MARCVS ANTONIVS

indie private selective mark antony. written by evi.

[roseydoux]

Yeon-ae-dam (2016)

[notorator]

musaeprimi:

Octavian had to refrain from snorting in amusement when Antony brought to mention their age. The way in which Antony drew to remark on his seniority over Octavian was based entirely upon Antony having worn the toga virilis for a superior amount of time, but Octavian wasn’t entirely certain that he could say that Antony had ever truly worn anything ever before in his life.

Even now, Octavian could not refrain from noticing the way in which Antony’s legs stretched out before them, his already short tunic shifting to lay even higher on his thighs than it usually did. Octavian could not ever attempt to claim that he was physically older than Antony, but at least Octavian was old enough to dress himself properly. Octavian drew his eyes from Antony’s thighs and attempted to look as though he had not been silently passing judgement.

“I thought perhaps I had already won your favour, at least, if not also your affection,” he remarked idly, “was your ever so heroic liberation of me from my captors not a mark of your favour or affection? Certain if I had not already earned either, you would have left me to suffer indefinitely. You cannot claim there was military soundness in marching back to Rome.”

Damn the boy, Antony thought---almost affectionately---in response to Octavian pointing out his use of the word affection. Well. It was true that Antony found the young man much more intriguing than he had once thought he would, and---despite his occasional sickliness, his irritating penchant to get on Antony’s nerves sometimes, and yes, Antony’s initial searing jealousy upon learning that this boy might have meant more to Caesar than he had, during those last few days---attractive, lovely even.

But that wasn’t saying much---there weren’t, frankly speaking, that many people Antony didn’t find attractive in their own way. Whether he might be able to have Octavian admit to a mutual attraction was a different matter. Possibly it wasn’t a good idea to press the issue especially in the chance of success, not when Antony was aware of just how entangled their military and political careers were like to be if they both survived this conflict, but---he had had a long day, and the paltry heat of the fire they’d set up made him long to feel a different kind of heat altogether, and it had been weeks since he’d enjoyed any of his lovers’ embraces with how busy the campaign had kept him. Besides, he was sure he could handle a boy who wasn’t even twenty years of age.

“I was rather implying you had my favour,” Antony said, mimicking Octavian’s carefully idle tone, and smirked as he noted where Octavian’s eyes had been just now. “Do you not want it, then? Want me to hand you back to Porcia if you think that’s the better military tactic? I’m sure that’ll stop you complaining. ---Or I could find another way to stop your mouth.”

[notorator]

for @musaeprimi --- continued from here

Antony suspected that Octavian was himself as surprised as Antony was that he was still here, in Antony's bed, letting the shared, sticky, lingering warmth of the past hour weigh him down and envelop him like a blanket. Yet Octavian still seemed as distant and disdainful as ever, and it made Antony frown. He didn't see why they couldn't be cosy, in the aftermath of what they'd just shared. Perhaps all his japing, his teasing had dug in deeper than he'd thought. Or perhaps it was just that the closest they could ever be was with their limbs and fingers entwined, Antony pressing Octavian into a bed, or a wall.

Gods, Antony thought, all those poets who wrote about how women were the most frigid creatures in the world had no idea what they were talking about. Octavian was more frigid than any woman Antony could remember bedding.

"I'm just saying," he eventually responded, laying down next to Octavian, "Most political alliances aren't this intimate from my experience."

[notorator]

musaeprimi:

Octavian felt as though he had spent near an eternity at rest, kept for over a month within the confines of an estate so far from the field of battle. He missed the stratagem, the tactical methodology. Life as a hostage had proven to be dull and unstimulating. He was anxious to return to war. When Antony bid him relax, he could not.

“Boy,” he repeated a singular word of Antony’s, his tone intentionally set to be even and relaxed, “you call me that still, despite me being of age, the commander of an army, and having just been taken hostage for my cause,” he attempted to keep the disdain from his tone, “tell me Antony, what else must I do for you to grant me respect?”

Antony eyed Octavian sideways, the carefully calm, relaxed expression, the tone of voice, and it made him pause. Perhaps Octavian had a point. He himself couldn’t recall ever wishing that people would consider him mature, an adult; admittedly when he’d been how old Octavian was now, he’d been roaming the streets of Rome with Clodius Pulcher, drinking and reveling and getting into adventures with Curio. Adulthood had frightened him.

Gods, it felt so long ago---like it had been a different mouth that had laughed with Curio and kissed his wine-wet lips, different hands that had taken Clodius’s and fought for them on the streets.

“Well---I had already been wearing the toga virilis for, what, three, four years when you were born, and you can’t deny that. Besides,” he said with a shrug, languidly stretching his legs out, “you must know that not many people at all end up with my respect. I don’t know what you were expecting. My---how would you put it---favour, though? Or affection. Now that’s a different matter.”

