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dragonsaphirareads · 1 year

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Pearl opened her eyes.

Welcome! Everything is fine.

The green writing on the otherwise blank white wall was the first thing she noticed when she woke. Had she fallen asleep, somehow sitting straight upright? Where was she? The room looked like some kind of waiting room – had she had a meeting with one of her freelance clients today?

Welcome! Everything is fine.

Pearl’s thoughts felt thick, like she was trying to swim through syrup. The last thing she remembered was walking her dog, heading down the sidewalk to the dog park where she loved to run free. She must have gotten home at some point, though looking down at her clothes she noticed she was wearing the same maroon sweatshirt and ratty jeans she’d thrown on that morning.

Welcome! Everything is fine.

She couldn’t be meeting a client then. She always made sure to dress her best on the few times she had to go out for her job – it tended to get her more clients and bigger tips. Nobody wanted to entrust their entire technical infrastructure to someone who didn’t look like they’d brushed their hair that morning.

“Pearl?” Came a voice from her left, breaking her free from the honeyed tendrils of the trance she had been in. Standing inside the open door was a man, smiling at her softly with one hand on the doorframe. He had messy blonde hair combed out of his face, and he wore a red jumper that was nearly too big on him. When she stood up on instinct, she even noticed that they were the same height – she might even have had an inch or two on him. “Come on in.”

Pearl had no idea what was going on, how she got here or who this strange man was, but she strangely didn’t feel even the slightest hesitation following him through the door and into his office. Her body still felt light, like she was gliding across the room rather than walking, and when the man gestured her to sit in the chair in front of his desk, even that felt oddly weightless.

“Right then, let’s start at the beginning.” The man said, leveling her with dark brown eyes that felt like staring into a whirlpool. “You, Pearl Moon, are dead.”

For a moment, his words didn’t register. Dead? No, that wasn’t right. She was just alive, after all. She’d woken up early that morning to walk Tilly before she went to work. She’d gotten her shoes on, attached Tilly’s leash, and left the front door to walk their normal route. It had been a chilly morning, the dew hanging heavy on the grass beside the sidewalk, and Tilly insisted on rolling all over it.

And then… then something happened, she thought. There was a loud noise, a blaring sort of noise, and then a loud bang, and then… nothing.

“…Oh.” Pearl said, because there wasn’t really anything else to say

“Now, I understand this might come as a shock to you, especially since your passing was so… sudden. Please, take a minute if you need time to process—”

“What happened to Tilly?” Pearl interrupted immediately, leaning forward in her chair and gripping the edge of the desk desperately. The man blinked, taken aback for a moment before looking down and rifling through a thick manila folder on his desk.

“Tilly… that was your dog, correct?” He muttered, licking his thumb to page through some loose papers. “Let me see… ah, here it is.”

He lifted out a typed page covered in strange characters Pearl had never seen before, and began to read aloud. “On their early morning walk, Pearl was walking her dog Tilly when suddenly, a drunk driver came careening down their street and lost control of their car, driving onto the pavement and striking Pearl. Hearing the commotion, her neighbor, a Miss Gem Tay, came out of her house to see what was going on and found Tilly barking loudly, attempting to wake her owner whose neck was snapped at such an angle that it was obvious she was beyond help. Tilly whined and cried as Ms. Tay tried to drag her away from Pearl’s body, trying at the same time to dial the paramedics in the vain hope that her neighbor might be saved—”

“Stop! T-That’s… that’s enough.” Pearl stuttered, her hands shaking uncontrollably as her heart raced in her chest. She swallowed against the lump welling up in her throat and took a deep breath. “I just… just wanted to know if Tilly was safe.”

The man gasped, putting a hand over his heart. “O-Oh! Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry! I read these reports so often, I forget how emotional of an experience it can be for you humans. Um…” He cleared his throat, shuffling through some more papers as Pearl tried to collect herself. “It looks like after the… incident, Ms. Tay adopted Tilly herself, as a companion to her recently adopted puppy. Hopefully that can put your mind at ease.”

It did, ever so slightly. Pearl had spoken with Gem several times over the six months since she’d moved in. They were around the same age, and both had very energetic dogs who loved to run, so they’d talked whenever they were both at the dog park together. She was sweet, and Pearl knew she could be trusted with Tilly’s care.

Slowly, the knot in her chest came undone, and she nodded. “Ok… ok, I’m alright now.” Pearl raised her head to look at the man again, then glanced around the small office. It looked about the same as any other corporate office she’d been in, with boring beige walls and dark, expensive looking wooden furniture. There was a bookshelf to one side, the same strange symbols from the papers on Grian’s desk also written on their spines. “So… where exactly am I? And who are you?”

“Ah!” The man smacked his forehead with a sheepish grin. “I knew I was forgetting something, silly me! My name is Grian, and I’m the Architect of this neighborhood."

“Architect?”

“Yes! See, the afterlife isn’t just one big place, it would get crowded and so hard to navigate. Instead, there are neighborhoods built for a small group of people, so everyone can feel like they’re important. There are two different ‘sides’ to the afterline – the Good Place, where everyone who was kind and good gets to go, and the Bad Place, where the true scum of the Earth are tortured for eternity.”

