#love antoni just always there ALWAYS THERE

[taylorvaughnsaidso]

AGAIN?! ANTONI 😭AND HE'S NOWHERE MENTIONED AGAIN.

[homeb0ys]

There are literally no thoughts in his head

[britneyshakespeare]

love how productions of antony and cleopatra make everyone a little bit slutty ✨

[llamagoddessofficial]

The sirens are always rescuing Mc. But what if, for once, Mc was the one who came to the rescue of a siren...?

Amazing commission, courtesy of the delightful @our-brightest-stars. I love any chance I can take to write more arctic-based stuff!

---

You could immediately tell, upon entering the room, that they had been talking about you. 

Despite the sweet smell of coffee, the air was heavy. The chatter you had been hearing through the door immediately stopped, like you were a teacher that’d walked into a room of gossiping school kids. Four of your colleagues were gathered together around the kitchen table, mugs clasped in their hands - Evan, who you already thought was a bit of a dick, put his hand up to his shut mouth and cast a wide-eyed look to Leo and Tom beside him. Antoni, who you considered something of a friend, had her back to you but sank sheepishly into her beige turtleneck sweater regardless.

You bit the inside of your lip. You could tell from their faces what they had been discussing before you interrupted. You had gotten to know their expressions pretty well, after so long occupying the same cramped arctic research station together.

... Yeah, figured they’d find out eventually. If anything, I’m surprised it took them this long. 

You wordlessly made your way over to the coffee pot, shoes squeaking against the rubber floor. You put your rucksack onto the counter, grabbing your flask out of it, skin prickling from their staring. There was still a significant amount of coffee left - a bonus of working with people who were also coffee addicts was they generally respected the ‘never leave the pot empty’ rule. 

You filled your flask. The coffee still had some steam coming off it. Stars, the silence was deafening.

“... Uh... going out?” Antoni asked, plaintively, as you screwed the lid back on and pushed the sealed flask into the mesh on the side of your bag. At least she had the decency to sound ashamed. Leo didn’t do a very good job of hiding his snicker.

“Yeah.” You hefted the bag back onto your shoulders, doing your best to not make eye contact with any of them. 

Evan, clearly, couldn’t contain himself. “Gonna go track down mothman?”

You felt a flush of multiple emotions at the same time. Some embarrassment, some shame, all of it quickly washed away by aggravation. Heat rose to your cheeks, but you held your tongue. You wanted to point out what a stupid fucking thing it was to talk about tracking mothman (a cryptid from West Virginia) in the high arctic, but it was obvious he was baiting you, so you kept your mouth shut.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been made fun of for what you believed in. However... the words stung that little bit more, when it was coming from your fellow scientists. 

“Evan,” Antoni sounded exasperated, “don’t be such a prick.”

Evan raised his hands. “What? So I’m not allowed to ask questions?”

You didn’t respond. You walked past them, headed to the main corridor; you weren’t going to let this spoil your plans. “See you guys later.”

As you left the room, you vaguely heard Antoni and Leo starting to berate Evan in low whispers. Someone definitely called him an asshole, cut off as the door closed behind you.

You sighed. The hallway felt a lot longer than usual. You passed through another set of doors, heavy metal ones, into the cold ‘buffer’ room between the warm research station interior and the outside world. After double checking you had all your gear, you stepped out of the doors, outside into the sun.

People didn’t realise how beautiful the arctic could really be. If you told someone to describe the arctic, they would probably just talk about the ice. And yeah, sure, there was a lot of ice, it would be unreasonable to say someone was wrong for thinking of that. But that was like describing a forest as ‘just trees’. The arctic at this time of year was endless slopes of rugged greens that rolled and swayed and disappeared far away into the horizon and beyond, carved into shape by ancient lakes and glaciers scraping the ground piece by piece once in a millenia. It was a sight to behold. Trees couldn’t take root, only the hardiest shrubs survived, and you were little more than a stone’s throw from the vast sub-zero ocean.

That ocean, a haven for the rarest kinds of sirens, was your goal. 

You tugged your backpack into a more snug position on your shoulders, and continued trudging through the stones and bare grasses. Even now, with the sun high in the air and all but the most stubborn chunks of the ice gone, the arctic was... well, the arctic. It never got warm enough to be comfortable and it was a good idea to just keep moving if you wanted to make it to the shoreline with enough time to actually get some footage before sundown.

You loved your job. Some would call you crazy, for willingly spending months at a time in the arctic circle studying sirens. You’d always been interested in sirens. The mystery and culture wrapped up within them, the inherent danger, so little information could solve so much. Siren studies was one of those areas where even the most fractional of discoveries would be groundbreaking and important.

... Sirens weren’t your true passion, though. Your true passion was what Evan had probably just discovered, and shared with your teammates - why you were lugging such a giant cold-resistant camera kit in your bag with you.

You quietened your thoughts with a swig of warm coffee, and an increased walking pace. 

Would some people call your Youtube channel conspiratorial? Sure. But cryptids were where your heart really lied. Cryptid study, cryptid research, cryptid sightings... you were incredibly proud of the modest following of like-minded people you’d built up online over time - there was no doubt your qualifications definitely gave your word some weight in the tight-knit community. Honestly, you considered your research work simply a way to fund your true passion. Every day when you had the free time, you took your camera out with you, out into the beautiful arctic land. There was so much to look out for. What would you find? You were giddy. If you found something truly incredible, your channel could blow up, and you could do Youtube full time. Today your mission was just to get some footage of the sea for a voiceover section you had planned.

... There was never a small amount of side-eyeing from people you knew, when they found out what you were passionate about. You weren’t sure what was worse; the ones who rolled their eyes and made stupid comments, or the ones who nodded along but looked at you like you were a particularly imaginative child. At least the more aggressive ones were honest about how they really felt. 

Sirens, in a way, felt like they proved that you were right to keep wondering what else was out there. They were incredible creatures, not even fractionally understood, dangerous and magical - they perfectly straddled the line between science and fantasy and there was so much of them that couldn’t be explained by those who (so frequently) brushed you off. How did their songs lure people? How do their bodies consist of such strange combinations of beings? How do they effortlessly sink hunting boats? Why did so many cultures have matching stories of them that perfectly apply to real life? In your world, honestly, the existence of sirens meant that a lot of other cryptids didn’t seem like too much of a stretch.

You had dedicated your life to researching sirens. By studying them, you could follow a path that was suitably scientific enough to shut up the assholes who didn’t take you seriously... but also gave you the time and resources to pursue your real passion.

You had to admit, you took pleasure in people discovering you were a scientist and a strong believer in certain cryptids. The visual erroring on their faces was wonderfully karmic to observe.

There was plenty of time to spare on the arctic research station. Experiments were frequent but didn’t take literally all day. You were left with ample opportunity to do whatever you pleased. Like, for instance... go out and film for your Youtube.

Aside from wanting to take pictures and film some B-roll, you just generally enjoyed being able to be outside. It was all well and good in the spring and summer, but when autumn and winter rolled around you’d be lucky to be able to see out of the windows. There was nothing as endless as the darkness of an arctic winter; the screaming winds, the days as pitch black as the nights, the many weeks cooped up in one place because the outside of the facility was literally one of the most hostile environments on Earth. It was good to stretch the legs - soak up as much serotonin as possible before the winter months came.

After a decent amount of time walking, immersed in your thoughts, you found yourself able to see the flat expanse of the sea poking just over the snow-topped hills. You were finally approaching the shore. Even from where you stood, you could see the massive ‘islands’ of ice floating silently away in the far distance. It was a truly magnificent place to be.

You rifled through your pockets for your hearing protection as you came close enough to the water to smell it, eventually having to pull off a glove for the dexterity. Even just a few metres from the sea you had to be aware of sirensong. Sirensong was always something of a risk but it was an even stronger risk while you were somewhere as remote as the arctic.

