The Good Place had been particularly chaotic lately—more ethics lessons gone wrong, more Jason trying to DJ a silent meditation session, and more of Tahani casually mentioning she once taught Beyoncé to read. You were exhausted. Emotionally raw, overstimulated, and confused in ways that ran deeper than just post-death metaphysics.

That’s when it happened.

You were curled up behind one of the towering bookshelves in the neighborhood library Michael designed to look "comfortingly mortal" (meaning there were fake late fees and a suspicious vending machine that only dispensed yogurt). You sat on the floor, hugging your knees, a soft blanket you'd kept hidden for comfort wrapped around your shoulders. The world felt too big, too loud—and you? Too small to handle it.

Michael had been looking for you—ready to monologue about the next ethical experiment he and Chidi were planning—when he found you instead like this.

You didn’t notice him at first, frozen mid-stimming with your fingers in your mouth and eyes glassy. But he noticed everything. His demon brain took in the posture, the regression, the nonverbal signals—and he paused. Something… twisted in his chest. Something unfamiliar.

“…You,” he whispered, more softly than you’d ever heard him speak.

You looked up, startled.

“Shh. It’s okay,” Michael said, kneeling slowly so he didn’t startle you. “You’re… little right now, aren’t you?”

You nodded shyly.

Michael blinked rapidly, pulling a small notebook from his pocket and scribbling. “Okay, okay, this is fine. I—uh—I know things. Lots of things. I know everything about Kantian morality and 3,000 types of eternal punishment. Surely I can learn this, too.”

He stood suddenly, snapping his fingers. “JANET!”

Janet appeared with her usual peppy smile. “Hi there!”

“I need everything you know about age regression. Emotionally safe items, routines, sensory-friendly clothing—go full Montessori if you have to!”

Janet nodded. “Downloading knowledge now… done! I also ordered three weighted plushies, a caregiver manual, and a playlist of gentle lullabies in 17 languages.”

Michael turned back to you with something strange in his expression. Concern. Care. Maybe even love, in his weird demon way.

“I’m going to take care of you now, okay?” he said. “We’ll figure this out together. This place may have been designed to torture you, but I think… I’m done following the plan.”

And just like that, the architect began to rework his masterpiece—for you.