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luckyspike · 5 years

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Of Love and Loss - a Good Omens Fanfic

co-author credit to Griffin McElroy

The cottage has a den and it is agreed, fairly early on, that while it is technically shared space, it falls slightly more under Crowley’s purview than Aziraphale’s. Oh, certainly, there are a few bookshelves* and a display of antique snuffboxes, and the furniture is comfortable and homey, more suited to the angel’s aesthetic than the demon’s, but aside from those touches it is all Crowley’s: dark paint on the walls, houseplants scattered over every free inch of floor, and sleek technology conspicuously placed. There is a TV on the wall, huge and slim and used for very little aside from streaming. In the corner, there is a desk, with the fastest, most powerful computer money could buy.

For the first six months they live in the cottage, it is mostly untouched.

[* Which hold only modern paperbacks, not first editions, because Aziraphale just can’t trust the good books out in a room he doesn’t supervise as closely.]

For the first six months they live in the cottage, Crowley is busy elsewhere: there are gardens to tame, and a greenhouse to stock, and a widow’s walk with a telescope to be enjoyed. Crowley rarely goes into the den at all, other than to water and menace the plants, for those first six months.

But gradually, winter comes, and he and Aziraphale settle into a routine, and Crowley starts to gravitate toward the den. It’s in spurts at first, just when Aziraphale is at the shop and it’s too cold to do anything else, but it gets more frequent. Longer periods of time.

By nine months, Aziraphale is worried. Crowley is still Crowley, still stalks around his plants and shouts at them, but other than that, he is in the den. He lays on the couch, and sleeps, and watches TV, and sleeps some more.

Aziraphale asks if he’s tired, one day. “You’re sleeping a lot,” he observes. “A lot more than ... than I remember you doing, in London. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah.” And then, because Aziraphale has this look he does that renders Crowley unable to lie, he admits, “I’m bored.”

Aziraphale’s face falls. “Oh. Oh. I see. Yes, not the ... there isn’t the same bustle here as there is in London, is there?”

“No, no, nonono.” Crowley holds up his hands, worried and insistent. “Not what I meant, angel. No, I still get in to London when I drop you off at your shop, that’s plenty. But ...” He shrugs. “I used to have a job. Wiling and tempting and that. But I ... don’t anymore. I used to plan stuff, and spend too much time scheming, and now I don’t ... have a job?” He shifts. “It’s not here. Not living here. I just feel a bit ... useless?” He frowns. “Not the right word. Can’t come up with a word. Do you follow me?”

“You’re missing having a task?” Aziraphale guesses. “A goal or some such, whether you like it or not?” He sets his book aside and sits back in his chair, the better to watch Crowley over steepled fingers. “Yes, I think I understand.”

“Like, you have your shop, same as always. But I only had being a demon. That was my job and it’s what I am. But now I’m ... still a demon, obviously, but an unemployed demon, so ...” He throws up his hands. “Bored.”

Aziraphale nods sympathetically. “Yes. I see. Well ... you could try some different things? Volunteering at the animal shelter -”

“Really? Animals hate me, angel.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right. Volunteering at the school?”

Crowley makes a show of looking at himself. “Not sure that’s really my scene.”

“Volunteering at the -”

Crowley sighs, and sits back, the tip of his considerable nose propped on his knuckles. “I’ll think about it. Find something, I’m sure. Maybe try beachcombing.”

“Maybe,” says Aziraphale, without much confidence. He wonders how he’s going to break to Crowley that most of what you find beachcombing is not, in fact, treasure, but junk. “You could give it a shot.”

“Bah.” Crowley sits back further, slouching deep into the chair, and sprawls his limbs all akimbo. “I’ll sleep on it. Wake me up for dinner?”

“You’re eating tonight?”

“No, but you are.” He tugs the tartan throw off the back of the chair, and wraps it around himself. “I’ll join if you’ll have me.”

“Of course.”

Crowley talks to his technology a lot. He doesn’t see well, Aziraphale knows, and these days the technology talks back, makes it easier for the demon to navigate. So when he hears Crowley chatting to something - someone? - in the den one cool night in late spring, he doesn’t pay much mind.

When it happens a second time that week, he wonders, but he doesn’t investigate. Probably just talking to Anathema. He pulls the doors to the library closed, and reads for the rest of the night.

When it continues the next week, curiosity gets the better of him. It’s around nine, and Crowley is talking in the den again, and Aziraphale sighs and sets his book down and goes to investigate.

The demon is sitting at the computer. The screen is massive, and Crowley is looking at it through his dark glasses. He has a controller in his hands, and a set of headphones on, and he is talking into, of all things, a microphone.

