The More I Look, the More I See @humblestudentofbeauty - Tumblr Blog

Alright y’all, the time has finally come! This blog is going dormant and the new multi-muse blog is finally ready! *Celebration plays in the background*

Because this message is long (and I know some of y’all’s dashes are about to get flooded) everything else will be under the ‘Read More.’ ^_^

#ooc #Moving Day is at Hand

faithfulhound

Life Update

Hey y'all -

I know I haven’t replied to anyone in a very long time. Long even for me. It’s a bit of a story, and still not one I’m sure I’m ready to tell/talk about. Things are hard right now, and they’ve been hard for awhile. And I’ve put off saying anything on my RP blogs because I knew I’d probably have to post stuff in several places and I just wasn’t up for that.

First - I’m not going anywhere. I just needed more time than I thought I would need. I may still need time; I’m not sure. But I’m working to be back here and keep writing with those of you who still want to write with me.

Back when things first started to happen, I wanted to share with my partners why I’d gone abnormally quiet, but the thought of telling everyone individually was numbing, and even the thought of making a post and reblogging it a bunch of places didn’t sit well with me, so I just didn’t do it.

It was that choice to not communicate with y'all that brought me to the realization that I needed to fix how I roleplayed. I recognized that the number of blogs I had was a detriment to my enjoyment of this hobby. I’ve spent so much time jumping from one blog to another to try and keep up with everything that I wasn’t able to stay and enjoy the things my partners were sharing on their own blogs. And when I had things I needed to tell y'all, there wasn’t an efficient way to do it. But I realized I could change that. And I intend to.

I’m making a multi-muse blog. It will house all of the muses I want to keep, and any I might decide to add along the way. It’s about halfway done right now, but I try to work on it a little every day. With over 30 muses to add, the task is definitely a daunting one.

My plan, right now, is this: If we’re currently writing together I’ll follow your blog/blogs with the multimuse as soon as everything is completed. If you’d like to know what the blog is right now and pre-follow, just let me know via IM or Discord. But be aware, part of my preparation involves reblogging things from my old blogs and sometimes it might flood your dash.

For those of you I’m not currently writing with, if you’d like to follow, I’ll make a quick post on most of my old blogs directing you to the new one once it’s ready. There’s no pressure to follow me there, of course. I’m just giving you the option if you enjoy my aesthetic posts, or my writing, or think you might want to write with me at some point in the future. :)

As part of this plan, if I currently owe you a reply, that reply will be posted on the new multimuse when it’s ready. I know that means waiting longer, but I’m worried if I don’t focus on getting this blog done, it never will be. Please be patient with me. 💜 If you owe me a reply, it’s 100% okay to reply like normal to the old blog. Don’t worry about the multimuse right now. I want to make this transition as seamless as possible for my partners. I’m planning to have all of my first replies on the multimuse link back to the old thread in case anyone needs refreshing at any point. None of my old blogs are going anywhere; they just won’t be active blogs anymore. Except for an occasional post, maybe, to remind people where I’ve moved to.

Okay - that’s everything. If you’ve read this far, then thank you. <3 Thank you for your friendship, and your patience, and your understanding. If, for some reason, you feel like this change isn’t something you can work with, that’s okay, too. There won’t be any hard feelings on my part. If you can, please let me know. I’d rather part ways on mutually amicable terms than not know your decision and be left to wonder what happened.

Thank you, again, and I hope to see many of you on my new blog once it’s ready to go.

~ Mira 💜

P.S. I’ll be reblogging this a handful of other places (but not everywhere), so for those of you who follow me across several blogs, I apologize in advance . 💜

#ooc #update #// I should've reblogged this here at the same time as everywhere else #But a lot has been on my mind and I totally forgot. >.<#To anyone who needed to see this and hasn't yet #I'm sorry for letting this blog slip through the cracks.

Get To Know You Tag Game

Rules: Tag people that you would like to get to know better by playing the game!

Tagged by: @anedendarkly Tagging: @lyingawxke & @leatherandsoil

Three Ships: Oooh! Hmm... so MANY! Let’s go with the three most recent? Arthur Morgan x Albert Mason from Red Dead Redemption 2; Flynn Fairwind & Mathias Shaw from World of Warcraft; Julieta & Agustín from Encanto.