... But just before you got your protection into your ears, you heard something. It sounded like scrabbling, a weirdly desperate scratching. You stopped walking, turning cluelessly and searching for the source of the noise.

A few yards to your left, a patch of snow was wriggling.

No. It wasn’t snow. You blinked in surprise; it was an arctic hare, a surprisingly large animal, lean and white and with beady little black eyes. The animals this far north were always so much bigger than you expected. When it saw you notice it, it scrabbled and flailed in a way that only a frightened animal could, clearly desperately trying to run away. 

Something was stopping it. Upon closer inspection, from where you stood, you could see it had one back leg trapped in a small crack in the ice.

... Huh. You moved nearer, putting your hearing protection back into your pocket. The hare flailed again, wildly kicking its front legs, it reminded you of an injured bird trying to fly. Then it totally stilled; as if it could hide from you after all that movement.

“... I really shouldn’t help you,” you said, dejectedly, to the terrified animal, watching its little whiskers twitch, long ears pinned back against its skull as it tried to act indistinguishable from the ground. “Survival of the fittest, and all.”

The hare’s beautiful eyes stared up at you. You could see its little chest going up and down, heart beating wildly under its soft white fur.

...

You scanned the horizon. There was no one around for a long while. Sure, your GPS tracker told your coworkers where you were at all times in case of emergency. But until they thought there was an emergency you absolutely weren’t being followed anytime soon.

...

You pulled your bag off your shoulders, kneeling down and tugging your ice pick out of its strap holder. 

“No one will know, right?” you told the hare. It was just one hare. Even though leaving it was the logical thing to do, you couldn’t genuinely bring yourself to abandon this animal to die slowly and painfully while lodged in the ground. Besides, it was just one hare, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t like it had been caught by a predator, or something. It must’ve got its foot caught by accident; this was simply a terrible stroke of bad luck. If you freed it, it could go on to be eaten by a fox or wolf. Better that than to just die and freeze solid.

Using your ice pick, you carefully went behind the completely still creature. You were impressed by its dedication to stay totally still even when you were close enough to potentially reach out and stroke its fur. You had to be careful it didn’t spin around and bite you - you gently chipped away at the ice, extremely cautious not to catch its tiny bony leg. The entire time you dug, the hare was as still as the ice itself, unable to shake its instinctive need to stay small.

It really didn’t take long at all. A few careful draws of the sharp end of your axe against the compacted ice... and suddenly, like a gunshot going off, the animal sprinted away from you. Its powerful legs sent up a spray of snow, some of which went straight into your eyes - by the time you staggered to your feet, hurriedly wiped your face, sputtered and looked back up again, the hare was completely out of sight.

... Well. That was definitely a story to tell. You sighed, grabbing your bag and hoisting it back over your shoulder. At least -

- splashing?

Your head snapped toward the sea, in the direction of the sound. Against the total silence of the icy glassy sea, the splashing was loud, loud enough for you to hear it several metres away from the beach. It sounded frantic, almost aggressive. What the hell? What was going on today? You pushed your hearing protection onto your head, and half-ran-half-jogged toward the shoreline. The bare rock, grass and drifts of stubborn snow sloped away into loose pebbles that crunched and slid underfoot, mirrorlike water lapping slowly at the tide line only a few metres away. Lumps of ice, mini-glaciers of their own, floated silently and ominously by. This was water that would easily kill you if you fell in.

You scanned the shoreline, searching visually for the source of the noise you’d heard only moments ago - and soon you caught movement in the corner of your eye, just around a ‘corner’ caused by a rocky outcropping that jutted up a little higher than the rest of the landscape. Behind the outcropping, you could see large ripples spreading out, fast and random like something was fighting just behind where you could see. It was easy to pick up, considering the rest of the shoreline was so millpond still. 

Immediately, you jumped into action, running across the pebbled beach and scrambling up and onto the rock face. You weren’t even sure what you were expecting to see. Was it a person in distress?

... Except you could instantly tell it wasn’t a person, when the hidden section of the beach came into view, and you immediately saw a massive sleek outline that was easily twice as big as a person. It was for sure some kind of animal. But it took you a few crucial seconds of mind-whirring confusion to figure out what it was.

... Oh my stars. You ducked slightly, as if that would help.

It was a skeleton orca siren. A huge one. Partially beached, right there on the shore.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. All the breath left your chest at once. An skeleton orca siren, right before your eyes, bigger than you ever could’ve imagined, arching white markings and strong bones unmarred by any scars that could show a loss. Its sockets were sharpened with frustration - its body was against the shore at an angle, you could tell from how its tail was still able to cause those waves that the sea probably deepened extremely suddenly. It was thrashing, clawed hands digging into the ground, the force of its thrashing sending up showers of both stone and sea. 

Your breaths were controlled. The closest you had ever gotten to seeing a siren before was spotting their distant tiny shapes breaching near your boat, or the blurry low-quality images from underwater cameras. You’d never seen one in person so close you could touch it.

Clearly, you weren’t all that sneaky. Its rounded skeletal face whipped around, and razor-like white eyelights in pitch dark sockets landed on you.

Both of you were the rabbit this time. You froze, all your hair standing on end, nerves prickling. The siren froze too, waves stopping, it glared your way. At least... you felt like it was glaring. It was impossible to tell, its skeletal features were devoid of any of the usual emotional tells you relied upon. Whatever it was thinking, it was definitely staring, claws curling into the ground. Just its arms, twice the thickness of yours, could almost definitely snap your body in half.

Man. Chills spread across your whole body. Good fucking thing you put your hearing protection in, huh? 

You took a slow moment to take it all in. From the shape of the dorsal fin, you could tell it was male; male orca had a tall, almost triangular fin, while females had a much more sloped and curved appendage. Those sharp white eyelights cut into you, he was taking in you just as you took in him, clearly analysing every part of you. There was something so terrifying about his gaze - the eyes of a predator.

He watched you. He seemed... alert. Very very alert. 

...

Your heart was thundering in your ears, the only sound you could hear in your hearing protection. You unglamorously pulled yourself over the rock outcropping, scrabbling down it, and - against all advice you’d read before - approached.

He was beached. You had to at least see if you could help, right? It was one thing to have an inner battle about leaving a hare to die, it was another when the potential victim was a creature just as intelligent and sentient and aware as a person. He was laid at an angle, but still laid, the highest point of his back coming up to about your ribs. He had lost the advantage of movement. You nearly tripped over yourself as you moved closer, nervous feet skidding in the loose rocks.

... As you approached, he seemed to get... calmer? His eyesockets lost their sharpness, his eyelights grew in size. It was the opposite of what you anticipated. He wasn’t any less intimidating, though, no less scary. Your eyes kept darting to his teeth.

“How the hell did you manage to do this?” you asked, though you weren’t expecting a response, unable to hear even your own voice through the protection. “Where’s the rest of your pod, you dumbass?”

Was he smiling at you? Surely not. You dropped your bag to the floor, a few feet from him, digging through it until you pulled out your thick waterproof overclothing. Some other items tumbled out as you removed the gear but you paid them no mind. The waterproof outfit was like a boilersuit, it could be put on over the top of your other items and zipped to create a (theoretically) waterproof layer. Normally, it was a pain in the ass to get on, but you felt that you were on a time crunch and had somehow manifested almost superhuman speed.

You zipped up the suit, now protected in case you got wet. The closer you moved to him, the more you wished you had time to stop and fully admire him. The water on his bones and skin made him almost appear like he was shimmering. 

“... Ok,” you said, despite not being able to hear your own words, “easy big guy. Don’t bite. I’m just trying to help. I’ll get you back in the sea, and then I’ll go back to the land, and we can go on our way.”

He didn’t say anything. Because of course he didn’t, he was a siren, why did that thought even cross your mind? You blinked and shook your head, as if dispelling the thoughts physically. Of course he couldn’t talk. Something about his face felt so intelligent, somewhere deep down you had seemingly decided he could understand every word you said. And even if he did speak, it wasn’t like that’d be of any use to you. 

