The Boy Thinks For A Minute. “It Started After My Eleventh Birthday, So A Little Over 2 Years Ago…and

@morningbloodystar, you expanding your business horizons?

Warlock makes a face at the mention of a haircut ( he likes his hair long, thank you very much) but knows better than to argue with Nanny.

He shrugs at the question. “School mostly…” And trying to teach himself control of his telekinesis, but he didn’t think Nanny knew about that.

*tackle hugs from behind then buries face in Crowley’s wings*

Wh—?! Oh, it’s you! Hello little lad.

Oh…I won’t tell him. But how did he end up being that bad? He’s an angel. And why’d you let me throw cake at him?

@warlocknottheantichristdowling look what I found! It was in the boot of my car!

Extremely Exhausted Starters

“You. Rest. Now.”

“You took five steps and need to sit down again?”

“I’m absolutely fine, I just need to sit down.”

“I just need to sit-what do you mean I’m already laying down?”

“Your eyes aren’t focusing. Just close them for ten minutes.”

“Write one sentence on this piece of paper, and then I’ll let you up.”

“I just need a breather, that’s all. Maybe ten. No fifteen.”

“We’re both so exhausted we can’t even argue about not being exhausted.”

“When I said I needed five more minutes I meant it more like hours.”

“… no… I’m tired… let me sleep… I don’t want to get up.”

“We need to get out of the heat, you’re starting to look sick.”

“You can’t hide those shaking hands from me. You need to stop.”

“I’m just a little cold, I’m okay, really. Let me sit with a blanket or something.”

“Moving…? No I’m good thanks.”

“Gravity has a hold on me of which I have not the strength to break.”

“Was… was that actually there? That wasn’t there was it?”

“I’ve had no energy for three days.”

“You worked yourself so hard that you’ve been sentenced to three days of bed rest.”

“Listen I can… I can get up. It’s fine.”

“If we’re both in this state, we both really screwed up somewhere huh?”

“I have energy for exactly one more person of favourable standing, and going the hell to bed. With or without that person, bed is happening.”

“You’ve struggled to move anything for the last hour.”

“This is what happens when you over exert yourself.”

“You were almost dead from pushing it too far!”

“I went a little overboard sure… but I’m still alive. So shh.”

One would expect the spoiled young man to be offended, but Warlock was raised by an overly dramatic demon himself, so he was used to this sort of behavior. 

"I came to say hi and offer you some chinese take-out, but if you don't want any of this I can just leave," he stated, turning to leave with said food.

Hello

He looked her up and down. " I'm guessing your another one? Peachy? What are you going to do now? Bring animals into my penthouse? Destroy the place? Make me sign a paper against my will? What's next? " He scoffed, sipping on his bourbon.

Before I get ahead of myself—

The reason Crowley & Aziraphale don’t know about Warlock’s telekinesis is because pre-Apocanope it was blocked, but when Adam named dog, whatever had locked it was broken.

He actually smiles at that, and fully relaxes. “I think we might. You had a Nanny too?”

Ahh, the fake child! Hello, Warlock. I'm your not-father.

Warlock looks warily at Lucifer, crossing his arms. “Hi… Can I ask what you’re doing here?”

He pauses

“And don’t you mean WRONG child? Not fake. It was an accident.”

Isn't that what fanfiction and rp is for? Don't take our writing opportunities from us!

they should invent a supernatural where they're normal and like feel happy and have a good time and no one is mean to cas

*He hesitates* You didn’t come back after that…was Dad mad about it?

@warlocknottheantichristdowling look what I found! It was in the boot of my car!

(@crwlee)

Warlock's face shifted through several emotions in a few seconds.  His still half-shut eyes lit up when Nanny called him 'dear boy' and the corners of his lips twitched into a tired smile before dropping again when he glance down at the word 'grown'...he realized he was probably taller than Nanny now, nothing like the spindly pale 11 year old he was last time they saw him.   

And then Nanny's voice changed and he froze as his face shifted to confusion and recognition when he looked up.  He'd heard that voice before in a dream.  It had been a whisper, but that same dream had provided his chosen surname...

Then that question...'how'.  His eyes turned panicked for a moment.  He'd never told ANYONE, even Nanny, that he saw their wings or about the other strange things concerning himself. Even as a kid he knew it wasn't normal, and despite Nanny's obvious affection for him, he was afraid of them rejecting him.  His hand reached up and ran through his hair mechanically as he quickly selected a 'sane' answer.  His eyes turned cold calm, masking the panic, as he forced a smile.

"Your voice," was all that came out, a little harsher than he intended. He reached a hand towards the light switch on the wall next to him and mentally flicked it on.   His hand was close enough that a human would think he'd actually touched switch.  He blinked a little in the light and went to pick up Nanny's glasses from where they fell on the carpet.

warlock-nottheantichrist-dowling‌:

Warlock tensed up. That was not a voice he expected to hear again, not while he was awake at least.  If he hadn’t just thrown a shoe at them, he’d assume this was just another dream.  He studied them for a minute.  There was no mistaking that was Nanny Ashtoreth…same eyes, same wings, same voice.

“Nanny?  What’re you doing here?” he asked. Not that he didn’t want them here, he was just a little shocked.  It’d been a long time since he’d seen them, way to long in his own opinion.  “And sorry about the shoe, though you were someone else,” he said, walking a little closer, but still keeping his distance. 

   “Checking up on you dear.” and out came the voice again, with the Scottish brogue he hadn’t used since Warlock here was just a child. “My how you’ve grown.” forgetting himself for a moment to long faced with the child he’d practically raised. 

   Until that single brain cell he most certainly shared with Aziraphale ticked back into his skull, and he realized he wasn’t exactly dressed in a way dear Warlock should remember. “Hold on –” the voice of Ashtoreth dropped away then, as Crowley’s brows knit. “ – how’d could you tell it was me?” it wasn’t like it was the farthest of stretches. When he’d modeled his Ashtoreth look he’d kept his favored color scheme, a little cinch at the waist, a touch more of a feminine look ( not that his normal attire didn’t already play fast and loose with humanities concept of ‘gender’ ) but it was still rather surprising to the demon, and to be honest a relief.