first blueprint

[takeitsleazy]

[he'd had plenty of advance notice about the moon: first from Merlin, then from Hades, and then, the previous evening, from that strange little bird. he didn't know what to expect, but whatever it was, he knew that whatever gave him his power - and his guess was his Eternal nature - was going to be weakened even more than it already had been.

he had to prepare.

so he'd spent part of his first paycheck on something very, very important. a hoodie. on a whim, he'd also grabbed a few other things: some snacks, a few books, and a box of paper clips.

he manages to make it home to his apartment before the sun starts to set, and feels pretty positive and confident about this whole thing. he lines the books up on the coffee table, and puts the snacks which require refridgeration in the kitchen. but as the sun sinks, so does his mood. suddenly, everything starts to look daunting. strange. larger, somehow. something inside him begins to wind up into knots, turning and churning, creating sea changes. what's happening? he doesn't know. but he's --

-- oh. frightened. great. he tries to pace it away, but that only makes the knots worse. soon his stomach hurts, and even glancing at the junk food is a bad idea. he retreats to the bathroom, where he shucks off his suit coat and dress shirt, pulling on the hoodie to stare at himself in the mirror. He tries to will even just his eyes to look the way they really do. Nothing. Not even a faint glimmer. Just ice blue and floating black, wide and human and scared.

Michael pulls the strings tight on the hood, making its tiny little round black ears stand up, and retreats back to the couch, falling over on it sideways. His 3M slides out of the pocket of his pants, and he stands it up against a few of the books to look into it]

[just. staring. congratulations. he's on a couch full of emotion.]

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[bigbadrose]

Hey there tough guy.

Having a rough time, huh?

[Just hugs his shoulders and kneels down in front of him on the couch, and gently pets his hair, half expecting that to be rejected like it was by the Doctor, because that'd be her luck, right? Seriously Michael, you're making this horrible crush she has really hard to fight by always reminding her of her loved ones. Not that she has any idea why the hoodie reminds her of Mickey, since there's no way he would go in for that usually.]

Wanna talk it out? Usually helps.

[And she hands him a tea. Because of course she does. She's British okay?] I can add vodka to that if you think it'll help.

[takeitsleazy]

[how does she invariably do the same things Eleanor did? the hair-stroking in particular. no one had done that before, and he'd found it oddly soothing. it was even more so now, somehow. probably the perception shift. he lay there in silence for a while, processing, arms wrapped around his middle]

... everything hurts. Even though it doesn't.

[his stomach. His chest. his forehead. he's pretty sure he knows what a headache is now. everything feels...heavy]

[bigbadrose]

Monster thing, huh? Okay, let's get you to bed, and I'll make you tea. Unless you want to stay out here for a reason? And you should do something to focus on other things. Wanna color? Read? My Mum liked to read trashy magazines, I can maybe dig one up?

[Chews bottom lip, he probably reads as fast as the Doctor though....] Or we could play a game, yeah? [More pets.]

just get used to this icon k

[takeitsleazy]

[there are, indeed, a couple of coloring books in that stack he brought home. and the biggest box of crayons there was, because the resident he works with has been - so far - very patient with his not knowing what things are for what, and realized that if you buy a coloring book and you're new, ya gonna need crayons. as for the reading, he only reads super fast in his own language, so she's got some ground there.]

A game ... I don't know if I could do a game. Those are happy things. I shouldn't have happy things, I'm awful at everything.

/o/

[bigbadrose]

Wow mate. Maybe we should get you out of the room. You are channeling some major depression vibes.

You can't be bad at things just for fun, yeah?

[Goes through the stack and hands him the coloring book and puts a bright cheery crayon color in his hand. No black for you.]

[takeitsleazy]

I must be. I'm not even good at the things I was born into. Like torturing people. Or not caring about them. I'm so bad at it that my powers don't even work here.

[he flips open the book to a page that says "Connect Peter to all the Lost Boys" and has a bunch of tangled up lines. he'll just start coloring the mess of squggles. cerulean blue. huh.]

[bigbadrose]

That's not being bad at something, that's being more versatile and bettar than the others.

And no one's previous powers work right here. It's a universe-traveling-thing. Whatever it takes to make the universe more stable, yeah?

[takeitsleazy]

No, no, no.

[he waves his free hand at her, not looking up from his squiggles, looking almost drunk on despair]

I mean even whatever I'm supposed to have here doesn't work.

[bigbadrose]

Well, you're not really protecting people this second, yeah?

[takeitsleazy]

Nooooowh.

[there's a little snort at the end, as if to say '... dingus'. he switches up colors and starts scribbling in a different direction. there's something soothing about the way the wax is flaking off onto the paper. something satisfying.]

