#melbush

[eightdoctor]

trick or treat :3

you get uhhhhhhh these teeth i found on the pavement

[thesecretsantaofdoriangray]

From @necuratu to @melbush

[thesecretsantaofdoriangray]

from melbush to sanderinautumn

@melbush @sanderinautumn

The fireplace crackled comfortingly, contrasting the ivory-white snow which was drifting downwards outside. The entire room was dim but had a warm orange glow from the fire. The entire place seemed homely, despite canvases littering the open planned room.

Basil Hallward sat alone in his studio, his face shadowed and highlighted by the flickering light of the flames before him. An empty glass hung loosely in his hands. He stared blankly at the fire.

Unsurprisingly, he found himself thankful for the heat that was given off, shielding him from the freezing elements outside. Basil glanced around. Around a dozen canvases were in various areas of the room, all different sizes and different paintings. There was one stood on the easel in the centre of the studio. A countryside scene was half-finished upon the canvas, the freshly done paint glistening as the light hit it.

Sighing heavily, he discarded the glass on the wooden side-table next to him. Slowly standing up and straightening out his jacket. His footsteps broke the eerie quiet (aside from the noise of the fire) as Basil made his way over to the easel. The paints were still laid out on the table next to it. One of the paintbrushes still lay carelessly in some emerald green paint, the wooden ends of the brush beginning to get sodden in more paint than it already has staining the sides.

His eyes scrunched shut and his hand held his forehead. Stress was a feeling he seemed to be often facing recently, yet he didn’t seem to know why. There was no perplexity or problem to deal with, yet he felt overcome by stress and overworking. Again, there was no reason for overworking himself. He had no deadline, no requirements to meet, yet he was making his own for no reason whatsoever. If anything, he was just stressing himself out more.

Basil reached out and grabbed the paintbrush, the excess cold paint pressed against his palms. He ignored it. The tip of the brush pressed lightly onto the small half-painted branches of a tree. The green automatically changing the bare winter branches into something you would see in spring when everything is in bloom.

Painting inspiration came in waves. There were dry periods, when no inspiration came. During those times, he felt lazy, doing nothing because when he tried to paint, nothing good came from it. However, there are periods of fantastic inspiration. Days where he only puts down the brush to eat and sleep. Weeks where the entire studio will have paintings laying around and new paints will have to be brought. Already finished paintings will be covered over with white paint for a fresh start.

Ever since he had met and become friends with Dorian, dry periods were scarce. It was often that other painters Basil met would talk of their muses. An opinion that he retained throughout the majority of his life that it was stupid, that it would never work for him. That view had seemed to fly out the window. Inspiration had been constant, the wave system he was used to was changed.

Basil glanced to the window. If you managed to see past the darkness, the snow could be seen slowly falling. A smile made it’s way to the surface as he stared outside. His mind wandered often when alone, so much so that he forgot everything around him. As much as he disliked the cold, the snow did have some sort of odd charm to it. With a small smile, he washed his brush and dipped it in white paint. He began to paint the snow.

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message; hi! sorry if it’s not the best but i tried haha, hope you like it! merry christmas :)

[penny-anna]

your oc has such a cute name wtf

which OC? and thank you!