#have some plants (but also a community garden somewhere too). ANYWAY... Idk I just always love the aesthetics. I would love to tour a cruis

[vagrantblvrd]

waywrdvagabond replied to your post “mavinwood with werecat michael would be love”

I would enjoy more of this if that’s ok with anyone lmao

XDDDDD

I can’t seem to smush enough brain cells together to Officially Fic recently, but not!fic is super fun until I can.

And these werecat AUs are complete self-indulgent shenanigans so I hope you know the above XDDDDD was in no way exaggerated when I saw this?

Because, like.

It’s been rainy and gray where I live the past few days and that just makes me think of these three dorks, right?

The three of them curled up all nice and cozy on their couch while the rain patters down outside. Some dumb movie on the television and Michael settled between Ryan and Gavin - human or cat form - and content as anything after they get their shit together and feel comfortable enough about their relationship to move in together.

Realize it’s more ~cost effective than renting out three separate apartments/whatevers across the city. (Security reasons too, sure.)

(Really, though, their old apartments were too small and didn’t have room for them to spread out on the days they need a little more space or whatever. They still have their rooms at the penthouse if they need more space, or various safe houses or other places to go if they need so the whole living together thing’s not as daunting as it seemed in the beginning, what with various issues and hang-ups they all have.)

Anyway, that’s another tangent because this new place is pretty nice, you know?

Old building, yeah, but it’s in a quiet (discreet) neighborhood and the three of them are pretty well liked by their neighbors, what with them dealing with some ~undesirables causing trouble and harassing the people living there and the like when they were first checking the area out?

Also, Gavin and Matt may have done some Sekrit Hacker stuff along with the smart investments Gavin and the other two have been making with their ill-gotten gains - all carefully sorted out so the cops or feds or whoever won’t get wind of it.

ANYWAY.

It’s all taken care of so they don’t have to worry about it and monitored closely just in case by trusted parties and as ANOTHER anyway, these three idiots may or may not actually own the building they live in? (Part and parcel of dealing with those ~undesirables causing trouble and harassing the people living there.

Hush-hush only a select few know - certainly no one else in their building and such suspect and they’re not too fussed about letting them know? (If they find out, eh, whatever.)

Until then they keep the rent low because they don’t actually need the money, and also they’ve got nice neighbors, you know?

Sweet little old ladies and young couples struggling to get by. Some college students - dumb kids doing their best - and so on and so on and so on.

Set someone up as an absentee landlord to keep the whole ridiculous business going as long as they can. (Trevor or Alfredo, maybe, before their faces end up on the news right alongside theirs and they get these little sideways looks from their “tenants” when they happen by, and then that role gets passed on to, idk, Fiona or some such until their faces get too recognizable and so on.)

BUT.

Anyway.

They’ve got this nice little place in a quiet (discreet) neighborhood. Have a decent sized lot next door that they may or may not acquire on the down low the same way they got the building and it gets turned into a community garden project kind of thing?

First it’s Ryan and some of the plants he had in his old place that have gotten a little too big to be inside. Then it’s this little old lady on the third floor who used to have a garden way back when, before moving to Los Santos for whatever reason and oh, does he think anyone would mind if she planted a few things herself?

Ryan’s just ??? “I don’t see why not,” because what does he care, right?

And then a few weeks later he goes to check on his plants and sees her in this section she’s clearing weeds and debris and whatnot from for these honeysuckle plants she got somewhere and Ryan is like, oh, because growing up in the south and the ~memories and it’s like.

Well, alright then, for him because he goes over and asks if she’d like some help and she gives him this look, right?

Because she’s old but she’s not an invalid, please to remember that, but also it would be lovely to have someone to talk to while she works. (And maybe she relents an hour or so in, having underestimated how stubborn some of the weeds are, how deep their roots go, and Ryan is just “Yes ma’am,” and trying not to smile while she pretends to scowl at him.)

From there the lot gets more visitors or whatever you want to call them.

Kids from the building (and the neighborhood) who are Curious and growing plants is always pretty cool at first and there are some you can eat?

So a little section gets turned into a little science-y corner where bean plants and whatever else kind of things will hold a kid’s interest long enough to see their growth cycle through get planted.

ANd then their parents or others come to see what’s going on here - if it’s a scam or what because Los Santos and suspicious shit - and it’s.

Well.

