A. Wordsmith

{ Independent Arthur rp for Kuroshitsuji tracking tag | theyoungwordsmith }

[agentmuser]

“One’s ideas must be as broad as nature if they are to interpret nature.”

Sherlock Holmes, A Study in Scarlet, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (via anastasialamuse)

[gustavmalheur-deactivated201509]

joseph mallord william turner ↳ s k e t c h b o o k : color studies of rome (1819)

[lyghtmylife]

Anders Zorn

[Swedish Realist Painter, 1860-1920]

Vita Liljor, nd Watercolor on paper

[spiegelii]

[potentiavictoriae-deactivated20]

theyoungwordsmith has entered the manor

“Mr. Wordsmith, how unexpected it is to see you again. I trust you have not forgotten our… agreement. I do suppose a writer such as you has found our last encounter to be an endless source of inspiration. But surely you have not allowed such words to be subject to prying eyes, is that correct?”

[theyoungwordsmith-blog]

Arthur's throat felt painfully bone-dry the moment he laid eyes on the young earl. His heart fluttered in that instinctive drive to escape and save himself. He could feel that familiar and unwanted heat creep up his neck while he attempted to find his voice.

"E-earl," he replied, then echoed, "Yes, unexpected." Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Arthur nodded almost frantically. "Of- of course! I haven't said a word-!" As he tried not to appear as though he wasn't about to bolt on the spot, he wondered, vaguely, if this would be the end of him. 

[ofkniives-deactivated20141226]

☀❀- Finny watched the man curiously, blonde head cocking to the side slightly as the man shifted uncomfortably. He wondered if he had caused the man any trouble, servants weren’t really supposed to speak to the Master’s guests, Finny always forgot that little tidbit of information. “Yup! I’m Finnian, but you can call me Finny! i’m the gardener here, but the Young Master asked me to help out inside tonight. ‘Cos of all the guests.” The little gardener rocked backwards on his heels and shook his head.

“If the Young Master invited you here then I think you must be a really good writer!” He looked around the room and smiled. “This place is a lot to take in.” He agreed. “It took me a while when I got here too.” 

[theyoungwordsmith-blog]

"Well it's a pleasure to officially meet you, Finny," he said lightly, trying to ease himself back into comfort while he wondered if he was breaking some rule of polite society. Not that it mattered to him- he seemed to be missing that je ne sais quoi that would give him any grasp of decorum. So he nodded at the young man. "That makes sense- and I suppose the rain makes yard work difficult anyway."

The compliment elicited his automatic reaction to rub the back of his neck, partially due to embarrassment and partially to hide the usual flush that captured him when faced with mention of any supposed skill he possessed. "He's very kind to think that- and I suppose it would be quite rude of me to disagree." It was the most diplomatic answer he could manage, but thankfully the subject of the estate and its goings-on was much easier to navigate.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one," he said with a chuckle. "I'm used to a fair amount of people around, but nothing so grand- I don't think I'd ever be truly comfortable in such a magnificent setting."

[craniam-deactivated20130124]

[theyoungwordsmith-blog]

things that make me smile: old books

[theyoungwordsmith-blog]

|| Arthur's Notebook

Knowledge is the key factor, and the imbalance of knowledge- he knows the entire time? But whom, Holmes- Watson? Not Watson. Holmes, then. It will be too easy, though. So the Yard must interfere, perhaps create obstacles, hide pertinent information.

Needs access though. An enemy? Some counterpart, taking the action away from the authorities. Allowing Holmes more room to conduct his business.

- An equal enemy, but also an equal comrade. Someone surreptitious, who represents the whole of what Holmes is not. ...

Remember Miss Diaz. Hiding in plain sight, unsuspected- 

-The Woman?

[equalopportunistasshole]

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Arthur Conan Doyle (via bleedinglimes)

[theyoungwordsmith-blog]

“You’re beautiful”, if you receive this, post it to 10 other blogs. It’s 2 words that can make someone smile ❀◕ ‿ ◕❀

[[ Oh gosh! Tumblr never told me I had this ask- but thank you so much! I couldn’t possibly pick ten blogs, everyone I follow deserves to hear this- they’re all amazing <3 ]]

[theyoungwordsmith-blog]

[[ Ugh I'm so slow sorry ;; My drafts folder is full to bursting rn- I'll be out today but I'll try to make a dent in it when I get back tonight! Along with the rest of my greeting starters. Thanks for bearing with me guys, and if you want a more specific starter let me know! <3 

 ]]

[aprixity-deactivated20131026]

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

-Edgar Allan Poe (via petrichor-ish)

[theincompletenesstheorem-deacti]

I treated Art as the supreme reality and life as a mere mode of fiction.

Oscar Wilde, De Profundis  (via theincompletenesstheorem)

[desenchanteearchive-deactivated]

     —- { ❦ } One would find it hard to dismiss Judit’s presence, he was quick to notice. It was merely for the way he carried himself; pride showing down to the very way he carried himself and the tongue which he spoke in. A typical Frenchman with his snob and vanity, he had heard just as commonly. He took no insult to it whatsoever, of course, because he ensured not to come off as the snobbish type all too easily. Especially if in the presence of someone who could solve his boredom if not become his next meal. It was better to flatter and intrigue one than to have to win them over after having upset what he called a human’s petty emotions. They had such a short time to live, so why they held grudges or became angered quite so easily was so very beyond his understand.