Aziraphale blinks. “What’s this, then?”

Crowley jumps, and then says into the microphone, “Ah, yeah, one second, got an old friend here,” before he hits a button and pulls the headphones off. He jumps up out of the chair and moves to the right. Aziraphale notices then, that there is a camera, fixed on where Crowley was sitting. He frowns.

“What are you doing?”

“Working.” Crowley sticks his hands into his pockets and for the first time in nearly a year since they moved, looks inordinately pleased with himself. “Found a thing to do.”

“This isn’t a sex thing, is it?” Aziraphale asks warily.

“Nah.” He jerks a thumb toward the computer. “Nah it’s ... uh.” He thinks it over. “I have no idea how to explain this to you.” He frowns. “You know video games?”

Aziraphale nods. “... Broadly, yes.”

“Okay. Right. So there’s this website called Twitch. An’ what you do, is you play video games, but while you do that you broadcast your game to other people who want to watch you play. Adam showed it to me.” He waves his hands around, toward the computer. “S’kinda like a reality show? But video games.”

“And other people watch this?”

“Yeah. Got 100 viewers right now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m hilarious.” He rocks back and forth on his heels and smirks. “Also, they give me money sometimes.”

“Willingly?”

“Yes, of course. I’m retired, remember? Well, from being a demon.” He looks pleased. “Now I’m a Twitch streamer. Part-time.”

The only reason that Aziraphale does not remark that this is a natural progression, as smooth a transition as from shore to sea, is that he does not really understand Twitch. Instead, he nods. “Good. And you’re ... having fun?”

“Oh yeah. Loads.” He glances over his shoulder. “Wanna watch for a bit? You can sit in the background. Really gets the chat going, when stuff happens in the background.”

“It’s not one of those violence games, is it?” But the angel is pulling over a wicker chair and sitting down even as he asks. “With all the killing?”

“Nah. S’pokemon. Like Joshua talks about.” He sits back down, and slides the headphones back on. “Right, what’d you want me to call you? Gotta introduce you.”

“Mr. Fell.”

Crowley gives Aziraphale a long-suffering look. “That’s not what ... never mind. Right, anything you say’ll probably get picked up on the mic, so just watch it, yeah? I’m gonna un-mute it.” He taps a button, and says, “Right, everyone, this is Az Fell. He’s ah, my favorite librarian, my best friend and uh ... my roommate.” Aziraphale blinks. Oh, so that’s what he’d meant. Well ... he wasn’t wrong.

Roommate feels a bit impersonal though. They will discuss it later.

“Right, so anyway, back to the run. Fell, this is ah, s’called a Nuzlocke run, where if your pokemon faints you have to let it go because it’s dead.”

“Oh,” says Aziraphale, who understood exactly none of that sentence.

“I just started. You’ll pick it up as we go.”

To Aziraphale’s surprise, he does. He picks up on the pokemon types, the point of the game, the exploration, and the apparently-bizarre rules Crowley has decided to play to game under. He comes to like the names, and the pokemon, and despite the fact that they are not real, he finds himself getting attached to them.

The first faint, an hour into the game, takes them both by surprise.

“Fuck!” Crowley glares at the screen. “Fuck! That’s not even a bug-type move!”

Aziraphale raises his hands to his mouth. “So Betty is dead?”

“Betty is dead,” Crowley confirms, morosely. “R I P Betty.”

“Look at all the little tombstones in the chat.” Aziraphale sighs, and wrings his hands. “Oh, dear. We should send her off.”

They do, when the battle ends. Solemnly, Crowley releases Betty the Rattata to the wild, and he and Aziraphale bow their heads while a bagpipe rendition of ‘Amazing Grace’ plays. Aziraphale wipes away a single tear. The chat goes wild.

xxGonnaMunch69xx: omg AJ your boyfriend is crying JamesBuffetsDick: RIP Betty and my feelings KnopeForPresident: omgggg im dead RIP Betty JisforJerg: fuckkkkkkkkkkk i had money on Betty living to the end GisforGreg: omg kiss your boyfriend so he feels better

Crowley sits up straighter as the music fades away. Aziraphale sniffles, blinks a few times and tries to subtly dab his eyes, and nods to Crowley, who returns the gesture before turning back to the screen and fiddling with the controls a little.

“We will fight on in her memory,” he intones, as his avatar on the screen runs in a circle in a patch of tall grass. “We will fight on for Betty. We’re gonna kill the Elite Four, and Betty’s name will be our war cry. For Betty!”

