#artevy

[wontonsoupho]

THEN GOD

MADE THEM BLUE

© Artist the Author

CHARACTER BREAKDOWN

THE GUARDIANS

OF MACABRE

(from top to bottom)

SHANNON THORNTON (circa 2019-present) as GOAPELE KIMANI XOLANI SCOTT aka ‘ANGELOU’

AGE : 35

HOMETOWN : BROOKLYN , NEW YORK

OCCUPATION : CREATIVE DIRECTOR , VOCAL COACH , CHOREOGRAPHER ,& ALUMNI MEMBER OF MACABRE’S FACTION

DAVE EAST (circa 2016-present) as XODUS ELIJAH SYMERE CASANOVA aka ‘GOLIATH’

AGE : 36

HOMETOWN : QUEENS , NEW YORK

OCCUPATION : OWNER OF ‘GOLIATH’S PALACE OF WONDER’ , PHILANTHROPIST , ONE THIRD OF FATHER MACABRE ENTERPRISES , & CO-LEAD OF MACABRE’S FACTION

THE MOTHERS

OF MACABRE

(from top to bottom)

MISSDEMEANOR ELLIOT (circa 2018-present) as GLORY UNI QASIM-SCOTT aka ‘MAMA QASIM’

AGE : 57

HOMETOWN : BROOKLYN , NEW YORK

OCCUPATION : OWNER OF ‘SAINT QASI’S WOMEN HEALTH CLINIC , ONE THIRD OF THE FATES & HEAD MEMBER OF MACABRE’S FACTION

LELA ROCHON (circa 1995-early 2000s) as XOLANI APHRODITE CASANOVA aka ‘MAYOR CASANOVA’

AGE : 53

HOMETOWN : BROOKLYN , NEW YORK

OCCUPATION : MAYOR OF MACABRE , ONE THIRD OF THE FATES & HEAD MEMBER OF MACABRE’S FACTION

SÔNIA BRAGA (circa 1976-early 200s) as SOLANA YZABELLE SOSA aka ‘MAMA SOSA’

AGE : 53

HOMETOWN : ARIMA , TRINIDAD AND TOBAGO

OCCUPATION : HORTICULTURIST OF ‘SORACULTURE’ , ONE THIRD OF THE FATES & HEAD MEMBER OF MACABRE’S FACTION

THE FAMILY

OF CASANOVA

(from top to bottom)

JAZZY AMRA (circa 2016-present) as YAMILETH ÉMIE CASANOVA aka ‘KAGOME’

AGE : 34

HOMETOWN : ARIMA , TRINIDAD AND TOBAGO

OCCUPATION : SINGER , SONGWRITER , MUSICIAN & MEMBER OF MACABRE’S FACTION

AVA MCCLURE (circa 2019-present) as YANIIS ARACELY CASANOVA aka ‘NANI’

AGE : 7

HOMETOWN : MACABRE , GEORGIA

OCCUPATION : KADET OF AVANT-GARDE | ACADEMY OF KNOWLEDGE & OWNER OF YAMILETH’S MUSICAL CATALOG

FAITH JAGGERNAUTH (circa 2019-present) as LEONI SERENITY ORTEGA aka ‘CHITTY’

AGE : 26

HOMETOWN : MACABRE , GEORGIA

OCCUPATION : CHIEF COMPUTER ENGINEER AT FATHER MACABRE ENTERPRISES , FREELANCE HACKER & MEMBER OF MACABRE’S FACTION

THE FAMILY

OF MACABRE

(from top to bottom)

AMIL WHITEHEAD (circa 1997-early 2000s) as JUSTICE MOHE MACABRE-CASANOVA aka ‘MOTHER MACABRE’

AGE : 62

HOMETOWN : MANHATTAN , NEW YORK

OCCUPATION : CO-FOUNDER OF FATHER MACABRE ENTERPRISES & HEAD MACABRE’S FACTION

BIA (circa 2018-present) as PROMISE AMAHLE MACABRE-CASANOVA aka ‘PRINCESS’

AGE : 43

HOMETOWN : MANHATTAN , NEW YORK

OCCUPATION : TREASURER OF MACABRE , SECRETARY OF MAYOR CASANOVA & HEAD MEMBER OF MACABRE’S FACTION

THE FAMILY

OF HENDRIX

(from top to bottom)

LOLA BROOKE (circa 2021-present) as THAÏS ASHANTI HENDRIX aka ‘FLOJO’

AGE : 34

HOMETOWN : MACABRE , GEORGIA

OCCUPATION : CO-OWNER OF ‘GOLIATH’S PALACE OF WONDER’ & ONE THIRD OF FATHER MACABRE ENTERPRISES

DEMETRIUS FLENORY JR. (circa 2019-present) as JUKKA KIMARI LEGEND HENDRIX aka ‘KASPER’