Pearl swallowed as Grian’s eyes met hers again. “So… which one am I in, then?”

She thought she was mostly a good person, but she was hardly a saint either. Depending on what their definition of “good” was, she could easily be cast aside on the basis that she hadn’t ever saved a puppy from a burning building, or something like that.

Grian let her question hang in the air for a long time, staring at her with a blank face and some indescribable emotion twinkling in his eyes. Then, finally, he broke out into a grin and chuckled softly. “You don’t need to look so worried. It’s alright, Pearl. You’re in the Good Place.”

Pearl let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She wouldn’t be tortured for eternity – she made it. For someone who’d never really believed in an afterlife, it was an incredible relief that she’d managed to get into the good one.

Grian stood up then, waving for her to get up as well. “But don’t just take my word for it, why don’t I show you just how wonderful your afterlife will be!” And with a hand gently pressed between her shoulder blades, Pearl was guided out of Grian’s office and out into the sunshine of where she was going to spend the rest of her existence.

Even though she knew she should be excited – no, ecstatic to be in such a place, Pearl couldn’t help but feel that knot in her chest tighten, ever so slightly, as she caught sight of that message on the wall again.

Welcome! Everything is fine.

Pearl strolled along the main street in the neighborhood, paved with rough cobblestones and lined with cute little shops on either side. They all had that mom and pop look, which made sense as Grian kept gushing about various residents who had decided they wanted to run a little store in his neighborhood, and how excited he was for her to meet everyone. His energy was almost overbearing, electric in a near painful way. She tried her best to hide it, just to smile and nod and ask an occasional question to get him talking and looking away from her.

That was the strangest part, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on yet. She knew Grian wasn’t human – he’d described himself as an “Architect”, whatever that meant – but there was something about the way he kept looking at her that made her feel like she was some kind of… lab experiment. He was always searching her face for some kind of reaction, like it would be the end of the world if she didn’t like something he’d made.

To be fair to him, he had said this was his first ever afterlife he’d designed. Pearl knew how nervewracking it could be to have someone else judge your work – and technically, she was the final “customer” for his work. Maybe she was being a little too harsh on someone who was clearly very green at his job.

“Ah, and here’s just the person I wanted to see!” Grian exclaimed, leading Pearl over to another man sitting at one of the outdoor café tables, sipping at a mug of some fancy espresso that was more milk and foam than coffee. He looked up as the two of them approached, and the first thing she noticed was just how icy blue his eyes and hair were. “Scott, I’m so glad to see you’re settling in!”

“It’s been great, everyone here’s very friendly.” Scott spoke, his accent distinct and somewhat charming.

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear it!” Grian smiled – did he ever get tired of being so chipper? – and then he gently pushed Pearl forward a step. “This is Pearl. Pearl, Scott.”

Pearl nodded to the blue-haired man politely. “Nice to meet you, Scott.”

“Nice to meet you too!” Scott nodded back, then glanced over to Grian who looked like he might explode with joy. “Are… you alright, Grian?”

“Huh? Oh, yes, I’m fine! I’m just so excited for you two to meet, it’s always so invigorating!”

Scott and Pearl met eyes for a moment, stumped, before Pearl decided to be the heel and ask. “What’s so invigorating? We’re just two people meeting for the first time, it happened all the time when we were alive.”

Well, maybe it had been for Scott. Pearl was a bit of a recluse – working remotely, and only really leaving the house to walk Tilly. Still, that didn’t seem particularly relevant now.

Grian was practically bouncing in place at this point. “Not just two people, no no! You two are much more than just two random humans meeting in passing! Your bond is so much more special than that!”

His eyes flicked between the two of them, clearly waiting for one of them to ask what was so special. It was kind of freaking Pearl out, if she was honest, how excited Grian seemed to be for her to meet some random guy. That look in his eyes was back again, and it made all sorts of warning bells ring in her head. Finally, Scott took the bait and sighed. “What’s so special about it, then?”

“Because…” Grian paused for dramatic effect. “You two…”

“Are soulmates!”

Pearl startled, blinking in surprise before turning to Scott and noticing the look of absolute, unfiltered disgust on his face as he stared at her, holding for just a moment too long before it smoothed over into a clearly fake smile. “Soulmates…?”

Well then, that was rude. Pearl wasn’t one to care too much about her appearance, exactly, but she was hardly something to recoil from! It was like the very idea of being connected to her repulsed him so much he couldn’t even afford her the common decency of being polite!

She was quickly deciding she didn’t like this man very much, glaring at him harshly. Scott stared back, icy blue eyes regarding her with clear distaste he couldn’t completely hide.

What an ass.

Grian’s hand grabbed her shoulder and his voice broke through her staring contest with Scott. “Is… something wrong? You don’t seem as excited as I thought you’d be?”

Pearl looked to Grian, staring up at her with wavering hope in his brown eyes. She felt a little bad for crushing his dreams, but she also didn’t want to get stuck with some asshole for the rest of what’s supposed to be her perfect afterlife. “Actually, Grian, I—"

“We’re just surprised, that’s all! I mean, soulmates! That’s a lot to take in, I didn’t think soulmates were real!” Scott interrupted her, getting up from his seat and taking a step towards them. She shot him a glare at his approach, and wanted to combust as he had the audacity to grab her hand at her side and hold it up between his own. “But I’m so happy to know that they are! Real, I mean. This is fantastic!”

