punsbulletsandpointythings:

amemait:

bethanythemartian:

ariaste:

demonic-mnemonic:

Sometimes I just sit and think about how Aziraphale and Crowley spent several years giving some ordinary human kid THE weirdest possible upbringing of all time.

uhhhhhhh fic of Warlock as an adult where he mentions things offhandedly in therapy sometimes and his therapist is EXTREMELYY???????? CONFUSED????????????

“My parents couldn’t always make the time for me. Well, Mum couldn’t, for a lot of reasons. Dad… didn’t. It was hard to tell the difference from that age, and she made excuses for him, but I understand it now that I’m older.”

The therapist nodded. She wasn’t taking notes, simply leaning back in the comfortable chair across from him, and she was always doing something with her hands. It’s crocheting today, she says she’s making a baby blanket for a friend. Sometimes it was origami, or knitting, sometimes she’d be sewing, and once she was doing some kind of leather work. Braiding something for some reason. 

He’d sat on about every chair and couch in the room before settling on the overstuffed couch. He could sit sideways and not look at her react, or sit up, or whatever. Sometimes he didn’t want to see her face when he said something, and sometimes he had to. 

“Was there anybody who did?” she asked. Her voice was smooth and soothing. She was paying attention to her work, but also paying attention to him. She said that if she’s writing it makes some people nervous, but if she’s doing something else then the conversation feels more casual, even if it’s not.

Every once in a while, she got this look on her face that he suspected means he said something extremely interesting (or upsetting, or whatever) and was trying not to show it, but it never showed in her voice. He liked that about her. 

He nodded. “When I was younger, we had this nanny. I used to just call her Nanny, I don’t remember if I ever knew her name. She was Scottish. She was real weird, but she’d spend as much time with me as I liked. She was always there, if the gardener wasn’t.”

“A gardener as well?” 

He nodded. “He always had time for me. No matter what. He’d drop whatever he was doing to talk to me. He was from… I don’t remember. Very rural, this fellow.” He thought about it. “I don’t know what happened to them. I think they left to do other things, not too long before my eleventh birthday. I never saw them again. He was kind of boring, sometimes, but he always talked to me like I was the most important person he ever saw.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Nanny would too, actually. I sometimes think that they’re why I’m, you know, not as fucked up as I could be. That just knowing I could go find the gardener and he’d tell me what the rabbits were doing today, whatever he was doing, that I could tell him about… whatever. Or Nanny. She used to tell me to smite my enemies, I was never sure how to take it.” 

It was just a moment and gone, a single expression of sheer bafflement, which made Warlock laugh a little.

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Look I’m keen on 100% of of this but let’s take ONE TINY THING AND MOVE IT SLIGHTLY TO THE LEFT.

So I’m going to suggest taking this therapist and turning her into Linda Martin, Psychiatrist.

From Lucifer.

YES