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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 4 years ago

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Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Ch. 23 of 27: Promises

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHOOSE ME INSTEAD MASTERLIST

A/N: I’m back! Most of my exams are done and I’m finally back with a new chapter. Before you read it, I recommend rereading Chapter 22. It’ll be easier to understand this chapter. Short reminder: in the german version of the books, “Narcissa” is spelled “Narzissa”. So please don’t be confused about the spelling. Have fun! <3

CHAPTER 22

Words: 3.4k Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Reader, post war Warnings: angst, smut

He appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

For days, you had avoided him. Sat as far away as possible from him in class, stayed close to Ginny and Hermione, didn’t give him a chance to even approach you. And now, way past curfew you met him on a random hallway near the library.

The sight of him made your heart jump. His eyes widened. The two of you stood in front of each other, quietly waiting for the other to make a move. You took all of him in and tried your best not to wince when you realized how sickly he looked. It was your fault.

Draco spoke first. “What are you doing here?” His voice was strained.

You hadn’t heard his voice in what felt like weeks and you took a moment to process it. “Owlery,” you said finally. “I was on my way to the Owlery. I need to send a letter to my parents.”

He nodded. “I heard what happened. I’m sorry.”

You looked down. It was strangely comforting to hear it. “I know.” You wanted to say more but no words came to mind. None that would fit your current situation anyways. “I should leave,” you mumbled and straightened your back. When you walked past him, you smelt a whiff of his cologne and held your breath. You didn’t dare to look at him and resumed your way towards the Owlery.

“We need to talk.”

He had raised his voice and the words echoed in the dark hallway. You hesitated. “Draco …” Then you shook your head. “No.”

“Y/N, you owe me.” You heard his footsteps. “You owe me an explanation.”

It was then that you finally turned around. “I gave you one.”

Draco scoffed. “You gave me shit.”

“I gave you what you deserve,” you shot back. Each word struggled to come out. Lies, so many lies. “I told you, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be with you. We took this too far.”

You didn’t look him in the eyes but there was no reason to. The pain in his voice showed you that the words had their desired effect: “I still don’t believe you.”

“That’s not my problem,” you said. All the exhaustion from the past week suddenly rushed back and you felt your eyes beginning to burn. You wiped over your face, trying to keep your composure. “Draco,” you began and then you noticed something in his hand. An all too familiar bottle. Ginny had the same one on her nightstand. “What –”

Draco smiled bitterly and held up the sleeping medicine. “Thanks to you.”

“Screw you, Malfoy.” You turned around and left.

“You have to eat something,” Ginny gently touched your shoulder and you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulder. She sighed but her hand stayed on your skin, warmth radiating from it. “Please, you have barely –”

“I’m not hungry.” You cleared your throat. It felt so raspy. Speaking hurt.

“Come on, Y/N,” Ginny tried again. “It’s still early. If we leave now, no one will even see us. You don’t even have to get dressed. You can go in your pajamas.” You heard the smile in her voice. “How much fun would that be.”

A smile tugged on your lips but you couldn’t bring yourself to move a muscle. You were tired. So tired.

“Oh, so we’re using last names again?” Draco followed you down the hallway with long strides. “Fine, Y/L/N.”

Your face burned, not with anger but with shame. His nightmares had returned and it was all your fault. The rational part of your brain told you that you weren’t responsible for his suffering. The break up was merely one tiny puzzle piece, one tiny thing that added up to all the drama and hurt in his life, but still it could have been avoided. The pure knowledge of that drowned out that part of your brain. And what was even worse – you couldn’t change it now. Couldn’t help him. Not now. Not ever.

“What do you want from me?”, the coldness in your voice frightened yourself.

“What I want from you?”, Draco sneered behind you. “I want you to stop lying!”

Astoria was gorgeous. You had noticed it before but now you saw her in an entirely different light. When bitter words spilled out of you, a desperate attempt to cut through her skin and into her heart, her expression changed but her beauty stayed.

Their wedding photos will be on the front page of The Daily Prophet, you realized and the thought flipped your stomach. She’ll look perfect and happy and he … will he smile?