AGE : 19

HOMETOWN : MACABRE , GEORGIA

OCCUPATION : CONSTRUCTION WORKER & STREET PHARMACIST

THE MAIN

SUPPORT

(from top to bottom)

SKEPTA (circa 2018-present) as MATEO ARMANI DEMUN aka ‘MAC 3’

AGE : 37

HOMETOWN : MACABRE , GEORGIA

OCCUPATION : CO-OWNER OF ‘GOLIATH’S PALACE OF WONDER’ & ONE THIRD OF FATHER MACABRE’S ENTERPRISES

BAND HUNTA IZZY (circa 2018-present) as MONTERO ARTEVIOUS DEMUN aka ‘DRAEKO’

AGE : 19

HOMETOWN : MACABRE , GEORGIA

OCCUPATION : LIFE INSURANCE BROKER & CRYPTO-CURRENCY INVESTOR

SEBASTIAN MIKAEL (circa 2019-present) as CHÖSENTINO TAHIIL XIRSI aka ‘CHÖSEN’

AGE : 36

HOMETOWN : BRIXTON , LONDON

OCCUPATION : BOUNCER / SECURITY OF ‘GOLIATH’S PALACE OF WONDER’ & HEAD MANAGEMENT OF FATHER MACABRE’S ENTERPRISES CLEANING DEPARTMENT

* there will be other members added to the cast as the show progresses and i will give them a mini character profile when/if necessary. for now these are the names and faces of those to lookout for and pay attention to.

… DID YOU HEAR WHAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK ON THEN GOD MADE THEM BLUE ?

FIRST QUARTER | ‘PANDORA’S PALACE’

SYNOPSIS

MASTER | LIST

TAG | LIST

[bruneburg]

(@riesenlied-related)

Still trying to figure out the design of this guy. His name is Artevy. I feel too tired to try explain who that is and what his deal is or what’s happening in those gifs right now. But over all this is a big guy who is torn between his duty towards his god’s prophet and his duty towards the human culture he had sworn to protect.

[prophezeiung]

@zukunftsvision​​   ›   levi   ›   he’s been collecting things for months, though it wasn’t difficult to fill the pocket-sized, leather-bound notebook once he started — everything levi sees reminds him of marty, whether in a tangible way, or because it’s something he’d enjoy, or simply because it evokes the same feeling as being around him does. stray feathers and leaves collected on outings, pressed flowers, newspaper clippings or copied down poems that might be to his taste, polaroids of their time together, some annotated with half-thoughts and silly jokes, each page designed, as scribbled on the first page, “to make you smile.” 

        his  eyes  meet  levi’s  in  the  awkward  anticipation  of  not  knowing  how  to  respond  to  a  gift  —  it’s  clear  that  the  day  of  love  is  not  going  to  go  uncelebrated  by  somebody  like  marty,  who  thinks  of  the  story  of  saint  valentine  enough  on  any  regular  day,  but  he  still  has  no  clue  what  to  expect  when  he  unwraps  the  present  he  is  given.  the  leather  binding  feels  smooth  against  his  palm,  the  covers  beg  to  spill  open  which  indicates  that  this  notebook  is  not,  in  fact,  another  empty  container  to  catch  all  of  marty’s  thoughts,  as  he  first  suspected.  he  begins  reading  it  from  the  beginning  —  the  dedication  on  the  first  page  gains  meaning  the  further  he  reads.  really,  marty  has  to  force  himself  to  not  look  at  every  single  little  detail,  though  here  and  there  he  laughs  at  the  glimpse  he’s  caught  or  points  out  the  pages  that  stand  out  to  him  as  he  skims  through.  he  could  look  at  everything  in  detail  right  now,  but  he’d  rather  give  this  day’s  attention  to  levi  instead  of  marveling  for  hours  at  these  pages  and  the  thought  that  went  into  them.  he  should  do  that  once  he  cannot  be  by  his  side,  that’s  what  it’s  made  for,  because  seeing  levi  in  the  flesh  does  enough  to  make  marty  smile.