“For Betty!” Aziraphale nods firmly, and watches the screen intently. Crowley soldiers on, navigating around Kalos, and Aziraphale watches, although his thoughts are with Betty. He wonders what pokemon do after you release them to the wild. Maybe he will ask Joshua next time they see him.

Crowley, recovering from his grief more rapidly, is on one of his monologues, waxing philosophical on the nature of pokemon match-ups, as his character runs around on-screen. “They’re just playing Calvinball with the dragon and fairy types too, since they’re not even real, and who decided that dragons would be weak to fairies? Should be the other way around, if you ask me - oh, shit, I didn’t want to jump off that ledge, fuck.” He grumbles. “We’re gonna have to walk all the way back to town.”

“You’ll run into some wild pokemon on the way though, won’t you?”

“Can’t catch ‘em.” Crowley sighs, as the screen flashes and a Psyduck assails the character. “Already got one off this route.”

“But you can smite them? For experience?”

Crowley laughs. “Yeah, yeah, angel, I can smite them for experience.” He taps a few buttons. “Get ‘em, Blanche.”

“For Betty!” Aziraphale declares, seizing his mug of tea with probably more enthusiasm than necessary.

“Yeah,” Crowley agrees, still laughing. “Yeah! Fuck you, this one’s for Betty!”

In his chair, Crowley shifts around, spreading his knees and stretching his legs a little. Next to him, and out of view of the camera, Aziraphale’s hand comes to rest on his knee.

Crowley doesn’t blush; they have been doing this ... whatever it is they’re doing ... publicly long enough that he doesn’t react quite that violently now. But the next few sibilants are a little more hissed than usual, and Crowley shifts in the chair again under the pretense of getting more comfortable, yet somehow ending up a few inches closer to Aziraphale.

k2p2ribbingforherpleasure: fuck yea blanche kill that duck for betty bubbletii: cant wait for them to get to the ocean and catch a magikarp GisforGreg: am i the only one who noticed AJ moved closer to Fell or ... ROOMMATES HUH LIAR JisforJerg: jfc greg shut up and watch the game

#the glorious crackfic wednesday #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #good omens #inspired by griffins nuzlocke run #one million beautiful beaks #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #crowley definitely streams on twitch #you will never convince me otherwise

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teacuphuman09 · 5 years

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Inceptiversary 2019 MasterPost

It will soon be July and you know what that means! IT’S INCEPTIVERSARY TIME!!!!!!

In case you don’t know (and that’s fine, we love new blood in this fandom), Inceptiversary is the yearly celebration of the release of the film that keeps us darlings dreaming bigger: Inception. It takes place over five weeks (July 1st to August 5th) and includes fandom focused events, challenges, and content. It’s when we Inceptionites come together to strengthen the community, show appreciation, and welcome in a new generation of dreamers!

ALL SHIPS ARE WELCOME in the Inceptiversary festivities and we encourage you to explore a ship you haven’t before. You never know what you might find!

“But wait, teacup,” you say. “How am I to keep track of all these awesome events? How will I know what’s happening and what’s to come?”

I’m glad you asked, dear dreamer, because we have the super-organized and equally awesome @freighttraininmybrain over at the Inception Social Calendar and the miraculous trio of @flosculatory, @deinvatiwrites, and @dbshawnblog on the @Inceptiversaryblog keeping us from succumbing to Inception FOMO! So hold onto your grip on reality because the unbelievable details of this year’s Inceptiversary are laid out below!

1) Theme Weeks:

Inceptiversary is structured over five glorious weeks, each of which caters to a theme in fandom. Fans are encouraged to post and reblog all manner of content related to each week’s theme. Memes, fics, fanvids, artwork, conspiracy theories; all will find a home! And you may just discover something you didn’t know you needed in your life.

This year’s Theme Weeks are:

Week 1, July 1 - 7 No Stone Unturned - Inception Gen Week

This is a special Theme Week this year as we’ve paired it with a prompt challenge of the same name that will be run by @bayta-darell! The Inception fandom has a ton of love to go around, but what about the non-romantic kind of love? This week, we're focusing on all of the great platonic and familial relationships with a series of daily prompts. These are just meant as a starting point to get you inspired and by all means, disregard these as much as you want! All Inception content that isn't based on romantic or sexual relationships is welcome, and fanwork recommendations are certainly encouraged as well. Have fun, and happy Inceptiversary!

Day 1: Backstory

Day 2: Team Dynamics

Day 3: Character Study

Day 4: Rare/Underappreciated Characters (Philippa, James, Miles, Nash... anyone outside of our main dream team)

Day 5: Non-Canon Interactions

Day 6: World-Building

Day 7: Post-Canon

Week 2, July 8 - 14 It’s The End Of The World As We Know It:

Zombies! Meteors! The Rapture! Girl Scouts! It’s the apocalypse and we want to know all about the survivors!

