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Untitled Art/Ficlet: Raising Warlock
Rating: G

Nanny Ashtoreth entered the living room folowed by a pair of clumsy little steps, she sat on a couch next to the window and stared thoughtfully at the child while he atempted to get himself on the couch, she did not helped him. Ashtoreth was already used to the routine feed him, bath him, dress him up sleep and changing diapers of course... But these days he demanded something else, he needed more interaction, he wanted to play ,which was fine but HE wanted to play with HER which was odd and make her feel weird, maybe because deep down she wanted to play with him too.
Somehow Warlock managed to get on the couch and so he was standing up he was shaking his hands happily and mumbling baby stuff.
At the other side of the window Francis Gardener was resting, as usual, his back against a tree, contemplating the scene, he was delighted at the sight of a smooth smile drawn in Ashtoreths face, it was a pure smile made out of sympathy, Crowley seldomly smiles at people, but mostly out of sarcasm, she probably didnt know the smile was there, just as Francis didn’t notice his own blooming gently across his face, across the garden.


Young Warlock was wandering around the garden one day , when an ugly tiny creature appeared on his way, it was green and snaky it was all curled up and sleeping
It was then whe Warlock’s dilemma begun, as all living things are to be “grounded under his heles” but also he is to “love and reverence “ them all living things…



Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves in the Icaru's Wings Hospital, with an appointment to have Crowley’s wings checked , on their way to the waiting room they stepped into a “book dispenser” whoever invented this?, Crowley have thought, when the angel stood in front of the machine and waved at him while saying “ Go on dear, I’ll be there in a minute”.
Crowley entered the Hall, there was only one man waiting, in fact an angel, not his angel but a total stranger, he knew it the second he stepped in the room, a terribly awkward sense invaded him, and even when both avoided to look at eachother, they knew the other had recognized his nature.
Worsening, the room was small and there were only three chairs, the stranger was seated in one between a table and another chair, the wall behind him covered with images, photos and paintings of wings. Crowley sat down in the isolated chair next to a potted tree, a different pair of wings shown in the Wall, he didn´t notice, and they waited for what appeared an eternity. Crowley stared at the tree, avoiding the angels direction, he touched the leaves just to entretain himself but at his touch apples begun to grow on the tree, he retracted his arm rapidly.
The treanch coated angel didn’t pay puch atention to him until the tree suffered spontaneous combustión.
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