Dr Who who??
I only care about Ms Frizzle and her Magic School Bus
TMA!Dmitri but he’s dark aligned and very serious about extinguishing the sun.
“Let’s not have a fight over who’s a bigger asshole, the last times it both ended in torture.”
"Why do you think you deserve that kind of piece? If you wanted to have a happy ending you could've gotten it."
“I don’t ‘deserve’ anything. I just think it’s a nice thought. Is it really so hard to believe I could have regrets, Alice?”
“Imagine waking up and everything was just a bad dream. None it really happened and life continues on in a comfortable quiet.
If I’d open my eyes one day and found myself waking up from a long, frightening nap to realize I’ve only fallen asleep in the lawn chair again, I don’t know what I’d do.”
Bradley has ADHD but he’s not autistic. It can often go hand in hand, so I just wanted to make it clear.
There are autistic Bradleys but the main ones (Meier, Curley, Cry, Grimley and honorary Maso mention) aren’t.
Jon’s autistic traits are:
Listen: Jon is autistic.
I feel a bit bad because I always wrote him as a loveable idiot muse because he’s clueless with certain social cues and often takes human metaphors literally, but 1) I didn’t write him like that with autistic people in mind and 2) I based him off myself.
I have a hard time with social cues sometimes (I study and mimic others to learn how to act in social settings) and I’ve recently come to realize I’m likely on the spectrum myself. I’m not going to get into why I am on this post (feel free to ask if you want).
My point is, while I obviously do not think autistic people are stupid, I love writing Jon as the himbim he is and it is a 100% reflection of my own personal experiences.
“What if everything happened in reverse?” Aziraphale wonders absently. He has recently learned that he can talk about thoughtless things now.
(Crowley did always encourage him to do so, encouraged him even before they’d gotten together and long before they’d had the Arrangement, but there were…certain things that held Aziraphale back then. Certain heavenly things. Angels weren’t suppose to entertain thoughtless things, you see.)
A gentle hand plays with Crowley’s hair as Aziraphale wonders this, and he’s done this enough times by now that he knows Crowley will only make the slightest of noises to show he’s listening and urge him to continue. Sure enough, Crowley hums against his skin and nuzzles in deeper into the crook of his neck, like a cat.
Or like a snake, but one that’s particularly cuddly.
Aziraphale bites back a laugh.
“Hm? Nothing at all, dearest.”
“Mmgh,” Crowley says, unintelligible over where his mouth is pressed against Aziraphale’s neck. “What do you mean, reverse?”
“Oh, you know,” Aziraphale trails off, unsure where he’s going with this. He hasn’t really thought it all through–he didn’t think Crowley would ask further about it. “I mean, if we had been in each other’s circumstances instead. If I had been a demon and you’d remained an angel, I suppose.”
Crowley looks up at him. “Now why would you be wondering about that?”
Aziraphale shrugs. “Just a curious thought, my dear.”
“Look how rebellious you are,” Crowley teases, “Angels aren’t supposed to be curious.”
“Oh, hush,” Aziraphale tuts, flushing, and ignores the handsome grin on Crowley’s face.
They’re silent for a few minutes. Aziraphale goes back to playing with Crowley’s hair, mind moving on to the next thoughtless thing when Crowley suddenly pipes in.
“I think I would have hated that.”
Aziraphale blinks. He glances down at Crowley. “Sorry?”
“I said, I think I would have hated that. A reverse thing. If I remained an angel and you turned into a demon.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale says, haltingly. He hesitates before adding, “It wasn’t a serious thought, darling.”
“I know, I know,” Crowley straightens up, tense all of a sudden. Aziraphale worries his lip. “It’s just–” Crowley looks at him then, startlingly vulnerable for a moment before he quickly turns away. “Never mind.”
“Don’t mind me, Aziraphale.”
Crowley settles back down against him. It’s awkward for a bit, Crowley stiff and heavy against Aziraphale and Aziraphale all too uncertain how to help. But Aziraphale does his best anyway, smooths out with a careful hand Crowley’s flyaway hair and tucks it behind an ear, and presses his mouth over Crowley’s forehead. Aziraphale hears him sigh, shakily, before Crowley deflates.
