Tнє Bℓιѕѕ Oƒ Sσℓιтυ∂є

Independent roleplay blog for romantic poet William Wordsworth ~Selective~

[wxrdsworth]

My own voice cheered me, and, far more, the mind's internal echo of the imperfected sound; to both I listened drawing from them both a cheerful confidence in things to come.

William Wordsworth, The Prelude. 

[animam-immortalem-blog]

| ♔ | —; ⋨ Digits  roam  comfortably over  the  gorgeous                    ebony   fur.  Lips  curling  upwards  to  form  a                    half content smile. Such an odd gesture from                    the   Earl,  nevertheless,  he  was still a  child. 

               ❝There´s  no  need  to  worry sir, my  sincere                    apologizes,      your     dog      is     beautiful,                                                   couldn´t contain myself… 

                                   Earl Ciel Phantomhive….❞

The young noble presented himself with a bow of head.

                 ❝As for your query, simple business.❞

[wxrdsworth]

              ◣⊰❃⊱◥

          An Earl is this child,                                                                                                                          How so could this be?                                                                                                                    Doesn't he know of the                                                                                                                    Vagabonds who'll not spend                                                                                                            Another thought before                                                                                                                    Stealing him away for this                                                                                                                Fanciful garb?                                                                                                                                                                                                  ❝   Now, my boy, be warned                                                                                                               Not coddled, there is a town                                                                                                            Beyond that hill where you shoud get.                                                                                              It's easy to become lost here                                                                                                          When you don't know your barings.   ❞                                                                                                                                                                   Rejoined by his hound, finds fuss in                                                                                                 The fingers of it's Master, perhaps he                                                                                               Wouldn't be so bothered by the lad if he                                                                                         Hadn't seen the pale flesh                                                                                                               Of his own begin to rot but a year ago.

[animaliism-archive-deactivated2]

I want  h o n e s t  opinions about how I portray my character. If there’s a constructive criticism, I’d like to read it. If you’re too shy to say it, you can tell it with the anon on. 

[wxrdsworth]

;; considering the occasion, Will shall be getting very very drunk tonight 

[lucen-s]

Sans titre

[dahlia-violet-archive-deactivat]

"No, no need to apologise," protested the lady in a gentle voice, finding the other’s company almost surreal. The fresh, green meadows and gentle breeze could make on believe they were the last people in the world. 

What a peculiar gentleman. Were they still in London, maybe Dahlia would be afraid but they are far from there. “How?” The woman with lilac-coloured eyes fell silent for a moment, pondering about his question before answering.                         “Someone would say happy but that is not quite the word I am looking for. Content, peaceful would suit it better since such impressions last for years, always alive and bright in one’s memory.”

[wxrdsworth]

                                                         ◣⊰❃⊱◥

   He listens, but with a distracted gaze. The weather has been much kinder recently and climbing the hilly, Cumbrian countryside Is a lot easier on his knees. William has turned fourty three this April and even to him it's a number to be proud of. Since Thomas and Cathrine died a year ago his visits have become much more Recent. Loneliness of the sofa doesn't do what it once had done before, but perhaps he just needs to be reminded that it's still here.

                                        ❝   Yes. Peculiar, isn't it?

                                              Tis but a stretch of land,

                                              Cold at that;

                                               Yet warm enough to 

                                               Recharge anyone's

                                                           Soul.   ❞ 

A sigh, makes a fanciful Pollka in the air Scented by the broth of his pipe and Singes the passage of his nose before It's put to bed in his pocket. 

                                        ❝   It appears as though

                                              I am being very rude --

                                              I am William.   ❞

      Modestly, his hand extends.

[wxrdsworth]

                                ◣⊰❃⊱◥

   ❝   Forgive me for overhearing

         But if you say it is the Apothecary

         You can't find, it's just up the road

         And down Oak Avenue.  ❞

[derwandelndegeist-deactivated20]

(don’t change the source, please)

[vphantomhive-blog]

"As sweet as a mother’s embrace."

Pardon his lack of poetry, his veins were made to hold in cold blood, not passion for the ways of words. But he tried, oh he did.

 "I’ve hard someone say once If Portugal is the mother of Port, Britain is certainly its father. Cheers.”

[wxrdsworth]

                         ◣⊰❃⊱◥ 

     ❝   I've heard that, too.

           Unfortunately -- Second hand.   ❞

                                                                 William doesn't linger to take his word for it,

                                                                 Kisses the other's glass with his own and

                                                                 Allows only a soft ring to cry from it's rim;

                                                                 Embraced all the same at his lips and sent

                                                                 Asleep down the passage of his throat.

     ❝   And perhaps you might

           Tell me what we are

           Drinking too?   ❞

                                                                   Though the day itself seems as good an

                                                                   Excuse than any.

[wxrdsworth]

                       ◣⊰❃⊱◥ 

     Brows peak with interest mustered,

     Turns a steady glance beyond his shoulder

     Followed by the lissom of thin tresses

     Too be suceeded by a dulcet pur.

                                                                        ❝      That's an accent

                                                                                 I haven't heard  

                                                                                 For a while.

                                                                                 You are a long way

                                                                                 From home.      ❞

[constantquibbling-deactivated20]

AU where Muse A is the proud new owner of a beautiful, old Victorian Style house and Muse B is the ghost that haunts it. 

[excelsior-praeteritum]

You can see the source of this image here.

Edited photo by Excelsior Praeteritum

[wxrdsworth]

vphantomhive

                 ◣⊰❃⊱◥

      ❝   Is that Port ѕωєєт?   ❞

                                                               He is particular about his                   

                                                                                                                                                             Port.

                                                           No, a bitter beverage shan't

                                                       Take it's presence in the poets

                                                                                         Fancy.

[wxrdsworth]

victoria-bailey

           ◣⊰❃⊱◥

❝   If only I could find

     Where I left that

     Iiiusive pipe of mine

     I wouldn't be hitting my head so much

     On cupboards and tables.   ❞

                                                                  What a nusiance.

[wxrdsworth]

;; RIGHTY WHO WANTS A LIL STARTER LIKEY LIKEY I GUESS?

[wxrdsworth]

;; RIGHTY WHO WANTS A LIL STARTER LIKEY LIKEY I GUESS?

[wxrdsworth]

;; everybody please just picture will always with the thickest yorkshire accent like how much better does that make him he would sound like such a warm old guy who likes to slip hot chocolate by the fire with his dog what a fucking cutie