They don’t know what it is, just that there are a lot of plants and such being grown. Some kids listening intently to whatever Ryan or Penlope of the honeysuckle plants and other such things have to tell them about nurturing the plants and whatnot the kids are growing.

And, look, okay.

Money’s tight for everyone there (aside from our three dorks, but no one knows, so shhh on that front) but maybe they can take some of that burden off themselves if they put a little work into growing their own food?

So then you have the rest of the lot sectioned out for fruits and veggies and whatever else and a whole slew of people learning to cultivate them and it’s.

Weird.

It’s really, really, weird.

Gavin goes down there some days when Ryan’s dealing with his plants or helping the neighbors with problems they might be having. No real interest in growing anything himself, but he’ll bring a little blanket and sit under one of the scraggly little trees growing along the edge of the lot while Ryan does whatever it is he does there and spend a quiet afternoon decompressing from a project or other or healing up after a heist or job or Incident where things didn’t exactly go as smoothly as hoped for.

He does, however, take a special interest in this little plant one of the kids gives him. A cutting or whatever else from one of their favorite plants and a gift after Gavin helped them with their homework or other school project and stop looking so damned pleased with yourself, Ryan, of course Gavin would want to make sure the plant is looked after.

And Michael, okay.

Always a soft touch for kids even if acts like he isn’t. Plays with the quieter ones as a cat because animals are almost always easier than people, you know? No expectations or judgement and cats have that lovely little purr.

Sometimes he’ll chase after a little red dot from a laser pointer to make one of them laugh and so on, but more often than not he ends up curled up in a kid’s lap or tucked up against their side. Little hands petting him because soft fur and rumbling purr and some of them might pet a little too hard, but cats are resilient fuckers and Michael can handle it.

Other times he’ll wander around the garden lot, nap in the shade of one of the honesuckle plants or steal some low-hanging fruit or vegging to nibble on.

Gets annoyed as hell when Gavin brings in the catnip plants along the fence because that’s fucking playing dirty and see if Michael doesn’t scratch up his favorite shirt next time he sees it, asshole.

Also, also I realize less cat!Michael shenanigans this time around? But imagine him running around playing with the kids and other neighbors while Ryan’s tending to his plants and Gavin’s gently heckling Ryan.

Ryan flubbing something he’s telling the kids and Gavin pouncing on it with glee. The kids laughing and Ryan rolling his eyes and them ~bickering until Gavin flubs something and it’s Ryan’s turn to give him shit and just.

Yes.

Also, also.

Human!Michael not really having any interest in growing plants either? But the kids freaking love him and his bluntness and the way he listens when they chatter on about something. (He’ll tease them about it, sure, but he listens and a lot of them don’t have people who care enough to do that and just. Yes.)

ALSO. Cat!Michael who the kids - and some of the adults - tell shit to they can’t/won’t with anyone else.

Anything from trouble with homework (and whichever one of them best suited to help may or may not find a way to offer up some tips for the kid at some point?) to some creep or whatever they saw around the schoolyard/their work and so on.

(And wouldn’t you know it if something Happened to said creep or whatever not too long afterwards. Weird, right?)

And like, yes. /o\

#waywrdvagabond #replies #ragehappy #mavinwood #werecat aus #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #:D???

[luckyspike]

The Trouble with Nocturnal Ambush Predators - A Good Omens Fanfiction

when I went to post this on AO3 (found here), turns out Crowley’s weird statue has its own tag

shit’s wild guys

anyway crowley and aziraphale make a bet about how shitty crowley’s vision is

nobody but also everybody wins, in a way

count the parks and rec references. also of course i had to make someone a doctor because i live at work i guess idk

-

Everyone was rather surprised when Brian announced that he would be going to school with plans to become a doctor. Brian, who reveled in dirt and grime, Brian that even at twenty would wear clothes more than once if he thought he could get away with it, Brian that ate food out of takeaway boxes and still left them in the sink. It was startling, the image of Brian, that Brian, standing in a sterile operating theater, scrubbed and gowned and as anti-septic as possible. And yet, this was also Brian that was always there for the Them, who would come the moment he was called if help was needed, who swallowed his pride and rebuked his filthy habits if only for a few minutes, to help his friends and save the world.