First Ever Ship: Hmm... I’m old enough that I can’t really remember. It was probably from a fairytale - for example I loved the couple from East of the Sun, West of the Moon. However, the first real ship I remember obsessing over didn’t come until much later, and that would be Zechs & Treize from Gundam Wing. ^_^;

Currently Consuming: I just finished binging the Duck Tales remake for the 2nd time (because it’s fantastic!) and I’m currently binging Murder She Wrote for the millionth time. It’s a comfort series, and one I watch when I don’t really need/want to focus on what I’m watching.

Last Song: The last one I can remember is Hallelujah by Rufus Wainwright

Last Film: Probably Encanto? Or maybe Turning Red? I watch the first one a lot so I can hum along, and I watch the 2nd one because of the wonderful 90′s nostalgia it evokes for me. :D

Currently Reading: SO MANY THINGS! I’m listening to about three different series right now - Rivers of London by Ben Aaronovitch, Phryne Fisher Mysteries by Kerry Greenwood, and Constable Evans Mysteries by Rhys Bowen

#Mun Stuff #Mun Meme #memes #// Thank you for tagging me! :D

theladyintweed

For sale: the extraordinary Southside House in London, England (with Savills at £10,000,000)

On the edge of Wimbledon Common in London

Built in the 17th century with later additions and French furnishings from the previous owner Hilda Pennington Mellor Munthe in the 1930s

Chapel, stables, an acre of beautiful secluded gardens, 10-13 bedrooms

#Aesthetic #Basil would SO live here! XD #House #Architecture #The Queue is but a Canvas

Character Trope Test: [LINK]

The Sidekick

The friends and helpers of the main hero. They can be almost any type of hero playing a secondary role, a normal character observing the action, or be used as comic relief -- sometimes all three. Typically they are a foil to the hero, and this is often underscored by their dramatically different appearance. You like the be the friend of everyone around you and help out others whenever you can. You often hold the role of someone's self control and you can be very supportive when you have to be. You're a bright, ray of sunshine in your friends life and they love having you around!

Tagging: @leatherandsoil & @lyingawxke - any/all of the muses you’d like to do. ^_^ @anedendarkly (Maximus, if you’d like? And thank you for the tag! <3)

#muse meme #meme #// I'm not surprised by this in the least. XD

Better Things Ahead || Stelios and Basil

“There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.” ~ C.S. Lewis ~

leatherandsoil:

This was horrible. Unimaginable. Despicable.

“Oh my friend.” Stelios, murmured, dropping the bouquet he’d brought to lay on the fresh grave. The grave that was now sporting a fresh body. Someone, some monster, had dug it up, doubtless looking for valuables. Strange then, that Stelios could see the glint of the garnet stickpin on the lapel of the suit. He knew how valuable that bit of jewelry was-he’d donated it (and the suit) so the unknown man could be buried in something befitting his station in life. “I am so very sorry.”

He’d been helpless then, just the other night. Helpless to stanch the blood that poured from wounds, helpless to pursue the assailant that neither Francis nor Kevin could catch. All he could do was cradle the dying man in his arms and murmur empty words of reassurance. He’d hoped he had eased his passing some.

He had been able to help with the funeral. After the body had been taken to the morgue, the three of them had gone to the boarding house where the man had been staying. Aside from the room key and some small change, there had only been a small pad of paper and a tin with some stumps of charcoal. His room contents had borne out the assessment Francis had made of an artist.

“Good one too.” he’d remarked, leafing through one of the many sketchbooks laying about. Everything had been confiscated as evidence. And as such, none of his clothes could be used as funeral dress.

That had been when Stelios had offered to help. The man looked roughly similar in size and build, perhaps something of his would fit. He’d brought some of his things that he thought suitable, and some jewelry to go with it. The undertaker had nodded and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. The next day when they returned, the wounds had been stitched and concealed, the body cleaned and then dressed for burial. The undertaker had done a remarkable job, and Stelios paid him handsomely for it.

