#oh my sister uses any pronouns for the record. waves hands. if you ever refer to them

[vampacidic]

sister just walked up to me at the dinner table and went 'babykel cheese' so. waves

[jemej3m]

To the Good Place We Go (p.1)

part one! hope u like this crossover. hopefully it makes sense???

I read @gluupor‘s hilarious Good Place au and wanted to have a crack at my own! note to gluupor, i’ve changed things around a bit but thanks for the idea! 

link to their the good place au here:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/16782301

part two here: http://jemejem.tumblr.com/post/182518336942/to-the-good-place-we-go

Dan was having the worst day.

And this was the Good Place. She wasn’t supposed to have bad days. She’d spent her life trying to wade through misgivings and a lack of opportunities: Now she was dead, and she was supposed to be happy—forever!

Instead, she was staring at her living room, which was on fire, and wondered what the frick she did to deserve such bullshirt.

Neil—always, Neil—pointed at Kevin. “He did it.”

“Dan, I’m so sorry—“ Matthew Boyd begged. “I tried to get them to stop yelling, but Kevin fell back onto a candle and so Andrew went to get water to put it out, but he thought it’d be funny to pour Vodka instead—How he got Vodka, I don’t know—“

“It was me!” Nicky cheerfully chirped from the corner.

“And so Kevin was really on fire, so Allison asked Nicky to turn on the sprinklers, but not before she could ask for an umbrella, but she never specified which sprinklers, so whilst your garden is currently being nicely watered, Kevin’s whole ass is exposed and your living room is a mess!” He wore his pathetic puppy eyes, and whilst he’d been pestering her to go on a date (“We’re soulmates, Dan! Think about it! We could be happy together, forever, if you just listened to me—Hey! Where are you going—!”) He was seemingly sincere.

Kevin was sitting in a bucket of ice, teeth chattering. Neil was laying on the sofa, grinning up at Andrew, who smoked lazily. Dan hoped he hadn’t used Kevin’s fire catastrophe to light his cigarette, but knowing Andrew, he probably had.

“Oh, dear.” Renee said, softly, from Dan’s side.

Here’s how this all started:

Dan got into the Good Place. Wymack, the ever-present, genderless guardian of their neighbourhood who used he and him pronouns, F0X35, had greeted her at her initiation. She’d died in a brawl outside a strip club, her strip club. She knew she’d been protecting her fellow stage sister, but couldn’t understand how she’d ended up in the Good Place.

“Sex isn’t necessarily immoral, Danielle.” Wymack reminded her. “Neither is stripping. And saving your friend’s life with non-violent negotiations—very brave, and very effective!” They sighed. “Such a shame he had to stab you in the back out of fury as you were escorting your friend back inside. Would you like to hear a recording of how he is experiencing the Bad Place? Your friend stabbed him with your murder weapon out of anger.”

“She what?” Dan had blanched. “Is she alright?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Don’t you worry.” He huffed, arms flexing as they stood out of his chair. “Welcome to the Good Place, Danielle. Would you like a cup of coffee before Nicky escorts you to your new home?”

“But sir—“

“No buts.” Wymack pointed at her. “Tea, coffee, lemonade or scoot.”

She stood obediently, nodded in thanks and left.

She hadn’t need to worry about her unremarkably neutral life, wherein she’d done just as many shirty things as she had good things, because her soulmate—Matthew Boyd, an overbearing young man with horrifically spiked hair and pouted lips—confessed to her immediately.  

“I don’t know why I’m here.” He whispered. They were sitting together on her couch: She was in a studio-style house, with a jacuzzi and a large bed. It was sophisticated but not excessive: It was perfect. “I overdosed on drugs at a socialite’s party, with a bunch of rich shirt-heads! Oh, gosh, Wymack’s going to kick me down to the Bad Place, isn’t he?”

“Shh.” Dan hissed. “I was a stripper and totally scammed and stole from all my customers so I could support my aunt and my baby cousin, I wasn’t much better.”

Matt looked relieved. “Oh, thank gosh. I was terrified of having to keep my secret for all of eternity. This must be why we’re soulmates.”

“Because we’re shirty people in disguise.” Dan said dryly. He looked sheepish. “Whatever. Whatever’s happened, it’s probably a mix-up. Do you want to go down to the Bad Place, because I don’t. My killer is there. So keep your mouth shut.”

“Yes ma’am.” He muttered.