It was surprising but, the Them and friends reflected, not entirely shocking. It did make sense, in a sort of way. “I’d really like to study infectious diseases,” he said one night over dinner at the Pulsifer’s, while everyone was still gathered around the table for drinks. It was late, and Anathema had gone an hour or so ago to put her little daughter to bed, even over the child’s protests and desperate clinging to Crowley, who objected much less firmly than any self-respecting demon should have. Well enough then, he told Aziraphale, when the angel had pointed it out, that he was only still a demon in technicalities only.

Pepper looked amused. “You should see him in classes,” she said, for she was in the same class as Brian, with her sights set on psychiatry as a specialty once she’d graduated. “He sits right up front, a real gunner, and every time they ask about some weird bacteria, boom! He’s right there with the answer.” She rolled her eyes, but she was laughing, too. “I think it was all the dirt he always had on him when we were kids - he communed with the germs and they accepted him as one of their own.”

Brian flushed. “I don’t talk to germs. I just think they’re jolly interesting, is all.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Adam Young said, leaned back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head. “Someone ought to, right? Otherwise we’d all die of cholera or something.”

Aziraphale frowned into his wineglass. “Nasty illness, cholera. I remember the pump outbreak …” He shook his head, putting an end to that reverie, and smiled at Brian instead. “It is fortunate you have such an interest, Brian - the world needs doctors, certainly.”

“So what’s medical school like these days?” Crowley asked, a mirror of Adam, leaned back in his chair with his feet on the table, idly swirling the scotch in his glass. “Last time I tried was, oh, the sixteenth century I think. Thereabouts.” He winced. “Pretty sure it’s got on since then. Hopefully.”

“Oh, yes,” Brian nodded. “Yes, I’d imagine it is. Very structured now, and there’s labs and independent study and practicing skills and all kinds of things, not to mention all the lectures and exams.”

“So many,” Pepper agreed mournfully. “Endless exams.”

“D’you practice on mannequins then?” Crowley looked thoughtful. “I’d imagine they do a good bit with mannequins.”

“Some yeah. And then some - the safer stuff - we practice on each other. Y’know …” Brian thought, waving his hands vaguely. “Listening to lungs and hearts, eye tests, that kind of stuff.”

Aziraphale looked up at that. “Eye tests, you say?” He looked across the table to Crowley, a grin slowly spreading over his lips. “Crowley, dear, we could finally settle the debate -”

“No. No, we can’t.”

Newt, who had been washing up in the kitchen, returned, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Debate? What are we debating, then?”

“Nothing,” Crowley griped. “Angel has been insisting for the past decade or whatever - since you kids were eleven, however long ago that was -”

“A decade,” Wensley confirmed.

“Right, so that long, I’ve had to hear about how I really shouldn’t be driving because snakes don’t have good visual acuity.” Crowley spread his hands. “To which I make my point: if I really couldn’t see, you think I would’ve gone this long with the Bentley without crashing it? Armageddon notwithstanding, that was extenuating circumstances.”

Aziraphale muttered into his wine, “Only thanks to occasionally-gratuitous use of miracles.”

“Occasionally, angel! Occasionally doesn’t count. Not like it’s a daily occurrence.

“And anyway, my vision’s better than a human’s at a distance and in the dark,” Crowley said authoritatively. “Horizontal planes an’ light refraction and all that. Saw a film about it.”

“Listened to a film about it,” Aziraphale mumbled. Adam snorted.

“Wasn’t very nice,” the boy said, although he was grinning.

Pepper laughed a little too, while Crowley presumably glared at Aziraphale - the sunglasses, as ever, made it difficult to tell for sure. “It’d be easy enough to test, if you really wanted to.”

“I don’t.”

“Not even for a wager?” Crowley looked at Aziraphale at that, and a long silence stretched out. The Them and Newt watched, rapt, because they’d only ever seen the two supernatural entities bet on something once before, and that was whether or not either of them could, after two bottles of wine, climb to the top of the biggest tree in Hogback wood without using miracles, wings, or shapeshifting*. They had, if memory served, wagered an entire years’ worth of song-selection privileges. It was, perhaps, fortunate that neither had won the bet, because in retrospect Adam considered it a distinct possibility that an ultimatum like that could only have ended in some kind of argument**.

[* They couldn’t, but no one had paid attention to that, because the entire spectacle was so hilarious that the end result was fairly irrelevant, and Crowley turned into a snake when he thought no one was watching and cheated anyway. ]

[** Crowley and Aziraphale, after the Nahpocalypse, argued very seldom, but being that neither liked to do anything by halves, arguments were usually intensely dramatic, if short-lived. The last argument had resulted in Crowley living in the garden at Jasmine Cottage as a snake for a weekend, and only ended because Newt threatened to call animal control on him if the two didn’t reach some kind of agreement about whether or not Tom or John Barnaby was the better detective .]