The funeral itself had been a quiet affair. Just himself, Kevin, and Francis. The grave had been dug previously, off in the unmarked section of the cemetery. Stelios would see to some kind of marker later on. Perhaps plant some fragrant basil, for that had been what the man had signed the register as.

“Basil.” Stelios murmured, kneeling down beside the body. “I’m so sorry Basil.” He must be losing it, he was apologizing to a dead body twice now. But he couldn’t help but feel how wrong it was. How someone so talented, so lovely had been struck down. And now desecrated. And yet…and yet the body was unmarred. Even the wounds looked healed. The undertaker had been good yes…but this was on a different level.

Something strange was afoot here.

He heard his name. The voice was soft and sad… familiar… Memories began to trickle in, then it was as if someone opened a floodgate. The artist let out a sharp gasp, eyes flying open as he bit back a shout. Alive! He was alive! Again. Oh, god… what manner of curse was this?! That was when he registered the sound of a person scrabbling through dirt followed by harsh, unsteady breathing. Basil sat up quickly, eyes falling on a well-dressed man with a panicked look, his back pressed into a nearby tree. Those eyes. Familiar ones… pale blue… looking down on him while he…

With a shake of his head, the artist pulled himself back to the present. “Wait…” he managed to croak out, voice sounding hoarse and unused. “This isn’t… I’m not…” A sob equal parts frustration and despair escaped his lips. Basil swallowed and tried again, voice still hoarse, but clearer now. “I’m terribly sorry for startling you. Please don’t tell anyone about this. I… I’ll leave the city. No one has to know.” Which was much safer. Because if others found out about his miraculous condition, God only knew what they’d do to him.

“I…” He stopped, caught by those eyes again. Unreadable now. ‘I need help!’ he wanted to say. But he couldn’t. Who was he to ask aid from this unknown man? No one, that’s who. An artist the world now thought dead. Dead. How long had he been gone this time? Did he still have a room? And what of all his things?! Anxiety gnawed at him and he feared he might faint. Why on earth had he thought coming to America would be a good idea? He’d only made his whole situation worse!

#leatherandsoil #Better Things Ahead #Immortal!AU #// Thank you for allowing me the small bit of godmodding! :)

A Simple Hello || Jim and Basil

leatherandsoil:

Jim couldn’t help but smile as he stepped inside Basil’s apartment. It was open and yet somehow cozy. Cluttered yes, but well looked after and lived in. It suited the other man very well.

“Thank you!” he said, stepping inside and immediately making for the kitchen. There were a few dirty dishes here and there, a box of granola bars on the counter. Very much the same thing he would find in his own kitchen had he not just moved. Looking around, he felt his smile grow bigger. Oh it was good to be someplace he could cook again. He set his things down on the counter and, since Basil hadn’t indicated he could make free with the cupboards and whatnot, stepped out into the living area.

Basil was just finishing up curtaining off the “bedroom” and what looked like…a photography studio? Possibly? At least that was what all the backdrops and camera equipment and things said to Jim. So Basil was a professional photographer? Shaking off thoughts of Basil all sprawled out naked on those sheets….were they Egyptian cotton? He couldn’t tell unless he got close, but they looked luxurious. Deep dark purple with a lovely gold pattern. And the bed itself was huge with lots-lots-of pillows. Unbidden, the thought of Basil’s hands clenched in them as Jim sucked him slowly rose in his mind. Or maybe Jim would have to bite on one to keep from shouting if Basil were taking him, thrusting deep and hard. Or maybe even…no. No. That was unsafe territory. Hell…it was entirely possible-likely even-that Basil had a girlfriend. How could he not? Better instead if Jim wondered what he took pictures of. Landscapes? People? Was he a corporate photographer who took images of products and digitally altered them? Did he have art for sale? Depending on the art, Jim wouldn’t mind having some of his pieces for the office. The typical boilerplate motivational poster art that currently was on his walls was in sore need of updating. But? He was here to cook supper! And he’d better do a good job. So…he would need pots and pans. But just randomly opening doors and such felt…rude.

“Um…Basil?” he called across the room. “Where would I find your pots and pans at? I..don’t want to just start digging in your cupboards.”