Week 3, July 15 - 21 Curtain Fic:

Domestication at its best! Bring out all your happily ever afters and spend a week in bliss as your favourite ships ride off on magical rainbow unicorns and make all their dreams come true!

Week 4, July 22 -28 In Between The Lines:

We all have them. Those headcanons about what went on behind the scenes of Inception. What happened to Tadashi? Is Ariadne hiding gills under all those scarves? Just what did the team do with all that time left over in the dream? And for Nolan’s sake, did the damn top fall over or not?

Week 5, July 29 - August 5 Crack/Fluff:

It’s been a long month so kick back and relax with a large dose of everyone’s favourite guilty pleasure: Crackfic! We all need those fics that are purely for entertaining silly and happy ideas. They’re a soft place to land and a great opportunity to get wacky ideas out of your head! Indulge and enjoy the ride!

2. Watch Parties (@corinnetags, @noitsnacktime, @freighttraininmybrain ):

Watch parties are an excellent way to meet other people in fandom and tend to create a ton of inspiration for future wips! All movies are connected to the cast of Inception in one way or another and will be held on either Slack or Discord or both depending on host availability/preference. The schedule for all viewings can be found on the Inceptiversary Social Calendar.

3. Watch Party Bingo: (@withinmeloveresides1, @zuulee63)

On July 1st, 16th, and 31st, Inception Bingo during the Official (not really) Inception Watch Parties! You can check out the viewing times on the Inception Social Calendar. More info to come!

4. Inception 30 Day Challenge (@flosculatory):

The 30 Day Challenge is such an interesting and entertaining look into the minds of your fellow Inceptionites! Learn how others feel about your favourite Inception moments and enjoy a look back at why we’re all still here, nine years after its release.

5. Trope/Kink Bingo (@teacuphuman09, @dreamhubbies):

One of the most popular aspects of Inceptiversary is the Trope/Kink Bingo, and goodness, does it ever deliver! Scoot on over to @inceptiversarybingo for info on how to get your hands on your very own bingo card, then indulge your (not so) secret desire to write all the tropes and/or kinks your little fandom heart desires!

6) AELDWS: (@teacuphuman09):

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a stake in this year’s Arthur/Eames Last Drabble Writer Standing event. AELDWS was missed last year, but in 2019 it’s returning to its roots and eliminating one writer every week until a champion is crowned! (I’m coming for you, @deinvatiwrites)

7) Inceptionkitties: (@a-forger-and-a-point-man)

The Caption Contest is back! Send in your purrfect puss pics, captioned with a quote from Inception and you could win all the fame and fortune of the Inception cat fandom! Get to it, meow!

8) Inception Quiz (@thingsbeginningwitha, @betterpausenow, @freighttraininmybrain):

Known by some (me) as one of the most difficult quizzes of all time, the Inception Quiz tests your knowledge, dedication, and attention to detail of all things Inception. Think you can handle it? (You can!) More details to come!

9) Inception Positivity: (@flosculatory)

Do you have a fandom crush? Someone you admire or look up to? Someone you feel needs to know just how important and appreciated they are? Then jump over to @inceptionpositivity to fill out a submission form and send your love across the fandom!

10) Fic Recs: (@teacuphuman09)

Looking for a specific fic or wanting to read along with the Theme Weeks? @inceptionficrx (@teacuphuman09) has what the doctor ordered! We’ll have weekly reading recs as well as special recs for Wednesday Hump Day and Bunk Fic Fridays (@avacynner); little pick-me-ups and some pants-tingling to see you through the weekend!

11) Inception/007 Battle Royale: (@a-forger-and-a-point-man)

The who, what, where, and when has yet to be announced, but get ready for yet another fight to the (canon)death! More details to come!

12) Inception Big Bang: (@dreaminghigher)

Back after a few years off, the Inception Big Bang is a fantastic event that combines titillating fic ideas with gorgeous artwork! Head on over to @inceptionbigbang for more info, and hurry because sign-ups are almost closed!

13) Fandom Auction for @nolaespoir: (@corinnetags)

Fandom lost an incredible talent and friend, Nolaespoir, and this year’s auction is in her name, with proceeds going to charities dedicated to suicide prevention and mental health. Check out the auction site and bid on some amazing items up for grabs!