          this  present  means  more  than  words  can  express,  though.  it  is  an  item  to  always  carry  around  in  his  inside  pocket  so  that  he  may  look  at  it  at  any  instance,  or  to  lock  into  a  treasure  box  for  fear  of  ruining  it  by  handling  it  too  much.  how  it  will  go  will  likely  be  decided  once  he  has  read  through  it  all,  he  just  knows  it  will  be  special  either  way.  marty  closes  the  book  carefully,  but  he  is  smiling,  which  means  levi  can  see  his  success,  and  then  the  feeling  in  his  chest  catches  up  with  him  and  there’s  no  way  he  could  express  it  in  simply  a  smile,  and  so  tears  shoot  into  his  eyes  as  a  substitute.  the  thought  of  being  thought  of  in  such  a  way,  of  being  known  and  remembered  and  chosen,  in  details  as  small  as  these,  it  makes  his  heart  overflow  with  emotion.  before  his  tears  can  threaten  to  spill  and  before  marty  can  find  the  words  to  properly  express  anything  he  feels,  his  feet  have  him  rush  into  a  hug  where  he  nestles  up  against  levi,  arms  wrapped  tightly  around  his  neck,  which  is  perhaps  the  best  way  he  can  show  his  gratitude.  the  tears  come  anyway,  he  can’t  help  it;  there  is  no  other  place  for  his  feelings  to  go.  “ i  adore  it!  so,  so  much. ”  his  voice  is  muffled  against  the  other’s  chest,  but  he’s  not  letting  go  yet.  “ thank  you,  levi,  i’m  so  happy.  this  is  beautiful,  i  will  most  definitely  cherish  it! ”

          with  the  heel  of  his  hand  marty  dries  his  cheeks  when  he  comes  away;  there  is  another  way  to  say  thanks,  not  just  for  this,  but  for  all  the  time  they’ve  had  together.  he’s  also  prepared  something  for  levi  for  this  day  —  he  started  gathering  the  materials  months  ago,  too,  writing  to  experts  and  spending  his  family’s  money  freely.  he  returns  from  his  room  with  a  box  wrapped  in  matte  brown  paper,  with  golden  string  and  two  fluffy  pieces  of  reed  inflorescence  as  decoration:  at  first  glance,  it  looks  like  an  unadorned  box  of  varnished  cedar  wood,  with  twenty-four  little  compartments,  somewhat  like  a  tea  box  with  a  detachable  lid  and  little  slits  in  the  bottom  of  each  cell.  filled  with  soil,  this  makes  a  charming  little  growing  tray  for  seedlings.  as  for  now,  each  compartment  contains  a  letter  and  a  little  brown  bag  labeled  neatly  in  marty’s  hand:  each  contains  seeds  for  herbs,  flowers  and  bushes,  from  quite  common  to  rather  rare.  the  letters  are  folded  into  squares  and  bound  with  ribbon,  and  they  are  retellings  or  edited  ( for  clarity  and  poetry )  versions  of  some  of  marty’s  diary  entries  from  the  past  months  of  getting  to  know  levi  and  falling  in  love  with  him.  he  wants  to  be  confident  about  handing  it  to  levi,  but  his  hand  shakes,  like  it  likely  would  because  he’s  spent  months  trying  to  curate  something  meaningful  that  levi  would  hopefully  enjoy.  he's  worried  many  times  if  this  might  be  too  much,  a  little  too  much  insight  on  his  emotions  revealed  that  may  overwhelm  if  not  scare  off.  from  the  gift  levi  has  given  him,  it  seems  as  though  he  put  as  much  if  not  more  thought  into  it,  so  perhaps  this  might  just  be  appropriate.  marty  attempts  a  smile  when  he  gives  his  gift  to  him  in  return:  “ i  hope  you  like  this,  too. ”

[youthblamed-a]

𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢

RETRO ARTEVI ft @prophezeiung for marty’s birthday ♡

[ricardodealmeidacorreia]

O CORPO E AS LINGUAGENS - A partir da obra de Luís Miguel Nava

Exposição | Objeto Fílmico | Peça de Arte Pública

I N A U G U R A Ç Õ E S | 12 DEZ 16h30 | Peça de Arte Pública Biblioteca Municipal D. Miguel da Silva 18h00 | Exposições caos - Largo de S. Teotónio, 30 Venha a nós a Boa Morte - Rua Srª da Boa Morte, 18

CEAL, um exercício artístico predominantemente visual com três andamentos, pretende ser mais um contributo para a valorização e o reconhecimento da obra de LMN, particularmente no lugar onde nasceu – Viseu.

CEAL | FICHA TÉCNICA Ideia Original e Coordenação - Ricardo Correia e Sandra Oliveira Curadoria - Sandra Oliveira Comunicação - Ricardo Correia e Sandra Oliveira Design Gráfico - Íris Rebelo Residência Artística - Teatro Viriato Parceiros - Irreverentódromo e Pausa Possível Financiamento - Município de Viseu: Viseu Cultura – Medida Criar LABORATÓRIO DE CRIAÇÃO ARTÍSTICA PARA OBJETO FÍLMICO Coordenação e Direção de Arte - Luiz Antunes Cocriação - Gustavo Garcetti, Liliana Velho, Luiz Antunes, Paula Magalhães, Ricardo Correia e Tiago Resende Captação de Imagem - Tiago Resende Fotografia - Gustavo Garcetti e Tiago Resende Edição - Gustavo Garcetti, Liliana Velho, Paula Magalhães, Ricardo Correia, Sandra Oliveira e Tiago Resende Música e Sonoplastia para o objeto fílmico - Nuno Veiga Registo Fotográfico Documental - José Crúzio Local de Residência - Teatro Viriato EXPOSIÇÕES Artistas - Gustavo Garcetti, Liliana Velho, Nuno Veiga, Paula Magalhães, Ricardo Correia e Tiago Resende Locais - Caos - Casa de Artes, D’Ofícios e Venha a Nós a Boa Morte, Viseu PEÇA DE ARTE PÚBLICA Artista - Ricardo Correia Produção Elétrica e Alumínios - Artevis, Lda. Local - Jardim da Biblioteca Municipal de Viseu, D. Miguel da Silva CATÁLOGO Textos de Suporte - Luiz Antunes e Sandra Oliveira Revisão - Catarina Rebelo Fotografia - Gustavo Garcetti, José Crúzio e Still do Objeto Fílmico CEAL

