm heading inside now! Okay, bye!"

You immediately opened your door again, rushing, running into your living room. The door shuts behind automatically and you let out a sigh of relief. You felt bad for suddenly running away, but you weren't about to ask or give relationship advice if Sungho wasn't asking for it. Besides, what if it was only a lover's quarrel?

They'll probably make up soon. Talk about a rough night…

Then the realization set in. The apartment would be definitely quiet for at least another day. A smile rises to your face.

What a horrible thing to be happy over...after seeing your neighbor fight with their significant other. Then again, they weren't all that nice to me.

You shrugged, waving the events aside, calling it a night, enjoying the peaceful silence...only with the slight remaining, lingering tension in the air. After you showered, brushed your teeth, and changed into pajamas, you immediately laid down on your bed. Pulling the covers over, you found yourself thinking. Staring up to the ceiling of your room in the dark.

That argument sounded bad though...ugh. None of your business, y/n. Go to sleep. They'll probably be fine tomorrow…

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Define the term "fine".

The next day, as you predicted, was quiet. That you could hear a pin drop from down the hallway. You enjoyed it, a Sunday afternoon peace. It allowed you to catch up on work, eat, watch T.V, write poetry...overall without any disturbances. Sungho, your neighbor, was long forgotten from your mind.

The thing is, it goes on for the next week. You weren't worried about it at all because you were swamped with work. The next reports and presentations came with close deadlines. The silence was appreciated, allowing you to focus; you got lost in piles of work and many cups of coffee.

Worry about your neighbor only returned on the brief encounters when the both of you were heading to work in the mornings. Sungho still greeted you, but only with a brief nod and face expressionless. They would walk ahead first, not bothering to see even if you returned the greeting or not. Sometimes you heard him leaving earlier than you and now you couldn't help but to wonder what his occupation was.

The week turns into two and three. He stops greeting you at some point, or maybe he wasn't very aware of his surroundings; his whole aura was different. Sungho usually would at least do his hair before going out and dress somewhat decently. Now it was always a mess, his bangs left down to cover his eyes, matching with black attire. You saw him up close in his current condition when you were returning to the apartment building one afternoon. The male had collided into you, by accident. Turning around immediately on the impact, once you had regained your balance, you're faced with eyes that were written with sleepless nights, dark circles prominent. At least, this time, he mumbles an apology before moving on.

By the time it reaches the end of the month, your workload becomes lighter for the year, you find more time thinking about the current situation of your neighbor. You called up one of your best friends at your workplace one night. It wasn't the first time you discussed your neighbor with them.

"Yoojung, it's the end of the month. I haven't seen his significant other in awhile. As much as I enjoy the silence, I hate seeing Sungho this dead," you said, a hand gripping onto the balcony railing out of nervousness.

“Note check. You don’t even know the guy. Why exactly are you so worried?” Yoojung on the other end replies.

Your friend had a point. Why were you worried?

“Well…I don’t have an answer, actually. I don’t know why I’m worried. Can’t I just be a good neighbor?” you replied.

“It’s none of your business, y/n. Looking at reality. But if you’re so worried, go knock on his door and talk to him. Even if it’s just a hello. Didn’t he leave you fruits before? You can do that in return if you’re so curious,” Yoojung suggested, not sounding all that interested.

“Anyways, you’re coming to the group outing for dinner next week right? On Saturday? Please tell me you didn’t forget or you plan on cancelling. We hardly ever get a chance for everyone to come together again.”

“Alright, thanks so much for the advice...I guess...and keep your pants on, Yoojung. Of course I’m coming. Good night,” you scowled at him.

You hung up the phone then, not giving a chance for the other to say his goodbye. As much as he was your best friend, he could be a pain in the ass. Turning around, you exited out the balcony to return back to your apartment for the day.

So much for calling it a night.

Once you make it back, you’re greeted with Sungho at your door, hunched over, using an arm to keep his weight up against the wall. First thought that came to mind: he’s unwell and he came to ask you for help? You immediately approach the male, only to be hit by a smell of alcohol and you jolt back. The second thought you had, only confirmed: he’s drunk.

“Sungho?! Are you okay?” you asked nervously, tapping his shoulder lightly.

The male looks up to you, quite confused.