Briefly, Basil wondered if he left the curtain to his bedroom open would tonight go any differently? Probably not. The gesture was, no doubt, far too subtle. And besides, the chances of Jim being into men (and into Basil specifically) were low enough that the artist knew not to get his hopes up.

He was pulled out of such thoughts when the man called his name. Oh… he liked how that sounded... No. Absolutely not! Focus, Basil! With a grin, he moved back over to the kitchen, replying, “You’re in luck. I may not cook, but I do own a fine set of cookware courtesy of a friend’s housewarming gift. You might need to rinse them out, though…” Since he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually used them. “And no need to worry about digging in my cupboards…” He moved up beside Jim and gave him a teasing grin. “All of the skeletons are in the art supply closet, and all of the unmentionables are mixed in with the photography props.”

He gestured towards his kitchen. “What’s mine is yours. I’ll try to help you find what you need, but you’re also welcome to go digging, too.” Basil found himself wondering just what Jim might think of some of the ‘props’ he had for his photos… but that was probably a conversation for another time. He certainly didn’t want to scare the man off when they’d barely even met!

#leatherandsoil #A Simple Hello #Modern!AU #// How do you even put up with me? ;P Thank you always!

The World is Wide ~ Beckett and Lavinia

lyingawxke:

Lavinia had made her grand entrance to the world a mere eleven months before Beckett, and somehow that made her feel entitled to being the boss of him and everything they did. Beckett didn’t mind one bit, since he didn’t know any better and Lavinia clearly had the disposition for it. She had always been much more outgoing than he was, she had all the social graces that made her a good conversationalist, while Beckett was simply well mannered and on the quiet side. He was fairly certain he would have become a hermit many years ago if it wasn’t for her.

“What a delightful little ruse.” Lavinia said, and Beckett offered a smile. “Clever, sir.” he said, delight evident on his features. “We shall certainly forgive the trick.” Lavinia had heard of him, but she couldn’t quite remember where or why. Then she remembered that he was known for his portraiture. She couldn’t see why. The portraits were, of course, beautiful. But the landscapes brought out such feeling.

“We all need a mental escape now and then.” Beckett said, thinking about how he was starting to grow overwhelmed and exhausted. Maybe a trip out to the family’s estate would do him some good. Maybe he did need to get up in a tree and just stay there for a while. Beckett grabbed another glass of wine from a passing waiter, even though he should really slow down because calling him a lightweight was an understatement. “And perhaps we all need to go in a new direction from time to time.” Lavinia added, Beckett felt that the remark was pointed at him, though that was probably the wine talking.

After they left this gallery, Beckett was going to insist on a proper dinner and plans to leave to the family’s estate as soon as they were able. But for now…”Whereabouts in the country did you grow up?”He asked, attempting to be a good conversationalist for once in his life.

Neither of them seemed upset? Thank heavens! Basil found that his attempts to be outgoing failed him more often than not. He was particularly pleased that his choice of introduction had been the right one this time. And truthfully, if he could get another charming smile out of the shy Father it would please him all the more. Returning the one he’d been offered, Basil gave a soft laugh as Lavinia told him he was forgiven. “Thank you for indulging me,” he replied, still grinning.

He couldn’t help nodding in agreement as the two siblings talked of escape and new directions. Yes! That was it precisely! Of course, they had no way of knowing his need to escape came from a ‘who’ rather than a feeling. Although... perhaps Dorian was both? Regardless, the young man had made his choices… and Basil wasn’t one of them. That hurt far more than he cared to admit, but he couldn’t let that pain keep him down forever. His success as an artist rode on his ability to keep moving forward.

Father Waitstill’s question had Basil smiling again - mostly from memories… but also, perhaps, from the other man’s interest. “I didn’t exactly grow up there - my aunt and uncle own and work a fine farm in the Cotswolds. When I was young my mother, sister, and I all came down with influenza. It was thought the country air would help…” Here he trailed off, realizing that he’d forced himself into delicate territory. But there was nothing for it, so he pressed forward. “It helped me, but my mother and sister… they weren’t so fortunate. Afterwards, my father being a very busy man, I spent my formative years either at my boarding school or on the farm.”

