#nanny and warlock

[hannahnhorror]

As a proud owner of a 2CV I'm sad that Crowley didn't get to drive one, but maybe Nanny drives this beauty? (Crowley in diguise and so is the car)

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

The Most Important Thing--Good Omens Fic

With art by @cassieoh

My fic from the @the-warlock-chronicles-zine is now available on AO3! Get the full fic and Cassieoh's lovely art there!

Read on AO3

--

The most important rule when raising an Antichrist is: never get attached.

At least, it was for a demon sent to prepare the child to destroy the world and rule the ashes. The angel, as always, had a simpler job.

Brother Francis could present Warlock with his first kitten, watch the little face fill with wonder and joy. Nanny Ashtoreth had to teach the boy to let it go. He could comfort the child after a fall; she had to teach him to stand up and try again.

Brother Francis only had to love Warlock, and teach him to love in return.

Nanny was there to hone the boy, teach him to be strong, to command, to put his desires above all else. But she had another job, too.

The most important rule when preparing an Antichrist for his apocalyptic duty is: never get attached.

Particularly when one is preparing him to fail.

At any moment, the carefully laid plans of angel and demon could erupt into disaster. Someone had to be ready to act. To remember that the whole world was more important than a single child.

Nanny Ashtoreth stood always at Warlock’s side, watching like a serpent. Cold-blooded. Ready to strike.

“Warlock,” her voice snapped across the room. “You cannot bring every toy you own to America.”

“But I wuv dem!” The boy, not quite seven, clutched a teddy bear half his size.

Nanny folded her arms, stern as ever. Eyes concealed behind black lenses that reflected the world, showing nothing of herself. “What did I tell you about inanimate objects?”

He sighed. “Dey’re not f’me to wuv, dey’re tools t’be essploided in my quetht f’domination.”

“Correct. And save the baby-talk for the gardener, it doesn’t work on me.”

“Sorry, Nanny.”

“Better.” She studied the suitcase on Warlock’s bed, overflowing with stuffed animals, dinosaurs, gadgets, everything that held his interest these days. “This suitcase has to hold everything you need for your trip—”

“I do need them!” He wrapped his arms more firmly around the bear.

Nanny raised her eyebrows, unmoved. “You need fourteen pairs of underwear. Is there room for those?”

One of Warlock’s hands worked itself loose to poke at the mess. “Mmmmmmaybe?”

“No. Nor is there room for your clothing, your spare shoes, or your toothbrush.” She gestured to the pile she’d prepared the night before. “The things you need. How do we solve this?”

He furrowed his brow while Nanny waited patiently. His parents were outside, watching the staff prepare the luggage for their trip to America. Likely wondering where their child was, but Nanny never rushed important lessons.

Finally, Warlock brightened, bouncing with excitement. “I know! Two suitcases!”

Nanny pressed her lips into a line. “Close.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[guavi]

it's Mary Poppins ya'll

[sapphic-bats]

Warlock asks Nanny about it once.

She’s cutting apples for him, just the way he likes, and he’s gazing out of the window at the lush, green gardens that his mother so proudly upholds. Among the waxy leaves and spindly saplings, Brother Francis tends to the flora carefully, though Warlock’s quite sure he’s just taking certain leaves between his finger and his thumb, and studying them closely. But what did Warlock know about gardening?

He notices Nanny looking out those windows, too. Though she always gazes and stares with a deep intent, as if she only cares when she does, and it so happens that she never looks upon the garden empty.

What was that funny thing Nanny and Brother Francis had taught him? The thing that Nanny discouraged, to which Brother Francis promoted quite devoutly?

“Nanny, have you ever been married?”

Warlock knows what marriage is. After all, his parents are married, if you can call it that. They married, once, out of love. But it’s since faded. It’s more traditional, now. Out of convenience and a general apathy to trying again.

Nanny’s quick hand stills, blade edge flat against the cutting board. With her back turned to the young boy, he cannot make out her expression. He never can, what with her poised shades she wears pointedly upon her nose. But she speaks soon again.

“No,” she replies, simply.

Warlock considers this. “Do you ever want to be?”