He didn’t look her in the eyes once during his gushing, first staring at their hands and then turning to Grian and speaking to him. “Actually, if you don’t mind, could you maybe…?”

“Oh, yes, I can leave you two lovebirds alone!” Grian snickered with a wink that made Pearl shudder all the way down to her toes. “I actually should be getting back to my office, we’ve got a few more residents arriving soon! Scott, why don’t you bring her over to yours, and later I’ll come to show you two around the rest of the neighborhood?”

Scott nodded vigorously before Pearl could even open her mouth to interject, and suddenly she was being tugged alone by a vice grip on her hand. She stumbled along for a minute before she found her feet, and yanked her hand from Scott’s grip.

“What the hell was that about?! A little warning next time before you go dragging a stranger around!” She griped, rubbing her hand pointedly on her sweatshirt. Scott huffed, turning to face her with his arms crossed.

“But we’re not strangers, we’re soulmates. Apparently.” Pearl had never heard someone put so much vitriol into a single word like Scott had put into the word ‘soulmates’, and it lit the match on the anger that had been sitting at the bottom of her gut.

“What is your problem?! We don’t even know each other, are you just that disgusted by me that the idea of being soulmates revolts you so much!?”

“No! That’s—That’s not it, ok?” Scott sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault, I just… I heard some of the other people here talking about their soulmates like they were the most perfect romance they’d ever had, and I just… I got my hopes up too high.”

Pearl narrowed her eyes at him. “What, am I that ugly that you can’t even imagine falling in love with me? Yeah, great apology, that makes me feel so much better.” She bit out at him.

Scott sighed again, glancing around at their surroundings before leaning in towards her. “It’s not that! You’re pretty, and I’m sure you’re a great person and all that. It just… it won’t be romance. It can’t be."

“And why not?”

“Because I’m gay!” Scott hissed, and oh. Yeah, that would probably make romance between them a little… complicated. Not that she particularly cared – even with this revelation, she still felt slightly stung by his earlier reaction. Romance with Scott was not even on her radar at this point.

“Oh. Well, ok, fine, but you didn’t have to be so rude about it.” Pearl told him, and strangely noticed a tension relax from his shoulders, relief in his eyes as he watched her face. “Dude, did you think I was gonna be homophobic about it or something? Do I really give off that vibe?”

“You can never be sure. Some of the nicest ones turn out to be the worst. Better to make you hate me for a reason I could control.” Scott said, and Pearl feels her anger settle a little.

“Ah, so you were just acting bitchy to get me to leave first.” Pearl raised an eyebrow, and Scott grinned sheepishly. “Well, Scott, I can guarantee you now that there is no possibility of me falling in love with you like that, so maybe let’s leave that strategy behind us and be civil to each other from now on? We can be, I dunno, platonic soulmates or something.”

Pearl held out a hand, and Scott stared at it for a moment before shaking. “Right. Sorry about that, Pearl. You seem pretty cool, didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything."

They smiled at each other, and for the first time since arriving, Pearl felt settled in her own body. Maybe it was just the presence of another person – a real human, not whatever kind of being Grian was that looked human but clearly wasn’t – but she started to believe that she might actually enjoy being here.

After all, she made it to the Good Place. Everything was going to be fine.

#saphira writes #mcyt writing #the good place au #pearlescentmoon #scott smajor #grian #dont know if ill write more for the au #but it would be focused on yhe divorce quartet

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tennessoui · 2 years

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ok ok ok “the good place” au

(the good place is a show where 4 humans are placed in a seemingly idyllic neighborhood after death called simply ‘the good place’ and they get to know the architect angel (michael) who designed it, but one human (eleanor) knows she was placed there by mistakes and there’s a ton of hijinks etc etc before she realizes that actually this has been ‘the bad place’ all along and the entire neighborhood is set up to torture them based on their lives and personalities on earth)

where anakin is eleanor who arrives at the good place and knows for sure he shouldn’t be there and obi-wan is michael,the demon who poses as the architect in order to torture the humans

only there’s never been an authority figure anakin’s met that he hasn’t wanted to sleep with, so obviously that’s what he tries with obi-wan because if the angel sleeps with him, surely he won’t throw him out after he finds out that Anakin isn’t supposed to be in The Good Place??

so he somehow seduces obi-wan (a demon who finds humans weird and gross and fascinating and why does this feel so good this is so weird why are you putting this dangly thing in your mouth) and at first obi-wan is vastly confused before he realizes that actually, there’s no better way to torture anakin than to give him attention and then take it away without any sort of explanation.

only.....anakn isn’t one to give up easily, especially because sex with virgin!obi-wan (omg he’s corrupting an angel every time they meet in obi-wan’s office for private sessions) is amazing and he isn’t really attracted to his soulmate who seems much too much into justice and law for his lifestyle.

only.....obi-wan finds it harder and harder to deny anakin his attention and touch as the affair carries on, even when he starts to realize that for anakin, this is not registering as torture at all in his mind.