That wasn’t too much information, was it? He hoped not. Perhaps best to press forward with a question of his own? Perhaps preventing any potentially awkward silences? “And what of yourselves? Whereabouts did you experience the joys of country life?”

#lyingawxke #The World is Wide #// I appreciate your patience with me more than anything! Thank you! ^_^

beyondedenton:

Had Maximus been privy to those thoughts, he might have nearly blushed. He was grateful to have chosen this as his half-day. There was something, however, in Basil’s eyes which spoke of flirtations. The man seemed at the ready, and left him pleasantly on edge.

The spell was broken, and Maximus returned his gaze to his newspaper. Far less interested in its stories.

“I don’t believe I will ever have enough time to see New Orleans again. New York is my home, and I will make the most of it.” Something about this man’s demeanor allowed honesty, however delicately conducted. He couldn’t recall the last time he spoke so freely with someone outside of De Luca’s circle. No, not the circle. Arthur himself.

“I understand. Moods of a city change around us. Buildings, too, but that’s rather blunt and not what I assume you mean,” he smiled again, playful squint to finish. “How long ago was that?”

Basil frowned slightly at David’s words. Never? Never was such a final way to look at things, and it made the artist sad in ways he didn’t fully understand. “I’m sorry to hear it,” came his soft reply. “I hope… well, if you wish to return, I hope one day you get the opportunity.” He didn’t say ‘pray.’ Basil didn’t do that anymore. But hopes and wishes could be powerful things all on their own. Perhaps if he added his own hopes to David’s, it would help the man in some small way.

The other’s simple question had Basil speaking before his mind had even fully wrapped itself around the words. “Oh, late 1920’s, I think.” A split second later his mouth snapped shut in shock at his own carelessness. If only the artist could’ve chalked his faux pas up to too much wine. But alas, all he was drunk on was an enjoyable conversation with a handsome man. Even after all this time, pretty faces still got the better of him. Would David think he was teasing? Or crazy? All he could do was wait to find out.

#beyondedenton #Across the Coffee Shop #Immortal!AU #// Your patience with me is beyond measure. Thank you. :)

The World is Wide ~ Beckett and Lavinia

lyingawxke:

Lavinia had arrived at the rectory smartly dressed and ready for what Beckett thought would be a pleasant stroll through the park and perhaps a nice dinner out. That was until Lavinia had pulled the invitation to the gallery opening out of her coat pocket with a mischievous smile. Always full of surprises, his sister. They had gone in a poor, famished Beckett had immediately helped himself to the hors d’oeuvres and wine on offer, since his dinner plans seemed dashed.

Beckett had given little thought to who had painted these pictures, though he assumed that the fellow was around somewhere. He liked them, the pastoral scenes reminded him of growing up in the English countryside. He thought of the hours he had spent with Lavinia on their family estate, climbing trees, wandering through the fields with nothing but a packed lunch and their imaginations.

“What I wouldn’t give to climb a tree again.” Beckett said to his sister. “Nobody is stopping you. It isn’t illegal to climb a tree past a certain age. Though I assume that cassock might be an impediment to your tree-climbing, as it is to most of your fun-having endeavors. We’ll climb all the trees we like next time we’re home.” They would be going home soon to visit their mother in a few weeks and it was one of the only things Beckett had to look forward to.

Beckett shies away though, when the man stops to introduce himself and he wonders if he overheard any of that tree-climbing silliness from before. Generally, despite Beckett’s oratory skills at the pulpit, he lets Lavinia do most of the talking. Talking was easy when it was a pre-written script that was written to be sung almost entirely in Latin. He is taken aback by the man, as he often is when he sees a beautiful man. He has found some way to reconcile his nature with his faith, even if it means shutting his nature in a too-small suitcase and sitting on it until the clasps finally closed. He was simply called to live a life that put what God wanted ahead of what he himself wanted, to always put others first even if that meant he would never know what it was like to have the kind of love that most people got to experience. Though he would never admit to it, Beckett would throw it all away in an instant.