That was how she’d found out about Matthew. The others had all followed suit: She found Kevin and Neil trying to beat each other up in a secluded spot by the lake, yelling censored profanities at each other and insulting each other with petty accusations.

“You stole Andrew’s whisky!”

Kevin blanched, before scowling furiously. “You were there!”

Dan tore them apart physically then tore into them verbally. By the end they were sullen but quiet, and Dan walked down the lake’s jetty, her heart thudding in her chest. How many of them were frauds? The neighbourhood only had three-hundred and twenty-two of them, and she could count four that definitely didn’t qualify to be there.

Andrew sailed past the jetty she stood on, laying on his back in a little row boat. His eyes were closed, arm thrown lazily over his face. In his hand, he spun a terrifyingly sharp throwing knife.

“Interfere with my things again and I’ll get you kicked out of here.” Andrew floated away, leaving Dan struck silent.

Make that five people.

Eventually, she discovered the rest. Some, on accident: Some, like Kevin and Neil, because of truly stupid and avoidable situations. Some, like Matt and Renee, just came right out with it.

That’s how all ten of them —  Allison, because she was ‘deprived of gossip’, Renee, because she was at least somewhat moral, Matt, because Dan couldn’t shake him off her tail, Seth because he was arrogant but not stupid enough to miss this entire sham, Kevin, Andrew and Aaron, because they went everywhere together, Neil because he was like a lost puppy, and Nicky, because someone had called for him—ended up in Dan’s living room and promptly wrecked the place when she’d gone to check the perimeter for nosy neighbours.

She never remembered lighting those candles, anyway.

“Everyone,” She said, barely able to contain her anger. “Shut up. Don’t move. Or so help me, I’ll kill you all.”

“Too late.” Neil harped, before Kevin whacked him over the back of the head and he sulked into the couch.

“We’re going to figure something out, as a group, okay?” She insisted. “Okay?”  

They mumbled in assent.

Dan sighed. If all the shirt she’d endured in her short life hadn’t aged her, trying to conceal eight people’s true moral standings so that they wouldn’t be struck from a peaceful afterlife surely would.

Welcome to the forking Good Place.

“Now, Renee, do you understand?”

She nodded. “Ingenious, really, sir.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fortunately for you, Renee, much of your reformation happened whilst on earth. The others didn’t get that chance, so it will take much longer for them to come forward about their true moral standings. You must not tell them that it’s a test, okay?”

“Okay.” She promised. “I hope they succeed.”

This was honest, as Renee stood by honesty: She had confronted Wymack on her first morning, after their introductory seminar in the town square, telling him her true upbringing, her crimes and her regrets. He had smiled with relief and sat her down in his office to explain the truth: A select group were all unqualified for the Good Place, but could earn their spot if dedicated enough. He’d known about her all along.

“I hope you all do.” Wymack confirmed. “This—Middle Place Project—Nicky!”

Nicky popped up from behind the desk, next to Wymack. Renee smiled at him and he waved, curls bouncing. “Yes, sir?”

“From now on, we’re referring to F-0-X-3-5 as MPP, for efficiency purposes, and also to keep it discreet. Also, tick off Renee Walker’s name from MRPFMPPL1.”

“What does that mean?” Renee inquired.

“Moral Rehabilitation Process For Middle Place Project List 1.” Wymack frowned. “That is a bit much, isn’t it. Nicky, change all the MRPFMPPL’s to just Test and whatever number it is.”

“Of course!” And then he disappeared again.

It was an odd thing, the afterlife. And while Renee had placed all her faith in God, she wasn’t disappointed to find a non-denominational place for a peaceful existence after death. Besides, Wymack was practically at the bottom of the chain in regards to omnipotent guardians.

He turned back to her. “Where were we?”

“Discussing the Middle Place Project.” She reminded him. “You were saying you hope we all succeed.”

“Right, right. Well, my superiors think it’s a bad idea. They’re a bit old-fashioned: Everything’s black and white for them: There’s no such thing as second, third, fourth chances, not for lost causes. Sound familiar?”

She nodded.

“We’re working on it, but it’s not your concern. Okay?”

“Okay.” She promised. His words were always soothing, so any unrest she felt was immediately eased.

“Alright, well, that should be everything.” He stood. “Get lost, Walker, and have fun.”

She hesitated by the door. “Wymack?”

He looked up at her from the papers on his desk. They hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Hm?”

“Do you believe in lost causes?”

