💖 : how do they say ‘ i love you ’ without really saying it ?
love languages that anton speaks include : genuine kisses , the kind that mean more than heat and desperation and sex — - the kind that show a genuine love and affection that invades every ounce of his being . cooking for someone , despite the fact that he’s a terrible cook . slow dancing without any music . one of his personal favourites is washing their hair for them — - enjoys the uninhibited closeness that it garners . most of his ways of expressing love are physical & entirely different to the way he shows his friends affection .
🌹 : what’s their idea of a perfect date ?
anton’s a romantic like nothing else , if it wasn’t already clear ; perfect date likely consists of a lovely dinner ( doesn’t need to be at some fancy restaurant , homemade dinner and a nice bottle of wine is enough ) where neither party stops talking ; followed closely by a movie and surreptitious game of ‘ who’s going to hold the other’s hand first ’ . doesn’t need to end in sex . he’s happy just learning about the other & spending meaningful time with them .
💌 : when was their first serious relationship ?
the relationship he’s currently in is the first serious one he’s really had , although media loves to speculate about how truly ‘ serious ’ that is when he’s sauntering out of different lovers’ apartments every few weeks .
send me a ☂ for three tweets from my muse directed at your muse
@𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 : wish i could stop dancing in my dressing room to eden@𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 : disgregard that last point i love this album@𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 : eden if u see this: 😘😘😘
💓 When did they have their first crush?
❤ Have they ever been in love?
💕 How easily do they fall in love?
💖 How do they say ‘I love you’ without really saying it?
😕 Have they ever said ‘I love you’ without meaning it?
👀 Would they ever enter/have they ever entered into a friends with benefits relationship?
💋 How old were they when they had their first kiss?
🚗 When did they go on their first date?
🌹 What is their idea of a perfect date?
🔑 At what point would they move in with a partner?
💟 What is their stance on PDA?
🍵 Do they prefer to ask out a partner or be asked?
👥 What is my muse’s sexual & romantic orientation?
💦 When did they lose their virginity?
⁉ Have they ever questioned their sexuality?
💡 What made them realize their sexuality?
💌 When was their first serious relationship?
💘 What was their most serious relationship?
💝 What was their most recent serious relationship?
💗 What advice would they give a potential partner about making their relationship last if they could with no judgment?
💫 Have they ever been hit/struck by a partner?
❌ What is the biggest mistake they make in their relationships?
💥 What was their worst relationship?
😓 Have they ever cheated on a partner?
😢 Have they ever been cheated on by a partner?
💞 Would they ever enter/have they ever entered into a polyamorous relationship?
😭 When was their first breakup?
💔 What was their worst breakup?
👍 What was their most amicable breakup?
🌙 Have they ever had a one night stand?
🍷 How far would they go on a first date?
💍 Would they ever get married?
💎 Would they rather propose or be proposed to?
💒 What kind of wedding would they want to have?
👶 Do they want children?
🍼 Could a partner ever change their mind on children?
❔ Ask your own question!
violet was sprawled out on her floor, both her friend anton and her acoustic guitar keeping her company while she wrote some tunes for her band’s debut album. she had asked anton to come over, because, one, the thai food she ordered ended up being too much for just one stomach to hold, and two, because anton brought her more inspiration than all of her friends combined. there was something so suave and charming about him, and the stories she had always heard from him just made her want to write about them all.
she started playing a soft, lullaby-ish tune on the guitar, now sitting up and glancing over at her friend every once in a while. once she finally finished, she set the guitar down, her full focus on him now. “well, thoughts? what did you think the song was about?” she asked, tilting her head in genuine curiosity. ( @antonfm )
there’s something unworldly about listening to violet play , he finds ; something so inimitable , vulnerable and raw and breathtaking , the kind of sweet songs he finds meaning bursting in ! won’t ever pass up an opportunity to let the world fall to the wayside , to lose a few hours listening to the other pluck at harmonious notes while he drifts . as it is , hues are lightly closed , mouth hangs ever - so - slightly open as she plays & he can’t help the ( goddamned goofy - looking ) smile that etches itself high ! oh , how it’s gorgeousness and gorgeosity made flesh ! quiet question from across the room breaks anton out of that brief reverie , has him sinking incisors into lower petal as he ponders . what does it mean , soft lull of a gentle guitar and the hint of a hum underlying ? what can he dig from a four - chord progression , something deeply buried in careful notes ? silence is transitory before he opens his mouth .