Something about him was eerily calm, even as you moved around him, coming close enough to his side to be within touching distance. Surely, a stranded creature like him would be thrashing and fighting when you came nearer, just like the hare? Surely he’d be making angry, earsplitting sounds that you’d be able to feel in your chest? The wind was picking up, tussling your hair. The siren stayed perfectly calm. 

“... I’m... I’m gonna need to touch you. Ok?”

...

... You reached out, and traced his skin with the tips of your fingers, extremely gently. It was cold. You immediately pulled back, turning and watching his face.

You expected something. Anything. A jump, a twitch, a lurch. Maybe even an attempt to fight you off. You expected him to swing around; hell, you expected him to even look at you. Any kind of a measurement of his reaction to you. Your legs were itching to leap back and flee.

But there was... nothing. No response from him at all. 

You came in again, this time putting your palm against his back, just beside his fin. It felt like electricity was running up your arm.

Nothing. Like he didn’t even care you were there. He was looking over his shoulder at you with a bizarrely soft look. Like he wanted you there. You felt very, very strange. This wasn’t at all what you were thinking would happen.

It felt like such a naive thing to even consider, but maybe... maybe he knew you were trying to help? 

Well, you didn’t have time to ponder the implications or reasons. You knew he was alright with physical contact. Now, you needed to figure out a way to get him back into the water.

You started by trying to pull - it only made sense, right? It kept you away from his front half, where the damage could be done. You looped your hands around the strong muscular base of his fin, using it like an anchor, digging your feet into the stones and throwing your whole weight backward. There was an extremely faint rocking of his body, literally about as much movement as someone trying to pull a car and only succeeding in making it bounce. Unperturbed, you tried again, pulling as hard as you could -

- the loose stones slid out from beneath your shoes. It kicked up the smell of wet seaweed and salt; if you hadn’t had your hands on his fin, your legs would’ve gone out from under you.

“Fuck,” you said breathlessly.

Did the siren laugh? Your head whipped around, he was looking ahead again. You felt like you saw his body move. 

... It must’ve been some other kind of vocalisation. You stood and turned around, trying again, this time pushing with your hands braced against the same spot. You pushed as hard as you could, nearly forgetting to breathe out, feeling your shoulders and wrists starting to twinge in pain. 

Once again, before you could make any meaningful progress, the force of your body made the slippery stones dislodge. You stumbled, all but falling flat onto his back, regaining yourself last minute and turning and looking over your shoulder at the siren’s head. 

“You just gonna sit there and stare at me?” you asked, breathless and only half joking.

He was looking back. You really really got the feeling he was smiling at you. 

You tried to push again, since it felt more solid than pulling. Yet everything you tried, the stones dislodged. The ground itself was fighting you. Frustrated, you dug your boot into the stones, trying to dig down and see if there was sand underneath, but there was just more and more loose wet rocks. Like the beach was making fun of you.

... Wait.

You thought back to the hare. Chipping at the ice around its leg.

You let go of him, scurrying back to your bag, then returning just as quickly with your pick in hand. The siren cast you a questioning glance, but still did absolutely nothing to stop your nonsense. Quickly, you dropped to your knees by his side, holding the pick by the head and jamming the wooden handle into the pebbles around where his tail met the floor. They came loose, of course.

You dug fast, using big scooping motions to pull the rocks out further each time. When you found a particularly large and difficult stone you flipped the pick and used the sharp edge to hoist it out of the ground. Seawater would occasionally slip into the gap you’d made, as the tide made the most minute waves you’d ever seen.

Excitedly, you ran around the siren, to dig on the opposite side. You didn’t notice how you ran perfectly within range of his arms, yet you dropped to his other side unharmed.

Your knees hurt. You were certain they’d be bruised. But you kept digging, and digging. You weren’t really doing anything more complex than making a ramp underneath him - but you were excited and flushed nonetheless, tired muscles full of hopeful vigour.

Suddenly, his tail splashed, you felt his whole body moving like an earthquake. You jumped away as far as you could, this time successfully falling flat on your ass - just like that, the siren drew away from you, moving backward into the water as he regained his grip and pushed himself. You were shocked by the speed and agility with which his huge body turned... and how he almost instantly disappeared, under the waves.

Holy shit, you thought, heaving, finally letting go of the pick as you stared out into the rapidly calming waters. It was like he’d never even been there. I actually... I actually did it. I just unbeached a siren. I...

Speaking of waves. Exhaustion, like a sudden tsunami, washed over you. Your shoulders sagged and your knees screamed in pain, you lifted your hands up to your face to see you had great crescents of red irritated skin on your palms. You were probably going to get blisters. 

... The cold started to finally twinge at your fingers. You managed to draw yourself up to your feet, but you flopped right back down to your knees once you made it to your bag. 

You opened it up, looking for your gloves, a lovely warm feeling filling your chest.

Amongst the dry kit, you saw your camera bag.

...

Wait. Your eyes widened.

... You forgot to take a picture. 

Welp - that was the lovely feeling gone. Immediately, you let out a frustrated shout, falling onto your back and putting your hands over your face. You forgot to take a picture. What a fucking moron! You’d just been closer than almost anyone ever to a massive orca siren, and you hadn’t even thought to get your camera out. He’d literally been a sitting duck, you could’ve photographed every side of him, every scar and mark, stars you could’ve filmed a segment for your channel. But the idea hadn’t even crossed your mind, you’d been so determined to save him. 

You’d probably never get another situation like this in your whole life. The universe threw the greatest possible chance at you. And you blew it.

... You dragged your hands down your face, staring up at the mottled sky. It wasn’t yet sunset, but you could tell the sun was beginning to inch toward it. If you wanted to film you’d have to do it right now.

...

... You couldn’t tell anyone back at the station about this. You folded your arm over your eyes. They wouldn’t believe you; they discover your ‘conspiratorial’ beliefs, tease you about it, you leave in a huff and then you conveniently come back a few hours later with an elaborate story about how you unbeached an adult orca siren? Yet strangely, you have absolutely no proof of the matter, despite having a camera on your person the whole time? You weren’t even sure if your followers would believe it. Sure, they’d believe you encountered a siren. But unlike what the rest of the world wanted to think, they absolutely weren’t stupid - they’d be hard pressed to believe you RESCUED the animal and didn’t think to record.

Eventually, you sat up. You were really and truly gutted. But there was no point fretting; not when you had daylight to use.

Might as well just get some of that B-roll.

///---///

Looking at the comments was always nice. When you weren’t busy, and couldn’t get outside, your second favourite thing to do was scroll through the comments on your videos. Of course you always got the occasional idiots who called you nuts, but those were few and far between, most were people being sweet or recounting their own experiences that you always read with complete rapture. 

You imagined some might find it hard to believe that being tucked up in your tiny warm station room was your second favourite activity. Walking around in the wind and cold was much more fun. But that, of course, didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy curling up on your desk chair with a blanket and a mug of tea while reading people’s encouraging responses to your passion projects.

You’d only posted your most recent video, the one about your siren encounter, about an hour ago. You scrolled, delighting in the serotonin that came with having an active comment section.

... Eventually, you came across a longer one that caught your eye. You paused sipping your tea to read it.

@bluesaphii1996

I grew up somewhere where we constantly see sirens in our waters. I absolutely believe you saw a siren, because I’m like 99% certain I can see a siren in the sea behind you at 14:51. Look just to the left of your shoulder, about 2/3s of the way between the beach line and the horizon. Its head pops up for a second before it rolls in the water and dives again. Either that or it's a VERY weird seal. But I’ve seen enough sirens to recognise their behaviour. That siren is 100% watching you when your back is turned. Be safe!!

...

You had to read the comment three times over. 

Huh? What? 