“Nonsense, nothing to forgive.” Lavinia said, congenially. She seemed to make friends wherever she went. “They’re all so lovely. The portraiture is stunning such vivid detail. “She said “I’ve been to a few art shows, however he doesn’t get out much.” She nods at Beckett. The man seemed familiar, like she had seen him at a party a long time ago.

“However, we have neglected to introduce ourselves. I’m Lavinia Waitstill, this is my brother, Father Beckett Waitstill. We were just discussing how these landscapes reminded us of all of the time we spent out in the country as children. They really create a sense of nostalgia.”

@humblestudentofbeauty

As he spoke, Basil noted how the man seemed to shy away from him and immediately felt guilty for coming upon the pair so abruptly. Still, the woman seemed quite unfazed, so perhaps his choice of entrance wasn’t an entirely bad idea. And yet… his gaze darted back to the priest almost curiously, wondering what in the other’s past might elicit such a reaction.

Basil quickly refocused on the young woman as she began talking in earnest, complimenting his portraits. There weren’t many in this show, but he’d added a few more recent ones to make sure things didn’t look sparse. Good to hear he hadn’t lost his touch for details.

And then she introduced herself and her brother. Just like that, Basil’s ruse was at an end. He’d known, of course, that it couldn’t last very long, not without someone seeming impolite, but now he felt a little silly for ‘hiding’ himself at all. Ah well, hopefully they wouldn’t think him too terrible for the small deception.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the both of you.” As he spoke, Basil gave a formal bow to each of them. “Miss Waitsill. Father Waitsill.” Looking up he flashed a humble, somewhat apologetic smile - first to Lavinia and then to her brother… where his eyes couldn’t help but linger. “I confess, I’ve been a bit deceptive. My name is Basil Hallward.” He nodded towards the landscape they stood in front of. “I’m the artist of this evening’s show.” Then, quickly, he continued, “I hope you’ll forgive the trick? I wasn’t lying about new faces; it’s rare these days that I get the opportunity to hear what someone truly thinks of my work. And thank you, by the way. These landscapes are a new direction for me… I was truly worried no one would like them. But like the two of you, I spent a good deal of my youth in the country, and these paintings were an excellent way to do some mental escaping…” Basil realized he’d begun to babble and stopped himself from saying more, allowing someone else the chance to speak.

#lyingawxke #The World is Wide

"I have found. living in New York, that accents are hardly indication as to where someone hails. I have met quite a few born and raised in this city with accents of their mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters. I assume lightly," he smiled.

"While I may call this place home, my heart belongs to the Bayou State." There was a calm, here in this busy coffee shop, sitting with a stranger. He was at ease despite the chaos.

"Years since I've been. I'm anxious to ever see it again; probably more beautiful in my mind than reality."

Basil could hardly deny the truth of that statement. It was one of those things about New York he was glad hadn’t changed as the years passed around him. International appeal gave his current home a unique aura that he’d never really found anywhere else. “Certainly better than assuming wrong and accidentally offending someone,” he murmured with a soft chuckle, returning David’s smile. The man had a nice smile. Well… more than nice, if he were being honest. Perhaps he’d be able to capture it properly once he could sit down with his sketchbook.

Suddenly worried he’d been staring for a moment too long, Basil dropped his gaze to his coffee, still listening with interest as David answered his question. Bayou state. Florida? No, no - that wasn’t right. Louisiana, perhaps? “I hope that’s not the case,’ he replied. “Not when it’s so important to you.”

His next words were touched with a gentle chagrin. “I hardly recognized London the last time I was there. It was still quite nice… just not in the same ways that I remembered. If that makes sense?” It sounded rather silly when he said it aloud.

#anedendarkly #beyondedenton #Across the Coffee Shop #// This is a bit longer than normal. I apologize. >.<#submission

The World is Wide ~ Beckett and Lavinia

Basil Hallward wandered through the gallery exchanging pleasantries with familiar faces as he went. This was his first show in several years, and he couldn’t deny being pleased by the turnout. A part of him had feared that society would’ve forgotten him during his ennui. But the people he knew greeted him warmly, and the people he didn’t at least seemed to be enjoying themselves. The artist’s eyes scanned the gallery, already knowing he wouldn’t find the one man he longed to see. No… Dorian had Henry to keep him company these days. No doubt the invitation he’d sent was in a pile somewhere, ignored or forgotten. What a mistake he’d made that day… trusting Henry.

