Warlock Dowling Rp - Blog Posts

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.

oi warlock you should play warhammer

I mean it looks really cool, I’ll definitely check it out. ….

Wait.

Or were you you just taking a poke at my name?

He shakes his head, now refusing to look him in the eye. “I-it’s nothing, just practicing some stuff…” Warlock’s hair rustles a little as he tries to calm himself down.

This is going to take some real pushing.

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

Wh—?! Oh, it’s you! Hello little lad.

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.

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.”

Warlock nods, giggling a little, before letting go to come around front and hug Crowley the normal way.

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

Wh—?! Oh, it’s you! Hello little lad.

The boy nods and mumbles something that sounds like “I missed you” into the wings. He hasn’t let go yet. He probably won’t for a while.

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

Wh—?! Oh, it’s you! Hello little lad.

The boy nods, relaxing a little. “Thanks, I think, but Nanny deserves the credit for that….and thanks for checking on me. It’s more than my real father did.”

He sounds genuinely appreciative.

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.”

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.”

[Open Starter]

This was stupid…another night, another nightmare, and another heluva hard time trying to figure out where in heaven’s name these were coming from.  

Sure, he’d dreamed about the trip to the desert…that was a recurring nightmare since he was eleven.  Some how his parents didn’t remember and made him feel like he was mad to even come up with something like that.  But that wasn’t like these.  Just like that one felt real, so did these ones; however, unlike that nightmare, which he knew he had been apart of, none of the others felt that way.  They all just felt like something that he shouldn’t know about, but did.  Something he should’ve been able to prevent but couldn’t.  

So, here he was, sitting on a park bench at 11 o’clock at night with nothing over his clothes but a light coat…

(@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.