Agradecemos à Anabela Silveira, ao Carlos Mendes de Sousa, ao Carlos Paiva, ao João Luís Oliva, ao Paulo Neto, ao Paulo Silveira, à Rosa Oliveira, e à Fundação Luís Miguel Nava, pelos seus relatos sobre Luís Miguel Nava, tendo os nossos encontros sido uma luz quente, nestes dias frios negros que, quotidianamente, temos vivido – último ano desta década.

Ricardo Correia e Sandra Oliveira

[darbobirza]

Silpn� srovi� montuotojas | MB "Artevis" | Vilnius

Pareigos:  Silpn� srovi� montuotojas Įmonė: MB "Artevis" Miestas:  Vilnius Atlyginimas:  05.28 

-- Delivered by Feed43 service

Darbo rinka Vilnius http://www.darbo.lt/darbas/darbdavys.php?id=2020062705281816531025

[delanico]

New Artevious Free Standing Jewelry Armoire with Mirror Bloomsbury Market Color: Gray

New jewelry armoire has been added on https://delanico.com/jewelry-armoires/artevious-free-standing-jewelry-armoire-with-mirror-bloomsbury-market-color-gray-w003518860_1614400074/

Artevious Free Standing Jewelry Armoire with Mirror Bloomsbury Market Color: Gray

#jewelryarmoires #jewelrybox

[prophezeiung]

get u somebody who simps for u in every universe & timeline

@youthblamed​​   ›   levi ilyichov + artemis graves   ›   portraits  ›  part 1

[prophezeiung]

        sit down beside me and stay a while                    till the night runs away    till the morning rises and we part our ways                   till the end of our days

@youthblamed​  ›   maksim levi ilyichov + artyom ‘marty’ graves   ›   video edit  ›  part 1 ( only mutuals may reblog )

[prophezeiung]

@youthblamed​​   ›   levi   ›   11: a kiss on the corner of the mouth   ›   spots to kiss ( accepting )

          foresight  is  blind  and  has  its  back  turned  on  him  —  knowing  that  wishes  sometimes  come  true  is  not  the  same  as  expecting  them  to,  not  when  being  here  is  already  all  that  marty  could  ask  for  —  though  if  he’d  anticipated  it,  perhaps  he  could’ve  prepared  himself  better.  the  comfortable  silence  between  them  should  be  a  telltale  sign,  a  clandestine  witness  to  their  exchanged  smiles  that  perhaps  may  be  a  substitute  for  words,  but  not  in  any  language  that  marty  is  fluent  in.  he  suspects  they  are  a  reflection  of  something  else,  but  it’s  enough  for  him  to  bask  in  their  warmth  for  now.  ( more  than  he  could  have  asked  for,  truly. )  his  mind  seems  to  be  filled  with  everything  else,  anyway,  like  the  light  enmeshed  between  levi’s  lashes  and  the  last  thing  he  said  to  him  pleasantly  clinging  to  his  thoughts  if  only  because  they  are  too  comfortable  to  rush  ahead.  it’s  a  familiar  place,  well-known  and  dear,  and  so  he  makes  the  mistake  of  considering  himself  safe  and  closing  his  eyes  for  a  second,  with  no  intention  other  than  savouring  the  air  and  the  stillness  of  the  moment.