#kit's silly lil aus #i just imagine a desperate demon obi-wan trying to make himself proper and trying to see through all the stars in his eyes #and asking anakin (desperately) if he feels a BIT tortured for sleeping with someone who isn't his soulmate #and anakin shrugs and is like not really you make it so good every time no matter the position #(they switch btw because im me and this is the best)#obikin #i will give you two guesses what im watching while im cooking dinner lol #the good place au

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grilledcheese333 · 5 months

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Doodles from the smiling friends au me and my friend @boxbunny63 came up with <3 (OMG I LOVE THIS AU SO MUCH YALL HAVE NO IDEA)

#smiling friends #smiling friends au #charlie dompler #pim pimling #the good place #the good place au #The Smiling Place AU

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cinnamontoastcrunch-15 · 5 months

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The Ends of the Earth - Chapter 4

Heart speeding up ever so slightly, he moves quickly to the door and grabs the paper. A note. The moment he unfolds it, his heart drops to his stomach.

‘YOU DON’T BELONG HERE’

Right.

Okay.

What the fuck?!

I'm super pleased with this one

#wolfstar tgp au #the good place au #wolfstar #sirius black #wolfstar oneshot #marauders #remus lupin #remus x sirius #young marauders #moony x padfoot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot

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quarantineddreamer · 9 months

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hiiii, please tell me more about that TGP AU 👀 if you want to! would it follow the TGP storyline? does Jyn get switched up with someone else and Cassian her soulmate who reluctantly helps her? do they figure out the real truth and then fall in love every time no matter how many times their memory is rebooted? I'm so curious!! also there's actually a lovely TGP-inspired fic for rebelcaptain but the twist is that it's canon-verse post-Scarif and it's really just them healing in the afterlife

Hi sissi! I see we are sharing some RC brainrot today (this and boxing au) and I am SO here for it ahh! 💕

(Uhhh first of all do you happen to have a link to that fic cause would love to read it 👀)

I haven't thought too in-depth about The Good Place AU yet, but (~TGP spoilers ahead):

As in the show, both Jyn and Cassian technically 'don't belong' in the TGP--Jyn knows it, and Cassian isn't really sure, but he definitely thinks he doesn't belong.

Draven is our Michael-esque character who places Jyn and Cassian together as soul-mates (for torture purposes). Both think the other person is someone else, someone 'good' (haven't thought about specific careers, backstories just yet). (I know Draven could be Krennic, but I kinda liked the idea of a more morally-ambiguous character from canon being the architect of a fake good place.)

Kay is our Janet-esque character who believes he's doing good in running the afterlife and helping its inhabitants.

Chirrut and Baze are a part of this neighborhood as well, except they are legit residents and true soul-mates. Chirrut was a therapist kind of life-coach in life and hosts lecture-esque sessions for the neighborhood where he talks about how to continue to put good into the universe, find peace etc.

*Cassian and Jyn both find these lessons painful, because they assume the other totally understands/lived the way Chirrut teaches and it all seems so simple except they both know it's not and life is more complicated than that.

After listening to Chirrut for awhile, Jyn finally confesses to Cassian she doesn't think she belongs in TGP and asks him to help her in becoming a better person. He's pretty torn up about doing this because he seriously has a a hard time believing he's a good person, but he agrees to help if only to convince Jyn she's actually a good person who belongs in TGP.

I need to think more on how Bodhi/Baze fit into the story as well....

But I think the gist would be that eventually Jyn and Cassian both discover it's not the actual good place. They do get rebooted many times by Draven (and they fall in love every time 🥺 cause im a sucker for that), but eventually Kay let's slip that there is a map to the real good place and they decide to steal it with the help of the whole Rogue One crew (at risk of their eternal lives) to find the real good place and warn them about Draven.

#ANYWAYS #i am always always here to ramble on AUs lol #so if anyone has additional thoughts feel free to chime in #the good place au #the good place / rogue one #ask b anything

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marvelmaniac715 · 11 months

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I’m currently on Season Two Episode Six of The Good Place, and I decided to create a The Good Place Chucky au with Chucky in Eleanor Shellstrop’s place. This will probably still make sense if you haven’t watched the show, but I’d recommend it because not only is it hilarious, but it will give this more context. You can find it on Netflix :). When does Chucky die in this au, you ask? His very first death, back in 1988. Enjoy :).

————————————————————-

Pain. An endless, dark void as deep as the ocean. A sudden gasp, and then… Charles Lee Ray was sitting in a waiting room, staring at a sign that said ‘Welcome! Everything is fine’. That was… certainly odd, but what was more confusing was how he’d ended up in this waiting room. Did a well-meaning passer-by find his unconscious body and bring him to some weird hospital? If so, boy, was that a mistake on that passer-by’s part. If anyone knew who or what Chucky was, he never would have been saved.

As he contemplated the possibilities that could have brought him to this bizarre location, a door opened, revealing a… human man with silver hair wearing a suit and glasses? Out of everything that could have greeted Chucky on the other side of that door, an average looking guy was not high up on his list of possibilities. The man smiled at him and said:

“Charles? Come on in.”