With a subtle sigh, the artist shook off his memories. What was past, was past. He could do little to change things now. Instead, he must move forward - which was precisely what this show was meant to do. Losing Dorian’s favor and friendship had been a blow he wasn’t certain he’d recover from - personally or artistically - but with time, creation had become easy again.

While there were a small handful of portraits in this show, most of his new pieces were landscapes. He’d taken a bit of a sabbatical out to his cousin’s farm in the country, and finally found himself inspired once again. Rolling hills, fields full of flowers, bridges across burbling streams - each instance captured onto canvas with as much realism as he’d once devoted to faces. Yes - he was pleased with this body of work… and more than a little relieved that those gathered here seemed receptive to his change in subject matter.

Still… while he enjoyed landscapes immensely, portraiture often paid his bills, so Basil was taking great effort to put himself back into people’s minds again. He was also making connections. The more people one knew, the more likely you were to be mentioned - talked about - hopefully in a favorable fashion. And the more people who talked, the more commissions he was likely to receive.

At that precise moment, he’s eyes alighted on a man and woman standing in front of one of his favorite pieces. A brilliant sunrise casting golden light across lush hills of tall grasses. Nearly splitting the image in two, an old piece of roman wall curved through like a serpent while early morning fog bathed everything in an ethereal haze. The woman’s dress wasn’t overly expensive, but he could tell she had taste. Her features were striking… and oddly enough, brought to mind a fairytale his mother had often read to him and his sister as children. He could imagine putting this woman’s likeness on canvas with ease - the colors he would mix and brushes he would use.

The man… the first thing Basil noticed about him were his eyes. But, to be fair, eyes were one of the first features he looked to in any man. He couldn’t help himself - as if some small part of him believed that old bit of Shakespeare about the eyes being the window to the soul. This man’s eyes were kind - or so he thought, but they also seemed to hold a weariness to them. Or perhaps that was just his own fancy speaking. After all, the man was in priestly garb. Men of the cloth often felt, to Basil, as if they were in some sort of constant internal struggle. With what, he wasn’t sure, but whatever it was seemed to paint all of their faces with the same worldly expression.

Basil’s father being a Spanish ambassador to the Crown, he’d grown up Catholic himself… but these days... Well, the church wasn’t fond of men like him, and he’d grown tired of trying to reconcile his nature with his faith. Still… if this man were in the proper position, he could possibly get Basil on doing commissions. The work would be steady… if God didn’t smite him for even making the attempt. Well - there was only one way to find out what might happen, and that was to approach and put himself in the hands of Fate… or God… or whoever else might be looking after him.

Wandering up next to the couple, Basil waited politely for a pause in their conversation before speaking. “Please forgive my abruptness,” he began. “But you see, I feel as if I attend so many of these shows that I should know everyone. So when I glance unfamiliar faces in the crowd, I’m quite compelled to say hello. Tell me, is this your first art show, and how are you enjoying the paintings so far?”

It was, perhaps, a little rude not to introduce himself before asking questions of the couple. But the artist was attempting to be a little sneaky. He was used to people telling him they loved his work and then saying quite the opposite to someone else when his back was turned. This was a chance (he hoped) to hear what others truly thought of his work, and he didn’t want to squander it. He could always play it off as absent-mindedness if confronted.

@lyingawxke

#lyingawxke #The World is Wide #// Thank you for you patience.#I know I promised this weekend.#And then I got smacked with a nasty 4-day headache/migraine. >.<#Anyway - I'm still sorting of feeling it #so if anything reads weird or just flat out doesn't make sense #please let me know #And I'll do my best to fix it. :)#Also - I've been VERY wordy lately... >.>#Please don't feel like you have to match my length.#I don't ever expect that from my partners. :)

mskrianna

❝Когда вы читаете, не пытайтесь угадывать, что думает автор. Думайте сами.❞

— «Dead Poets Society», dir.: Peter Weir, 1989.

