Hades' office was not what he had expected to find when he tumbled through the door, rolling across it in a ball to protect the Book of Dougs cradled against his chest. And being faced with the Lord of the Dead had been even less of a good thing. He'd screamed like a little girl, truth be told, and then pulled it together in record time. "This isn't what it looks like," he'd said, quickly. And then Hades had opened his mouth and said it looked like an idiot just screamed at him like a little girl and really, he had better things to do than play welcome wagon, but hey, whaddayagonnado, and ... Michael had realized something was pretty wrong, here.
To make a long story short too late, he was wandering onto the far end of Main Street per Hades' instructions, the large, gold-embossed brown leather book still clutched to his chest like a security blanket, his expression going through sea changes like a tide on fast forward. This place looked absolutely beautiful, and amazing, and there were so many things he wanted to explore, and experience, and learn about ... but then he saw something: A balloon Jason would have been overjoyed with, perhaps, or a hat in a shop window that Tahani would have been utterly disgusted by. Maybe it was the ice cream parlor with enough choices to make Chidi's head explode, where Eleanor could have probably spent an entire day, going through all of them just to make sure they were good.
Invariably, he'd turn around and point, beaming.
"Hey, look at that, you gu--"
His wide grin would freeze, slowly warping into a disappointed gape before his mouth closed and his eyes crinkled in a wince of true pain, as he realized that whoever was behind him was not a member of his treasured Soul Squad.
"Oh."
He can't decide if he keeps hoping they'll show up, or just keeps forgetting they aren't there. It depends on which one hurts less, and that's a tough decision.
⓶ 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕨𝕖'𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣, 𝕞𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕒𝕤 𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕤𝕒𝕪
Lessons! Lessons, he can do. He claps his hands together eagerly and helps himself to a seat on a park bench, waiting for someone to roll out the chalkboard. "Okay! So! What comes first? Are there books? Is there a syllabus? Who do I get to heckle? Because really, what you call magic is just a very intricate balance between the nine ..."
Beat.
"... dimensions." His shoulders sag as reality takes all the wind out of his brag-sails. "That I can't see anymore, thanks, Hades. Great. What's the use of bringing an Architect to a place like this if I can't actually do what I was made for? I'd have this all wrapped up in a second..."
⓷ 𝕎𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕓𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕖 - 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕓𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕖
This is nothing, Michael thinks, looking up at the two-story Corroded that's just tossed a roasted candied walnut and pecan stand like a cornhole bag. It's just like a Neighborhood Storm, and he could have this wrapped up in a hot second.
If he had powers. Right.
"Shirt," he says to himself, plainly, then takes off his coat, draping it over a nearby trash can and rolling up his sleeves. He turns to whoever's nearest. "You need to get inside. And make sure everyone else is out of the way."
So saying, he huffs a little to himself. Wherever his humans are, they have Janet, and they have each other. They're still his Cockroaches. And he was brought here because he was needed.
"What we owe to each other," he says quietly. "Right. Just another Trolley Problem. I can do this."
The way he's looking up at that Corroded doesn't really match up to the words coming out of his mouth, though. Wow, that's intimidating.
⓸ 𝕎𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕓𝕖 𝕞𝕪 𝕟𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕓𝕠𝕣?
See Michael. See Michael standing in the Emporium, flitting from shelf to shelf to endcap to giant Bucket O Merch, picking up every single thing he can lay his eager hands on, grinning like a maniac. If you think he looks like he's never seen most of it before ... you'd be right. Spotting you, he holds up a bar of novelty soap shaped like A Certain Popular Character With Big Round Ears.
"Excuse me. I want to have a ... space-warming party, I guess you'd call it. I've never had my very own place before. And I want to make sure it's perfect. Maybe not Tahani levels of perfect, but at least ... good. Really good. What would you serve this with?"
Michael ∞ The Good Place
Hades' office was not what he had expected to find when he tumbled through the door, rolling across it in a ball to protect the Book of Dougs cradled against his chest. And being faced with the Lord of the Dead had been even less of a good thing. He'd screamed like a little girl, truth be told, and then pulled it together in record time. "This isn't what it looks like," he'd said, quickly. And then Hades had opened his mouth and said it looked like an idiot just screamed at him like a little girl and really, he had better things to do than play welcome wagon, but hey, whaddayagonnado, and ... Michael had realized something was pretty wrong, here.
To make a long story short
too late, he was wandering onto the far end of Main Street per Hades' instructions, the large, gold-embossed brown leather book still clutched to his chest like a security blanket, his expression going through sea changes like a tide on fast forward. This place looked absolutely beautiful, and amazing, and there were so many things he wanted to explore, and experience, and learn about ... but then he saw something: A balloon Jason would have been overjoyed with, perhaps, or a hat in a shop window that Tahani would have been utterly disgusted by. Maybe it was the ice cream parlor with enough choices to make Chidi's head explode, where Eleanor could have probably spent an entire day, going through all of them just to make sure they were good.Invariably, he'd turn around and point, beaming.
"Hey, look at that, you gu--"
His wide grin would freeze, slowly warping into a disappointed gape before his mouth closed and his eyes crinkled in a wince of true pain, as he realized that whoever was behind him was not a member of his treasured Soul Squad.
"Oh."
He can't decide if he keeps hoping they'll show up, or just keeps forgetting they aren't there. It depends on which one hurts less, and that's a tough decision.
⓶ 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕨𝕖'𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣, 𝕞𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕒𝕤 𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕤𝕒𝕪
Lessons! Lessons, he can do. He claps his hands together eagerly and helps himself to a seat on a park bench, waiting for someone to roll out the chalkboard. "Okay! So! What comes first? Are there books? Is there a syllabus? Who do I get to heckle? Because really, what you call magic is just a very intricate balance between the nine ..."
Beat.
"... dimensions." His shoulders sag as reality takes all the wind out of his brag-sails. "That I can't see anymore, thanks, Hades. Great. What's the use of bringing an Architect to a place like this if I can't actually do what I was made for? I'd have this all wrapped up in a second..."
⓷ 𝕎𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕓𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕖 - 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕓𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕖
This is nothing, Michael thinks, looking up at the two-story Corroded that's just tossed a roasted candied walnut and pecan stand like a cornhole bag. It's just like a Neighborhood Storm, and he could have this wrapped up in a hot second.
If he had powers. Right.
"Shirt," he says to himself, plainly, then takes off his coat, draping it over a nearby trash can and rolling up his sleeves. He turns to whoever's nearest. "You need to get inside. And make sure everyone else is out of the way."
So saying, he huffs a little to himself. Wherever his humans are, they have Janet, and they have each other. They're still his Cockroaches. And he was brought here because he was needed.
"What we owe to each other," he says quietly. "Right. Just another Trolley Problem. I can do this."
The way he's looking up at that Corroded doesn't really match up to the words coming out of his mouth, though. Wow, that's intimidating.
⓸ 𝕎𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕓𝕖 𝕞𝕪 𝕟𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕓𝕠𝕣?
See Michael. See Michael standing in the Emporium, flitting from shelf to shelf to endcap to giant Bucket O Merch, picking up every single thing he can lay his eager hands on, grinning like a maniac. If you think he looks like he's never seen most of it before ... you'd be right. Spotting you, he holds up a bar of novelty soap shaped like A Certain Popular Character With Big Round Ears.
"Excuse me. I want to have a ... space-warming party, I guess you'd call it. I've never had my very own place before. And I want to make sure it's perfect. Maybe not Tahani levels of perfect, but at least ... good. Really good. What would you serve this with?"