He paused. A tiny smiled appeared. “Is there anything else worth believing in?”

She beamed and closed the door behind her.

Andrew wasn’t interested in his own wellbeing, but he’d promised Kevin that he wouldn’t let Riko take him down to the Bad Place, and he’d promised to always stand by Aaron’s side. Turns out Walker — not-so-innocent Walker — had beat him in Wymack’s honesty race.

Andrew had planned on telling him about his mother, the four homophobes at the bar, the arson and thievery, the violence. That’d surely get him sent to the Bad Place, where he’d wipe Kevin and Aaron’s names from record and then get to spend the rest of eternity being the Devil’s incarnate, or whatever.

So when Wymack had congratulated him, called his pet robot to strike his name off the list and informed him that it was all a stupid forking test, he’d felt a flicker of rage—towards himself, for not suspecting this.

Then his attention turned elsewhere. “Just me and Walker, right?”

“Correct.” Wymack nodded.

“So can you tell me about Neil?”

Wymack frowned. “What about him?”

“Well, he’s a liar and a threat.” Andrew said, petulantly.  

“Is this because he’s your soulmate?” Wymack furrowed his brows. “I understand that with your past, such an intimate proposition might be intimidating, but I assure you that—“

What? Neil, his soulmate?

Irrelevant. Not true. Andrew didn’t have a soul, so how could he have a soulmate? He flung the fleeting idea aside and bludgeoned on. “No, I’m saying that Neil’s a threat to the safety of this whole fricking mission of yours and if you got your stupid fricking omnipotent head out of your frigid ash, you’d see the same. Ash. You know I’m trying to say ash, not ash. Fork.”

Wymack shook his head. “You’re not the boss here, Andrew. Okay? Leave me to worry about these things. Talk to Nicky about talking to someone, wont you? Trauma is best dealt with through professional therapeutic techniques.”

Andrew bristled, standing up.

“Storming out is very immature!” Wymack called.

“Fork you!” He yelled back.

So Wymack had given him a non-discreet warning to leave the problems to him, but since when had Andrew ever obeyed a request, or failed a promise? Never. And he wasn’t going to start now, not even in death. So he decided to take care of Neil himself.

Step one: Intimidate.

Glaring didn’t work. They were all standing around, socialising from behind glasses of champagne. Andrew let his eyes linger on Neil’s lithe form, the high cheekbones. And yet, when Neil noticed Andrew’s heavy stare, he simply rose his eyebrows up as a challenge.

He tried a more tactical method, being, shoving Neil up against a white-and-gold patterned wall in an abandoned corridor—who’s house was this, anyway?—his forearm against Neil’s throat.

“You’re not meant to be here.” He hissed, leaning in close enough that their noses were practically brushing.

“Really?” Neil snapped. “What about you, murderer?”

The accusation slid off Andrew like water off laminated paper, so he bared his teeth and leaned impossibly closer. “All bark, no bite, rabbit.”

“Rabbits don’t bark.” Neil’s lips curled up, ever so slightly.

Andrew shoved off him and made himself scarce.

So. Intimidating didn’t work. He moved onto step two: Investigating.

Nicky was useless, smiling in a way that made Andrew want to pull his teeth out and shove them into his eyes. “I can’t reveal personal information about other residents. I can, however, provide you with a Wikipedia page.”

Neil Josten.

It came up with nothing.

“Thanks for nothing.” He said, dryly.

“You’re welcome!” He beamed, before disappearing again. Good lot of help that was.

So, once again, he upped the theatrics. Nicky, though disapproving, gave him a dozen sachets of cracker dust. It was only a matter of time before Allison hosted another stupid party, as though she was trying to better her parents in the afterlife. Ridiculous.

“A drink?” Nicky offered him. He was deliberately standing by Neil, who was refusing to admit his discomfort and move away. Stubborn little shirt.

“Whisky.” He hooked a finger under Neil’s chin. “You?”

“I’m fine.”

“He’ll get a soda.” Andrew amended.

Neil frowned. “Why are you being nice?”

“Got off on the wrong foot, didn’t we? Wouldn’t want to continue our eternal partnership as soulmates hacking at each others throats, would we?”

The colour drained from Neil’s cheeks. “We’re what?”

Nicky appeared with the two drinks: Andrew intercepted, a sachet ready in his palm, and handed Neil the soda. It was still swirling around its glass when he took a massive gulp, positively shaken by Andrew’s admission.