You whirled around and nearly bumped into him. “When will you get this into your head, Malfoy? I’m not lying to you!” Every word was accompanied by a tap of your finger against his chest. Draco caught your wrist and held it still. It was unexpected and his tight grip hurt. You let out a sharp hiss.

“Merlin, when will you ever stop this charade?” Draco stared at you. The disgust in his eyes send shivers down his spine. You had seen this look before on him but it had never been directed at you. “All you ever do is lie! You lie to your parents, your friends, everyone who you say means something to you receives nothing from you except lies and deceptions. It seems to be the only thing you’re truly good at, the only thing that –”

“Shut up!”, you shrieked. You tried to pull away from him but he held tightly on to your wrist.

You read the letter over and over and over until you memorized every last word of it. Your fathers handwriting was shaky, stretched letters, barely readable as if he wrote them in a hurry. Lines were smeared, dots missing, such a strange contrast to the neatly put-together man.

They found Alissa. Your sister. She was alive and well, hiding out in Southern Germany with two other Death Eaters that fled the country after the Battle of Hogwarts. They changed their appearances and names and got low-paying jobs in local muggle stores. You almost snorted when you read it. Your sister, the same one who believed muggles should be enslaved, now served them? Oh, what bitter irony this life kept in store for us.

Two days after the letter reached you, her face appeared on The Daily Prophet. You let out a sharp breath. It’s been years since you had last seen her face and time had not been treating her kindly. Sunken cheeks and hair that hung down in greasy strands – your hands started to shake. There was barely any resemblance between the woman that stared at you with blank eyes and the sister you grew up with.

“LAST DEATH EATERS FINALLY FOUND”, the headline said. You skimmed over the words but folded the newspaper and put it away once they got to a gruesome retelling of the Cleansing of Edinburgh.

Narzissa had kept her promise and you hated her for it.

You felt the stares of your classmates burning holes into your cloak and Hermione reached for your hand to squeeze it tightly. When you looked up however, your eyes were drawn to him.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You wondered if he knew. If he had figured it out.

Tears burned in your eyes. He’s right, you thought, he’s right about all of it. Draco abruptly turned his head; a clanking sound was heard at the end of the hallway. You barely noticed it.

“I have to stay away from you,” you whispered and he looked back at you. “Why can’t I stay away from you?” Your voice broke.

“You know why,” Draco replied. “It’s why my nightmares returned too.”

“Draco …” His name rolling from your tongue – it felt so right.

“We need one another.” He came closer. “We … whatever it was that we had, it worked.”

You let out a shuddering breath. “It didn’t.”

His gaze hardened again. “Stop fucking lying,” he hissed and suddenly, he let go of your hand and pressed you up against the wall. You yelped.

“Stop forcing something that isn’t there.” He was close, so damn close. “You have a wild imagination, Malfoy.”

He scoffed. “Look at me and say this again.” He grabbed you by your chin and forced you to look at him. “I said, look at me,” he growled. “Tell me it was all in my imagination. Every word, every touch, every confession late at night,” he glared at you. “Tell me, it meant nothing. Tell me, you didn’t feel it. Tell me, you don’t still dream of me. That you don’t long for my hands on your body, for the way my lips made you scream my name.”

His face was only inches away from yours. His smell was intoxicating; you could barely concentrate. The touch of his hand burned through your clothes. Naturally, instinctively, your hips rolled against his. His eyes glistened at the movement. “Look me in the eyes and tell me, it was all part of my imagination.”

You stared at him and with every passing second, you drowned in the grey of his eyes, drowned in the storm of them. “I hate you.”

When your lips met, lightning struck.

“What are you reading?”

Theo and Blaise dropped down onto the grass and startled you.

“Potions,” you replied and Blaise raised his eyebrows at your obvious lie. You had made no attempt to hide the letter that laid on top of your potions textbook. Suddenly, you tensed up, remembering the last time when the boys came to look for you. “Is everything okay with him?”

“With whom?”, Blaise asked.

“Draco, idiot.” Theo rolled his eyes. “He’s … fine,” he then said.

“More or less,” Blaise mumbled and the two of you glared at him.

“We came to give you this.” Theo stretched out his arm, holding a piece of paper. You took it. An unfamiliar name and address was written in Theo’s sloppy handwriting. You looked at him, visibly confused.