Nanny, who had taken up the cutting again, pauses once more. She sets the knife against the board and tilts her chin towards Warlock. “Wherever have you learned such personal questions, dear?”

She’s not refusing to answer him. She never has. She just asks in true curiosity, and perhaps a slight avoidance. But Warlock’s eight, now, and he knows how to navigate her tricks.

“Where do you think?”

At that, she pauses, lips pursed with their consistent purple tint. The lipstick she wears, that faintly stains Warlock’s forehead when she kisses him goodnight and tucks him in after a bedtime story: often about a garden, or a bird that chirped too loudly, and was cast down to the ground by the other birds. One who became the kind bird of the grounds, and took in other reject birds that had fallen similarly.

She considers his answer a moment more, satisfied with the obvious influence she’s had on him. She turns back to the apple slices.

“Perhaps,” she answers.

There is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t mind, he’s grown up with Nanny at his side, and has become quite fond of the silence. It is where thoughts are made, she said once.

She finishes cutting the apples, and plates the sweet snack to serve to the boy. “What troubles you, dear? You seem awfully curious, all of the sudden.”

Not that she minds. Nanny never rejects curiosity.

“Nothing’s wrong, Nanny, it’s just—” he pauses, considers his next words and how to place them. “You look at Brother Francis a lot, and—”

Nanny interrupts him after an audible, suspicious gulp. “Who?”

He frowns, eyes boring into the back of her head. “You know Brother Francis.”

She seems quite comically nervous, like she’s pressed a wax-seal act over her true thoughts. “Oh, yes,” she decides, too much breath coming with her words. “The gardener.”

“You like him, Nanny.”

She turns, abruptly. “I most certainly do not!” Her voice comes out a tad shrill, though perhaps it’s just outrage and scandal.

Warlock narrows his eyes, perplexed. “But you look at him all of the time.”

“When has that ever had anything to do with- with love?” She struggles with the word.

The boy shrugs. “Mum and Dad don’t look at each other,” Warlock observes. “But Brother Francis looks for you, too.”

Nanny’s mouth, ready with a retort, or perhaps a counter-argument, flicks towards a different shape. One that might be, he does? Or perhaps Warlock is mistaken. She pauses, lips pursed again, and sets her teeth.

“I’m sure he does, love.”

The plate is set before him, and Warlock soon forgets his questions. He never asks Nanny again.

But he’s reminded of it when her eyes, barely visible in the light, flick towards the window into the dazzling garden.

Years later, Warlock is nearly sixteen, and has since let the thoughts from half his lifetime ago fade. They never die, just sort of… wait. Wait to be plucked again, notes of memory leaping from their tinny strings. Like a harp.

His mother takes him into town. Soho, where he has no interest in seeing, but his mother so desperately needs a new vinyl, a coffee, and though she never says it: a moment to get away from the house, or more specifically, her husband within it.

She agrees to let him wander. She trusts him, for all she hasn’t before. And perhaps, she says, the fresh, un-televised air could do him some good.

He’s only taken two steps out of the coffee shop, where his mother remains to await her tea, before he almost runs smack into two pedestrians, arm in arm. He takes a surprised jump back, tongue set with an angry scolding, when he gets a good look at them from behind.

“Nanny?”

They both freeze in unison, as if they both know the name, and the voice that has conjured it forth once more for the first time in five years. Warlock notices something else.

“Brother Francis?” He prods, shocked. “Izzat you?”

Both of the two now turn, and everything around the three fades into blurring colors and churning noises.

Warlock would be a rotten liar if he had said he hadn’t missed them dearly. He would also be a lousy boy if he didn’t recognize them by the backs of their heads alone, he thinks. Because he would know them anywhere. They’d always done a much better job at raising him than his own parents.

They both look different now. Brother Francis seems to have had dental work done, and has cleaned up quite nicely. Nanny, though, appears to have changed her style completely. Her- his? Their? Who knows. But she still sports a fine pair of shades upon the bridge of her nose.

The pair seem to stutter, splutter with a little awestruck surprise. It’s as if they’d never expected to see him again.

“Oh- Warlock,” Nanny Ashtoreth begins, feigning a cool-headed surprise. “How good to see you.”