“You seem shaken, Neil.” Andrew leaned forward. “Didn’t think a monster such as myself could have a soulmate? That’s very hypocritical, if my suspicions about you are correct.”

He drained the glass in an attempt to avoid answering Andrew’s pestering, but he was already wobbling on his feet. A secure arm around the waist kept him upright until they’d found themselves in what looked exactly identical to wherever they were before; Allison’s place was a fucking maze.

“What did you do!” Neil spluttered, furious. Scratching at his skin, his voice became hysterical and  breathing became laboured. “I forking swear to gosh, I’ll kill you, I will—“

“What are you doing here, Neil?” Andrew demanded. “Are you from the Bad Place? Trying to drag us all back down there?”

“You think I’m a mole?” He said, incredulous. He was readily turning a putrid shade of green. Andrew wondered if what Nicky gave him was actually cracker dust. Could have been asbestos. cyanide, maybe even ground up Lucky Charms: There was no way of telling. “Are you out of your Gosh-darned mind, you psychotic forking midget?”

He was the midget? Neil was only three inches taller. Andrew leaned into his ear. “Give me one good reason to let you stay, and I’ll back off. Clear?”

“I’m going to be sick.” Neil moaned, shoving weakly at Andrew.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Then he left, leaving a very poorly and bewildered Neil alone. There would always be another day: This was the afterlife, after all. This was eternal.

What he wasn’t expecting was Neil Josten in all his blatant honesty, sitting on the roof of his own house at sunset. He had two cigarettes on hand, offering one to Andrew and looking out wistfully over the rolling fields and fellow neighbour’s abodes.

This house was identical to Cass’s. It was meant to be all his, empty of his old demons and offering only the best memories. If only Andrew’s mind was remotely functional: Then he would be able to isolate the good and the bad, and be able to live in peace under this roof. Except he couldn’t, so he had to stare at a forking muffin tray and think about the time his foster brother forked him half to death.  

It’s why he had a hammock drawn up between two trees at the bottom of his garden. He was creating a nice little space for himself, behind a large bush that obstructed the house from view.

“I don’t really know why I’m so terrified of the truth when I’m already dead.” Neil said, thoughtfully. “I suppose I’m scared of meeting my father again if I’m sent down there. He’s the one who killed me, by the way. What am I saying—I know I’ll see him again. He’s my worst nightmare. He’s bad enough that they probably promoted him in anticipation of my arrival.”

“Why are you telling me this.” Andrew said flatly, despite the leap of his heart.

Neil shrugged, eyes cast downwards. “I know you wont turn me in. I don’t know how I know, or why I’m so sure, but I just—“ He waved his hands around. “I don’t forking know.”

Andrew could attest to that. Nodding, they smoked in agreeable silence. What was surprising was the weight of—could it be—guilt? It pressed down on his shoulders, and he hated. So he straightened up, looked right at the sun like he was never able to on Earth, and said; “Truth for truth. This house is a replica of my almost adoptive family’s home. I hate it.”

Neil was looking at him. Andrew hated that too. Why was it, that when they had all of eternity stretched out in front of them, he felt like spilling every secret he’d withheld on Earth? It made no sense. This made no sense. Neil made no sense.

Especially when he said; “So come stay at mine.”

So, yeah. Neil’s strange brand of honesty shocked Andrew enough for him to forget that nothing ever took him by surprise. But only for a moment. And yes, his devastatingly sharp cheekbones and incredibly blue eyes were horrible and Andrew hated every atom of Neil’s being, but he found himself smoking in silence beside the young man and finding it—comfortable.

As far as he knew, it was still just him and Renee who had confronted Wymack. A few weeks had to have passed since, but Andrew had no way of knowing the time or date, so he couldn’t say for sure. What he could say was that Wymack was frustratedly pacing grooves into the carpets of his office, waiting for one of them to step forward and prove their integrity. Neil was a jumble of lies and dead-ends, and the only thing he’d come clean about were his motives for staying in this place.

Neil would be the last to confess to Wymack. Andrew was sure of it.

Which was why, when Neil stood up at a neighbourhood meeting, Andrew’s entire being came to a grinding holt

He had the sun illuminating a red halo from above, the ferocity of his gaze intense and determined.

“I don’t belong here.” Neil admitted, in front of dozens and dozens of people. “I’m not who you think I am, and I don’t belong here.”

Oh, Andrew thought. Fork you, Neil.

hope u enjoyed!