#Dead Poets Society #Basil's Style

leave-me-colourless

#tea #Basil's Style #The Queue is but a Canvas

another2bohemians

(via Habitually Chic® » Perfect English Country House by Joy Moyler)

#interiors #Architecture #Basil's Style #The Queue is but a Canvas

preppyandpreppy

humblestudentofbeauty

Credit to the original photographer: Rick Morris Pushinsky ~ pushinsky.com

Original post can be found on Blogspot, here: http://pushinsky.blogspot.com/2011/10/leon-max-at-easton-neston.html

#stairs #Architecture #Basil's Style #Credit Where it's Due #The Queue is but a Canvas

leatherandsoil:

humblestudentofbeauty:

A Simple Hello || Jim and Basil

“Most of them usually are.” Jim said. “Vanilla and chocolate make a good marble cake. About the only one that doesn’t work well is lemon. That one’s better by itself.” He glanced around, picked a few more ingredients, grabbed up a few essential utensils, tucked them under his arm.

“When you’ve got everything, I’m happy to help you carry it down to my place.” Basil said, arms spread wide and a big grin on his face. He was saying something else too, something about big canvases, but GOD…Jim was getting lost in that smile and those eyes. Carrying…hmm….

“We’ll go halves.” Jim said. “you’re going to need a free hand to unlock your door…but yeah I don’t want to drop anything. So…” he turned and bent down to pick up the bag with the meat and noodles and bottle of wine in it. Did he bend a little further than was necessary? Maybe. “I’ll have you carry the important one. Mustn’t drop the wine.” he said in a mock stern tone of voice. He turned back and picked up the other two bags, wrapped arm around the third on the counter.

“Lead the way!” he said cheerfully.

Was it bad that the longer Basil listened to his new neighbor, the more certain he became that he could do nothing but listen to the other talk ‘cooking’ and be perfectly happy for the rest of his days. Not that he didn’t want to hear more… he just found he was happy to hear anything at all. It was a bit of an odd sensation for someone who tended to lean more towards superficial beauty and stop there. But Basil found he rather liked how it made him feel.

For a split second after he offered to help carry things, Jim seemed a little dazed. The artist briefly entertained the idea that it was because of him… and not because Jim was probably going over ingredients in his head. Then the man bent over to grab one of the bags, and staring suddenly became impossible. Fabric stretched taut over lean muscles, and the artist had to physically force his eyes away when Jim straightened again.

“I - yes, I suppose I will need a hand free, won’t I?” he asked, clearing his throat slightly after his words came out sounding a bit breathless to his own ears. A chuckle bubbled out of him at Jim’s teasing sternness, and Basil bit back the urge to ask if Jim would punish him if he dropped the wine. Oh, if only…

Trying to refocus on the present, Basil headed for the door. “Yes, of course. Right this way…”

In due time, they were downstairs and Basil was opening the door and holding it open for his new neighbor. “Our floor plans are a bit different,” he commented. “The kitchen is to the right and then the left. The space is very open, so it’s hard to miss. Just set the bags down wherever’s easiest.” It was also hard to miss the massive photo studio in one corner of the loft. Usually Basil had the curtains pulled closed when guests were over, but Jim had been a bit unexpected, so there hadn’t been time. The space was somewhat haphazard - with multitudes of backdrops and curtains and props - not to mention all of the technical equipment. It wasn’t messy, by any means, it was just… cluttered.

Most of the rest of the loft was normal enough, but there were no walls to act as dividers in the main space, only large floor-to-ceiling curtains which could be arranged for privacy when needed. Right now, everything was open, hiding very little. Not that Basil had things to hide… though he had forgotten to make his bed that morning… ah, well. Hopefully Jim wouldn’t hold it against him. Setting his bag down carefully, Basil made sure the wine was secure and then hurried to curtain off both the studio and his sleeping area. “My apologies. Usually I have the curtains closed for company, but you were a little unexpected.” The artist flashed him a happy grin. “Not that I mind in the slightest, of course! Welcome to my home!”

#leatherandsoil #A Simple Hello #Modern!AU #// I have a floor plan of this somewhere...#Let me know if you need the link for visuals. :)

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