14) Here’s a list of other Inceptiversary blogs and tags you should follow to keep up to date on the festivities:

First and foremost there is the Inception Blogs Masterlist, curated by the incomparable @a-forger-and-a-point-man

Are you a member of the InceptionSlack yet? It’s a great online platform that allows us to communicate directly and get to know each other! We have chat rooms for just about everything from career support to writing & art, and everyone is welcome! We have the best custom emojis, let me tell you! This is also where the Watch Parties will be hosted, so if you’d like an invitation, send @teacuphuman09 or @deinvatiwrites an ask!

Looking for something a little more Inception-centric than Slack? Want to be part of everything Inception related? The Inception Discord is the place to be! So head on over and check their platform out and enjoy some sweet, sweet discord!

Wondering about who’s who or the history of our fandom over the past nine years? @flosculatory and @gessorosso have put together two wonderful resources! The Friending Meme is a place to put your deets if you’re wanting to connect with others in the fandom and the Fandom Page (which now houses the Friending Meme!) is an ongoing collection of events and moments in fandom history. If you’d like to contribute something to the Fandom Page, please contact @gessorosso.

You should obviously be following #inception, #inceptiversary, and your ship tags (tumblr.com/tagged/[search term]), but may we also suggest:

#christopher nolan

#emma thomas

#wally pfister

#hans zimmer

#tom hardy

#ken watanabe

#marion cotillard

#leonardo dicaprio

#dileep rao

#ellen page

#joseph gordon-levitt

#cillian murphy

#michael caine

#lukas haas

#tom berenger

#pete postlethwaite (RIP)

14) Where can I find the Inception Button I keep hearing so much about?

RIGHT HERE!

That’s it, that’s all (it’s not, there’s always more). So get ready because we’re just days away from Inceptiversary 2019!

#Inceptiversary #Inception #fandom #I will go down with this ship #party (tom)hardy #Inceptiversary Master Post

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Bingo! (Trixya) - Wednesday Angeline

A/N: Soooo everyone has probably seen the Trixya Fanfiction Bingo thing by now on aqconfessions. I make bad life choices so I wrote a little thing that tries to cover all of them very briefly. Do I win anything? :P

Tl;dr: Shitty crackfic with no substance. Maybe one or two weak jokes. Sure to be a crowd-pleaser…just like Tasha Salad.

“Kim help I don’t like Willam anymore he’s a jerk,” Trixie cried into the phone, her fingers playing with the edge of her pink fuzzy merino sweater with sequins that spelled out “Barbie”, tapping her heel on the floor. The pink 6-inch platform heels clicked loud enough for her mother to scream at her from downstairs. “He’s always threatening to break up with me if I don’t do what he says.”

“Breakup with him then. What’s the point if you’re not in a happy relationship?”

“It’s not that easy. I just want a happy relationship goddammit. But I don’t want to ruin my reputation for him…I love him, but it took me years to establish myself, and I’m about to become valedictorian.”

“We can’t all be like Pearl and Violet. Look, I’ll even be your prom date so you can turn him down.”

–flash forward 3 years later—

“Ugh Kim I’ll call you later, the professor will murder me if I’m late again,” Trixie said, running into the arts building. “Bye!”

The next thing she knew, she ran into a student. Literally. An older girl with sculpted cheekbones and blond curls, showing way too much skin for a cold winter day.

“Hey, sorry.” Trixie blinked. “I’ve not seen you before.”

“У меня ест…яблоко.” the blonde replied grinning. (It means “fuck me please”) She paused. “Sorry, you speak English, yes? Is okay. I…I am Katya.”

“Trixie.” She began to pick up the fallen papers and books, glancing at her pink Barbie watch. “Uh hey, sorry, I’m in a bit of a hurry. But we can grab coffee later or something?”

“но проблемо!” (Sure!)

–

“You like sculpting?”

“It’s my favorite class. Yours?”

“Art theory. Long histories of depressed men and women with ambitions,” Katya drawled as she took another drag of her cigarette. She must’ve gone through three just during their lunch. Trixie wrinkled her nose at the smoke.

“Uh…okay. What?”

“I like depressing stories. You want to hear one? About depressed man and woman with ambition. The woman is me. The depressed man is the man who ordered me online. Now he pays for my college fees because he realized he is gay, and he is sorry.”

“…come again?”

“I am from Russia. Country of glorious communism and less glorious mail-order brides, no? Think, Tracy. Connect the dots like the little American children making pictures of predatory animals.”

–

The next time they met, it was at a bar, and they were both shitfaced.

“Trixie…wanna go home with me?” Katya slurred. She called loudly for another shot, and the whole bar cheered, Trixie’s whoop the loudest.