Immediately, sitting up and setting your mug aside, you clicked back over to your video and skipped to the timestamp in question. In that part of the video, you had set up your tripod, and you were talking to the camera with the sea behind you. You stared hard at the screen.

... You weren’t really used to looking at the ocean. You were pretty certain that someone who grew up by the sea would be a lot better at seeing strange movements in the water than you were. 

But sure enough, just like the commenter had said, you could just about make out a shape in the water. It broke the surface, then disappeared down again.

You had literally put your hands against that siren. You’d know it anywhere. That was definitely him; watching you from the water, many minutes after you’d rescued him and he could’ve swam far away. 

...

You sat back in your chair. You weren’t entirely sure how you were supposed to feel about that.

... Probably not excitement. 

You just couldn’t help it. A massive grin was spreading across your face. You were absolutely, utterly delighted.

Despite everything, you did get him on camera!

[lokilokilolki]

Crowley admitted his feelings in Season 1

This specific quote is in reference to Act II, Scene 2 of Shakespeare's play "Antony and Cleopatra." Which canonically had not even been written yet in the series, which IMPLIES that when Shakespeare heard Crowley's words, he interpreted them as what they truly meant and transitioned them into the play. So basically Crowley has been absolutely besotted by Aziraphale from the beginning and Shakespeare agreed so much he put it in one of the most famous romantic plays of all time.

The original quote by Shakespeare read as follows:

“Never; he will not: Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety;”

This quote is spoken in the play when a follower of Mark Antony describes the appearance of Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, as she rode her barge down the river Cydnus; and how Mark Antony first lays eyes on her then immediately falls head-over-heels in love with her. "Age does not wither her" means that her beauty and allure do not diminish with the passage of time. It implies that as she ages, she remains just as attractive and enchanting as ever. "Nor custom stale her infinite variety": Here, "custom" refers to familiarity or routine. The quote suggests that even familiarity or habit does not make Cleopatra's qualities or personality seem boring or less interesting. "Infinite Variety" implies that she possesses an inexhaustible range of qualities, moods, and aspects that keep her intriguing and unpredictable---Sound like someone familiar?

Now keep in mind that when Crowley said it, It was never originally about Cleopatra

Crowley said “Age does wither nor custom stale HIS infinite variety” because AZIRIPHALE is the subject.

Crowley has admitted to being captivated by Aziraphale since he first laid eyes on him; since the first ever rainfall. Through thousands of years, Aziraphale has–quite literally never aged nor withered but–remained a consistent and magnetic presence in Crowley's life; Aziraphale company never stales because he is infinite variety, the angel with 100 contradictions, who gave away their sword without hesitation and rebelled against heaven beside Crowley; who keeps surprising him at every turn. Aziraphale himself bends the effects of time and routine because no matter how many years pass Crowley will always find him as gorgeous and fascinating as he did before the light was even born.

Aziraphale obviously doesn't really understand Shakespeare or the depth of poetry at this time, (as interpreted by his reactions to the play) and Crowley realizes this and grasps the moment to confess his feelings knowing that Aziraphale likely would not look too deep past it, you can see the shift in him when he recognizes the opportunity and the sudden morose tone he has when saying it to no one in particular.

The Good Omens writers are absolute saints, nothing they do is lazy in the least and I am positive that effort went into finding a quote that encapsulated the true depth of relations between the two.

[cute-sucker]

three mistakes

words: 880 tags: kook!pope x reader note: thank you @princessbrunette for reading the draft !! love u <3

when pope first met you he didn't think much.

after all he was the smartest kid in the grade, so of course you were insignificant. you may have been a scholarship kid, a nice one at that. that was your number one mistake, and there were three that you committed that first week you arrived at kook academy.

two. you were a little too sweet on him, he thought because you always smiled brightly at him, and wore those cute little skirts. last week you had given him a brownie that you said you, "made." but then you dropped the napkin and leaned down to get it for him it was the school uniform, but you sure knew how to lay it sweet.

so what? you were pretty, but pope didn't fall for that sort of thing. nah, he had seen enough pretty bimbos, and after you were new. you couldn't change anything.

three. that was until science class. it was one of his easier subject but then again what subject was hard for him? and then he was laughing to his friends, the desk pushed back, and a smirk on his face. you were sitting in front of him, head bowed down and deep in thought. you were still thinking even after the teacher had left for a few minutes.

he had a sudden thought, just a small comment might tip you off. he'd experienced this with other girls. they liked it to argue, or teasingly fight, and you were there in front of him, just waiting to be messed with.

but what to say to you? pope had to be sly with these comments, just something to make your cheeks go red without causing your smile to wilt. it was art what pope could do with his sweet mouth, and pretty soft eyes. some said that his dick was the size of his ego, and some put it a little nicer — that he was charming. but that didn't matter because when he looked at you he knew he had to say something sweet but scandalous enough to cause you to giggle. he would never admit this—but he wanted to hear your laugh.

suddenly he remembered the butterfly necklace you always had on. it was silver, and so shiny on you. he swore that there was some sort of school regulation about jelewy, but you had managed to pass by with that cute necklace. it was little dangly thing that lay before your chest. it had dainty wings, and glittery in the sun. it reminded him of you.

"y'know i always thought butterflies were like cockroaches with wings. ugly you know?" pope muttered to his friend. but he couldn't help but gesture at you in a sly moment, and his friends got it. they sniggered, and pope knew in another life he would ditch the bastards for how stupid they were. antoni was the smartest of the bunch.

it was almost as if that piqued your interest. you turned around, doe eyes wide almost as if you were shocked and taken aback.

"i think butterflies are beautiful," you whispered outraged, tightly holding onto your necklace. pope could barely keep in his laughter at your dumbstruck expression. he leaned in to take a full look at your face before looking back at his friends with a mock surprised face.

"yea' you think?" he whispered crudely. "can a dumb little bunny like you think?"

suddenly, you seemed to coil in, biting your lip, hot tears welting up in your eyes. he could see the way your hands shook beneath the desk as you furiously turned around to face him. "butterflies can see ultraviolet colors that are invisible to the human eye," you cried out.

pope found him stopping in his tracks because he swore there were tears in your eyes when you whispered out the fact. yet, he couldn't find himself to care, somehow he found himself enjoying the look on your face. almost wonderstruck, he found himself taking in your pretty face.

what he wanted to say to you was, "so what?" but he found grinning at you like you were a child.

his friends were laughing behind his back, and but he could feel the stinging sensation that what you had said had mattered a lot more than the stupid conversations that he had.

and somewhere in the middle of this, you were glaring at him, and then sniffed before turning away from him.

but he shrugged it off. what could you do anyways? huh? cry to your parents about how pope heyward couldn't take you seriously. for all you knew, if your parents did complain, the dean of kook academy probably shrug you off because pope heyward was an asset to their school. but there was something inside of him, something soft and nice said that knew he should say sorry, yet when the bell rung he watched you leave the room in a rush only leaving him with a dirty glare.

so he forgot about it. you were just another dirt poor scholorship kid? the last one had to leave because they couldn't take the academics. funny. maybe the same would happen to you.

⊹˚. ♡

you ran home crying, mascara running down your face, as you pulled your tiny skirt down. you had tried to be nice, you had tried to kind and most of all you had tried your best to be friends with everyone. goddamn it you had even given heyward a brownie! he clearly didn't like you.

what was it? what was so wrong with you that he felt the need to be mean to you? all you had done was tried. you had always tried, as your head felt empty and studied till your hands were sore from highlighting and your eyes felt bleary from scanning pages. until it all paid off and you were off to kook academy.

your cousin kiara had told you to wear your butterfly charm, and the two of you made brownies. she had yelled bye to you that first day, and now you sat next to her crying your eyes out.

"what went wrong?" she asked you quietly, as you burrowed your head into your pillow. you groaned, and shook your head furiously.