          the  feeling  in  his  gut  is  the  first  thing  betraying  that  he  has  done  something  wrong:  the  floor  may  as  well  have  vanished  beneath  him,  everything  tightens  within  him  as  though  he  was  dropping  into  infinite  nothing  and  still  anticipating  a  collision.  the  floor  remains  where  it  is,  but  the  feeling  of  panic  remains  the  same,  the  origin  of  which  he  frantically  grasps  for.  it’s  softness,  lips  pressed  to  the  side  of  his  mouth,  all  of  levi,  somehow,  he  cannot  see—  and  then,  the  realization:  this  was  supposed  to  be  a  kiss.  and  marty  ruined  it.  did  he  move  away  in  the  last  second?  was  he  responsible  for  half  of  the  aim?  should  he  know  in  this  exact  moment  how  to  act?  this  is  the  moral  to  his  wandering  mind,  the  conclusion  to  his  carelessness:  he  could  have  been  prepared,  had  he  paid  attention,  but  no!  he  had  to  mess  it  up  completely!  he  wishes  he  had  known  this  would  come,  the  thought  of  levi  actually  wanting  to  kiss  him,  well,  the  sheer  excitement  might  have  killed  him,  but  at  least  he  could  have  found  a  way  not  to  be  completely  useless  in  return.  levi  is  gentle  and  forthcoming,  and  marty  should  be  cherishing  this  moment  as  it  is,  but  frankly,  the  dismay  at  how  terribly  he  miscalculated  is  paralyzing  and  far  from  enjoyable.  he  should  do  something!  registering  the  extent  of  it  takes  longer  than  a  few  seconds,  though,  and  so  he  comes  to  his  senses  only  after  the  chance  for  him  to  amend  this  error  has  passed.

            opening  his  eyes  is  a  decision  he  only  reluctantly  makes,  dreading  to  be  faced  with  the  aftermath  of  his  shortcoming,  but  the  window  of  opportunity  to  make  up  for  it  is  rapidly  closing,  so  he  has  to  seize  it  now.  a  million  things  to  say  come  to  him,  apologies  and  explanations,  i  wasn’t  ready,  and  do  it  again,  please,  but  time  is  running  out  and  he’s  already  speaking  before  he  can  choose  what  would  be  best  to  say.  “ wait,  i— ”  spills  forth  —  or  means  to,  but  breathing  is  suddenly  an  insolvable  riddle  and  he’s  seemed  to  have  forgotten  which  direction  to  send  the  words,  so  he’s  not  sure  if  they  came  out  or  remains  stuck  in  his  airways.  instead,  soft  laughter  gushes  out  of  him,  the  sound  of  shock  transforming  into  a  blossoming  sort  of  happiness,  relief  and  disbelief  at  his  fortune.  it’s  too  late  to  rewind  time,  and  levi’s  already  drawn  back  enough  for  marty  to  have  to  do  a  lot  of  leaning  to  close  the  distance  —  enough  that  it  requires  hands  to  reach  for  shoulders  to  lean  on,  knees  to  awkwardly  hobble  forward  without  squashing  something,  the  full  display  of  an  apologetic  face.  somehow,  he  ends  up  where  he  meant  to,  kneeling  on  either  side  of  levi’s  outstretched  legs,  the  only  way  to  be  directly  before  him  which  also  technically  puts  him  atop  him,  all  within  a  few  hasty  and  turbulent  seconds  —  but  this  time,  he  is  prepared.

          parted  lips  hover  close  for  a  few  seconds’  hesitation;  it’s  a  question,  one  that  is  answered  in  anticipation  and  lack  of  objection,  so  marty  closes  the  gap  and  kisses  levi.  on  the  lips  this  time.  a  bit  tentatively  at  first,  though  it  wakes  a  pull  inside  of  him  he  slowly  dares  giving  in  to,  carefully,  delicately.  before  this,  marty  had  imagined  his  first  kiss  as  fireworks,  a  moviescreen  feeling  of  perhaps  a  second  and  a  half,  bright  sparks  and  noise  that  puff  into  smoke  when  the  moment’s  passed.  instead,  this  is  summer,  a  state  rather  than  an  experience,  a  sensation  you  didn’t  count  with,  one  you  feel  in  more  than  just  your  body  and  for  longer  than  the  kiss  lasts.

          “ sorry, ”  he  breathes  as  he  draws  back,  eyes  fluttering  open  to  search  if  he  has  gotten  it  right  this  time.  nothing  can  save  him  from  blushing,  which  he  is  terribly  aware  of,  and  nothing  can  stop  him  from  continuing  to  talk,  even  though  he  knows  he  should  close  his  mouth  right  this  second.  “ i  didn’t  know  you  were  going  to—...  i  hope  i—...  i  wanted  to— ”  at  least  none  of  his  scrambling  sentences  go  anywhere,  so  an  exasperated  inhale  puts  an  end  to  his  pathetic  attempts.  very  soft  words  ultimately  settle  on  “ thank  you.  that  was  nice. ”

[prophezeiung]

         that should be me holding your hand, that should be me making you smile

@youthblamed​   ›   levi ilyichov + artemis graves   ›   ship aesthetic  ›  part 1 ( only tagged may reblog )

[prophezeiung]