How the hell did this guy know his name?

————————————————————-

“You, Charles Lee Ray, are dead.”

Chucky shrugged, just kind of going with it (whatever this was) at this point.

“Okay, cool. How did I go?”

The man’s smile faded slightly as he awkwardly averted his gaze and replied:

“You see, in the event of embarrassing or painful deaths we like to erase the memories to make the crossing over process slightly easier.”

Chucky frowned, picking up on the ‘we’ pronoun.

“Who is ‘we’? Where am I exactly?”

This question seemed to bring the man Chucky was speaking to back into focus, as he smiled again and responded.

“In the afterlife, there’s a Good Place and a Bad Place. You’re in the Good Place. My name is Michael, I’m a Good Place architect.”

Chucky (still frowning because this was all so weird) nodded, beginning to understand where he was. But the question still remained - why? He wasn’t unaware of his actions, he knew he was a dick if not anything else. He didn’t deserve to be in this ‘Good Place’, but he had to figure out if this was a case of mistaken identity so he could (hopefully) pretend to be who this guy Michael thought he was and avoid going to hell (or - the Bad Place to be more precise).

With the goal of gathering more information in mind, Chucky crossed his arms, raised an eyebrow and asked again:

“So, how did I die?”

Michael didn’t seem like he wanted to discuss it, but Chucky shot him a more toned down version of his fiercest glare, and that seemed to convince the man (angel? It wasn’t quite clear) to spill the beans.

“You were walking through an alley near a toy store, and you… got gunned down. I’m sure you can understand why we decided to erase that particular memory.”

That seemed like a very him way to die. It was probably a heist gone wrong. Man, he hoped Eddie got away okay, the poor guy was so loyal, he probably stayed by Chucky’s side till the end. Hopefully he was able to get away and tell Tiffany what happened.

Chucky now felt at ease with the knowledge that he probably did deserve to be in this place, because that death was certainly fitting. What he did to end up here was certainly a mystery, so he wanted to find that out.

“Hey Mikey- can I call you Mikey? Too bad, I’m gonna call you Mikey- why do I deserve to be here, huh? What did I do that was so great?”

Michael flashed Chucky a blinding smile as he explained:

“You’re actually my hero, Charles.”

“Call me Chucky.”

“…Okay, Chucky. You’re my hero because your humanitarian efforts around the globe were simply unparalleled. I mean, your anti-violence campaign in the impoverished neighbourhoods of New York? Brought tears to my eyes. You earned over a million points through that campaign alone.”

Okay, so there was clearly a case of mistaken identity here. Right death, wrong life. Whoever this other poor bastard was, if they’d swapped places with Chucky, they were gonna be on a fun trip to the Bad Place when they kicked the bucket. Chucky almost felt bad about it, but… he really didn’t care.

————————————————————-

After receiving the full brief from Michael about afterlife life, Chucky was taken for a tour around an idyllic neighbourhood that contained way too many frozen yogurt stores for his liking. He had to sit through a boring opening event that mentioned something about soulmates and points (that explained Michael’s reference to ‘points’ earlier when he justified why Chucky deserved to be there).

After the tour and the opening speech, Chucky was led to his house. Any sympathy he might have had for Humanitarian Charles immediately faded when he saw where he was expected to live. It was tiny, there were no stairs and the lights were blindingly bright. To make matters worse; there were hundreds of paintings of those new Good Guy dolls covering the walls, and for some reason that made Chucky feel quite uneasy…

As he processed everything going on, Michael explained to him that he was about to meet his soulmate.

“For many people, a soulmate is a person with whom they share a romantic connection. But for you, the system has paired you with a platonic soulmate, a best friend, if you will.”

So he couldn’t actually find love even in paradise, great. As the crushing realisation that he would never be loved by anyone romantically in a truly impactful way washed over him, Chucky fixed his gaze on the front door and felt his heart stop when a man nervously shuffled into view as Michael said:

“Meet your soulmate: Daniel Pierce.”

Sarah’s husband. Oh god, his cover would be blown immediately. But of course; Chucky never truly had control over his tongue, and the first words out of his mouth when he locked eyes with his soulmate were:

“What the fork? Wait, why can’t I say fork?”

#chucky #chucky series #childs play #the good place #charles lee ray #horror #fanfiction #the good place au #daniel pierce #michael the good place

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boxbunny63 · 5 months

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The Smiling Place AU doodles!!

i love this AU sm

#smiling friends #smiling friends au #the good place #the good place au #sf

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sesamestreep · 1 year

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Don/Sloan, 20

20. I’ve been looking sad in all the nicest places (from this prompt list) I don’t know what this is, honestly. I wrote a whole other fill for this prompt and decided I hated it and couldn’t finish it, then wrote this instead in like half a day. I don’t know. It’s a Good Place AU, I have next to nothing for it built out besides this snippet, that’s basically it. much love and bone apple teeth or whatever…

Sloan is on her fifth straight minute of willing her legs to work and take her back to the party—her own damn party, for Christ or whoever’s sake, she’s not really sure at this point—when someone nearly trips over her. In their defense, she is sort of hiding behind a topiary in a dark corner of the lawn, so there was no way they could have seen her, but she still finds it in herself to be annoyed.

