#Love Antosha

[looking-over-my-shoulder]

Always on my mind ❤️

[tvscreencaps23]

[someoftheday]

Jan 11 2021 I finished the book and immediately thought of this movie, even though Zayn was my fancast while I read it. So excited to see the movie when it comes out tomorrow. Anne Hathaway looks perfect in the role just from the clips. So excited!

“I had a long time to consider the value of memory, and the idea that just because something doesn’t last forever doesn’t mean its worth is diminished. Maybe it was just a rationalization - easier on the soul than mourning what might have been - the life unlived. I honestly don’t know, but I chose to believe in memory. I chose to believe in her. I chose to believe that the bond was never broken and that we carried each other in our hearts. As a secret singularity. She made me a writer. She made me a man.”

– 5 to 7 (2014)

[oswaldosrm]

#LoveAntoshaDocumentary A portrait of the extraordinary life and career of actor #AntonYelchin

Review ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

It serves as both a celebration of Yelchin's life and a tribute to his parents, particularly his mother. That infuses the film with a warmth and compassion that keeps it from feeling like a funeral-service memorial.

#ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇɴɪɢʜᴛ 🍿#ᴅᴏᴄᴜᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʀʏ 👀#ʙɪᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ #ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢɴᴏᴡ

[iamtenzinkalden]

What if I become the favorite of someone? The favorite filmmaker? Writer? Composer?

There's no film evidence that I exist. That is sad.

פז

[youcouldmakealife]

KS Fill: Tonya/Vladimir Petrov, Thomas/Anton; castle in the clouds

Another of the Kickstarter fills, for the prompt: always happy for a Vinny/Tony update, especially if Tonya is involved

Even as a child, at her most idealistic, Tonya certainly never expected to live in a mansion like this. A castle, maybe. She liked castles, though she’s not sure where she expected to find one in Brooklyn. Though, it’s not like mansions were any more realistic, growing up in New York City.

And they wouldn’t live in one if they lived in New York, but in Hartford, it was barely even a splurge. And Vladimir had dreamed of castles too as a boy, wanted Antosha to live in one, or the nearest thing they could get for him. It’s massive, and impractical, and Tonya loves it.

They don’t take advantage of the benefits of it very often, however. Once, they let a production crew film the exterior while they were on vacation in Italy anyway — unfortunately, the film was terrible, so Tonya can’t rewatch it for the thrill of seeing it on screen. Or, she could, but she has to get through the melodrama and the bad acting first, and that’s a chore.

It’s the perfect place to host a party, specifically a party with gravitas — a gala, a ball. But with the exception of Vladimir’s induction in the Hall of Fame, they haven’t had any parties worth talking about, because Vladimir is…territorial, Tonya thinks the best word is. His house is his house — she’s still amazed he allowed the film crew, and is sure he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been out of the country — and he’d prefer they didn’t have guests at all, with the exception of close friends, family. Even then, it’s only Anton who doesn’t get his hackles up after a few hours, and that might just be because he still considers it Antosha’s house too, even after all these years. Which, of course, it is.

But they’ve been married for thirty years now, and Tonya thinks that’s worth celebrating, and Vladimir agrees. He didn’t agree it merited a party on the scale of the one they’re throwing today, but he caved once Tonya assured him all he had to do was show up, and that the only guests staying overnight would be blood-related to them.

Well, and Thomas, but Vladimir’s fine with that. It seems like the exception for Anton applies to him as well. She doesn’t know if that’s because Vladimir considers him an extension of Anton, welcome wherever he is, or if he’s become family in his own right. She likes to think it’s a bit of both.

With an hour to go the place reminds her the castles she dreamt of, lit up and glittering, even if they're nothing alike. The catering staff have assured her they have everything they need, and after two minor wardrobe emergencies she’s finally finished getting ready. Or, she hasn’t, but the final touches must be done right before the guests arrive.

Vladimir’s ready, he’s assured her repeatedly, which she’s sure isn’t true, but he’s his own man. She hasn’t seen Anton since breakfast, which she finds ominous, though she doesn’t think he’d go far without Thomas, and he arrives in front of her almost as soon as she thinks of him. Such a good boy that she merely needs to think of him for him to arrive, offering help.