“Yeah, why not? I’m in the mood for Russian,” Trixie said breathily, her face red and flushed, her breasts heaving and bouncing with every move of her luscious body.

A few drinks and more egging on from the crowd, and Trixie’s lips were on Katya’s. “We take this to my house.”

As Trixie stumbled, trying to balance in her 11-inch hot pink Louboutins, she grabbed onto Katya for support. “Walk slowly, little feather. What do you call in English…ah! Lightweight.”

“Why is your English better when you’re drunk?”

“The American in me makes better contact with the Russian in my mind. They fuck passionately and have a good fluently baby.”

–

Trixie walked up to Katya with a bouquet of red roses.

“Valentine’s day already?”

“I know it’s a month early but I kinda have to say it. I love you, Katya. You make me laugh and you’re the sunshine of my life. Look, the three months I’ve spent with you are the best ones yet.”

Katya seemed to recoil, taking a step back, her expression unreadable. “Sorry if it was not clear. I…” she paused, searching for the words. “Not relationship material.”

“Katya, please…give us a try. I know we haven’t talked in a week but that’s just because I was nervous after last time. Are you mad at me?”

Katya huffed. “Don’t you wonder why nobody at this place likes talking to me? I am just there to sleep with, they all know. Is good for spare money anyway.”

Trixie was stunned. “Fuck…I’m…I don’t know you.” She shoved the red roses into Katya’s arms. “Take these anyway.”

–

It’s been three weeks, and Trixie hasn’t done anything but think about Katya. She didn’t draw anything but Katya, unless she was painting her face. Kim told her to try new styles of makeup sometime so she figured she might as well do it now since she has no motivation to go to class. God forbid she run into another attractive Russian girl! Or worse, the same one.

She missed Katya. The laughter, the weird and random Russian exclamations, and the sex. Oh, the sex. Katya knew so much, too much about sex, every trick in the book and some unwritten.

Trixie got up. She was going to find Katya. For the sex. Only for the sex, she told herself.

#trixya #wednesday angeline #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #crack fic #rpdr fanfiction #submission

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luckyspike · 5 years

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Vimes arrests Doc Scratch

It is not often that Doc Scratch is surprised by a guest. He is, after all, an excellent host. So, when he finds the unkempt man in a battered old breastplate in the library, accompanied by, improbably, an orangutan, he is uncharacteristically speechless for a moment.

“That him?” the man in the breastplate asks the ape.

The ape nods. “Ook.”

“Right.” The man steps forward.

Doc Scratch stands up straighter. “I am terribly sorry, I ... this is quite irregular, you see, I wasn’t expecting guests. Did you use the front door, or did Die escort you - oh, I say.” Doc Scratch tries to move away, but he finds himself handcuffed by the scruffy man. “Well, this won’t do.” He teleports.

Or, rather, he means to teleport. He does not teleport. He tries again, and fails again. “Oh,” he says. The ape nods, solemnly.

“Ook.”

“Doc Scratch,” the scruffy man says, businesslike. He displays a badge, Number 177, and then tucks it back away into his breastplate. “Name is Commander Sam Vimes of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch. I’m placing you under arrest today for intent to incite violence, as specified under Ankh-Morpork law number 18-373. By the power vested in me by His Lordship Havelock Vetinari, Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, you will be hereby detained and escorted to -”

Doc Scratch clears his throat, or at least sounds to do so. Not having a mouth can make expressions like that tricky, sometimes. “You must be mistaken. I am not aware of a place called ‘Ankh-Morpork’, nor do I have any intention of inciting violence there.”

“Hm. This way, if you please.” He grasps the soft felt of Scratch’s upper arm and tugs him along, the two of them following as the orangutan knuckles his way into the expansive library and then back even further, into the L-space. Scratch balks. Vimes, immovable, tugs him along. “You were the guardian of Alternia, yes?”

“... Yes.”

“And we all saw how that turned out,” Vimes grumbles. “Back in Ankh-Morpork, there’s this machine - I don’t trust it, but it’s never wrong and it’s run by ants, so it probably can’t lie - called Hex. Can see the past, present, future, you name it, if you can manage to tune it in to anything relevant. Mostly it does sums, as I understand it. But I’m a policeman, so all in all, I don’t.” Scratch doesn’t respond. It is a day of novel experiences: he is, in this moment, unsure of what to say. “Anyway, Stibbons managed to get the damn thing to look at something other than the last digit of pi, I guess, and wouldn’t you know the damn thing showed him you. Standing in that green monstrosity back there, and you know it also showed my kid.” Scratch looks to Vimes, and suddenly, in spite of everything that he is - omniscient, omnipotent, and imbued with world-ending power - he feels afraid.