[notorator]

pcnurnbra:

“I will deliver unto you my gratitude when our enemies have been made to pay for this insult,” Octavian delivered rather bluntly, his gaze never even turning to Antony. All sense of genuine gratitude that he might have felt had faded after the rescue had been completed. He was much too focused now on revenge. “I want to hear what plans you have.”

Antony laughed, and looked to the black, black sky, the distant stars and the moonlight as pale and cold as Octavian himself. In the moment, talking to Octavian in such an environment, plans and stratagems felt as far away to him as the moon and the stars did. “You do get down to business, don’t you, boy? It’s nighttime. Relax a little. We have a long way ahead of us tomorrow, might as well discuss it then.”

[meiselr]

1000 Picspams Challenge | #738 - Caesar, Cleopatra and Mark Antony in Hogwarts

[notorator]

LUST.FEAR.

“damn” questions for muses---accepting!  /  @tempestfell

LUST.  Who does your muse find attractive?

Definitely people who are strong and capable in some way or another. If you look at the kinds of people that I have him have feelings for in the canon of this blog---Caesar, Fulvia, Cleopatra, etc etc---they’re all strong, determined, intelligent, resourceful people with good leadership and people skills, and I think this is kind of a pattern for him. Even if someone isn’t traditionally macho and leader-type, as long as they have a certain kind of inner strength and resilience or integrity Antony can definitely respect that and find that attractive. ...And of course, physical attractiveness is also honestly a big part. He’s not that deep ajsdkflg.

FEAR.  What are your muses biggest fears?

Truly falling in social status to the point that he irrevocably loses all respect; he did lose a bit of status during the years that he had a falling-out with Caesar but he’s never truly experienced life-ruining shame and has no wish to do so. He also fears losing more of the people he loves.

[memesconscripti]

speech therapy by m.o. kng  sentence prompts

this a list of quotes from m.o. kng’s poetry compilation speech therapy, compiled for the purpose of being roleplay sentence prompts. feel free to make minor edits, change pronouns, etc if necessary!

❝ the darkness here has a smell. ❞

❝ here is everything i have to give you. ❞

❝ look, healing isn’t a line of stitches from fucked-up to okay, and it needs to happen on your own time. ❞

❝ but they want an argument, i’ll give them one. ❞

❝ when will this be good enough for you? ❞

❝ when will we stop chasing all these arguments with no resolution? ❞

❝ it’s funny, that i’ve been too busy to open a good book when the world gives me so much to read. ❞

❝ maybe that’s what closet love tastes like on the tongue. a feeling you’d break glass for even if it could kill you. ❞

❝ music has been my first and longest romance. ❞

❝ we’ve been occupied with paying rent, electricity, dues. ❞

❝ i wonder who will take me when it is my turn. ❞

❝ maybe to like somebody is a radical little thing. ❞

❝ my skull feels like a big throbbing earth. when did it get so dense. ❞

❝ i don’t know where i got this weight or how to carry it; don’t know why my words feel dry and prickly and just too much. ❞

❝ they didn’t end the war. they brought it back home. ❞

❝ i’ve never had a choice, have i? ❞

❝ around my neck i feel a noose tightening. ❞

❝ but somebody’s eyes are there. somebody is watching. who? ❞

❝ i am not so much woke as constantly waking. ❞

❝ the joke’s on you ‘cause there isn’t anything to see here. ❞

❝ all i have ever wanted is to roam this world free. to wander through my own home without feeling haunted. ❞

❝ i am not afraid of you. i am not afraid. ❞

❝ sometimes i worry that my lungs were not made for a voice to grow; that god cut my tongue out and left my throat dry. ❞

❝ intoxication helps with the anxiety but not the sobering realization that you don’t know how to do this. ❞

❝ the conscience is a blood relative of the hunger. both will consume you if you let them. ❞

❝ this is what trauma does to a body. ❞

❝ i have lost loved ones to the violence. ❞

❝ we are strong. we are strong. we are strong. ❞

❝ cover your bruises. ❞

❝ cover your shame. ❞

❝ cover your eyes; they give everything away. ❞

❝ i ask the world to show me where it’s bleeding and it tells me everywhere. ❞

❝ do you think about everything a dead person leaves behind? ❞

❝ but i refuse to look at this throbbing world and declare it dead. ❞

❝ perhaps all you can do is salvage whatever you can and cut yourself free. ❞

❝ i think about my own heart, how it burns with an anger i can’t ever remember having lived without. ❞

❝ i think of how much i want to strike a match to all of it. i think of how much i want all of it to burn alive. ❞

