#artreveals

[multipleoccupancy]

@artreveals President Snow has unfortunately spotted Basil Hallward

Aulus Hallward was not a name spoken in the Presidential Palace, no not even Aulus himself would ever speak his name again, a cruel amusement for President Snow as he was reminded of the seniors fate when he saw his son Basil attending in his less public role in the games. Stylists were in their own sense irritating reminders of a life Snow had left behind in his cousin. At least now the disdain for Basil's presence was not about his career any more.

"Mr Hallward," Snow addressed as he rounded the enormous cake display like a jump scare. Tall, looming and apparently entirely too focused on Basil to even pay half a mind to the man shyly trying to get his attention before thinking better of it. One eyebrow raised and a small adjustment of his fingers on his untouched glass of champagne and Snow settled in to the conversation he didn't doubt was very unwelcome. "How is your dear mother?"

Snow knew of course what their change in status had demanded of her and of him in the end. How the stain of his father's indiscretions had been impossible to remove and quite on purpose too and yet Basil had still managed to climb, to gather a name for himself. Despite it all, Snow was impressed. "Should I be asking how you are as well, after all you seem to be settling into your career now." His head tilted ever so slightly to the left, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes spreading on his face. "How fortunate we are that you chose a different path to that of your parents."

[auntiezelda]

wcndxrlnd asked: ❛ can’t sleep? ❜ (from Basil @artreveals ) &. 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

"No, I.. Honestly, I don't think I've managed more than a couple of hours these past few days. It seems there isn't a drought strong enough," Zelda replies, leaning back into her office chair, feeling every ounce of her exhaustion and clearly looking the part as well.

[auntiezelda]

@artreveals liked for a one-line starter

"Sit down and breathe, you look like you're about to pass out."

[endless-youth]

“this changes nothing.” from @artreveals

random sentence starters.

imagine that you've been forced to sit in one position for five to six hours while an artist works on painting your 'countenance as perfectly as possible,' as basil would probably put it — and because you were (naturally) starving afterwards, you took to absolutely devouring a sizeable helping of shepherd's pie; the likes of which was trying to put you in a food coma and you would understand dorian's current situation. well, mostly, because in the midst of falling asleep was when dorian had closed the distance between himself and basil's body because what was a better conductor of heat than the human body? the head of the gray household had even slung his blanket over the other's body as well to make sure he wasn't cold, too, as he uttered a soft and sleepy 'sorry' when he realized that that meant he also had messed up basil's ability to work at whatever sketch he was doing on his pad of paper because the blanket covered it.

he hadn't meant to be rude, after all, but on the other side of things... couldn't basil use a break from all of his working? that seemed to make the action he just did a double-edged sword to his sleep-addled mind while he nuzzled his head into the crook of basil's neck to try to get comfortable. and god, was he right about getting close to the other to warm up. basil was almost like a mini heater, dorian thought, a content sigh leaving his lips despite how the artist might or might not have taken his papers out from underneath the blanket with an air of frustration. he had stayed just like that then, basking in basil's warmth and falling asleep a few times only to wake up fifteen minutes later. it was like he was taking multiple cat-naps, in other words, and it was only on his third one that dorian thought to ask basil something: ❝ hey, why haven't you moved me yet from cuddling with you, basil? ❞

a beat of silence passed between them before dorian took a whiff of basil's scent and adjusted his position to have his head move to rest on his chest, eyes fluttering open and closed in an attempt to stay awake, ❝ is it because you fancy me? because it'd be fine if you do, i would just... be afraid that other's might not be as accommodating towards you. like i personally remember following around this one kid named ernest in primary school during recess because i recall being confused about how looking at him made me feel, since it was like this warm feeling in my chest, you know? and i was small, so i didn't know how a lot of the world worked yet, just things like i had ten fingers and ten toes. ❞ dorian half-chuckled at the other's response ('this changes nothing') then as he closed his eyes fully around basil, exhaling deeply as he relaxed while one of his legs was now hap-hazardly tangled up with basil's.

❝ alright... whatever you say, basil. but i came to find out through my grandfather that i likely had a crush on him. though kelso hated the concept of that, close-minded man that he was. that wasn't even his worse trait either that he displayed around me growing up, though, considering that he pulled me over his knee and skinned my hide for even mentioning it. but i don't think it should ever be that big of a deal to love someone, ❞ dorian was rambling now, but with purpose, as he tried to assure basil that he could be honest with him. but honestly, who's to say that the other was ready to be truthful with him? dorian nodded off while halfway on basil's lap and only awoke because he could feel basil sketching away at something on his pad of paper. ❝ mm, what do you think? surely you're a free-thinker, like me. ❞

[dreamswideawake]

❛ Tell me about him? ❜ (from artreveals)

Tell Me... || accepting || @artreveals

It was rare that the Poet ever let his mask drop like this, but he'd been caught off guard. It had been a bad day. The very worst of days. He'd decided to drown his sorrows in several bottles of red wine, the empty receptacles laying on the rug by the side of his plum upholstered wingback chair. His purple and black flock tie was hooked around his neck, his black shirt untucked and his white blond hair in disarray.

Yet, despite his inebriated state, he hesitated at the question. His singular blue eye was fixed on the light of the setting sun bleeding in through the window, his gaze hazy and distant as he remained deep in silent contemplation. The needle on the record player scraped and rolled, the album having finished a long time ago as the vinyl span in endless, dull circles.