“It saw what you do.” Vimes looks down on the puppet, down a nose crooked and broken and scarred, and he cordially - cordially - guides Scratch around a corner, out of the L-space, and into an aisle of towering bookshelves. At the end, torchlight glints on more copper breastplates. “And, you know, my jurisdiction doesn’t really extend to the entire universe, but it definitely encompasses my house, my kid, and my city, and I’ll be damned before you get to play silly buggers to make your power grab here.”

“There must be a misunderstanding,” Scratch says, as they draw near the gathered crowd at the end of the aisle. There are more policemen there, some creatures made of stone that Scratch knows to be trolls of a different sort, and a few people in long robes and pointy hats: wizards. One of them exchanges a look with Vimes, and nods.

There is another man there too, tall and thin, all in black. He is standing with his hands behind his back, and he is watching Scratch with too-blue eyes that impossibly, seem to look through him. “And you’re quite certain, Mr. Stibbons?” the man asks. He is quiet, well-spoken. Scratch knows, in the cold way that he knows everything, that this is the Patrician, Lord Vetinari. He knows that this is the Patrician, and he wonders if he could run away, even with the wizards hemming him in.

“Can’t be entirely certain of everything, sir, but Hex showed us the past, too, and the trend keeps consistent with what it showed with Young Sam, and -” Lord Vetinari holds up a hand.

“Very well. Vimes, I realize it’s irregular, but in this instance I feel you ought to escort Mr. Scratch to the Palace dungeons. Archchancellor, if you’d be so kind as to accompany them.” A mountain of a man capped with a pointy hat rumbles in agreement, and steps forward. His staff is glowing, and Scratch realizes that this is the thing keeping him from teleporting. The mountain smiles at him, not very nicely at all.

“I realize,” the Patrician says, polite and cordial, “that dungeon sounds inhospitable, however take heart in that your stay there will be brief.” Doc Scratch did not, at that, take heart. Vetinari didn’t sound like he intended it to be comforting. “In the interim,” he goes on, raising an eyebrow and smiling a thin, uncomfortable smile, “I think you’ll find that I can be an excellent host.”

#discworld #homestuck #commander vimes #doc scratch #lord vetinari #the librarian #this truly is crackfic #thank you for submitting #the glorious crackfic wednesday #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #queelez

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luckyspike · 5 years

Text

No neighborhood is free of sin - a good omens fanfiction

Link to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Kudos appreciated!

Nextdoor.com had been Crowley’s idea. Crowley had always liked neighborhoods - there were just so many opportunities for humans to enrage one another when they lived in such close proximity and had to pretend to be nice. In the early days, before the internet, Crowley had reveled in town hall meetings, neighborhood watch councils, and local book clubs. He’d embedded himself in his Mayfair neighborhood, sowing dissent and discord among the community. For years, he had been the quiet voice in someone’s ear - oh, you know you probably would have gotten that promotion at work if you hadn’t been so tired, eh? Shame about the neighbors playing the music so loudly the night before - the stolen package off someone’s doorstep - of course it was those dirty millenials next door that took little Billy’s Christmas present - or the upturned rubbish bin in someone’s front garden. He’d been stray cats and dropped hardware from a neighbor’s DIY project that just happened to puncture someone’s tire on the way to work. He was footballs breaking through windows, and screaming babies next door during a romantic night in. His Mayfair neighborhood was among the most contentious in London, and walking into the fog of evil at the end of a long day was like a balm to his burned and aching (and barely-existent) soul.

But nextdoor.com, oh, what a stroke of brilliance that had been. He took the idea from the humans, of course, with their clever Facebook idea and MySpace and social media. But the concept of a neighborhood media site followed so smoothly, that aside from a few whispered words into the ears of some young programmers in America*, he’d barely had to lift a finger. Nextdoor.com had burst to life, and since then, Crowley had fallen in love.

[*Or rather, carefully-typed “thought experiments” sent via email from one of his multitudinous email addresses that, typically, appeared to belong to very wealthy tech investorsI.]

His favorite thing was, of course, the people who always had to have the last word in an argument. Pride, after all, was a sin anyway, and online media really provided him with a shining chance to provide one-on-one temptation to multiple people at a time by way of arguing with them on the internet, one of his favorite activities.

He was up late tonight doing just that. He’d had a lovely dinner with Aziraphale - an Ethiopian restaurant that Aziraphale had been wanting to explore, with food so spicy that even Crowley had a few bites - and come home, unwinding by logging into one of his several accounts and promptly starting to complain about the barking dog one building over.