“Can I help with anything?” he asks, hands twisting fretfully, like it’s hurting him not to assist, and Tonya takes a moment to wonder if she's developed psychic abilities. Perhaps, but it's more likely that Thomas is just unfailingly helpful.

Tonya takes his hands between hers, stills them. They’re cold, and she wants to chafe them, warm him up. What was that saying, cold hands, warm heart? If anyone fits that it’s Thomas. “I’ve hired professionals to do everything,” she says. “We’ll just get in their way.”

She knows this because she has, at every other event with catering staff, gotten in the way. She’s finally learned her lesson — no meddling this time. So far she's stayed strong, but she's not sure she'll last the night.

“Right,” Thomas says, nodding, hands still between hers. “That makes sense. Our equipment managers say the same thing.”

She bets they do. Vladimir in particular was a menace about his equipment — she’s sure they popped a bottle of champagne the day he retired.

“I know what you can do for me,” she says, and Thomas brightens right up. He really is too good a boy for his own good. She imagines people take advantage of it all the time. Look at her, doing it right now.

“Can you find Anton for me?” she says. “I worry he’s hiding.”

She doesn’t worry he’s hiding, exactly — she knows he’s hiding — she only worries he’ll continue hiding after all the guests have arrived, leaving poor Thomas to muddle his way through a room of people he doesn’t know. Not that Antosha knows everyone, and many of the people he does know haven’t seen him since he was a little boy, so it’s really more them knowing him — she’s sure he’ll be delighted to hear ‘you were just this high when last I saw you’ over and over again.

Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised he’s hiding. And she isn’t. But Thomas is a guest, though a particularly helpful, considerate one, and Anton may not be hosting the party, but he is hosting Thomas. And Tonya did not raise a bad host. Or, unfortunately she did, she thinks, but he certainly didn’t learn it from her. Thankfully Thomas is very easily pleased, and loyal enough that he’d likely tell her Anton was being an excellent host if she asked.

Thomas nods again, like a little bobblehead. She’s slightly disappointed the Canadiens haven’t done one for him, at least to her knowledge — she thinks Vladimir would be delighted to put it by the ones of him and Antosha in his show-off room. He loves them. Never tires of bobbing their heads. “Can I have my—“

“Your hands, of course,” Tonya says, letting them go. “Do you know the saying? About cold hands?”

“I do,” Thomas says, with a broad smile. She bets he does. Bets people quote it all the time. “Don’t worry, I’ll drag Anton out of wherever he’s hiding.”

“By the hair if you need to,” Tonya says, and smiles at the laugh that trails Thomas up the stairwell.

He doesn’t deserve that boy, Tonya thinks, then goes to bother Vladimir one last time. She hopes that, this time, he’ll actually get ready instead of just saying he already is. Perhaps that’s optimistic. But she thinks everyone needs a little optimism to make it to three decades.

“Tony,” she hears Thomas crooning as she walks down the hall, sounding a little like he’s trying to lure a feral cat, and she smiles wider. Perhaps he’s exactly what Antosha deserves after all.

[bluheaven-adw]

Ooohhh!!! Thank you for this!

Don't touch me I'm emotional

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Aeipethy For Jake/Antoni pretty please 🥺

Aeipethy: an enduring and consuming passion

-

"If I could... If ever I could." Antoni's voice is slight, as always, the softness hiding the nervous waver beneath. Jake blinks open eyes heavy with near-sleep and turns his head to look over, in the dark. Kauri, between them, breathes slowly, deeply asleep.

"Could what?" Jake keeps his own voice a whisper, too. His shoulder has been hurting more, and he took an extra pill after dinner. It leaves him gently floating above the nerve pain that might lessen or might not, no one knows. It makes him wonder if he's dreaming this conversation. Dreaming Antoni in their bed when usually he stays in his own.

"... Sleep with you. If I could do this, to have-... To have sex. If I could-... If I did not-... If I had not had the want taken from me. If I still had it, and felt the want for you. If I could feel it for you. Would you?"