“y/n? Oh. Yeah...I’m fine. Just trying to get into my apartment...but the key.... doesn’t seem to fit…” Sungho said, words spoken slowly as he tries to stand upright.

“Did...the landlord change the locks?”

“No, no. The landlord didn’t. You’re at the wrong apartment, this one is mine. Uh, do you need help?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Ah...well, that makes...sense now,” Sungho said, a drunk written smile appearing on his face.

“No, it’s okay...I’m always disturbing you... I’m really sorry...Have...a good night, y/n.”

It’s the first time you’ve seen him smile in such a long time. Of course, it only happens to be when he’s not sober. Also, you’re very aware that drunk people do need help but always deny it. You watch as he turns around, folding your arms and counting down in your head.

3... 2...1

The male collapses on the ground, completely knocked out from the alcohol in his system. You blew up at your hair, huffing then, staring down at his figure on the ground.

This night just got a whole lot longer.

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[spelling-checked-mostly]

Idk if you do fic writing but maybe GO -because I'm obsessed and "nanny, why are you crying?" Idk. Kinda feeling angsty. If you don't do fic that's cool too. Idk, feeling bored in here on this Friday afternoon... iloveyourworkpleasestartpostingagainokaythanksbye

Oh uh... wow okay hi. I do write fic, thanks for the prompt. I'm not great at angst /lies/ but I can try. Note that I am typing this on my phone. Warlock was singing- internally of course. Nanny wouldn't approve of the future ruler of hell literally singing. Unless of course, he sings queen. So Warlock sang internally, voicing his joy only in his head. “Yes father, I would love to go.” It’s the first time he has really been allowed to go to an event like this. “I can behave. I promise.” “I’m sure you will not embarrass me. Especially with your nanny there to keep you in line.” Crowley's head shot up. He had very little interest in going to these events. Of the very few things humans did that he actually had an influence in- he hated dinner parties the most. He just found them dreadfully boring. “Yes sir, of course.” He wanted to sit in his room and drink that night out of existence. “I'll make sure Warlock is the perfect son.” As soon as his father had left Crowley told Warlock to go play in the garden. He followed of course. Hunting down the one being on this planet who would understand his opinions on the matter. “Sometimes, Francis, I really hate being perfect.” Crowley ‘leaned’ against a shrubbery and watched Warlock chasing after a rabbit he had found. “You are far too vain, my lady. Though that may be your only flaw.” Aziraphale stood, wiping the dirt off of his hands. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this afternoon?” Crowley sighs dramatically and looks away. “Do you recall, oh it wasn't that long ago of course you do, when politicians and debate first started developing into a less- er… civil manner. I suggested to some minister or some such that they all get together for a party.” Azira nods. “Honestly, they do seem to resolve things better when they are all in a good mood.” he sighs, “I suppose I should have thanked you for that.” Crowley shrugged. “But are the decisions they are making actually good ones? I had to use a lot of questionable logic to not get in trouble for that.” Aziraphale laughs, only a little. “Well anyway, I have to go to one with the antichrist. I can't imagine it will be enjoyable in the slightest.” And Crowley can see the way his angel physically deflates. Because something is wrong. “Everything alright Angel?” “Hmm? Oh yes, everythings just… tickety boo.” And Crowley rolls his eyes- not that you can tell, but he does it anyway. “We have been over this. No one who is tickety boo actually uses the term tickety boo. What's wrong, come on now tell me. We’re partners aren't me. If you have concerns about the child… or something else?” And aziraphale sighs, and frowns and crowley doesn't like it at all. “It's just… I've been thinking recently… Warlock is getting older and- and well he's not spending so much time at home anymore and you always go away with him and I-I just feel like when you go… I feel- you get more chances to tempt the child than I do is all.” And Crowley laughs. And Aziriphale will never tell him how much it hurts when he laughs at him. “Oh Angel, you should have told me sooner why- we could have certainly found some excuse for you to come with us. Might need a miracle but I can certainly work something out… If that's really what you are so down about.” And Azira forces himself to smile. And Crowley can see through it but he doesn’t say anything. And Warlock comes running over. “Nanny, nanny come look, I’ve killed it.” And Crowley smiles. And Azira gasps. And they go together to find the poor creature. “Very good.” “Now now, Warlock. We should respect and love all of god's creatures. How about a proper burial.” Aziraphale doesn’t give him a chance to argue. He takes the rabbit up in one hand and leads him over to a steadily growing wildlife cemetery. “But Nanny says that-” “The one thing you should respect is your elders.” Crowley smiles softly over at his Angel, even if there is no acknowledgement of what he has said. “Yess nanny, I’ll get the shovel.” “Thank you for that dear.” Aziriphale says it quietly and doesnt turn around. ~~~~~Convenient time skip for exposition~~~~~ “He called me dear. Can you believe that? I mean I know he does it all the time. It’s just his nature. He calls everyone dear. It just felt different this time, you know?” He continued gently misting his plants. “He's a terrible gardener, but