@zukunftsvision​​  ›   levi   ›   dance:   my  muse  holds  their  hand  out,  waiting  for  your  muse  to  come  out  and  slow  dance  with  them.    ›   some one word prompts ( selectively accepting )

          it’s  fun  and  it’s  cathartic,  dancing  his  heart  out  to  a  funky  bop  and  probably  looking  rather  ridiculous  while  doing  so,  arms  waving  and  off-rhythm  hopping  and  all,  but  it’s  alright  because  everyone  else  in  this  disco  looks  exactly  the  same  —  they’re  all  just  somehow  moving  from  the  heart,  even  if  for  a  lot  of  them  it  means  nothing  less  than  flailing  their  limbs  erratically.  if  you  don’t  have  moves  you  make  up  for  it  with  fun,  and  marty  is  having  a  lot  of  it.  colorful  lights  dance  with  the  crowd  in  the  dim  room,  the  specks  of  light  that  the  disco  ball  reflects  on  night-out-pretty  patterned  shorts  and  shirts  and  skirts  treat  them  kindly  by  at  least  making  everything  seem  so  wild  and  confused  that  it  doesn’t  matter  if  they  are,  too.  marty’s  sweat-damp  locks  are  plastered  to  his  cheeks  and  forehead  and  a  big  grin  is  plastered  onto  his  lips  —  he’s  actually,  finally  dancing  with-at-next-to-around  levi  and  he  barely  even  feels  the  need  to  impress  him.  they’re  just  letting  loose  and  enjoying  the  moment,  as  is  everyone  else.

          a  small  moment’s  hesitance  halts  the  crowd’s  wiggling  as  everyone  waits  in  suspense  for  the  disk  jockey  to  choose  the  next  track  —  what  will  it  be?  a  saxophone  plays  a  few  gliding  arpeggios  and  the  teens  erupt  in  whoo-ing  and  laughing  when  they  recognize  the  song,  before  they  fall  in  formation  on  the  dance  floor,  chest  to  chest  with  arms  around  each  other  and  heads  together,  closer,  way  closer,  than  any  school  formal  chaperone  would  allow.  and  for  some  reason,  marty  finds  himself  with  his  arms  around  levi’s  neck  too,  from  one  second  to  the  next,  swaying  from  side  to  side,  stepping  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  settling  into  the  song’s  slower  groove.  it  might  have  started  out  as  a  joke,  thrown  into  a  slow  dance  that  the  previous  song’s  leftover  energy  renders  ridiculous  and  endlessly  amusing  at  first,  but  as  their  feet  find  the  tempo  and  the  first  verse  passes,  everyone  else  seems  to  have  become  all  cozy...  and  before  he  knows  it,  marty  is  genuinely  slow-dancing  with  the  guy  he’s  had  a  crush  on  since,  well,  probably  the  moment  they  met.

          everything  is  a  haze,  and  everything  is  out  of  his  control.  his  breathing  doesn’t  seem  to  slow  down,  and  neither  does  the  beat  of  his  heart,  as  if  it  was  still  bouncing  around  to  the  beat  from  before.  the  grin  remains  on  his  face,  too;  he  cannot  help  it,  he’s  sure  he  must  look  like  a  lunatic  —  but  at  least  levi  cannot  see  it,  because  the  side  of  his  head  leans  against  marty’s,  and  marty  has  his  face  as  good  as  buried  in  this  nook  right  between  levi’s  throat  and  shoulder  ohdeargod.  this  is  the  best  moment  of  his  life,  this  is  the  most  terrible  thing  to  happen  to  him.  how  will  he  be  able  to  look  his  new  friend  in  the  eyes  knowing  the  secret  he’s  hiding  from  him,  and  how  much  it  grows  by  the  second  the  longer  they’re  dancing  together?  he  stumbles,  and  again,  and  the  embarrassment  mixes  with  the  heavy  conscience,  but  it’s  nothing  against  the  euphoria  that’s  still  cheered  on  by  the  endless  swirling  of  the  disco  lights  and  the  sound  of  his  growing  hope.  still,  this  moment  will  come  back  to  haunt  him,  and  marty  couldn’t  agree  more  with  the  singer  providing  the  soundtrack  to  this  train  wreck:  i’m  never  gonna  dance  again,  guilty  feet  have  got  no  rhythm.