Jake has to blink again. He must be dreaming. So he's honest, giving a soft nearly-silent huff of laughter. "Ant... Antosha. Yes. Every day, if Kauri didn't wear me out first. The two of you could take years off my life and I'd die happy."

Antoni answers Jake's laughter with his own, relief making him seem to melt beneath his blanket, just a mop of dark hair and glimmering dark eyes. "I am sorry, Jasha, that I can't... want to."

"That's fine, Ant. I don't love you because of that, or Kauri either. I mean with Kauri that's definitely in the list, but-"

"I heard that," Kauri mumbles, half-muffled by his mouth against the pillow. "Talkin' 'bout my ass and I'm not even awake to join in."

"We weren't. I swear. Your ass was absolutely only distantly relevant to the conversation."

"M'ass is relevant to all conversations," Kauri mutters, and seems to fall immediately asleep again before he's even finished speaking.

There's a beat of silence.

"Ya lyublyu tebya, Jasha," Antoni murmurs.

Jake closes his eyes. If this is a dream, it's one of the better ones he's ever had.

"Love you, too, Antosha."

[transsexualism]

from love, antosha

[allwiredwrong]

no way is that Antosha Kučera.. they’re a 24-year-old SYNTH notoriously known for being Destructive  &  Self Neglectful but there are some people who have seen them being Creative  &   Earnest.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of mismatched socks, broken clocks, lips that don’t know how to lie ,  but that could just be because they’re considered the Mood-Swinger around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through.

Name: Antosha Marek Kučera

Nickname(s): Anton

Age: 24 / March 15

FC: Asa Germann

Height: 5'10

Pronouns: he/they

Orientation: gay

Occupation: Artist

District: lower (formerly middle)

Relationship Status: Single (Open)

creative ⟩ earnest ⟩ gifted

destructive ⟩ self neglectful ⟩ compulsive

----

For the first time I see An image of my brokenness Utterly worthy of love

----

tw: child neglect (not sure if it would be exactly that, but like at least vibes of it/it's the closest thing I could think of to tag)

Antosha's parents always planned on having two kids, hoping to have two biological human children, however a difficult first pregnancy and doctors telling them another would be a risk to both mother and child they decided instead on going the synth route with their second.

Just like any other synth, Antosha's parents programmed him with traits they found to be desirable, leaning heavily into giving him traits of a creative. An artist and musician to be exact. If you looked at the list of traits they gave them to program into him you'd easily think they were trying to build a prodigy of some kind. Perhaps they were.

Unlike his older sibling Antosha struggled with making friends, often choosing to focus on his creative endeavors than socialize, and as a result becoming more than a little odd around other people.

Would find himself watching movies or the tv or even just people watching, trying to study how to just 'be normal.' like his parents wanted them to be. Never having said anything about it, but having more than once overheard them say things like "Why can't he just be normal?" or "I thought we did better at programming him than this."

Antosha was 13 when their parents decided to try again with a new synth child. Whatever programming they'd gotten wrong with him, they would get right this time.

The undesirable traits only continued to grow as he got older, and by the time he was 16 his parents were too busy with their new attempt, the one that they were going to make sure stayed perfect, to even care anymore.

Went to a back alley doctor for reprogramming. Thinking maybe if they did and had their personality reprogrammed to something else. Something more 'normal' that their parents wouldn't be upset at the way he'd turned out. That they would still want them to be their kid.

Instead of fixing him, however, the doctor wound up doing a botched job on Antosha. Whatever emotional regulation he had was fucked up, along with his ability to do things like recognize when they needed to do something like eat or sleep. It caused him to question whether or not something was real sometimes, no longer always able to tell what was real and what was just in his head, and would sometimes just 'glitch out' often losing time and memory of what happened during glitches, the way one might when blacked out.

While he was trying to fix himself because of his parents, he only wound up making things worse for himself on accident. His parents deciding they wanted nothing to do with him any longer and giving him money to leave and stay away.

Has been living in an apartment in the lower district working as a freelance artist, mostly working with paint, but having skills in other mediums as well.