I can forgive that.” There's a light rustling and crowley stops. Resting his hand on his hip with all his demon sass. “We have been over this. It’s not like that. Satan though, I wish it was. But could you imagine?” He laughs and goes back to tending his own little garden in his room. “I’d have to teach him how to dance though. Angel only knows one dance and-” “Nanny who are you talking to?” Crowley shrieks and spins and nearly sprays Warlock in the face with the spray bottle before catching himself. “I wasn't talking to anyone. Do not sneak up on me.” He sets the spray bottle down and leads them out of the side closet into the main area. “Sorry. I’m jsut bored because i was listening to father talk about work and i started thinking and - Oh yeah i came up to ask you something.” Warlock grins and Crowley can't figure out if he is proud of or afraid of the demonic gleam in his eyes. “Do you have a date for the party Nanny?” Crowley nearly falls out of his chair. “No-I- Well- Am i supposed to?” He straightens out his skirt and tries to compose himself. “Well, I was listening to father and he was talking about how one of his partners got a new girlfriend and father hates her but he just knows that his partner is going to bring this girl with him and it got me thinking that you are a fairly pretty woman. At least, far prettier than my friends' nannies so i figured you must be seeing someone.” Warlock pauses for air so Crowley takes the chance to cut in. “Well, if ruling hell doesn’t work out I suppose you could make a career in flattery.” He decides he is definitely not going to address the issue of his love life with the antichrist. “It's just that i'd really like to meet him. So i asked father if he hated all boyfriends and girlfriends or if it was just the man he works with and he said that they weren't all bad and he wouldn't even mind people bringing dates to things like this if they weren't so insufferable as that girl so i asked if he would let you bring your boyfriend and he seemed really confused but he said that your boyfriend couldn't possibly be as bad as that girl so as long as you do your job and i really want to meet him nanny.” And again warlock pauses for breath. This time Crowley doesn’t speak. He thinks for a moment before opening his mouth. “Say you’ll take him to the party or I- I’ll- when i take over hell i won't let you have sweets.” Crowley laughs. “Would it still be as exciting if you had already met him?” Crowley could laugh from the look on the boy's face. “You aren’t dating Clyde are you? It would be just like you to date another nanny and he's just so bossy and he doesn’t even believe ill take over hell and… I don’t like him or stupid Jackson and his stupid new toy train.” Warlock folds his arms over his chest and pouts. Crowley does laugh this time. “No, Clyde is too… too much of a nanny. No Warlock, I would be bringing Francis.” Warlock does not look as surprised as Crowley would have expected. “The gardener? I mean I guess I see it but he's so soft and you're so- uh..also soft. But like dark soft.” and crowley nearly growls. “I. Am. Not. Soft. And if you say it again you’ll be going to bed early.” He can hear the plants rustling behind the door. “Well it's just… he looks like he escaped from a male convent.” “A monastery?” “And you look like… you. Like you are waiting for people to find the body of your ex husband who disappeared three years ago so you can play the grieving widow and inherit his fortune.” “You are very creative, warlock. I am eager to see what your future looks like. Yes, seeing as I am aloud I will be bringing Francis as my date to the party. Go play in your room for a but, Nanny has something to take care of.” As soon as Warlock is gone Crowley pops back down to the garden. “Brother Fran- Oh don't scream Angel, it’s just me.” Crowley waits for him to calm down. “I told Warlock we are dating.” “You did what!” “Oh for Satan's sake angel I said don’t scream.” Crowley smiles and brushes his hair back. “Yes, Miss Ashtoreth, I won't scream but I must ask dear. You did what?” “Its brilliant really Angel. And Warlock gave me the idea. Maybe you really are having an influence on him.” The comment goes right over the angels head. “I've told him we are dating. Then you can be my date to parties and things. It’s fine with his father by the way. No miracle needed. You can have just as much chance to influence the boy as me.” And Azira smiles. And Crowley knows it's still fake but he can’t possibly figure out why. So he leaves it alone. “I guess when you put it like that it’s okay to lie.” Oh. Oh right. “Of course Angel. So may I tempt you to join me for a dinner party?” “I suppose. Yes. You could.” ~~~ Time skip because i hold all the power ~~~ “He said yes. Can you believe that. Of course he says its all a lie so he doesn’t really love me but i suppose we've known that this whole time haven’t we? Yes I suppose we have. We’ve been over this.” Rustling. Crowley sneers. “Oh you know what, shove it up your roots Phil. I would run you through the disposal if you weren’t the second most perfect specimen i’ve ever seen. Don’t tell the others of course. How will i strike the fear of- uh- me into them if they know i treat you like this.” ~~~ Time skip because that was just self indulgent~~~ "Oh, Miss Ashtoreth, who's your friend" Crowley cringes at the sound if that voice and grips Aziraphale hand a little tighter, trying to sink into the wall. "Not now Clyde, I'm trying to watch Warlock. Unlike some people, I take my job seriosly." "Oh please, what trouble can they really get into here? Be polite, introduce me." Crowley pouts. Legitimately pouts. And Azira pulls his hand away to offer it to 'Clyde' "I'm