“Which part would you have hated?” Aziraphale dares to ask in whisper. “Crowley?”
“Which part? The part where you remain an angel or I, turned demon?”
“Both,” Crowley murmurs. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t enjoy Falling. But I remember how stuck-up everyone in Heaven is, and I wouldn’t have liked spending eternity with those pricks.”
“That’s–”, Aziraphale begins, and crumbles underneath Crowley’s pointed stare. “–true.”
“I wouldn’t have liked the idea of you in Hell either, angel. Hell’s a wretched place. A damned place. And you’re–they would’ve–” Crowley cuts himself off with a shake of his head. He buries his face back into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, presses an absentminded kiss on the skin there that absolutely melts Aziraphale’s heart.
“You’re too good for them, angel. Too beautiful,” Crowley finally says. “They would’ve tripped among themselves to ruin you.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale echoes, not for the first time. He glances down at Crowley. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“Course I have,” Crowley grunts. “We pulled off a heist of the fucking millennia, are you telling me you never thought of the possibility that you could Fall?”
“I did,” Aziraphale argues. “I just didn’t think of it in that way.”
“How did you think of it?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Aziraphale sighs, flushing again. Crowley doesn’t miss it and stares at him until he squirms. “I thought, alright–I thought I’d look ridiculous in a black leather jacket.”
Crowley sits up. “What.”
“Well, I’d have to give up tartan if I Fall, don’t I?” Aziraphale says. “And black and leather seem to be the general fashion consensus Downstairs, and I’d just thought I’d look so silly in them. I wouldn’t fit in at all. Of course, you, on the other hand, would be able to pull off white, you pull off anything quite nicely, my dear, I’m envious of it, admittedly–”
“What? What is it?” When he turns, Aziraphale finds Crowley frozen in place, grasping at the sheets restlessly. There’s a telltale dusting of red on his cheeks that makes Aziraphale frown.
“Are you actually imagining me in a black leather jacket, Crowley?”
“That’s–! I–! Hnggh!”
Crowley collapses against him with a string of unintelligible, embarrassed curses under his breath, and despite himself, Aziraphale laughs. It makes Crowley groan further, and he pushes against him until Aziraphale relents and wraps his arms around Crowley, tucking his head underneath his chin.
“You’re ridiculous, darling,” Aziraphale sighs lovingly. He pets Crowley’s hair again, waits until everything settles down once more. And in the blooming silence, Crowley raises his head just a fraction to mutter, “You’re ridiculous.”
“If it’s a fantasy of yours, love, I’m sure I can miracle a leather jacket in my size.”
Aziraphale laughs, holds a flustered Crowley tighter, and entertains no more thoughtless thoughts for the night.
If Aziraphale and Crowley had a kid, they should call him Miroslav
TW: torture mention, sleep deprivation, sadism
Maso endured a whole lot of different tortures under Alice’s “care”. He was her test bunny aside from her just getting revenge on what he put her (and her girlfriend) through.
One of the most effective methods was sleep deprivation; Maso already had poor sleeping habits due to their time escaping EJ’s Office. There were moments when they could only take quick naps in the vents they were hiding in and since Mariellas were always on a lookout, anything longer or deeper wasn’t possible.
But after time with Alice his insomnia grew even worse. He’s prone to nightmares already as a Bradley, except the nightmares arent what keep him awake, but the constant paranoia that the moment he sleeps something might happen (like getting recaptured by EJ or Alice)
She kept his mind awake for several weeks at a time and kept him alive throughout it. Sleep deprivation paired with other methods - even pain - were a lot more effective then since his capacity to endure it was rather low.
Image description: A painting of a dimly lit office with a man grinning, tilting his head, and holding up his dress shirt on his arm. The office is warm in hue, with bluish shadows. A window on the far wall behind the man peers into another dark room, lit with a blue light. Below is a high contrast version of the previous photo, where only the ceiling lights are visible. The shadow of the man’s head is visible near the right side of the painting. The ceiling light colors vary in hue. End description.
i forgot my caption ive tried to post this thrice. im gonna ask for coffee bc its 2 weeks b4 my birthday and im too busy to crank out paintings 😁🥰