Has received more than one noise complaint from playing music too loud at odd hours of the night.

Has respected their parents' wishes and stayed away all of these years

[looking-over-my-shoulder]

Happy Birthday Anton! ❤️🤍❤️

[charliehunnamtribute]

❤️‍🔥 Charlie at Love Antosha premiere 2019 ❤️‍🔥

#CharlieHunnam #LoveAntosha #premiere #CharlieHunnamTribute

[iseefire16]

This make my heart happy they remembered him, I still cry when I watch love antosha, anton left us too soon 😔💕😢

For Anton

[filministic]

Love, Antosha (2019)  dir. Garret Price

[texaschainsawmascara]

Heath Ledger 1979-2008 I Am Heath Ledger (2017)

Anton Yelchin 1989-2016 Love, Antosha (2019)

[youcouldmakealife]

Do you ever mix up names? I love your stories, but I am shit at names and as your pantheon/league grows I find myself increasingly turned around by all the north american dude names (first, last, AND hockey nicknames!!!). I can usually keep track of the on-going series names and names that are less common in North America (Kiro, Sven), but if I'm reading, say, an ask or rereading I usually have remind myself who is who first.

I don't mix them up between themselves and other characters in either a similar name way (James vs Jake, say) or roles (mixing up say, Wheels and Craney and Matty).

(This got so long and off topic, why does this always happen)

What I do mix up is sort of more of a...muscle memory thing, maybe? I'm writing the word, say, gorgeous, and I have to delete georgieous first, because my fingers apparently have become a phone's autocorrect function. I actually did write James as Jake a few times when I was deep deep in editing BTT, but again, it was just sort of like...an autofill error between my brain and my fingers.

The names themselves I'm pretty good with, though I do worry about whether I'll continue to be as a) the pantheon continues to expand (I love this by the way, and now I'm probably going to spend the rest of my evening mentally assigning characters places in the pantheon) and b) I get older. And both things seem pretty inevitable to me.

Unfortunately, the two things I appear to have in common with Leo Tolstoy are brevity and 'these people have three names, and I'm going to use them all interchangeably'. (ie Vinny is Thomas to himself, but Vinny to literally everybody else including me. And sometimes Tommy but only to Anton and his parents and only sometimes. Anton's alternately Anton, Petrov, Tony to Vinny and teammates, or Antosha to his family.)

I'd honestly apologise for it but it's one of those things that's really inextricable from the sort of...falling into a perspective way that I write, the same way I write in American English for American characters and Canadian English for Canadians, or use Christian (and specifically Catholic) references in Robbie or Georgie's POVs but never, say, Mike's or David's, unless we count Mike's very liberal usage of the word goddamn (and it's lowercase with him, but it'd be Goddamn to Robbie.)

And the different vocabularies extends to names. Like William Dineen is William to Robbie, he specifically asked to be called that when he was a teenager who wanted to feel more adult, and Robbie respected that then and continues to now. Georgie respected it in another way -- he was Willy to him, and now he uses Will, which William is fine with, but only with immediate family.

But in the text itself Georgie would never use William, because it'd feel distant to him, and Robbie would never use Will because he'd consider that disrespectful after William specifically requested to be called that, and me choosing one or the other wouldn't be in character, so he's Will and he's William, but never Willy (that's Tate Williams).

I make this all sound like a much more conscious process than it is. A lot of this stuff I've only figured out via metacognition of my writing process, which is, by necessity, done in hindsight.

My original answer to questions like 'why did you do _____ that way?' is invariably '*shrug* felt right', and people tend to find that...unsatisfying, so I often investigate further, and the answer becomes 'felt right because of <this reason I was in no way consciously aware of during the writing process>'. As I've said to my poor beleaguered editor, a lot of my writing process is 'just vibes'. I follow good vibes. Bad vibes tell me something's not working, and I adjust accordingly. I think a lot (I cannot tell you how many times I've been accused of overthinking things), but when it comes to writing, most of it's happening beyond my own perception, so instead it feels more like gut instinct. (which is, indeed, what gut instinct often boils down to: pattern recognition going on beneath one's conscious awareness)