‘listen its my bloody dog and hes allowed to bark in my flat if he wants to’ replied Crowley’s victim for tonight - based on his profile picture, he appeared to be a young solicitor with political aspirations in the future. Crowley figured he might as well start working on the young man now in the early days - no sense in putting his inevitable hellish corruption off when it would be so easy to do now.

‘i’ll have you know that i have a very important job,’ Crowley started his reply, considering where to go from that point. ‘i work 90 hours per week. i make more money in five minutes than you make in a year. shut your dog up or i’ll sue.’ And, send reply. And wait. He sat back in his chair, and savored a mouthful of wine.

Yes, this was proper demonic work. Fuck Hastur and Ligur, fuck craftsmanship, this was easy - he was in pajamas and drinking wine, for someone’s sake - and it was fun. His phone binged with a reply notification.

‘good luck suing, knobhead, i’m a solicitor and i’ve been in numerous trials - too numerous to count. feel free to try to take me up in court, i look forward to the day i get to let my dog bark straight in your smug face, whoever you are, Jacob.’ Ah yes, Jacob Coppersmith, one of Crowley’s favorite online aliases. The demon smiled and crafted his reply.

‘yeah I bet you are, law lad. shut your fucking dog up or i’ll come do it for you. i’ve tracked your IP address, i know where you live.’ Crowley did not elaborate further. In reality, he rather disliked the thought of harming dogs - they were true innocents, unless they were hellhounds or chihuahuas, and even he felt profane trying to hurt them - but his reply would hopefully get a rise out of the young solicitor. He waited.

And waited rather longer. He refilled his wine glass, and paced around his office, and still his phone did not alert to a new message. He refreshed the page, nothing. He had nearly given it up for the night - there would be another opportunity in the future, there always was - when his level of Amber’s Airline was interrupted by a push notification from the neighborhood app. He abandoned the level immediately to read it.

‘don’t call me law lad you fucking knob’

Crowley replied quickly. Quickly, quickly, it was late, the humans would be going to sleep soon ... hurry, hurry. He narrated the entire reply into his voice-to-text feature** and, forgoing a quick proof-read, sent it.

‘ok solicitor shithead’

[** Snake eyes were wonderful for menacing humans and striking the fear of the Devil into their hearts. They were not so wonderful for reading, typing, sewing, or anything else that required any significant level of visual acuity at all, really.]

The reply came quickly: ‘fucking delete this you fucking dick!!! what gives you the right!’ Crowley cackled out loud. Yes, yes this was the end goal. He could practically taste the low-grade evil, smooth like a finely-aged wine, sliding over his tongue. He raised his phone to his mouth and dictated: ‘no law lad’

There was not a reply immediately. But quickly - as soon as the app indicated he’d posted - he heard a frustrated scream, followed by alarmed barking. And then a door slammed open.

“I know you live around here, Jacob!” someone - the solicitor, oh, Crowley, could have hissed it was so wonderful - shouted into the late-night air. “I know you can hear me! You hear me? I won’t shut up! My dog has every right to bark in my home! I won’t tell him to stop! Log off you idiot! Log off and leave me alone!”

Crowley heard the door slam again a moment later, and he slid lower in his seat, taking a self-satisfied sip of his wine. Oh, yes, that was the stuff. He weighed the options, and then smiled gently, dictating his reply and then, after an aggressive two seconds of squinting to ensure the construction and grammar were to his liking, he sent: ‘who the fuck is scraeming “LOG OFF” at my house. show yourself, coward. i will never log off’.

The enraged scream that followed gave him such a warm tingle of infernal rage that he very much doubted he’d be able to sleep that night. But it was alright, he reasoned, as the screaming continued from another flat nearby, and then was met with shouts of ‘shut up!’ and ‘people are trying to sleep here!’ Ah, yes, the beauty of the internet. The true stroke of genius of nextdoor.com. Three angry people, three weakened souls.

Crowley sighed, satisfied with a terrible job well-done, and waved the TV on, although he wasn’t paying attention. He was thinking, rather pleasantly, about fireworks. Yes ... perhaps tomorrow. Plenty of fireworks. At two AM, yes. He would time a complaint post for the neighborhood too, just to get the ball rolling. He finished his drink, and refilled the glass, and settled back as the sound of a cricket match washed over him, entertaining thoughts of fireworks and burnt garbage and very angry neighbors.

#good omens #crowley is an internet troll #dril quotes #side eye reference to marine meme #the glorious crackfic wednesday #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #anthony j crowley #anthony janthony crowley

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