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The Good Place: Fanfic: art, fine and vulgar
Fandom: the good place
Rating: teen
Length: 340 words
Notes: title from hellogoodbye's hang loose
Summary: a what if simone was on team cockroach from the beginning
“Shut up. Shut up!” Simone exclaims, looking around the neighborhood. “I didn’t even think there was an afterlife, y’know I did neuroscience. Definitely team mind and body as one. This is awesome!”
Michael laughs and they stop in front of an oversized mansion. It looks like a small mountain, and Simone wonders how many people are in this neighborhood. “I’m afraid I must leave you here, there’s been a late arrival without a soulmate.”
“Oh,” Simone says, eyes wide. “Do most residents have those?”
“But of course, how better to spend eternity? Goodbye.”
“Thanks,” Simone says to his hastily retreating back, and the late arrival must be a bigger deal than she thought. She knocks, feeling a bit foolish as this is her new home, but doesn’t hear a thundering of footsteps.
Trying the handle, the door’s unlocked and she goes in.
“Holy shirt.”
The entrance hall alone is bigger than her apartment, and there’s a stunning woman descending from the stairs. She looks like a movie star with perfectly bronzed skin, a floral day dress, long legs and stiletto boots clicking on each stair.
“You must be my soulmate, how exciting that we haven’t met before.”
“Uh yeah,” Simone swallows, hasn’t felt so gay since her first crush on a girl. Absently she wonders if that’s part of a soulmate effect, if it’s discernible. (Could she do studies up here? Her biological systems seem to be working normally, but maybe that’s a perception trick? She is dead. And increasingly glad her death is eternal sleep theory to be wrong.)
“I’m excited to get to know you better. Over forever.”
She laughs, coming closer and hugging her. She even smells perfect, and Simone can’t help a theory voice in the back of her mind muttering: how do you know she’s real? Maybe a soulmate is created, and that’s why perfection of a pair is possible, maybe-
“I’m Tahani. I was about to get lunch; would you care for a picnic?”
Maybe it doesn’t matter.
She grins, “Simone. That sounds wonderful.”
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