“Could you please watch where you’re going?” she exclaims.

“Uh, sorry,” the man says, fumbling with something in his hands. “Though I don’t really see how it’s my fault that you’re sitting on the ground, in the dark. You’re basically asking to be tripped over.”

Sloan’s legs work just fine then. She stands up, straight as a pin, and throws her shoulders back, getting ready for some variation of the “I’d like to speak with your manager!” conversations she had almost daily back when she was alive.

“Here’s a tip for you,” she says, instead, with as much indignation as possible, “don’t go around accusing women of ‘asking for it’.”

The man winces. “Yeah, I heard it as soon as it was out of my mouth. That was, uh, poor form.”

The easy admission of wrongdoing shouldn’t surprise her here, where she’s allegedly surrounded by the best people ever, but it still somehow does. It helps that this guy doesn’t give the appearance of backing down from fights easily, which makes it all the more impressive that he’s doing so now.

“It’s fine,” Sloan says, backing down too. “No harm done.”

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Don Keefer.”

“Sloan Sabbith,” she says, accepting the handshake.

“Oh, the Sloan Sabbith,” he replies, as he puts the item he’s been shuffling between his hands—a cigarette, it turns out—between his lips. He doesn’t sound impressed. She’s not sure how he sounds, but it’s probably not good.

“I suppose so.”

“This is your house,” he points out.

“Ah, yes. That Sloan Sabbith.”

“I mean, I knew you before,” Don says, and then corrects himself, “Sorry, I knew of you before. I lived in New York, when I was alive.”

“Oh, right.”

“Your name was always in the society pages.”

Sloan shrugs, not sure if humility is the right move here. She’s not certain Don would buy it. He pulls out a lighter and moves to light his cigarette.

“I guess you didn’t see the amount of fundraising I did for the American Cancer Society,” she says, frowning.

Don laughs, but he still brings the flame to the tip of the cigarette. “Sweetheart, it’s the afterlife. Lighten up.”

“I don’t like the smell.”

“Won’t be a problem,” he says, waving the hand with the cigarette between his index and middle fingers around a little bit wildly. “Neither do I. I got that robot assistant woman, uh—”

“Jenna,” Sloan interjects, over-enunciating the name for his benefit.

Jenna, of course, materializes with a soft tone at that moment, making her jump in surprise. How long does that take to get used to?

“Hi,” she says, brightly. “How can I help?”

Don looks at Sloan expectantly, and her face heats with embarrassment and irritation. She pointedly looks away, as if she hadn’t accidentally summoned the neighborhood’s virtual assistant and made a fool of herself.

“We’re good, Jenna. Thank you,” Don finally says, all charm, when it’s clear Sloan isn’t going to be helpful.

“You bet!” There’s another soft tone, slightly different, as she disappears.

“That is going to take some getting used to,” Don says, as if they’re buddies or something.

“You’ve never had an assistant before?” Sloan sniffs, aware that it’s a deeply snobby thing to say and not very concerned about it.

“Not like her.”

She whips her head around to glare at him. “Don’t be gross!”

“I meant because she’s literally omniscient,” he says, looking bored of her now. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Good, because I’d hate to feel any worse for your soulmate than I already do.” Just as she’s winding up to really lay into him, she suddenly smells something strange. It smells like salt water and…something else. Something she can’t put her finger on. She steps closer to Don and inhales. “Do you—what is that?”

“I told you the smoke wouldn’t bother you,” he says, holding the cigarette aloft proudly. “When I asked Jenna for cigarettes earlier, I was worried the neighborhood would have, like, a ‘no smoking’ policy, kind of like the ‘no swearing’ thing? But she told me that, since we’re in The Good Place, the smoke wouldn’t irritate anyone, and when they smelled it, it would remind them of their most cherished childhood memory, if you can believe that.”

Sloan wouldn’t have two minutes ago but now, she’s certain she’s smelling the boardwalk in Santa Monica that she went to constantly with her family when she was young. She hasn’t been back in years, and she supposes now she never will. Suddenly, she feels tears welling in her eyes.

“Thank goodness the tobacco industry didn’t have Jenna on their side,” she says, stepping back and trying to pull herself together.

“True. Though I imagine those guys would have trouble getting into The Good Place anyway.”

“That’s a…good point.”

“So, what does the magic cigarette smoke smell like to you?” Don asks, and then shakes his head. “There’s a question I never anticipated asking anyone. Not sober, at least.”

Sloan laughs, despite herself. “It, uh, smells like the Santa Monica pier. I grew up in the Bay Area, but my cousins lived in SoCal, and we’d visit them on school breaks or vacations whenever we could. The pier was always my favorite place to go.”

When she looks up again, she finds Don smiling at her in an unguarded way she finds…unsettling. Not because it’s creepy, but because it’s familiar. She doesn’t know what that means, but she knows it’s probably a sign of trouble.

“What about you?”