The flush of skin was noticed purely because it was blood rushing up to color the skin and gave way to uncontrollable aspects of the human mind such as embarrassment or nervousness. To which it was had been beyond Judit’s care and so he never sought out to try and encourage it for the time being. Instead he focused on the so called ‘project’ which the man had brought up. Eyes of amethyst followed the wordsmith’s own to settle on the papers tucked against his elbows - mind pondering if the ink will smudge against the clothing. “Something for the Paper, I suppose?” He asked, interest shown clearly upon forever youthful features. “How very interesting. If so, I can not wait to read it.” A pause in his words and realization seemed to then dawn upon him. ” — oh, mon dieu! It seems I have forgotten to properly introduce myself.” From then a hand fled it’s spot atop of the cane to offer lace-clad fingers to the one before him. “Judit Marriane, Monsieur.”

[theyoungwordsmith-blog]

Focusing attention on his work did not feel the same as acknowledging its existence; the line was thin between the two, but speaking of its logistics and contents was not nearly as embarrassing territory as trying to explain his status as a writer- or, at least, his status of attempting to become one. Not that it was any wild success. With one striking (and still, to this moment, terrifying) exception, any recognition was scarce and difficult to unearth. But, paradoxically, made it all the easier; removed some of the pressure of living up to surely-impossible expectation. 

Working to control his demeanor, Arthur replied, "Actually, for Lippincott's- there are talks to move it from Philadelphia, and if everything goes according to plan it will be printed here." Offering a self-deprecating laugh, he added, "Of course, I'm sure the other works will dwarf it."

It was a valiant effort not to flush again when he realized that he'd neglected introductions before rambling on about a project that part of him believed would never come to fruition. "Oh-! Right- yes- it slipped my mind as well." He reached out to grasp the other's hand, seized for a moment with the absurd notion that he was about to grip something delicate. "Arthur- Arthur Doyle. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." 

The other's phrasing caught Arthur's attention; he caught himself asking, "-Are you French?"

[theyoungwordsmith-blog]

Arthur was struck by the fact that the young woman before him was donning an actual cat-mask; he froze, the grin on his lips a little strained as his mind battled between worry and intrigue. Part of him was fascinated, but the part that lacked social grace had him flustered.

“I- suppose-” he offered democratically, punctuated by a little laugh. “Though it is a mark of polite society, Miss…?” 

[notagrimreaper-deactivated20130]

She noticed him staring and remember about her mask. She chuckled and pushed it up so it rested on the top of her head. CC offered him a friendly smile.

“Hm. Whatever floats your boat then. CC, you can call me CC.”

[theyoungwordsmith-blog]

He tracked her movements with his eyes, wondering if he should heed to fairly obvious signs of something not quite right- but then, he'd never really been one to fall for the front presented in plain sight. And she certainly seemed friendly enough. 

Unfamiliar with the turn of phrase, he offered the young woman a shrug and a warm grin. "Miss CC, then. And you can call me Arthur- a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss." Curiosity a little too piqued to ignore, he had to ask, "I apologize if this is brash but it's not often that I see someone donning a mask and I'd be remiss if I didn't inquire... why?"

[ben-barness]

“Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man’s face. It cannot be concealed.” -Oscar Wilde

[desenchanteearchive-deactivated]

         —- { ❦ } The cheerful greeting quite so early within the morning could have easily caused for a retort from a sharp tongue. (Well, afternoon to the mortal — but understand that the undead beauty had just found himself waking up.) But Judit refrains and reminds himself to behave as he then merely smiles in return to the words spoken to him. “And a good afternoon to you too.” He greets with the slight incline of his head as opposed to the more intimate of bows. “Not at all a problem.” Here came the laughter - soft and light - to disarm any of the man’s worry. Everything done purposefully and with perhaps more grotesque undertones. “You look fine, Monsieur. Though now you have me quite curious.” Here he rose thin brows and fingers clad in black lace idly drum fingers along the polished wood of his cane. An item meant purely for image. “What is the current project you speak of?”

[theyoungwordsmith-blog]

Arthur was struck by the presence of the other; it was akin to what he'd felt during those few times he'd come in contact with those of nobility or station- or those who believed themselves to be of some standing. It sent a shiver down his spine, but the feeling was entirely without any proof so the writer chalked it up to his own discomfort and tried to brush his aside any nervousness. 

He returned the nod, hoping that the flush he felt creeping up his neck wasn't visible. It was the customary sign of his lack of social grace, and it was as familiar as it was unfortunate. "Good to know that I'm not entirely unpresentable," he offered, only a little thinly.

At the gentleman's question, he glanced down at the papers he'd squared off and tucked against his elbow. The urge to dismiss himself was difficult to ignore. "Ah- I didn't mean to make it sound grand or anything of the sort! Just a serial I've been contracted the write."