"don't wanna talk about it," you whispered looking up at her. she looked at you sternly, and you finally let out a soft sigh, "it's pope heyward," at this she rolled her eyes, tilting her head as she thought of a plan. you hoped that somehow she would find an answer - a solution to your problem

"i think you should get back at heyward. be smarter than him. that's how assholes like him work. they have crazy big egos but that's all he has. he looks wimpy to me," she scoffed looking at the previous yearbook where you had furiously crossed out pope's face.

"yeah right," you huffed at her, crossing your arms as your eyebrows were knit together. "he's ten times smarter than me."

"no, i think your underestimating yourself. just wait and see, and don't you dare lose the butterfly charm."

so you listened to her, and the next day you had little pink bows with butterfly imprints. in fact you strutted up to pope and gave him a dirty look, and you saw the way his eyes got wide before he opted for his all-knowing smirk.

"looking like a really pretty bunny. did you wear those bows for me?" he snickered, nudging his friends when he said that. you gritted your teeth and just walked the other way.

you were going to beat him. you knew you were going to. today the class was getting their results back for the major english assignments. you were hoping to get something high enough to throw in his face, and you knew you would relish the look on his face.

"class, we'll be handing out test scores now for the written passage. ," your teacher droned before stopping before your test and handing you yours with a smile. you felt happiness bloom in your heart-it had to be good right?

quickly you turned it around, and looked at the circled number. 100, a pristine number that was circled along with a "distinct voice." you felt yourself beaming, until you felt a tap on your back. it was heyward, yet he looked uneasy. he was glancing at your hidden paper.

"what did you get?"

of course he'd want to know. he'd want to know what you got so he could average it himself. after all this was your first test of the year, and he was checking if you really were the scholarship kid that could get the best grades. you found yourself smiling secretly, biting your lip.

finally he gave you a pointed look, "do i need to clarify? what did you get on your test?" he asked exasperated.

you bit your lip from beaming too hard, and shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "full marks, i guess."

"what does that mean?" he grinned, "is that a 60% for you? would make sense, bunny," he muttered, his brown eyes glinting with humour. now you would have been sadder, but instead there was a venomous bite to your speech.

"do i need to clarify? it's a hundred percent."

he shut up, glaring at you, "you're lying."

"yeah, what did you get?" you bit back.

he shook his head, "none of your business."

so that was it. you let it go and turned away looking pleased. the last went by easier, and the golden hundred was still shining in the paper. it was a triumph. a win that pope heyward understood.

it was here that pope realised that he had made one mistake.

he had underestimated you.

[jyoongim]

The wheel gave me the color 🟣 and the other I got ➡️Prompt 4: Spicy Actions. I would like number 23 on that list but with Angel Dust if you can, idk why but I can see him doing this

Prompt 4, #23 usual smut: Angel Dust x reader

”Aaaaaannndddd CUT! Ok sluts that’s it for tonight” Val shouted and you panted, sitting up on the bed, wincing slightly.

The shoot wasn’t too bad for once, but it was the usual.

”Good work tonight Chica, now rest up” Val grabbed your chin, lowering down to your height, a puff of smoke blown into your face “I want you ready for tomorrow”

You nodded and made your way upstairs to your room.

You sighed and made your way to your bathroom.

A hot shower always made you feel better. 

You wrapped your hair in a towel, throwing on your robe, and went to sit at your vanity.

You were one of Val’s top girls. You sold your soul for a chance at fame.

You got it, but it left you drained.

You were gorgeous, a face that covered magazines and money flowed when you were starring in pornos.

You had sex to live and nothing more, but more often than not you found yourself wanting to feel loved for once, without the lust.

A knock at your door gained your attention, turning you smile when you see the tall figure.

Angel.

He had a bouquet of flowers and what looked like takeout.

Your heart melted at the spider. You and Angel had been dating for a while, having met when Valentino had the two of you do a modeling gig.

”Thought you might need some lovin after a rough night” he said setting the food and flowers down.

You stood and wrapped your arms around his waist, snuggling into him

”youre the best Antony”

He smiled, wrapping his arms around you “tch look who ya talking about toots”

The two of you cuddled on your bed as you watched a movie, slurping noodles.

”And I thought Val’s scripts were bad. How the hell you watching this stuff?” He asked when the characters began to have sex.

You shrugged “Its cute! Its nice to get lost in a world where someone loves you with their whole being. AND THE SEX IS NATURAL AND ACTUALLY GOOD” you groaned, dramatically flopping back on your pillows.

Angel rolled on top of you, a cute pout on his lip “what? I dont do it for ya? I think I do good loving on ya and spoiling ya” You giggled and pressed your lips against his “hehehe yes yes you adore me and I love every minute of it babe”

He laid down on you, eyes on the movie.

”bet I can eat you out better than that” he commented. You hummed, hands tangling in his hair, scratching subconsciously.

Angel pressed his lips against your belly, scurrying down the bed to be between your legs. Soft lips caressing the red marks on your skin, before you felt one set of arms wrap around your waist.

It always made you nervous when you and Angel were intimate. You didn’t know why, maybe you thought he would find you repulsive because of the acts you often had to perform.

He nuzzled his cheek against your inner thigh, making you look down at him and you felt your cunt quiver seeing him staring up at you with nothing but adoration.

Your hips rolled when he grazed a finger against your clit, a soft gasp leaving your lips “Angel”

He pressed a soft kiss to your clit, eyes never leaving yours 

“Is it okay if I touch you?” He asked.

You wanted to shove your cunt into his face, roll your hips against him as he devoured you, but your heart warmed when he asked.

In this industry, no one asked for anything they just took it.

Your lip wobbled ”y-yea its okay”

He shot you a wink before his tongue licked a strip up your slit, lips wrapping around your clit.

[kentopedia]

❝𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄❞ welcome to kentopedia's love through the ages collab. in honor of another lonely valentine’s day, i wanted to combine my two greatest loves: history and literature! so this is for anyone who wants a passionate romance and loves the aesthetics of the past. because i know that no matter when you live and die, your favs will always choose you ♡

STATUS: OPEN

♛ — TO JOIN

submit a piece based off a time in history you find interesting. it can be an au of your favorite classic novel, a song you enjoy from a period before your own, a piece of art you enjoy, or something entirely your own. be creative!!

please reblog this post & send me an ask with the character you'd like to write about and the inspiration. for example: "nanami + renaissance" (which is what i’ll be writing teehee).

♛ — REQUIREMENTS

no fandom limitation, but i will cap it off at 2 entries per character (i won’t count mine in that limit!). and you can join as many times as you want.

this is a historical au collab, so i will not accept any submissions based in the 21st century :) but it can go back as far as you want!

there is no deadline. minimum of 500 words, but no maximum. i love long fics! please use the read more feature on your posts.

♛ — OTHER

anyone can join, this is not limited to followers. no age requirement, but you must be 18+ to submit nsfw pieces, with an age indicator. make sure to follow the rules of all creators involved (including me!).

submissions can be as historically accurate or inaccurate as you want them to be, and could include fantasy elements too! this is all about capturing the aesthetics of a time period, but i will never limit anyone’s creativity. it can be extremely niche too!

all forms of art are welcome, not just writing, as long as they are of your own creation.

nsfw, sfw, dark content, etc. is all acceptable. be sure to tag accordingly!