“Well,” Don laughs, looking down at his shoes, “that’s sort of a funny story. You see, I gave up smoking when I was in college, after my grandad died of lung cancer. I’d like to tell you it was because I was being smart and healthy, but the truth is, the smell of the smoke reminded me too much of him. I spent a lot of my childhood with him, because both of my parents worked, so he watched me for them. He was my favorite person, and my reference point for everything, and my moral compass. After he died, it felt like I lost a piece of myself.”

Don pauses, and then shakes his head. “I don’t know why I told you all that. The important part of that story is that he, uh, smoked like a chimney and his whole house reeked of tobacco all the time. His clothes smelled like it, his car smelled like it, everything.”

“Oh, no,” Sloan says, when the penny drops for her.

“Yeah, see? You got there before me,” he says, smiling sadly. “These forking magical cigarettes, they smell like his house, his clothes, his car.”

“It just smells like tobacco to you,” she supplies, and Don nods. “And the smell reminds you of him. And it makes you sad, which is why you stopped smoking in the first place.”

“It’s like some kind of Sisyphean torture loophole,” Don says, still smoking. “You can’t make this shirt up.”

“I mean, they could,” she says, thinking of her first meeting with Will, where he had the file for her entire life, down to the most minor of details. “They’d know about you and your grandpa from your file, right? And you said that Jenna’s omniscient, so she’d know too. That’s…weird, right?”

Sloan glances over at him to find Don staring at her, not smiling this time, but with an expression of barely suppressed horror. She can tell just from the look on his face that he’s running through everything that’s happened since he got to the neighborhood in his mind and looking for more strange occurrences like that.

“Have we,” he asks, hesitantly, “met before?”

“I don’t think so,” Sloan says, but not with as much certainty as she would have a few moments ago. “You mean, when we were alive?”

“Yeah,” Don says. “I guess that’s what I mean. You just feel familiar, in some way.”

“You did say you knew my name from the press.”

“I know, but I don’t mean familiar like that. I mean, familiar like I’ve known you for a long time.”

“We just met,” she says, as firmly as she can manage, though it feels like she’s trying to convince herself it’s true too.

“So, it’s just me?” he asks, and it’s not accusatory so much as disappointed.

Sloan feels so utterly thrown by this, she can hardly cope. It doesn’t help that in backing away from him earlier, she didn’t get nearly far enough away. She can still smell the Santa Monica pier—the sunshine and the sea air and the food stalls—but she can also smell what she suspects is Don’s cologne or soap or maybe just him—this clean, warm boyish smell—and now those two things are going to swirl together in her memory forever, and she’s going to be confused why she thinks of summer vacations whenever she’s near him. Not that she will be again anytime soon, she hopes. This has been too much for her.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” she says, still too close to him and not backing away.

Don laughs, softly, and she thinks she can smell champagne on his breath. There was plenty at the party, she remembers, even though it feels like an age ago now. He doesn’t seem drunk, though.

“I don’t know what I want from you either,” he says, watching her closely. He’s not that much taller than her, so it’s pretty easy to gaze deeply into his eyes, unfortunately, and that’s what she ends up doing.

The cigarette falls from between his fingers, and lands harmlessly, already extinguished, on the grass beneath their feet. It vanishes a second later, and a daisy sprouts in its place, which figures. This place is too good to be true, she thinks, and then catches herself. Is it? Has she been thinking that all along?

She looks back up at Don to find his gaze still riveted on her face. “Something’s wrong,” she whispers.

He steps closer to her. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, but something is definitely wrong here,” she says, and it really sounds hysterical but it’s the truth. She can feel it. “Something is not right.”

“Maybe we’re just cynics,” Don offers, with a halfhearted smile.

“Maybe.” Why hasn’t she stepped away from him yet?

“We should…get back to the party.”

“My party,” Sloan says, nodding. “Yes. We should.”

“Our partners will both be looking for us, I’m sure.”

“Right. Yes.”

Neither of them moves, not even a fraction of an inch. Sloan’s hands, seemingly of their own accord, settle on the button placket of Don’s crisp white shirt. She runs a fingertip over a button. His hands come around to rest on her elbows, holding her in place.

“You do feel familiar to me,” she says, in the direction of the button, because she’s not brave enough to say it to his face. “I don’t know why. I don’t understand…how that’s possible.”

“Neither do I, but I’m not—it doesn’t feel like a bad thing, does it?”

Sloan shakes her head, and risks lifting her gaze to his again. He’s still watching her cautiously. She feels herself lean in, and then she feels him reciprocate. They’re only a breath away from kissing when they pause, and whether it’s hesitation or savoring the moment, she’s not sure. She’s watching his face for any sign of second thoughts and finds none, which gives her the courage to lean in that last bit, to close the distance between them.

“Don,” a voice calls in the distance. “Don, are you out here?”

They break apart instantly, putting a laughable amount of distance between them as quickly as possible, as Don curses under his breath. Or tries to, at least, despite the neighborhood’s swear filter.

“Don!” the voice shouts, closer now.

“Over here,” he calls back after a second.

“Where?”

“Here! Follow the….Marco!”

“Polo!”

This, thankfully, only continues for a few moments before a petite, adorable blonde woman rounds the corner. She’s wearing a sensible cocktail dress and has a drink in one hand.

“There you are!” she says. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“I was just getting to know our host better,” Don says, indicating Sloan with a wave of his arm in her direction.