❛ i think it’s about beauty . real , deep , flawed kinds of beauty , & how if love’s real then you fall in love with that . it’s more than skin deep , y’know , that kinda love . when you love someone for that deep , deep , fucked - up , warts ‘n all kinda beauty . ‘cos falling in love with someone for their instagram is like --- --- --- - it’s falling in love with a picture , not a person , s’not real or anything . but falling in love with a person , it’s different , y’know ? like , it’s --- - it’s real . i’m just fuckin’ repeating myself here , & i dunno , man . that’s what i got out of it , it’s falling in love with someone that’s so real and so cracked and flawed , & still having to catch your breath when you see them waiting at the table in subway . ❜ unasked - for soliloquy ends with a shrug of bony shoulders and a pensive pick at the half - finished noodles that sit atop his lap . ❛ it’s beautiful , vi . what are you calling it ? ❜
it’s a fun little game they play , too amusing for words ; people love to talk , & they’re all too willing to give them something to talk about ! in a dim corridor ( heart is hammering something fierce as fucking tarantino sidles by ) , anton winds thin limbs around sunnie’s waist in a gesture that’s too close , too warm --- - nuzzles cheek against a shoulder , exhales softest laugh that chimes like bells as hues climb to meet hers . ❛ i still get so damn starstruck at these things , y’know ? phoebe waller - bridge smiled at me and i nearly spat my water out like some kind of fucking idiot . ❜
champagne is a dizzying influence at the best of times ; awards are hardly an unusual occurrence , not an event wherein he doesn’t know how to behave but aftermath of the golden globes is different ! bathed in what little light is left , pale digits ensconce the neck of a bottle he’s locked onto ( moet et chandon , pink --- --- --- - feels very fitting in light of his own outfit ) as he 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 . sips are occasional but smiles are a force to be reckoned with ; pauses to chat , 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 , before drifting forth , and --- - locks widened hues unto elliot , and his trajectory becomes straightforward . he hasn’t spotted other all night , & now’s the 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 for a reunion . steps are quickening , quiet and delicate but fast ; he’ll press the warm flat of his palm against curve of elliot’s back , smirk fading into a hazy grin as the firm lines of his own frame bump against the other’s in gentle greeting . ❛ crazy night , huh ? didn’t expect a fuckin’ blackout , but it’s definitely adding the air of mystery these things need sometimes . are you having a good time ? ❜
stranger things’ anton olivier puts the red carpet right out of business in a raspberry - coloured stella mccartney suit at the 77th golden globe awards . when asked about his eyewatering ensemble , olivier only gave a cheeky smirk and a wink !
can u believe that a whole entire day after the rp opens , i finally have my shit together enough to post an intro ! can u fuckin believe it ! anyways , i’m elliot ( she/they ) , i’m 20 n i’m a supreme dumbass who needs 2 get their life together on so many levels . . . it’s fine though ! completely fine ! totally n utterly fine !!!