♛ — TO SUBMIT

tag me in your submission so i can also add you to the masterlist. also, link this post on your submission to spread the love to other readers! i will be reading all the submissions and reblogging with feedback as well. let me know if you have any questions!

bungo stray dogs . . .

nakahara chuuya and post wwii yakuza by @cheriiyaya

nakahara chuuya and the 1800s italian mafia by @osaemu

dazai osamu & fyodor dostoevsky as rival painters in the renaissance by @aureatchi

dazai osamu & fyodor dostoevsky in the trojan war by @fyorina

fyodor dostoevsky and victorian era royalty by @verlainepaul

dazai osamu as a fallen angel by @chuuyrr

jujutsu kaisen . . .

nanami kento and the renaissance by @kentopedia

okkotsu yuta as an edo period samurai by @anqelically

gojo satoru & geto suguru and the medieval period by @flowerpersephone

geto suguru as a nineteenth century vampire by @todorokies

nanami kento and the victorian era by @starsinmylatte

gojo satoru and orpheus and eurydice by @forest-hashira

geto suguru and the american old west by @forest-hashira

geto suguru and phantom of the opera by @mynahx3

geto suguru and ancient greece by @mochimooon

nanami kento and the heian period by @purpleqilinwrites

fushiguro toji as a medieval bandit by @honeybleed

true form sukuna ryomen and ancient greece by @girlwithsharpt33th

okkotsu yuuta and post apocalyptic 1600s by @atsquie

nanami kento as a medieval knight by @mynahx3

nanami kento and the regency period by @kentopedia

nanami kento and ancient japan by @mynahx3

attack on titan . . .

reiner braun as a wwii soldier by @thel0v3hashira143

levi ackerman and the impressionist era by @be-co-me

armin arlert and the early 20th century by @crazychaoticizzy

eren jaeger and the age of piracy by @bloompompom

demon slayer . . .

shinazugawa sanemi and antony & cleopatra by @mitsuristoleme

tengen uzui and the roaring 20s by @forest-hashira

haikyuu . . .

kuroo tetsurō and the space race by @ktsumu

kuroo tetsurō & iwaizumi hajime in regency era inspired japan by @jarjarwinx

persona 5 . . .

akira kurusu and the prohibition era by @clubkira

genshin impact . . .

albedo as a renaissance artist by @clubkira

dainsleif in the greatest showman by @rubysm

blue lock . . .

noel noa and indonesian colonization by

[thosewildcharms]

Hi, do you have any headcanons about Rick with RJ and Judith after TOWL?

sure! most of these are about the grimes family as a whole because michonne is the beating heart of the family yk!!

under a read more because apparently i had more to say than i realized (shocking). some of these are copied from previous posts!

antony azor who plays rj is apparently very shy and reserved but opened up unexpectedly with andrew lincoln and so obviously this is also exactly what happened with rick and rj. father and son bonded INSTANTLY

part of this is because rj (like antony) is very shy and reserved and rick gets that and so they can just be quiet together and still feel like they're bonding. as rj gets older, whenever he needs to think something through he asks rick if they can do some sort of project together, and through that he works through whatever he has going on.

his first night back, judith asks rick to finish reading the wizard of oz to her because he never got a chance to. it takes a good five minutes for him to compose himself but she does finally get the full story from her dad. michonne and rj join them because they both love hearing stories the most when rick is the one telling them.

I think rick definitely got back into farming post towl since that is his ~zen place. judith and rj have the idea to grow flowers for michonne, and the three of them plant her a small private garden as a surprise. they even build her a little bench to sit on and everything. after it's finished they have all their family picnics there :')

I think this is less my personal headcanon and more a collective fandom headcanon but rick DEFINITELY does call rj "junior" and he is the ONLY one allowed to do so. If anyone else tries they get the rick grimes head tilt and squint from both of them.

they as a whole family have all kinds of Secret Family Things (like the code names for security shoto/daito/brave man/little brave man). for example they have a family whistle that has different variants for different ~situations. it's kinda silly but they all get very into it and take it very seriously!

speaking of family rituals, family dinner is REALLY important to them!!! I'm always thinking about that one dinner scene in early season 9 where michonne, judith and rj are quietly/sadly sitting in that dark dining room with that empty chair where rick is supposed to be. NOW their kitchen is bright and loud and cheerful and they all cook together and use herbs and spices from their family garden :')))

during the week or so leading up to judith and rj's respective birthdays, Rick gives them each a gift for each year he missed. like an advent calendar of missed birthdays. Idk what he gets them exactly but rick king-of-gift-giving grimes would figure something out. michonne helps out a lot by filling him on the things they both enjoyed throughout their childhoods

(he does the same for michonne btw. a gift for every year he missed. they never cared about birthdays before but he's still making certain things up to her)

now that rick and michonne are back together they find it much easier to talk about all the people they lost. judith and rj's favorite stories are the ones about their brothers, carl and andre.

i love the idea of scene very similar to the one in towl 1x05 where richonne get mugged only to turn the situation around in .5 seconds only this time it's the whole family being badass and intimidating to a stranger who thought they could try it

as we know from towl, rick and michonne are fucking insane :') but eventually they realize judith and rj out-crazy both of them combined (much like carl did, rip king) and they are EXTREMELY proud :')

[sehtoast]

Happy Birthday (Homelander x Reader)

Fluffy drabble in honor of Antony Starr's birthday today. Gender Neutral Reader. Reader has spider powers. | Fic Directory

On the morning of his ‘birthday,’ he’s a grumbling, grouchy mess.

Homelander pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s not even my fucking birthday,” he tells you as if he hadn’t said it every single year since you’d both grown close. “Just what marketing thought would sell me better.”

Not only that, but he has to work on his ‘birthday.’ Run around for TV appearances, do his big, live-streamed save of the day to show the world that heroes don’t take a day off. They’ll always be there to save everyone, even if doing so is nothing more than a sore reminder of just how fabricated their lives really are.

Sure! He’ll zip around the state to appease his corporate overlords. Wave to the masses no matter how torn he is between loving and hating them, lift a car off some poor soul or catch another jumper. It’s what he does, right?

Because he’s a hero.

Right?

He’s not allowed to be like everyone else. Can’t kick his feet up and relax. There would be no day spent with you, no sleeping in, no lazy moments spent listening to your heartbeat before you wake.

He gets pepperings of you throughout his day, though.

You appear, in costume, at his birthday save. It’s the only reason he smiled when he touched down with that bozo who nearly leapt off the roof of an apartment complex. The emotive lenses of your mask let him know your smile reaches your eyes without even having to peer through the fabric.

It was your cheering that made it feel real.

He catches the sight of you blowing a kiss from behind the set camera during an interview. He worried his mask may have cracked on screen from how he smiled wider. He kisses you hungrily afterwards, away from prying eyes, before you’re both due to return to your respective duties.

You swing by during one of his meetings in the conference room, having taken the tray of coffee and stacks of paper from whichever employee was originally heading that way. You set a mug down for him and left the others to retrieve their own. The most you can give him is a friendly pat on the back– secret relationship things, y’know? But it means the world to him. You shoot him a wink before leaving.

It’s the only time he’s ever actually drank a meeting room refreshment.

When all is said and done for his big day, the sun has set. He finds you on top of the Chrysler Building, waiting for him atop one of the eagle perches. You’d set up some sort of picnic. He hears a song playing faintly from your phone– one he remembers you saying reminds you of him.

He lands with a sappy little grin.

You baked him a cake. How you managed to swing it to the top without any damage is a mystery to him, but he supposes most things you do are that way. How you love him, soothe him, free him… How your smile lifts the weight from his shoulders every single time.

“Make a wish!” You giggle before he blows out the candles. He takes a moment to admire the smudgy, wrinkly icing and awkward cursive ‘happy birthday, pumpkin!’ you’d written on top of it. More beautiful than that, there’s also you, bathed in the warm glow of the candles. It never gets old.

Yours are the only birthday cakes he actually likes.

His lips quirk into a lopsided grin when you lean in to kiss his forehead as he blows out the flames. He wasn’t sure what he wished for, but he thinks it must have been that. You tell him that his present has to wait for later since you didn’t trust yourself to carry it and the cake up the tower. He doesn’t care about that.

Not now.

Not when there’s a speck of icing to be dabbed on your nose and serenity to be had.

He takes you up above the clouds. The moon glows bright and full, but he has only eyes for you as you sway together. The music had long since ended, but you two dance nonetheless. Your hand rests in his, his arm wraps around your waist, and he floats you in a slow spin.

He thanks you for wiggling into his day as much as you could.