❝ i’ve always had a morbid fascination with wounds. ❞

❝ this is how i make sense of my pain. ❞

❝ i know i was born the wrong size for this world. ❞

❝ sometimes you lose something so something better will grow into its place. ❞

❝ i only wish i were physically capable of running on half the amount of sleep i do now. ❞

❝ this has to be one of the better iterations if i get to spend my life here with somebody like you. ❞

❝ sometimes i worry for how much you worry because a person like you deserves all of the happiness that you have set free into the world. ❞

❝ anybody who loves you will love your every rugged edge. ❞

❝ see, but the thing is it does cost you something to be kind. and still it’s a price i believe is worth paying. ❞

❝ i’d rather be accountable than likable. ❞

❝ if it’s not yours, ask before you touch. ❞

❝ it’s funny, this business of faking innocence knowing that you’re safe but also kind of not. ❞

❝ i can’t escape the fumes my parents have left behind. ❞

❝ everybody here is waiting to leave. ❞

❝ i don’t know how much longer i can stay here but sometimes when we talk i forget what time is. ❞

❝ sometimes family is a word i still don’t know how to roll around my tongue, only know by the smell of sacrifice. ❞

❝ it is completely okay to walk into an english department luncheon, load your plate full of pizza and chips, then walk out. ❞

❝ basically, what i’m saying is, take the damn flowers. ❞

❝ there is heartbreak here, more than i care to recount. ❞

❝ big stupid crushes come easily to me. ❞

❝ am i going to be the son who breaks the chain? ❞

❝ anyway, these are too many thoughts for the internet at 1am, so good night now. ❞

❝ we were always the ones too anxious for the leading parts, weren’t we? ❞

❝ power is a torch that sparkles and scorches. ❞

❝ i worry we have grown selfish in our shine. ❞

❝ let us be good before we are ever great. ❞

❝ i am looking lately for beauty in the shattered. ❞

❝ we snap but we don’t break. ❞

❝ i wish sometimes you taught me everything i had to teach myself. ❞

[sheriff--cait-deactivated201810]

“DAMN.” Questions for Muses.

BLOOD. -What types of injuries has your muse sustained? What was the worst? 

DNA. -What was your muses home life like?

YAH. -Something your muse agrees on 100% of the time.

ELEMENT. -What is your muse “made of”, what is their character like? Courageous, loving, scared, etc.

FEEL. -How does your character react to a persons touch? A random stranger’s? A loved one’s? A friend’s?

LOYALTY. -Does your character have any loyalty to any group?

PRIDE. -What is your muses biggest flaw?

HUMBLE. -How does your muse handle praise?

LUST. -Who does your muse find attractive?

LOVE. -Does your muse have a “special someone”

XXX. -What’s the raunchiest thing your muse has ever done?

FEAR. -What are your muses biggest fears?

GOD. -Does your muse believe in a god? If so, describe it.

DUCKWORTH. -Has your muse ever thought about committing or committed a crime?

[notorator]

; ooc ;  tfw you’re brushing your teeth and it suddenly occurs to you that maybe mark antony is chaotic neutral not true neutral like you’ve been headcanoning for the last ..... year

[notorator]

plotted starter for @pcnurnbra (octavian)

He had just finished setting up camp for the night with the quick, efficient, practiced movements of an experienced soldier, his muscles remembering the long nights in Gaul, and with a sigh he settled in front of the fire, eyes flicking to the young man who was already sitting before it, staring into the flickering light. "No word of thanks for my daring rescue of you?"

[notorator]

; ooc ;  TODAY 👏 IS  👏 MARK 👏 ANTONY’S 👏 BIRTHDAY 👏

[heavensickness]

Third base is me telling you about my father

[beholdingslut]

i. her mouth is a slash of cigarette smoke so you think she’s made of ash and she’ll fall apart in your razor sharp hands. ii. she asks you to kill for her and you do. iii. there is nothing left for her to burn. nothing left but you.

Madeleine Christie, You love a girl who calls you Rome (via warriorstar)

[antiquitystuff]

Roman finger ring with a phallus in relief.  

Image from the Thorvaldsen Museum via their online collection: H1816

[trckery]

“ THE SIMULACRUM IS NEVER THAT WHICH CONCEALS THE TRUTH — IT IS THE TRUTH WHICH CONCEALS THAT THERE IS NONE .  THE SIMULACRUM IS TRUE . ”   ——   JEAN BAUDRILLARD ,  SIMULACRA AND SIMULATIONS .         //         mutuals only .  low activity .   personals don’t reblog .

[notorator]

❝ Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour and like enough to consent. ❞ – Octavian

as you like it sentence starters—accepting! // @pcnurnbra

“Like enough to consent? That’s not as promising as you seem to think it sounds. Do you know how much effort wooing is?”