[prophezeiung]

@zukunftsvision​   ›   levi   ›   dance:   my  muse  holds  their  hand  out,  waiting  for  your  muse  to  come  out  and  slow  dance  with  them.    ›   some one word prompts ( selectively accepting )

          he’s  heard  his  father  speak  of  the  tsar’s  fear  and  the  uncertainty  at  the  front,  frightening  prospects  surely,  artyom  suspects,  but  tonight,  festivities  proceed  with  the  normal  cheer  and  exuberance  that  he’s  known.  guests  down  drinks  and  twirl  about  the  dance  floor  in  colorful  formations,  the  spirits  swing  with  the  music’s  fast  pace  and  everything  blurs  together  in  a  whirl  of  joy  and  excess.  he  knows  he  will  be  sent  to  bed  soon,  and  the  party  will  come  to  its  peak  with  only  adults  present  and  artyom  listening  from  his  room  wishing  he  could  dance  with  them,  and  maksim...  well,  he’ll  either  be  alone  at  the  feast,  drift  about  dreadfully  in  this  aristocratic  frenzy  without  artyom’s  hand  to  steady  him,  or  he  will  be  on  his  way  back  to  his  home,  through  the  night  alone,  and  artyom  will  have  to  see  him  go.  he’d  rather  not,  but  what  other  option  is  there?  he  cannot  ask  for  him  to  stay,  dares  not  for  the  sake  of  their  friendship  and  that  of  his  own  heart.  even  while  his  family  and  the  other  employees  of  the  house  might  not  pay  much  attention  to  how  and  with  whom  the  masters’  daughter  and  sons  spend  the  night,  artyom  simply  cannot  imagine  how  terribly  heavy  the  implications  would  weigh.  he’s  asked  enough  of  maksim  by  inviting  him  to  the  party,  to  cross  over  into  his  world  which  might  be  perfectly  allowed  but  may  still  be  strange  and  uncomfortable  —  he  cannot  in  good  conscience  ask  him  to  waste  more  of  his  time  only  for  artyom  to  fulfill  his  selfish  wish  of  spending  his  by  maksim’s  side.

          the  only  choice  he  has,  then,  is  to  spend  the  remainder  of  their  time  well  and  with  care;  they  have  spent  most  of  the  evening  among  the  others,  letting  the  loud  chatter  and  wild  excitement  carry  them  along,  but  there  has  scarcely  been  a  moment  for  only  the  two  of  them  to  spend  alone,  which  is  why  artyom,  red-cheeked  and  dizzy,  grabs  for  maksim’s  hand  and  drags  him  to  the  side  of  the  ball  room.  the  balcony  has  been  closed  off  for  the  night,  but  behind  the  heavy  curtain  artyom  finds  the  knob  of  the  tall  window  anyway  and  pulls  maksim  out  onto  the  balcony.

          the  winter  night  highlights  their  breath  in  spiralling  clouds  between  them,  but  artyom  doesn’t  feel  cold.  if  anything,  the  cool  air  helps  him  clear  his  thoughts  and  calm  them,  even  when  his  heart  still  beats  quickly  and  meaningfully.  maksim  looks  so  different  in  his  formal  suit,  and  the  slight  disheveled  air  about  him  that  keeping  up  with  the  wild  celebration  has  brought  and  that  artyom  surely  must  mirror  renders  him  only  all  the  more  handsome.  from  inside,  bright  yellow  light  and  the  muffled  music  and  sound  of  laughter  carries  outside,  yet  the  stillness  and  blackness  of  the  night  offer  a  soothing  contrast.  for  a  moment,  artyom  simply  looks  at  maksim  as  they  lean  against  the  cool  stone  railing  of  the  balcony,  a  soft  smile  on  his  lips  and  the  memory  of  maksim’s  hand  in  his  hand.

          “ i’m  so  glad  you  came  tonight,  i  hope  you  enjoyed  your  time, ”  artyom  says  finally,  breaking  the  silence  between  them.  “ i  enjoyed  it  greatly, ”  he  says  into  the  quiet  —  absolute  quiet,  because  the  music  has  stopped,  too,  and  even  the  chatter  has  died  down  to  a  murmur  and  shuffling  from  inside.  with  a  quick  look  through  the  window,  artyom  can  tell  why,  and  that  is  when  the  music  starts  back  up  again,  too:  the  guests  have  assembled  in  pairs  on  the  dance  floor  or  retreated  to  the  sides  of  the  room  to  watch,  and  the  musicians  have  begun  to  play  a  romance,  a  slow  and  melancholic  song  which  can  only  be  matched  by  a  slow  and  deliberately  close  dance.  artyom’s  eyes  wander  back  to  maksim’s,  and  the  look  in  them  gives  him  the  confidence  he  needs  to  battle  the  sudden  rush  of  insecurity  and  to  straighten  up  and  stretch  out  his  hand  towards  him  once  more.