The demon was tempted. “What are the stakes?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Something.” Aziraphale shrugged. “Let’s say … oh, alright. You win, and I turn a blind eye to whatever you want to do to your plants for a month before the flower show next year.”

The Them and Newt, like spectators at a chess match, breathed out. “Oh, that’s a good one,” Brian mumbled.

“But if I win, which I will, of course, then …” Aziraphale considered it. “Then …” He thought harder, and then beamed. “Then next time the neighbors want to take a week holiday, you have to take care of their smallholding by yourself .” There were assorted gasps from around the table.

Crowley barked a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“Because you know you’d lose.”

“No, because I always end up taking care of the smallholding by myself anyway, bloody goats.” Crowley leaned his elbows onto the table and tapped his chin with steepled fingers. “Right, when I win, I’ll … or you …” He brightened. “I get to yell at my plants, and you have to let me move the statue into the living room for an entire year.”

Aziraphale groaned. “Not the statue. No, just the plants.”

“No, the statue is a part of this.”

“When I win,” Aziraphale soldiered on, pretending they were not arguing about Crowley’s infamous Angel Statue that served as a crucial part of every argument and poorly-concealed threat in their relationship, “you have to put the blasted statue in a storage unit somewhere, and you take the speakers off that abhorrent vacuum cleaner."

Crowley looked appalled. “You’d cut out DJ Roomba’s tongue for a bet?”

“I’m hardly -” He looked to Crowley, and then relented, with a sigh. “Alright. No speaker on DJ Roomba for three months. Then you can put the speakers back on.” He seized Crowley’s hand the moment the other extended it, and they shook on it, both with equal enthusiasm and smugness. “I look forward to my three months of peace.”

“Can’t wait to put my statue in the living room and kill those bloody fittonias at last.”

Pepper and Brian exchanged a look, while Adam, Newt, and Wensley were trying to hide their laughter behind their hands. “We should print a Snellen chart,” Pepper said solemnly.

“Definitely need a Snellen chart.”

Newt nodded and stood from the table. “The printer is has bluetooth. Wait for me to be outside before you connect to it.”

Once Newt had vacated the building briefly, it was easy enough to print the eye chart. Adam found a measuring tape in a cookie tin full of sewing supplies***, and they solemnly marked out the ascribed distance. “Never done one of these before,” Crowley said, sobered-up for the endeavor. “What, you’re just supposed to read it?” Aziraphale was standing over his shoulder, arms crossed, looking so smug he might as well have already won. Perhaps he had.

[*** “ Why do you need it?” Anathema had asked him as she rocked Millie to sleep on her shoulder. Adam had explained, and she had nodded. “Oh, definitely,” she’d said. “The sewing kit is still in the linen closet in the bathroom - there should be a tape measure in there. Wait until I put Millie down to bed. I want to be there.” ]

“Yeah, you cover one eye,” Pepper instructed. “Right, and then you read the smallest line you can see. Ready?”

“Easiest bet I’ve ever won,” Crowley said, motioning to Brian to flip the corkboard he’d pinned the chart to. “Right, go for it.” The board flipped, and Crowley blinked. “Well, there’s the big ‘E’ at the top.”

“Everyone knows the big E,” Anathema said, dismissive. “He said read the smallest line you can.”

“Right. Ah …” There was an uncomfortable pause. “Can I try the other eye?”

“I knew it,” Aziraphale hissed triumphantly.

Brian swallowed. “Uh. In a minute. Um. Which … which direction is the ‘E’ pointing, then?”

Crowley frowned. “Whatever way ‘E’s usually point. What kind of stupid question is that?”

The assembled humans and one angel looked at the ‘E’ which was, very clearly, printed backwards. Aziraphale raised his hands to his mouth. “Crowley, you drove us here.”

“So? Didn’t crash, did I?” He switched eyes. “Oh, yeah, the other one’s better.”

“You’re serious?” Brian asked, craning his neck around to stare at the chart. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, so what’s that mean, then?” Crowley stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back onto his heels.

Pepper grimaced. “You’re legally blind?”

“No, that can’t be right.” He shrugged. “I drove us here, didn’t I?”