( timothee chalamet & cis male ) who ?? these days , it’s all about anton olivier , who comes from manhattan , ny , and is making headlines as an actor . he currently has a fan count of 45.9k , no thanks to the rumours of them being vainglorious ! but , on the other hand , his most devout fans say he’s actually retiary . last i heard , he caused quite a buzz when he was caught leaving multiple lovers’ houses despite being in an allegedly ‘ committed ’ relationship ! it’s no wonder they remind me of inky black as a beautiful contrast to stark white , tastes of fake blood & bourbon dancing a mistimed tango on your tongue , stacks of literary classics like small mountains on your living room floor , abandoned chastity ring ( ruby red gemstone , isn’t it ironic ? ) , heat - slick kisses smeared to the corner of your mouth ; dark academia / technicolour ghost disappearing in the middle of a crowd , slipping into the back of a lecture theatre abound with rapt attention , pressing bruises into not - yet - ripe fruit for the thrill of watching it wilt beneath satin touch .
𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢 . rudimentals .
full name: anton françois olivier .
nicknames, aliases:
ant .
mon cher . ( by his mother . )
age: twenty - three .
date of birth: october fifteenth .
place of birth: manhattan , new york city .
nationality: american .
ethnicity: caucasian ( french ) .
spoken languages: english , fluent french ( spoken in household more commonly than english ) .
career claims: charlie heaton , some of bill skargsard’s stuff . ( i’ll write his imdb page later . )
𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔬 . physicals .
height: six foot three .
weight: 157 lbs .
complexion: pale , scarily so . nothing medical about it , just a natural pallid sheen to sharp features . a small , light dusting of freckles over the nose and cheeks and forehead .
face shape: heart - shaped , incredibly angular . sharp cheekbones and jawline , square and dashing in a sinister kind of way . very thin , very gaunt .
facial quirks: in some lights his left eye is ever so slightly lighter than the other , but it’s a trick of the light .
hair: black , naturally so ( your mother’s hair ) . has a slight natural wave that sometimes springs to a loose curl . recently , you’ve grown it out so that it curls around the nape of your neck and falls into your eyes . typically , strands are tucked behind your ears unless they fall out of place . soft , incredibly so --- - cherry blossom shampoo and conditioner ensures that .
eyes: bright blue , cobalt . golden rings around the pupils , with green and hazel flecks throughout . lashes are unfairly long and dark , a prettily sooty smudge against the high ridge of your cheekbones . brows are dark and expressive , unruly , arched ever so slightly . dark indigo bags underneath your eyes aren’t an unusual sight , results of too - long nights and a strange work schedule .
nose: your mother’s button nose , small and straight and ‘ lovely ’ according to your rabid fan base . nothing much to say about it otherwise . you considered piercing it when you were fifteen and going through it for unknown reasons .
mouth: relatively normal lips , slightly plusher lower lip but that’s not saying much . chewed , bitten , chapped like nothing else / favourite flavour of burt’s bees is pomegranate . teeth are white , straight , pretty good teeth ; indents of which often find themselves deep in that lower lip .
scars: none of note . the typical petite white scars of childhood across knees and elbows , but nothing too serious .
tattoos, piercings: none . there are plans in the works , but currently ? nothing .
more body modifications: again , nothing . bitch is boring .
𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 . biographicals .
not quite your typical tale of boy - meets girl ; art gallery curator curator watches broadway ‘ ingénue ’ & falls head over heels in an infatuation that borders on obsession but is returned tenfold . adele st . croix can’t believe her luck ( moved to manhattan just two years previously , resumé builds beyond belief , engagement to a big name is imminent ! ) and pierre - louis olivier has never been so deeply in love before . the courtship is wonderful , twilight walks in the park , regular dates at terribly romantic restaurants , soft kisses on random stoops and rough , impassioned kisses on your own . the engagement comes in 1995 , & a year later , marriage is a cover story and a four - page spread in all the glossy tabloids your mother loves to collect .
your conception comes as a shock , of course . neither wanted children so early , just a year into their marriage but the very first time that your mother’s silky - smooth hands rest on the then - flat expanse of her belly it’s over . unspoken talks of termination that weighed uncomfortably heavily on unmoving tongues are quashed , replaced by fluttering anticipation of a child . your impending birth is announced three months after your parents find out they’re expecting you , & soon enough your own infantile chunk of their upper east side penthouse ( a grandiose wedding present ) is carved out ; decked in earthy tones and warm creams , pastels of all shades and joy woven into each choice , you are a source of joy to rival the sun .