Francis, Lady Ashtoreth' partner." Warlock watches Crowley's mental battle to not rip Clyde's hand off when he reaches out. "Im Clyde, of course. I nanny for one of Warlocks friends. Miss Ashtoreth and I are very close, funny she didn't mention you." Azira laughs nervously. "Yes well, as a couple were fairly-" "Private." Crowley takes his hand bag and drags them away. "I hate that man. Honestly, he dares question the legitimacy of our relationship. We are perfect together." And Azira forces are smile. Because he knows. And Crowley can tell it's forced, but he doesn't press it. Because he doesn't know. "So this is the uh… boyfriend Warlock talks about" they spin to the new person, crowley doesn't let go of his hand. It's an awkward turn. "Yes Mr. Dowling." Crowley is beaming. And Azira hates it because his adversary is trying to tempt him again and he can't get in trouble. "I must be honest, I never would have suspected. Of course, my wife always has more of a sense for those things" he nods a little, like that makes sense. "Well sir, we do try to be professional at work." Wonderful excuse Crowley. A genius you are. "Thank you for allowing him to come with us though." "Yes well, you seem to still be watching after Warlock so I don't see the harm in letting you have some life" he sighs, looking around. "Er… would you mind telling Warlock he can't stay for dinner. There are really some important decisions to be made so we are rereading some ending the children home early." "Of course sir" Crowley was not looking forward to upsetting the antichrist. He resigned himself to it, and set about locating the boy again. Every person who cast doubt on his relationship with aziraphale upset him more until he was eager to get out. But of course, every time he looked back at his angel, Azira seemed to be having fun. Laughing and chatting with whoever they had bumped into. And of course, there were people who weren't entirely surprised. Which made it a little easier for Crowley to stomach socializing. Every chance he got to tell someone that he and Azira were dating, he took. He adored being able to say it. Although, he noticed, it did seem to put his date a little on edge. Finally they found Warlock. Or... he found them. "Nanny this is boring, I want to leave." Crowley sighed. "Well you're in luck. Your father is sending you home. Come on now, let's get your things." If crowley were anything other than a demon he might be ashamed to admit that he used a minor demonic miracle to get than hem out without people noticing. As an angel Aziriphale is rather distraught over his own use of a miracle to keep people from noticing them. On the drive home even Warlock can tell that it's tense. Azira waits for Crowley to put the child to bed before saying anything. But as soon as he walks down the stairs. "I can't do this." And he can see Crowley break. Anthony Janthony Crowley, demon from hell, nearly starts sobbing on the stairs. But only for the fraction of a second when that wave of emotion first hit's him can you tell. Then he carefully packs it away. "Can't do what Angel?" And Crowley knows. And aziraphale gives a sad little smile, because he knows. "We aren't right Crowley. Every single person could tell. You could tell" "Aziraphale it's not about what some stupud humans think. We are doing this because- so that you can spend a little more time with the kid. Put us on even ground. Who cares what people say. We can do this." And Crowley hates that he's practically begging and Aziraphale hates that he's practically begging and they both hate this situation. "I can't do this Crowley. I. Me. I cant. I'm an angel Crowley and it's just wrong to lie about something so... intimate. So human. It's wrong to lie to everyone." And Crowley can see that tidal wave comming in again. So why not swim out to meet it. In a flash he's right in front of his Angel. Holding his face. Pleading. "Why does it have to be a lie?" And he hates himself for leaning foreward and kissing that stupid, stupid angel. But for the briefest second he sees heaven. Then Aziraphale pulls away. "I've said it once, I'll say it hundreds of times. Until you understand. You go to fast for me" It crashes over him and he's drowning. "Go. Go away. Go back to your own house tonight. Don't bother comming in tomorrow. Itll be too rainy for you to get any gardening done" "Oh, Dear don't-" "Get. Out. Aziraphale." And he leaves. And the door closes. And Crowley barely makes it up to his room. He doesn't make it up to his room. "Nanny, why are you crying?" Warlock steps out of his bedroom door and puts a gentle hand on Crowley's arm. "That party was just so dreadful" and -for the first time since Warlock had learned to walk- his nanny picks him up, carries him to bed, and tucks him in. "Thank you, Warlock." And then he leaves. ~~~Time skip brought to you by a lazy author and stuff~~~ "He HATES me Phil." Crowley sits in the corner. To dry to cry. He just sits there, staring at the plant. "He he's me and you know what I hate me too and I bet you hate me. Warlock doesn't hate me though. The one person that I need to hate everything doesnt hate me." A dry sob shakes his rib cage. "I've made a discovery though. I do believe angel saliva is some weird form of holy water. I thought ink he was about to kiss me back. Right before he pulled away. His eyes were closed I know it." It's silent for far too long. "I love him, Phil." Ahnhdmhxnabdh I haven't gotten a prompt in like ever. I love you sm. I haven't written GO fic in forever. I did more research for this than for my actual writing projects because I did not preciously know what a male nunnery was called. This was fun. Btw- Phil is a fake plant. Crowley doesn't know yet.