          “ would  you  like  to  dance  with  me? ”

[prophezeiung]

@youthblamed   ›   an unsent letter for levi

                  dear  levi,                                 london,  4  december  1997         i  hope  you  are  safe.  i  hope  you  are  doing  well.  i  hope  the  times  aren’t  treating  you  as  terribly  as  they  treat  many  of  us.  i  am  frightened  for  myself,  even  if  this  war  passes  by  my  family  like  a  storm  past  my  window.  my  parents  insist  that  resistance  must  be  quiet  in  times  as  violent  as  these  and  i  dare  not  speak  against  them.  i  am  frightened  for  you,  too,  for  i  know  your  heart  and  it  is  much  nobler  than  mine.  i  wish  you  the  strength  to  be  noble,  if  it  is  what  you  must  be,  but  i  also  wish  to  see  you  again  when  this  all  is  over.

          i  admit,  some  days  i  am  sick  with  worry  that  i  may  not,  because  you  don’t  want  me  to  or  you  can’t,  and  on  others  the  hours  i  spend  imagining  what  it  would  be  like  to  are  the  only  hours  that  truly  bring  light  into  my  day.  i  have  half  a  heart  to  lose  myself  in  the  thought  completely,  though  i  fear  i  may  never  return  from  it  unless  you  return  into  my  life.

          i  really  do  have  a  lot  to  tell  you,  my  friend,  but  i’d  rather  wait  until  i  may  say  it  to  your  face  again.  i  hope  that  it  will  be  soon,  and  i  hope  this  dreadful  war  doesn’t  drag  on  and  keep  us  apart  for  longer  than  it  must.  do  remember  that  i  think  about  you  always  and  will  keep  cherishing  our  memories  together  until  we  are  ready  to  make  ones  anew.

          you  needn’t  respond,  of  course,  if  you  cannot  count  on  safety,  or  if  you’d  simply  rather  not.  i  am  sending  your  way  all  my  courage,  ( though  you  know  it  has  always  been  meagre )  and  all  my  love.

          your  faithful  friend,                               marty  graves

[zukunftsvision]

harry potter !

SEND ME A FANDOM AND I’LL TELL YOU: 

the first character i ever fell in love with: i was not yet a sentient being the first time i read hp so i don’t rly remember but i think the weasley twins were the first characters i was strongly invested in 

a character that i used to love/like, but now do not: i can’t rly think of any i’ve just always had good taste

a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not: dr*rry….. sorry there’s not rly anything wrong with it if it’s done well and i like some versions that i see i just associate it w being a cringe pre-teen way too much 

my ultimate favorite character™:  tie between draco and fred and george

prettiest character: by mental image draco, blaise and pansy are all deities and they know it ( harry’s descriptions of pansy don’t rly count okay his glasses are broken ) but by movie cast luna  

my most hated character: umbr*dge of course

my OTP: oof idk i can’t think of a single hp ship that i rly care abt that’s not … artevi in a hp verse … but tbh even though this contradicts the next answer scorpius/albus… 

my NOTP: this might be too spicy for the dash but dr*storia.. also dr*nsy, dr*mione, all the weird age gap shit this fandom is full of including d*lbus …. get that shit outta here… also i don’t hate them but i just don’t like harry/hermione and harry/ron

favorite episode scene: w out a doubt no need to call me sir professor

saddest death: fred ugh that shit still haunts me

favorite season book: goblet of fire for sure !!!

least favorite season book: i don’t remember a single thing from philosopher’s stone oop

character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate: i can’t rly explain why but i don’t like molly weasley lmao

my ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: who would i be if i didn’t say delphi ???? me side eye puppet memeing at the idea that anyone was even writing delphi last december vs me now a true delphi stan even though i’ve never seen cc and barely know the plot is CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT @sinisteraugurey

my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: ron?? tbh one of the worst things abt cc is how ron ended up…. also all the weasley children and harry and hermione 

my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: james/lily tbh lol

my ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship: hermione/ron, fleur/bill, neville/luna, idk ig harry/ginny

[prophezeiung]

@youthblamed​​   ›   artevi  coffee  shop  au

          a  shifting  shadow  in  his  peripheral  vision  brushes  marty’s  attention  lightly,  something  he  is  usually  so  eager  to  dismiss  as  the  regular  bustle  of  the  coffee  shop,  something  he  is  far  removed  from  right  now.  in  this  moment,  though,  the  image  fits  the  one  invoked  by  the  last  lines  he’s  read  from  the  book  between  his  fingers,  and  reality  and  fantasy  get  entangled,  trip  over  each  other,  fall  and  rip  down  the  screen  with  them.  sudden,  real-world  light  and  sounds  flood  his  senses  as  marty  snaps  out  of  the  story  and  back  into  the  coffee  shop.  he  blinks  at  the  boy  standing  before  his  table  expectantly;  has  he  said  something  that  marty  missed?  he  recognizes  him.  the  barista?  no,  no,  another  guest,  nobody  he  has  spoken  to  before.  another  regular,  perhaps?  marty  scrambles  to  make  up  for  the  delayed  response,  his  book  closed  on  a  finger,  eagerly  leaning  forward  over  the  table,  an  attentive  smile.

          “ i  am  so  sorry,  i  did  not  see  you  there.  can  i  help  you? ”