“She can help you with your sister,” Theo said. You blinked.

“The trial,” Blaise explained. “My mother knows her and she helped in quite a few Death Eater trials so far.”

You read the name again, wondering how you had never heard of that woman. “Death Eaters belong in Azkaban,” you finally stated. “My sister is no exception.” The words burned in your throat.

The boys sighed. “A lifetime in Azkaban will not help her. People like your sister need a chance of rehabilitation,” Theo said.

“Do they?”, you asked with furrowed brows.

“After a considerable amount of time spent in Azkaban,” Blaise added. “Don’t get us wrong, she needs to be punished. Obviously. But prison alone will not help her change her world views.

For the first time, you realized how little you knew about the two Slytherins. You had heard of Blaise’s mother, a woman who was famous for her many marriages. And you remembered the day, Theo’s father escaped Azkaban. But you knew nothing beyond that. You wondered how much pain and heartbreak these two young men carried inside their hearts.

It felt right.

He felt right. His lips against yours, his tongue in your mouth, his hands grabbing you roughly. There was nothing sweet about this kiss. Nothing loving or calm. You felt his desperation in the way his hands teared at your blouse, felt his pain when he guided you to the nearest door in the hallway.

It was an unlocked classroom and the two of you didn’t break the kiss when you stumbled inside of it. He closed the door with his foot before lifting you up on a table. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. His lips traveled down to your neck and you threw your head back as he began to suck on the skin. A whimper escaped you when his teeth scraped against your skin.

Draco’s hands moved quickly. As if he had whispered a spell, the buttons on your blouse sprung open. You moaned softly when his hands explored your body like he’d do so for the first time. Flashbacks from your first night flooded your mind and for a moment, you were back in the hotel room. The memories mixed together with your current reality and you could no longer differentiate between the two. You whimpered at the way, Draco caressed you, pulled you into hungry kisses and when his fingers sunk inside of you, you almost screamed.

Draco knew by now which buttons to press to turn you into a whimpering, begging mess. You held on to him, your fingers clawing in his back, knowing you’d leave him with red streaks all over it. He pumped into you, while whispering in your ear. His thumb flickered over your clit and your breath grew more and more erratic.

An ache had begun to form in your stomach, growing stronger and stronger, and you begged for him not to stop. He chuckled and his hot breath against your cheek combined, made you moan his name.

“Come for me,” he growled. “Come for me, I want to hear you scream my name.”

You obeyed him.

You watched him during Potions. He sat next to Theo and the two boys worked quietly on their assignment. Draco’s fingers moved with precision and ease, cutting the ingredients, mixing them in. From time to time, he read over the instructions, his brows furrowing slightly. He showed no sign of uncertainty and when Slughorn walked past him, the professor nodded contently.

The scene reminded you of the beginning of this school year when you had to work together for the first time. After he rescued you from Ron’s insults. “I don’t ever need you to come to my rescue,” you had snarled at him and Draco’s response was to flirt with you during class. How confused you had been during those weeks. How utterly irritated when you had to admit to yourself that Draco Malfoy was not the one dimensional asshole you had always wanted him to be. Oh, how you wanted to go back in time to this exact moment.

“You’re staring at him again,” Hermione said.

Your eyes dropped down to the cauldron again as you kept stirring it. You felt the worried look of your friend but were too exhausted to say something back to her.

A few minutes later, you looked up again. Draco had stopped working. His hands still held a knife. A root remained untouched on the table. When your eyes met, his flickered with pain. You held your breath. What would happen if you just went over to him? Then Theo touched his arm and Draco turned to him, breaking the moment.

Draco didn’t give you a chance to calm down and catch your breath. You still rode out the last waves of your orgasm when you felt him pressed against your folds, hard and dripping. He pulled you into a hard kiss and entered you in one swift movement, stretching you in an almost painful way.

“Fuck,” he groaned and you bit down his lip. You moaned when he began to move, equally rough and desperate to the way he kissed you before.

“I love you,” you heard him mumble. “I love you so fucking much, I hate you for making me feel this way.” He thrusted into you relentlessly. You arched your back and his hands gripped you so tightly, you were scared it’d leave bruises in the morning.