Instead of answering, he pushed himself up onto his feet using the arms of the chair. His head span and he did his best not to stagger - an art he had practiced extensively over the years - as he approached the record player. He carefully removed the needle from the ridges and turned off the device as he slipped the vinyl back into its sleeve.

"Where do I begin?" he slurred miserably, placing the vinyl back with the others in his neatly categorised rows. He sighed, combing his fingers through his hair and taking a deep breath.

Compose yourself, Poet.

He leaned his hands against the oak table the record player was resting on, his singular blue eye flickering as if he was trying to trace his steps back in time. His heart was aching, but he forced himself to push up to the surface and float on the waves of fermented grapes he'd been drinking like water all day.

"He was..." he began slowly. "... is the love of my life."

Standing straight, he inhaled sharply and paced back to his chair, easing himself back down with a heavy sigh. "His name is Caesar. Yes, that Caesar. I knew him before he had exploded into fame and was still a young man asserting himself in the music world. Though, he was just as brilliant then as he is now..."

He clicked his metal rings together and ran his fingers in front of his lips as he considered. "We were both up-and-coming musicians and...I was a very naïve, very anxious young man." He smirked knowingly. "Hard to believe, I'm sure, but it's true...the only place I ever had even a jot of confidence was the stage."

His eyes misted over the more he began to delve into the past. "I wasn't exactly...out at the time we were dating. I was still trying to find myself and work out what it was that I wanted, but I know more than anything that I adored him...even if I never spoke a word of it aloud. He had this uncanny way of taking my breath away with a few simple words and rendering me speechless,"

He raised a brow. "Again, I understand how that may be hard to imagine, given my gift of the gab."

His smile slowly faded, his eyes growing sombre once again. "He proposed to me the night before he went off on his trailblazing tour and...I rejected him," He looked up at Basil with a tight smile. "And, I'm sure you're thinking what a villain, how terrible, how could he possibly? But, the truth is...I was frightened. I didn't know if Caesar loved me as much as I adored him and I was scared to give my heart to someone who didn't love me as ardently as I loved them...again. It's a recurring motif we won't get into."

He reached for his wine glass, taking a generous sip. "We argued, we said some unforgiveable things to one another and then a few weeks later, I died. Or, that's what all the papers said, at least...I hadn't the strength to correct them and, at the time, it seemed pointless to. I'd survived, though I didn't intend to live for much longer..."

He took a shaky breath as he placed his glass back down, almost knocking it over for the tremors in his hand. "I haven't contacted him since. He's a bright, vibrant star and he doesn't need me hanging over him like a half-dead shadow, dragging him down with my repulsive appearance and scandalous abilities...he'd probably scream at me and send me away, anyway. I wouldn't blame him. I'm hideous and bitter and unlovable."

He smiled at him once more, his façade slowly returning as his story ended, yet his eyes betrayed his sorrow. "And proud to be at this point, I suppose!"

[dreamswideawake]

“I had higher expectations once, too. I’ve since handed them down to the devil.” ( @artreveals )

random unhinged dialogue sentence starters || accepting || @artreveals

"Implying they're now at the lowest of the low, darling?" he queried, a slow grin carving across the light dusting of coal coloured lipstick on his mouth. He hummed thoughtfully, even the sound of his contemplation melodic.

"Well, I can certainly relate to that...I used to hold high hopes, but then I realised that gravity exists so things can only plummet once they reach a certain height, which gives them further to fall and makes them easier to shatter...so, best to not have any expectations at all."

[dreamswideawake]

"don't tell me what i want." (from @artreveals )

these violent delights. || accepting || @artreveals

The Poet chuckled softly, canting his head to one side. "Touched a nerve, did I?" he teased, perhaps a little too familiar with his air than he should have been. "Apologies, darling...though, you wouldn't have sought my services unless you were in want of something."

He picked up the bone china teacup from the round, ornate, mahogany end table and held it by the saucer. "And in order for this to work, he continued, sliding his finger into the handle of the cup. "You'll need to be completely honest and open with me. The more you tell me, the more I can work my magic."

He took a sip of tea and smiled, satisfied. "Unless, of course, you've...changed your mind?"

[forgaeven]

‘  in  rumors,  i’m  knee  deep.  ’ (from Basil @artreveals for friedrich bhaer?)

❛⠀oh, i ... i am sorry to hear that.  ❜

the professor puts away his reading glasses to look at the other. granted, he hasn't known the other man — basil, yes ? — for very long, though friedrich couldn't say that any rumours have fluttered its way to him. perhaps it could account to friedrich's own nature to avoid those things. there is much more to do with one's time, he believes, than to indulge one's self in whatever others would say, either in fits of passion or indulgence. though of course, this shouldn't be said that friedrich couldn't, for himself, dictate between awful company or the opposite.

and so far, he does not think the painter falls within the former. or maybe this is the time of truth...? that, perhaps, mister hallward has deem this moment as one to share what dwells or troubles him. friedrich sits himself proper, contemplating, though in the end, he says, earnest and gentle —

❛⠀if it makes any difference ... i've heard nothing of sort. please, my friend. be at ease.  ❜

reputation.