“S’what I do best,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, Johnny. Happy birthday.”

He wraps his other arm around you, pulling you infinitely closer, no longer spinning. He’d rather focus on holding you. Taking in the moment, being here, now, with you.

He’s happy.

Content.

Peaceful.

Loved.

Completely and utterly tranquil in the gravity of you.

“I love you, too.”

A very happy birthday and many, many more to our shining Starr himself <3

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

Atlas: [ door shuts ] It’s always strange coming back home. There are no fond memories. At least none that my mind can manage to remember. I see pictures with burnt edges, the center filled with a black void. Would I have been happier if I had listened to everyone back then? Would things be much simpler?

Elliot: Atlas!

Atlas: Hey, I was in the area and I thought I’d stop by. I brought wine.

Elliot: Come in! I’m sure work won’t mind if I step away for a bit.  

Elliot: Your dad should be home soon.

Atlas: Cool.

Elliot: You doin’ okay? You look thinner. Are you eating?

Atlas: Uhm, yeah. I guess I haven’t had much of an appetite.

Elliot: Want to see a doctor? A nutritionist? Anything?

Atlas: [ small laugh ] God no. The last thing I want is to have tests ran on me. I’m alright, just preoccupied. Anyway, how’s work been?

Elliot: Ah, I’m sorry, work? [ chuckles ] Atlas, when have you ever asked me about work?

Atlas: Silly me. I see you guys have been redecorating. Did you repaint the walls?

Elliot: Ah, yes. I hope you don’t feel too bad, I did enjoy the little doodles you left as a kid. However, when we host, it’s a bit hard to explain now that… Well now that you’re all grown up. 

Atlas: Awh, I’m sure it made for great stories.

Elliot: I remember when you were six you would run around in your little boxers, nearly tripping in one of my shirts, marker in hand. My god, Toni would chase you for what felt like hours! He could have sworn you were the reason why he lost weight that year.

Atlas: I’ve always had a knack for keeping that man on his toes.

Elliot: I- Yeah, I guess so. He still cares about you, you know? Even after everything. I’ll be back. Atlas is here.

Antoni: Why?

Elliot: Toni, he’s our son. He can visit home whenever.

Antoni: What does he want? Money?

Elliot: [ in a hushed voice ] Don’t be ridiculous. Atlas would never ask that. 

Antoni: You don’t know what he is capable of, Elliot. 

Atlas: I need to head out.

Elliot: Are you sure? 

Atlas: Yep, I’m feeling a bit tired.

Elliot: Atlas- Take care of yourself.

Atlas: Mhm. 

Atlas: Before I go, I’m having this artist alley next month. I would love it if you guys stopped by.

Antoni: We’ll think about it. 

[britneyshakespeare]

i will never stop thinking about the winter's tale i will always be thinking about the winter's tale i will always be loving the winter's tale

[blindmagdalena]

Have you ever thought about why Homelander loves milk so much? Because it doesn’t seem like an inherently sexual reason since he drinks it leisurely.

Part of me thinks he was only usually given milk in the lab and so it’s some kind of muted trauma response/comfort that can become sexual under specific circumstances. Maybe it’s just mommy issues or maybe the guy just really likes milk for no reason. Who knows?

boy have i EVER.

i believe the milk infatuation started with Madelyn and her pregnancy. obviously the underlying issues that caused him to fixate on it (and her) began in the lab, but i don't think this particular attachment started until after her death, which is when we actually start seeing him drinking milk. Madelyn's pregnancy is when their relationship became strained, and all of his jealousy over her having a child/dependent that isn't him set in.

Antony Starr described the milk drinking as a "broken man's attempt to connect with the woman he loves."

knowing that, it's interesting to take a look at WHEN we see Homelander drinking milk. it's always in moments when he's seeking comfort or assurance in some way, like drinking Madelyn's breast milk while grieving her death.

also, we see in this moment outside Becca's door how nervous he actually is to be there.

i don't think it's a coincidence that this is somewhere we see him drinking milk the most, both guzzling it from the jug and drinking it with each meal he shares with them. he's soothing himself because he's lowkey terrified of fucking up his relationship with his son. he's masking that constantly. imo, drinking milk is a relatively innocuous way to ground himself in all the ways Madelyn used to.

the only time we see him drinking milk in a sexual context is with Madelyn/Doppelganger, which makes sense, since the infatuation started with her, and he's using both Doppelganger and the milk as a means to cope with her death.

so while i don't think it's exclusively sexual, there is a sexual element at play because of the origin of it. Madelyn was both a sexual and maternal figure in his life. hugely formative to how he processes love and romance. so his romantic relationships with women will likely always have a complicated maternal undertone.

[mattzerella-sticks]

I think what makes Antony Starr's portrayal of Homelander such a great villain is that his motivation throughout the entire series has always been love and it SHOWS. It's twisted and warped but all Homelander wants is love. He wants to be loved and season 3 did a great job of pushing this to the forefront, as well as showing us that - despite how tall and old he is - he's just a kid. He never matured emotionally because he never received the proper love and attention as a kid, so his whole moral system is warped. That smile at the end, where the crowd cheered for him straight-up murdering an innocent civilian, was so much like the kind a kid gives after doing something funny for a crowd where you can see the wheels turning, going "this will earn me attention." Soldier Boy read him correctly that he was needy, which is why his perfect defeat isn't death but total irrelevance.

And, on the flip side, Billy's anger at the world - which has been such a common motivator amongst villains - is his driving force to combat Homelander and be the 'hero'.

The usual motivators between heroes and villains have been flipped and presented with so much care it's amazing.

The Boys put so much intention and thought into all their character choices and that's what makes the end product not only a masterpiece, but one of the most brilliant satires of our generation.

[chaoticcollectivenightmare]

Incorrect Quote Generator - The Boys

Homelander / John = Antony Starr

Shadow / Nick (OC) = Andrew Garfield

Soldier Boy / Ben = Jensen Ackles

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nick X John (Romantic) (Situationship?)

John & Ben (Platonic) (Hate! Family Relationship)

Nick X Ben (Romantic) (Romantic Relationship)

Nick : Look, last night was a mistake. John: A sexy mistake. Nick : No, just a regular mistake

John: When you said 'Magic in Bed', I wasn't expecting this... Nick : *pulls out card from deck* Now, was this your card? John: Holy moly-

Nick : Go fuck yourself. John, smugly: Sure, but only if you watch

Nick: John, you do remember when we agreed we were better off as friends, right? John, naked in Nick's bed: No, I absolutely do not. Nick, already taking off their clothes: Fuck… Me neither.

Nick: What’s your body count? John: Do you mean sex or murder?

Ben : looks over John ’s shoulder at their laptop What the fuck? John : slams screen shut It’s just research! For something I’m writing about! I swear that’s it! Ben : Why the hell would that involve the breeding habits of frogs? John : It’s not just “frogs”, it’s the Surinam Toad. And it’s not “breeding habits”, it’s how they raise their young. This is important information my audience needs to know! Ben : That doesn’t change the fact this is for one line in a fanfiction. John , offendedly: You don’t know that! Ben : I hear no denial.

John : My life is a mess. Ben : Son relax, go get a beer. John : I don’t want a beer. Ben : Who said it was for you?

John : There’s no “I” in team, but there is one in pizza. Ben : So, you’re not going to share? John : I’m not going to share.

John: Look, I know we don’t always see eye to eye but— Ben : Thats because your too short to do so. John: …Listen here you fucking—

John: I’m totally useless. Ben : You’re not totally useless. Ben : You can be used as a bad example.

Nick : Ben and I are no longer friends. Ben : NICK THAT IS THE WORST WAY TO TELL PEOPLE THAT WE’RE DATING!

Ben : Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night? Nick : It was autocorrect. Ben : Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."? Nick : Yes.

Nick : I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Ben : Damn, that sounds like a marriage proposal. Nick , getting down on one knee: That's 'cause it is.