[bigbadrose]

[Gently scritches his head like for a puppy.]

It'll work when it matters. When you're feeling better. [Grabs a crayon and colors lightly on the other page, gently making weird cutesy shit.]

DW ate my notif :(

[takeitsleazy]

So .... Is this what being sick is?

[if it's a New Human Experience hd might be able to put a spin on it. Maybe.]

/kicks it

[bigbadrose]

Being sick is a little worse. Your insides would be trying to expel themselves... basically.

This looks more like depression? Yeah.

[blessedarethebookmakers]

He hesitated at all in contacting the demon. After all, he wasn't supposed to associate on a friendly level and, well, he didn't like him terribly much. However, he was apparently as important in saving this place and getting them home as everyone else-- so the least Aziraphale could do was be civil.

He even managed somewhat of a smile into the mirror as the connection was made. To say it was strained would be an understatement. Behind him, on the bed, Crowley is sprawled out, a mess of limbs and feathers and deep sleep.

"Good afternoon," he said quietly. "I do hope you have someone to look after you. You don't seem well." And if not, he could perhaps... call some member of staff to check up on the demon. He noticed then that Crowley's left foot was uncovered and turned to gently flip the blanket back over it, patting it absently.

[takeitsleazy]

Oh.

Him.

Michael was too miserable to eyeroll, and that was saying something.

"V'e got roommates," he said softly. "I think they're out though. Doing soulmate stuff. Even though I was pretty sure I made that up. ... Is that really a thing? Asking for a friend."

[blessedarethebookmakers]

"Well, good." He was about to end the conversation, and then that question. He hums to himself in thought, sitting on the end of the bed because it's there and spreading his wings a little to keep feathers from bending uncomfortably against the mattress. If that means some feathers brush over Crowley's covered foot, well, that's just a body in three dimensional space for you.

"I know the philosophy of course. Not that I was really present with the whole 'creation', thing." He moves his hands in a broad circle. "Well, er, I was there of course, but didn't have quite the honor of being present at the precise moment that humanity was made as I was rather stuck in filing." War generates a lot of paper work and he'd had to argue, very politely, about a form he had in fact filled out and no, he couldn't resubmit it because he didn't have it.

"But that they were made together or perhaps of each other--it does lend credence to the idea.

However, I don't believe there are half souls wandering around, searching for the other. But I believe that people find each other, and, moreover, find who they are meant to find. Whether it be through an act of divine grace or infernal interference. Perhaps even sheer coincidence!" Enough has happened that neither side could really claim fault for after all.

"But it doesn't mean that they are destined to be together forever. It doesn't even necessarily mean romance. It just means that they act as an agent of change for the other. Or perhaps an agent of choice. Free will is rather the whole point, you know. Out of curiosity, why do you ask?" And then, wondering, feathers caught somehow between a fluff and a bristle.

"Have you-- Are you-- Is there... some human-- or other being-- you are... er... despairing over?"

[takeitsleazy]

"Free will," he echoes. "Yes. Yes, that's it exactly." Something that almost looks like a smile threatens to brighten the confines of that hood. "It's about free will. That's why we were all together in the first place ... well, the last place ..."

And then Aziraphale asks that question, and every single thing he'd been trying not to think of while talking to Rose comes crashing back to him. Eleanor's paperclip bracelet she made him. The fact that she'd been the one who had really helped him understand human nature ... and grief ... and how to deal with it all. That he'd been ready to get caught and Retired for her. For them all, he'd said, but ... it had been for her. He knew it, as sure as he knew Janet was his best friend, and that you got an extra minus seven points if you ordered your sandwich on a baguette, because it made you more French.

"Is it bad if I say yes?"

[blessedarethebookmakers]

"Oh dear." That's somehow worse. To have feelings for...well! Someone not even close to your own kind. Though he supposes he can relate to some extent. His wings slump a bit in an absent display of emotion and he rests a hand on that covered foot without really thinking about it.

"It is, I suppose... and it isn't. Love is such a rare and wonderful gift but, when it's not supposed to be somewhere...it can be...problematic." He gives the foot a gentle squeeze, before absently rubbing his thumb along the arch of it.

"I am terribly sorry you're going through this. I truly am. It's difficult when... you can't be as free as you'd like."

background noise

[serpentinthegarden]

Out cold as he was Crowley couldn't respond to any of what was going on around him consciously... unconsciously however that tickled! His foot twitched reflexively, giving Aziraphale's hip a light kick, and uncovering itself again in the process.