birth is almost perfect , only one day past your due date . naturally your first breath is a noisy one , wailing and crying and oh , how they adore you already ! adoration seeps into your bones from the first time mother holds you , presses a kiss to your head and breathes in that lavender , fresh - linen new baby smell . from that very first moment love is ingrained into every single pore ; love is what you breathe , what you feed on , what you see the world through . your mother and father are almost sickeningly in love , true dotage in its finest form and later in life you suppose you’re lucky to have grown up with such a wonderful idea of what true romance is meant to look like . they love each other , and they love you .
childhood is wonderful , if you’re perfectly honest . it’s a blur of ice cream at fancy parlours after your mother picks you up from school , renting movies and getting wonderful takeaway and laughing until your sides ache . it’s freshly - laundered uniforms that just look so damn precious , school ties in immaculate windsor knots . ( schools are all catholic , of course ; some things die hard , but your mother and father’s commitment to their faith dies harder . ) church on sunday mornings , followed by brunch and a movie / picturesque , absolutely perfect . ignore the paparazzi trailing behind you , though . ignore the fact that despite everything , a childhood dripping with luxury and privilege is not really a normal childhood . normal children don’t dress in such expensive clothes in their free time , normal children don’t understand the complete and utter hedonism that you’re enabled .
it’s only a matter of time before you find your calling , though . you are fourteen , already a gangly mess of too - long limbs and charming smile and curls that melt even the iciest of glares . you’ve sat in the backs of theatres while your mother rehearses for your entire life , and stepping into the harsh spotlight itself feels like home in a way you can’t possibly describe in either of the tongues that crowd your mouth . your first performance is macbeth , and you dominate like nothing else , tragic figure with a mouth of steel . for the next few years of your high school education you always score the leading role , not through anything but the sheer force of your talent . acting is second nature to you , a comfortable set of skins you fall into like it’s nothing , like they’re nothing .
sixteen when you get your first gig , a guest appearance in some established police procedural , but it’s a rush like nothing else . one gig leads to another , and another , and another ! it’s not until you’re hired by netflix to do their biggest hit , some then - untitled sci - fi horror 80s thing , that you take off like nothing else and god , it’s like nothing you’ve ever known . blockbusters are offered to you after your second season airs , you find yourself in cameos in fucking marvel movies , & yet nothing’s quite as thrilling as horror . something crawls under your skin the first day you shoot stranger things , and it’s stuck ever since ; you make a good archetype , the dopey yet helpful boyfriend , the white knight . you’re barely nineteen when you decide what your avenue is and make a conscientious decision to stick to it .
and now ? your imdb page glitters , cacophany of roles quite unlike each other , bad guy and good guy and killer and saviour , all crammed in together . didn’t think you had time but somewhere you met someone , fell in love , started dating , all that ; but that bleeding , genuine heart of yours can’t be contained , falls in love five times a day , catches itself upon the hooks of others and impulse control is a long - forgotten acquaintance . newspapers call you a heartbreaker , but you never break hearts ; you simply leave your scent on bedsheets and heartbeats alike , prettiest kind of ghost . sometimes you play up the ‘ arrogant heartbreaking dipshit ’ spiel for interviews but with you , what you see is what you get : passionate , driven , emotional . a fervour . a lover , a romantic , altruistic kinds of chaos . the prettiest kind of confusion , all wrapped up under that surname . oh darling , you’re the nicest kind of sweet nightmare and you don’t even know it .
when u realise it’s intro time & u got absolutely fuckin nothing :///// bear w me while i get this shit together , & apologies in advance when my ( long - winded , overdramatic ) intro is posted horrendously late !
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jacobvanloon
2087
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