Ben : Fight me! Nick : gets on one knee and pulls out a ring Nick : Fight me for the rest of our lives.

Ben : I’m in love with you. Nick : We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork. Ben : I know. Nick : Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

[terrence-silver]

how do you think what Larusso's relationship would be like! beloved (daniel's oldest daughter in her twenties) and old man! Terry during the Cobra Kai timeline, especially if beloved, was extremely morally similar to Terry? let's say, they "match each others freak." ❤️ I love your blog, especially because I'm also a writer and I love your take on Terry, your in-depth character study of him is terrific, sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language, I'm Brazilian, lots of love from here!

Hello, Brazil! ❤️

---

Frankly, I think Daniel would just feel downright haunted by one of his kid's proclivities and her character long before Terry ever returns into the picture --- years and years before he does, actually. This is an ongoing process that stems back to the time Mr. Miyagi was still alive; it's like Terry Silver never went away in the first place, notwithstanding the lingering trauma and bad memories that Daniel would have to live with on a daily basis, but that his own daughter is starting to resemble one of his demons from the past in worldviews, personality and behavior now too; it is literally the worst development imaginable. Nothing and nobody in his life is safe. Moving on is impossible when the battlefield is happening under your own roof. This whole city, the passing decades, The Valley itself as a whole and each passing generation feels like it has something of Terry Silver's in them and he's never truly gone. His darkness is stubbornly ever-present.

It's like Terry infected everything, even things and people he never actually touched.

Never came in contact with.

Never interacted with.

Nonetheless, it is there, finding ways to seep into every pore of his existence like an infection, possibly leading to Daniel being strictest precisely with his oldest daughter in the hopes that he'd steer her away from becoming the way she's becoming to overcompensate for her shortcomings and all the things he's expected of her but that she didn't live up to from his point of view. Something she might take to heart, because what child of their parent's wouldn't? Cause her to feel like she's far from her father's favorite. Like he cares for Sam, Antony and Louie a lot more and that he sees them as 'the good children he can feel proud of' because they're incarnations of everything Mr. Miyagi espoused...unlike her', which couldn't be further from the truth because Daniel would adore his estranged daughter too, but still, his stance towards her would be here causing her to wish to rebel, go against the mold even more and willfully embrace every bad impulse she has even more than ever before because it's hard to reconcile the fact that she's incompatible to her family. That she's distinct. Daniel takes a different approach with his problematic older daughter because he loves her and doesn't want her to grow into a morally questionable person, but is simply so afraid of what he's witnessing in her that his methods might be unbalanced, their root found in fear --- infinite parental concern. Meaning, he might snap, he might yell, he might be judgmental and not always be an exemplary, patient parent, because validly, it's hard to be exemplary when your own kid reminds you so much of a past abuser who messed you up for life. He might take some draconic measures with her too. His belief in pacifism and 'letting go' might just vane as well. What choice does he have? She's starting to resemble...someone he knew a long time ago. Someone he'd rather not speak of anymore. Jesus! He doesn't even want to think about it ever again! Hard not to! When she's right there, at the dinner table, in his own house, his own flesh and blood, someone he adores, someone he would do anything in the world for --- anything but accept that she's going down a negative path. What parent worth his penny would? Should he just allow that without doing anything?

So, when she befriends Terry, of all people?

Becomes a little too close for comfort with him?

It's a nightmare.

It's like watching his life's work and efforts at setting a good example literally collapse and history repeat itself except in an infinitely worse way than could ever be anticipated. Daniel would be convinced Terry Silver has perversely planned this for god knows how long and that getting under the skin of his daughter was premeditated, and heck, knowing Terry, maybe it was too and that this is revenge. Some sort of sick scheme. Grooming. The desire to continue ruining his life by hitting Daniel where it hurts most, even decades after everything that's went down and for the longest time, Daniel would feel like he's the only one who understands the unhinged gravitas of the situation, causing him to feel crazy and all alone in the world, with nobody to get his point of view and how eerie and harrowing Terry being with his daughter actually is, whereas Amanda, for example, wouldn't see the full picture for a good while, her concerns being limited solely to the age difference, but not the actual context under which any of this is happening seeing as how she's not entirely aware of what went down between Terry and Daniel because Daniel didn't tell her. In fact, she might even understand why their daughter likes Terry Silver. He's rich, he's handsome, he's charming, sure, a little sleazy, perhaps, but ultimately the harmless, inoffensive kind of sleazy (ultimately being too old for their daughter). She might even see Daniel freaking out as slightly overblown. He's overreacting. Of course, man's old enough to be her grandfather and it's a reason for concern and intervention but surely, not the amount of panic and crisis Daniel's exhibiting --- except, it makes the whole situation only feel the more dizzyingly infuriating, because that, that guy, right there, is also simultaneously the worst person Daniel knows and he knew quite a lot of those. And now, his own daughter is consorting with him. How does Amanda...just not get it!? He would feel like he's losing his damn mind. Terry Silver ruined so much of his late teenage years and the years that followed, influenced by the lingering trauma and trust issues; the last thing Daniel would allow for him to have his daughter's soul too. This whole discourse might just lead to the Larusso's marriage encountering shaky grounds.

Amanda could easily be taking her daughter's side, because ultimately, she'd see her daughter as a free person (and she'd critically misunderstand how awful this whole thing) is and Daniel would become more and more volatile seeing as how he wouldn't feel empathized with in the least bit. ''It's the man who tortured me when I was just eighteen!'' he'd yearn to scream out. ''He made me believe he was my friend. That he had his best intentions at heart. And then he tortured me and I trusted him, Amanda! He and John Kreese! They did it together! And now, Terry Silver's got his hooks in our daughter and she's letting him! You're telling me to calm down!? I can't calm down!''

Daniel would fight against the situation with all his might.

He'd argue.

He'd get his hands dirty.

He'd ironically show that bit of Cobra Kai he had in him all along.

He'd do things he'd do in no other situation if it meant changing his kid's perspective.

But, he'd under no circumstance accept his daughter being the way she is.

Just like he wouldn't accept her being with the enemy.

Terry Silver can't have his family.

Terry Silver, though? He'd manipulatively and very sweetly expertly exploit this pre-existing rift in the family to masterfully to divide the Larussos even further and get exactly what he wants by being the (seemingly) understanding, concerned supportive shoulder for Daniel's daughter and offering the camaraderie she doesn't feel she ever had at home. He becomes her support network. Her only support network, eliminating everyone else who isn't him because there's 'no matching the freak' of someone who has a couple of decades of experience in malice ahead of you, who fought in a war and who could, effectively, push came to shove, kill and die with relish. Daniel's daughter might think she can go toe to toe with Terry where being chaotic is concerned (and he'd fuel and enable her belief that this is true) but is there really anyone who actually can? Heck, he might even encourage her to keep a good relationship intact with her folks all while effectively sabotaging said relationship purely so he'd seem guiltless in the matter, playing good cop, bad cop accordingly. But, ultimately he's cool! He's awesome! He lovebombs! He lavishes! He's generous! He's seductive! He can give the spoiled Italian princess the life she's used to and so, so, so much more. He takes on whatever mask and personality is best suited for the situation to draw people in! He's older and by extension, probably makes a younger woman feel more mature and 'cool' by comparison too, appealing to whatever mommy and daddy issues are present! He's all about embracing instincts, impulses, holding nothing back which feels liberating to the otherwise Zen and possibly stifling teachings of Mr. Miyagi! He's rich! He's knowledgeable! And he's Terry Silver, which automatically could mean a world of damage. Never doubt the man's an influence that would entirely destroy what little stability's left in this family and turn Daniel's daughter against her father, mom, brothers, her sister and literally everyone she ever knew. In the end, she'd get more than she's ever bargained for. She thought she had control over the situation. She didn't, though.

Her dad would've been correct all along.

Terry Silver corrupts and devours.

Nothing's for free.