The word 'problematic' had an unforeseen unconscious reaction too. Some how it altered his dreams, not in a magical sense but in the way that can happen when you hear something on television and that becomes woven into your nightmares. In a whirl of feathers he tossed around the bed as if trying to escape his pursuers before they dragged him back to Hell and ended up clutching onto something he was certain in his dead-to-the-world state was his pillow. It was Aziraphale's waist and he quieted again once he was snuggled next to it. Breathing a sigh of relief that sounded a great deal like words all garbled and strung together.

"justrunofftogether"

Couldn't be freer then.

yes yes ineffable husbands and trash couple enabling each other is quality thread content

[takeitsleazy]

"That's the worst thing," he mewls, fiddling with the paperclip bracelet around his wrist. "I think I only figured it out just now. So ... does that mean it's not real? Is it just this whole ... not being what I really am, thing, messing with me? Is it the human stuff?"

He half-noticed the way Aziraphale was interacting with whoever was coccooned in the blankets, and then fully noticed as Crowley scooted up and put his arms around the angel. Well. He'd certainly have to tell Rose she'd been right about that one, and it ... explained a few things Crowley hadn't exactly said, but half-inferred. An angel and a demon. In a way, the schadenfreude of it helped. An Eternal falling for a human wasn't quite as taboo, was it? Maybe? He wasn't sure how the lines fell.

"Plus, the good stuff kind of hurts a little on me." He rubbed a hand over his solar plexus. When you learn humanity and ethics from someone who gets constant, severe stomachaches over indecision and emotional quandaries, that's where you come to think all the feelings live. Not in your heart, like most humans. Michael's picture of human emotional anatomy is a little backward: he thinks his intuition is in his heart, not his gut, and his emotions are in his gut, not his heart. Good job, Soul Squad, good job. "It's all extremely confusing, and I just ... I want to go back, but I don't. Because I don't want to fail he-- them. Don't want to fail them."

yes indeed

[blessedarethebookmakers]

"Hmm?" It's a bit difficult to follow what Michael is talking about as he's concerned with Crowley's squirming. The kick is nothing, but the other seems to be a nightmare. What could be tormenting him so?

Though he is not the only one in distress, so Aziraphale tries to focus on the other demon.

"Not real? No, I don't think so. I think it's very real, just everything is a bit closer to the surface" The last ends in a squawk at the sudden unexpected embrace and the sigh and the murmured words. His feathers fluff in surprise and shock and his wings look twice their normal volume as he very desperately wants to explain they are just associates and Crowley doesn't know he's here because he's very asleep and that Michael should think absolutely nothing of it-- only Michael seems highly distressed.

"Yes, well, it must be you're just not used to it. Give it some time and you'll be able to sort it out, I'm sure. You seem a very enterprising... and...well... kind fellow." If the them were humans and he was in some way trying to help, fighting against his demonic nature.

"Oh! Perhaps you are her to understand human nature from the inside out, so you know best to help them." After all, everything happened for a reason. He tries to tell himself this even as Crowley's hot breath ghosts against his side which he can feel even through his clothes and makes his feathers ruffle more.

"I'm sure that after you understand how their mind works, it should be easy."

[takeitsleazy]

Everything he's saying makes sense, which surprises Michael, truth be told. He'd not been fond of Aziraphale in the least, but ... he was willing to grudgingly accept that he might have a very good point.

The fluffy wings, however, are still registering as really amusing at the back of his mind, and he might have to tease him about them later, if he remembers when he's back to his usual self.

"You know," he says slowly, "that's not a bad idea. But ... am I even meant to understand it? Is that why I lost so much of my sight? Do you think it might have been in the way?"

[blessedarethebookmakers]

"Some things aren't meant to be understood." He absently rests his hands on his lap, fingers curled as he tries not to pay the slightest bit of attention to the clinging demon. "They are ineffable. Bent against understanding. Some things you can only discover in time. The best idea is, if you don't understand, let it rest a while and see what grows of it."

[takeitsleazy]

"Ineffable," he repeats, uncurling a little and fidgeting with the ties on his hood. It's a concept that lines up with all the unknowns of the moral philosophy he's been spoon-fed by the humans, and goes against the rigid structure of the society he's existed in, where everything has either a point value or an exact purpose and plan.

It is, at once, soothing and maddening.

"So all this... emotional junk ... you think I just need to ... let it do this to me? I shouldn't try to stop it?"

[blessedarethebookmakers]

"I think if you try, you'll make it even harder to understand in the end." He graces his fingers along the back of Crowley's hand without thinking about it. "Why not engage with it instead? Indulge in it? There's absolutely nothing wrong with emotions."