“He drove us here at 100 miles per hour,” Aziraphale added, in a mix of astonishment and terror.

“Right, and didn’t hit anything -”

“This time,” Anathema muttered under her breath.

“And made great time, all here, safe as houses.” He smirked. “Could a legally blind guy do that?”

“Maybe Daredevil,” said Newt, unhelpfully.

“Anyway,” Crowley went on, turning away to stalk across the room, past his horrified angel, and flick off the light switch, instantly plunging the room into darkness, “you’re not looking at this the right way. Move the chart around a bit, med student,” he instructed, the last part said with some disdain.

“You’re not at the line,” Brian protested.

“Just move it.” There was a whisper in the dark as the corkboard started moving in irregular figure-of-eights, Brian waving it around. Had it been light enough to see, his confusion would have been plainly evident on his face. “Right, so you got the ‘E’, which is backwards, then F, P, ah … T, O, Z, er … right, faster, okay, L, P, E, D, and then … Hm. Yeah, not sure after that.” The lights flipped back on, and Crowley put his sunglasses on. “So there.”

All the others looked from Crowley, to the eye chart, and back. “How?” Adam demanded. “You didn’t mess around -”

“Nocturnal ambush predator,” Crowley replied, as if it were obvious. “Plus, the ink’s still a bit warm from the printer. So even easier, really - I’ve got a whole extra sense, even, unless humans can see infra-red.”

“We can’t,” Wensley assured him.

“Right, so what’s that make me, then? I win, obviously.”

Aziraphale jumped in then. “Oh, no, no you don’t. Under human standards -”

“That was never specified.” Crowley grinned, and showed his teeth. Nocturnal ambush predator indeed. “Don’t try that with me, angel, remember which one of us is the demon, here.”

“It was inferred.”

“No such thing in a bet. Has to be expressly specified.” Crowley made a fist. “The fittonias die tonight.”

Since the lights had come back on, Anathema had been frowning, her lips moving occasionally as she clearly puzzled something over. She spoke, finally, slowly, and said, “But … but when you hit me with your car … it was night. And I was moving. And you were moving.” She looked at him, frowning. “You should have seen me, then.”

Crowley shrugged. “Wasn’t paying attention. No harm done, anyway.”

“Not after Aziraphale fixed me!”

Crowley scoffed. “Right. Like I said.” He pointed to Aziraphale. “I’m making an entire pop playlist for DJ Roomba just for this, angel.” He grinned even wider. “And I’m moving the statue as soon as we get home.”

“Really, dear boy, I don’t think this is as clear-cut as you say.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” Crowley pointed to Brian and Pepper. “Med students, stop me if I’m wrong -” they wouldn’t “- but the definition of visual acuity does allow for corrective devices, yes?”

“Yes,” said Pepper, while Aziraphale groused, “A moving chart and total darkness do not count as corrective devices, you know they mean glasses -”

“So there you go.” Crowley crossed the room and tore the chart from the board. “With corrective devices I’m … 20/50. So there. Not perfect but I still win.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were narrowed. “That’s cheating.”

“Again, if it’s not specified in the terms then technically it is not cheating. I’ve got books about this somewhere^, Aziraphale.” He spread his hands. “I’ve made a few bets and bargains in my life, believe it or not.”

[^ Books that were, he would not add, written in blood and bound in human skin.]

Aziraphale scowled. “You’re not putting that statue out.”

“Oh, but I am. I won the privilege.”

“You didn’t win anything.”

“Oh, but I did.” Crowley rubbed his hands together. “I definitely did. By the laws of betting.” He clapped Brian on the shoulder. “Thanks for moving the chart, kid.”

“And not letting the ink dry all the way,” Adam added under his breath with a poorly-stifled laugh.

Aziraphale was still scowling at Crowley, arms crossed over his chest. “We’ll discuss this further in the car.”

Crowley made a noise that might have been a chuckle, if there wasn’t just so much infernal glee instilled in it. “You sure you want me to drive home?” The angel’s wine glass miraculously filled itself. “Oh, so you’re going to be like that?"

“That statue is going out over my discorporated body.”

“It’s a very expensive statue.” He wilted a little under the blue fire in Aziraphale’s eyes. “Alright, we can talk about it in the car.”

The angel swallowed the wine in one gulp. “Capital.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #the them #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #crowley is a snake in a human suit #you will never change my mind