[risingphoenix761]

R, U, & Z fanfic asks

R: Would you ever write a sequel to any of your fics? Which one(s)?

The million-dollar question. 😂 I actually have a couple sequels in my docs, and at least one planned. A follow-up to Take Care Of It (The Walking Dead) has been staring at me for over a year, but my Bethyl muse is apparently in hiding. @slytherkins and I REALLY want to collaborate on something for St. Fergus (Supernatural). And...*cough* I've got several ideas for a sequel to Warrior Shepherds (Boondock Saints) but the first fic isn't even finished and THAT muse really did go into hiding.

U: Do you prefer AUs or canon compliant fics?

I've tweaked circumstances in canon, but I've only written two full-blown AUs (that I can recall), and they were short one shots. I tend to stay within a stone's throw of canon for the sake of personal convenience. Which suits me fine, as the only reason I have for tweaking is to avoid killing off certain characters...

Z: Post an excerpt from either your first fic or your most recent one.

So, since I kinda sorta don't remember what my most recent fic was, or even what the first one was, how about a WIP? This is from a Boondock Saints fic based on a prompt from @thoughtslikeaminefield holy flying sheep in a shipwreck the deadline is tomorrow *headdesk*

"Hey."

The soft voice made him look up, and the bartender had him in her sights, a concerned expression on her face. "You sure you're okay, honey?"

He shrugged. "Not really," he answered, "but I'll be fine."

"Is work that bad?"

"S'pose not. It's worthwhile, truly, but...I guess sometimes if ye do a job long enough, ye sorta become it, ye know? It takes ye over, an ye don't know who ye are but for what ye do."

"Well, you're not working in here," she pointed out as she leaned toward him on her folded arms resting on the bar. "I bet you could be...who you are for a bit."

He read the slight pause for what it was and offered her a smile. "I'm Murphy."

"Murphy." She repeated it as if testing it out, gauging the feel of it on her lips and the sound in her ears. "I'm Devon."

Fanfic Asks