The woman’s gaze swivels to Sloan and her expression opens up even more. “Oh my god, Sloan Sabbith, it’s so nice to meet you! You have such a nice place here!”

“Thank you,” Sloan demurs. She’s not sure how to behave around someone whose soulmate she almost just kissed. She’s not even sure there is protocol for that scenario. It’s probably just something you’re not supposed to do.

“I’m Maggie, by the way,” she says, eagerly. “I should have started with that.”

“Maggie was a professor of ethics and moral philosophy,” Don adds, draping an arm casually around her shoulders as she nestles into his side.

“Wow,” Sloan says. She wants to punch him so much.

“Oh, don’t be impressed,” Maggie says, humbly. “I’ve spent all night talking to people who are way more inspiring than me. And, obviously, my soulmate is this guy, so…”

Don makes a pained face at Maggie’s compliment, which Sloan finds both satisfying and odd. “What’s so impressive about Don?” she asks, coolly, and doesn’t miss the way his gaze flicks over to her sarcastically.

“Oh, he refuses to brag about it, but he was this super important human rights lawyer,” Maggie replies, putting a hand on his chest proudly. “I mean, if there was a cause you cared about, I’m sure he did some legal work to advance it when he was alive!”

“Sloan is a noted humanitarian and philanthropist, Maggie,” Don objects. “I doubt she’d be impressed by my work.”

“Right, sorry,” Maggie says, looking chagrined. “You’re, like, famous!”

“I guess so.”

“No wonder you ended up with Jim Harper as a soulmate! You must feel so lucky!”

“Yes, I certainly do,” Sloan says, with false cheer. She likes Jim. He’s cool. But she only just met him today. She doesn’t know where Don and Maggie get off being so coupled up and settled down already. It’s annoying.

“You guys didn’t know each other when you were alive, did you?”

“No, it’s weird. We somehow never crossed paths.”

“I loved his music when I was alive,” Maggie gushes. “I got a chance to talk to him at the party and he seems really nice!”

“He is,” Sloan insists for what feels like the tenth time. “Actually, speaking of Jim, I should probably get back to the party and, well, make sure he’s doing okay and the guests have everything they need.”

Maggie nods, enthusiastically. “Of course! It was so nice to meet you!”

“Yes,” Don says. “Very nice.”

Sloan has to concentrate very hard not to scowl at him, so she focuses most of her attention on Maggie, who she despises for totally different and completely undeserved reasons. “You too! Always a delight to meet one’s neighbors.”

“Oh, right! You should stop by our place sometime,” Maggie says. “It’s not as grand or as big as your place, obviously—”

“Nothing in the neighborhood is, as a matter of fact,” Don interjects, pointedly. Sloan’s eyes water from the effort of not glaring at him.

Maggie, meanwhile, thumps him lightly on the chest. “Don,” she says, playfully offended. Or maybe not playfully. It’s hard to tell with Maggie. Her smile is just a little too wide and bright to take at face value.

“Don’t listen to him,” she continues. “Our house is the one with the yellow door and the round window at the front, it’s just—”

“Two doors down, of course,” Sloan says graciously. “I did wonder who lived in such a cutesy little cottage and now I know!”

Maggie’s smile falters a bit, and she adopts a more serious expression. “Yes, well, I like it a lot, so…”

“I will be sure to stop by sometime,” Sloan says, trying to be more soothing. She’s a bitch, not a monster, after all.

“We’d love that,” Maggie replies. “Right, Don?”

“Absolutely,” he answers, with a thin smile in Maggie’s direction. To Sloan, he adds, with a significant look, “Don’t be a stranger!”

Sloan nods in acknowledgement and then gets out of there as quickly as possible. She has a feeling, though, that she won’t have much of a choice in terms of Don and Maggie’s invitation. For whatever reason, she suspects she might be stuck with them now.

#the newsroom #don keefer #sloan sabbith #don x sloan #they don’t have like a ship name do they??#whatever #au #the good place au #taylor swift song prompts #prompt fill #homelywenchsociety #firstelvens #Ok so I lied because my brain wouldn’t let me write any of it without some more worldbuilding #so Don is like a mix of Eleanor and John the gossip columnist #(Because he has to be a journalist it’s the only thing that makes sense)#sloan is mostly Tahani but with a little Mindy St. Clair mixed in #(She made her money on Wall Street then felt bad and started a charity but she did it for attention or to seem good etc etc)#Maggie is Chidi because she loved that ethics guy played by Jimmi Simpson and it felt right #maybe with a little Simone thrown In for good measure #Jim is Jason/Jianyu except instead of being a monk he’s like a rock star who got too into his Beatles transcendentalist phase #and became an annoying preachy cultural appropriator who thought he made the world a better place with his music #so he’s like Jason mixed with Kamilah??? Idk #will runs the neighborhood he’s Michael #Charlie is Shawn #Jenna the intern is Janet #And Mac is like Vicky #actually mac could be Michael and will could be vicky #YOU SEE?? It gets so complicated the more I zoom out #anyway I’m not writing it!!!!!!!! I’m NOT #oh and Leona is The Judge

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