She sounds different too. Less of a high strain on her voice, more natural.

But Warlock seems to finally feel a gear shift, and a puzzle piece clicks into place. He glances down to the space between the two, where their arms are linked.

In his dumbfounded state, he feels a smile split the trance.

They both see it at the same time, chins tilting to follow his gaze. When they catch where his eyes are, their stares mingle together in concern. It’s a look that wonders aloud whether or not they should be worried, or blatant.

Warlock looks back up to their faces. “I see now why you two left,” he adds, grinning wider.

He can’t help it. He was right all along.

Warlock remembers something, then. It takes all of his power not to burst out into a triumphant laugh.

“I’m sure he does,” he says, slyly.

Nanny’s eyes, illuminated from behind with daylight, widen. She remembers, too. Of course she does.

And she bites back a twinning smile.

[garmrr]

Nanny and the Gardener lulling the young Master to sleep. An ineffable version of JC Leyendeckers ''Silent night''

Enjoy! 😇🎺👶🥁😈

[lookitsstevie]

angel you can't just. WALK on water like that

[incorrectgoodomenss]

Baby Warlock: Fuck!

Mrs. Dowling: Who taught my baby that?!

Mr. Dowling: Not me!

Aziraphale: Not me!

Everyone: *looks at Crowley*

Crowley: Oh yeah? Blame the fucking demon, right? It’s always the fuck- oh.

[innefableidiot]

Warlock from his room: Mum! I need help with something!

Deirdre: Yes Warlock what do you nee-

Warlock pushing past Deirdre: nope not you-NANNY ASHTORETH

Nanny Ashtoreth just straight up spawning: Yes my dear?

Deirdre: what...

[v4guelyv4mpiric]

okay, so what if in his angst Crowley goes back to tadfield and decides he's gonna tell Warlock everything because "the kid deserves to know."

And he takes Warlock on a drive in the bently and explains it all, and miraculously, Warlock believes him. and they get to talking about how Warlock's life has been and turns out he's really into astrology and space, and Crowley's delighted that someone appreciates her work.

i want Crowley to be the cool parent Warlock never had

at least not since she left for the antichrist

[itsscottiesstark]

Nanny Ashtoreth holding 3 year old Warlock in her arms:

Nanny: Look, Warlock. Everything the light touches is our kingdom.

Brother Francis: *eyes her suspiciously*

Nanny: A king's time as ruler, rises and falls like the sun.

Francis: *opens his mouth to interject*

Nanny: One day, Warlock, the sun will set on our time here and will rise with you as the new king.

Warlock: And this will all be mine?

Nanny: Everything.

Francis: Are you- is- was that from Lion King?

Nanny, covering Warlock's ears: Hey, it's a good movie!

[headcanonthings]

Warlock: Quick! You have to pretend to be my mom to Adam's mom!

*hands Crowley the phone*

Crowley in his Nanny voice: Hello, this is...Mother Dowling. Yes. The children are playing swords. Sorry, playing with swords. They're bleeding. Oh no. They are dead. Don't call again. *hangs up*

Crowley: Sorry, I panicked.

[hannahnhorror]

Picnic with Baby Warlock ♡

[servantserah]

When you remember that ggAU is about Warlock being the antichrist and not about these two idiots falling in love /j

No no, FrAsh are the main characters (of the AU and my brain HELP) 😔

To my defense, I've actually drawn a lot of Warlock stuff, I just never posted it because I feel like I have to post other stuff first to give more context,,,, and then I end up never doing said other stuff 🤡

This is the only Warlock-related drawing I have on my phone rn, I hope this will suffice. 😔 Face time doodle from last year. Warlock is family so ofc they stay in contact even after he went to the US.

[guavi]

Lil Warlock found a worm! and proceeds to do what toddlers do best which is try to shove everything they find into their mouth

Nanny is pondering how she can spin this as a Very Evil Deed into the reports for hell

Brother Francis is in distress

[doodle-png]

good omens meme redraws in celebration of season 2 will be making more at a later date hehe original images below

[cat00pants]

Some out of context doodles from my Tiktok, I go by catpants on TikTok and Instagram as well if you wanna see the video