You mumbled something against his lips but didn’t know whether it was a curse or a confession, all you felt was the way he pounded into you. Each thrust brought you closer and closer to the edge. You felt the sensation in your stomach growing stronger and stronger. Draco grabbed you by the neck and your eyes fluttered open. When they met his, you moaned at the lust in them and they darkened. Your legs started shaking; he knew you were close.

“You want to come again?”, he groaned.

“Yes, please,” you replied and he smirked; a smirk that sent shivers down your spine. Gods, how you had missed this expression on his face. You knew that in the years to come, you’d dream of the sight of him – like this, sweaty and wanting and desperate for your walls to clench around his cock.

“Then come for me,” he hissed. You let go and pleasure followed immediately. It washed over you and you were certain you blacked out there for a second. Your legs started shaking uncontrollably and you came with his name on your lips.

Draco followed shortly after. His hips stuttered and with a silent curse, he released himself inside of you.

��***

It was quiet. Draco had his hands behind his head as you rested your head on his chest. Your cloaks protected the two of you against the coldness radiating from the stones. His eyes were open, his mind restless.

Your fingers traced over his side and he shuddered at the soft touch. “I’m sorry,” you said, disturbing the peace. “I’m sorry, I can’t give you the answers you deserve.”

Draco swallowed. A few days ago, you had shattered his heart in the blink of an eye. But now, the fleeting touch of your fingertips mended it back together. Deep down, he sensed that it was only a temporary fix however. A tiny bandage on an open wound that would never stop bleeding – but he’d bleed out willingly if it meant he could hold you in his arms a little while longer.

“I would burn down the world for you,” Draco whispered. “I would hunt down whoever hurt you, if you’d only allow me. You hold my heart in your hands.”

You raised your head. A single tear rolled down your cheek and Draco reached to wipe it away. “I love you.”

Draco let out a shuddering breath. He had imagined a thousand different scenarios in which you confessed to him. In none of them did they feel like a dagger plunged in your heart.

“What I said that night was a lie.”

“I know.” He smiled sadly. “Allow me to love you back. Please.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I can’t.”

Draco sighed in frustration and stared back at the ceiling.

“Promise me to let this go.”

He scoffed. “I can’t let go of you.”

“Yes.” You sat up next to him. “Yes, you can. You must. Promise me.”

He looked at you. Merlin, how beautiful you were.

“If you truly love me, you will promise me and you will honor your promise.”

“You’re unfair,” he said softly.

“Slytherin blood runs through me.”

Draco chuckled. You leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips. “Draco, please.”

He promised.

***

Draco stared at the ring in his hands. A golden band with an emerald, encircled by diamonds. A stunning, timeless piece that belonged to his grandmother and would look beautiful on Astoria’s petite fingers.

His eyes flickered to the nightstand. The bag of candy from the weekend in Hogsmeade was almost empty. Two pieces remained. He didn’t touch them, couldn’t bring himself to eat them. When he did, there would be nothing left of you. There would be no physical reminder that you ever shared a part of his life. No photos of the two of you together, no notes, no forgotten T-Shirt or hair pins in his dorm. You had come into and vanished from his life without a single trace.

Draco gritted his teeth when the familiar emptiness began to rise inside of him. He looked back at the ring. It’d suit you. Green was your colour, Draco was sure of it. The time you wore his scarf proved it.

“It’s not too late yet.” Theo sat on his bed, arms crossed in front of his chest as he watched his friend. “You don’t have to do this. Contrary to your belief, you do have a choice.”

Draco closed his eyes. For a split second, he saw you and him, in the manor, laughing about something his mother had said. He saw you, barely covered by satin sheets, the morning sun hitting your face. He saw vacations, candlelight dinners, celebrations, your favorite flowers on the kitchen table, a shared closet, candy from Honeydukes. He saw happiness.

Draco opened his eyes and looked at Theo. “You know where Astoria is?”

***

CHAPTER 24

Choose Me Instead Masterlist Harry Potter Masterlist

The Tag list for this fic is closed!

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#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fanfiction #astrids fics #choose me instead #harry potter imagines #draco malfoy

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taehyungsgrowl · 4 years ago

Note

could you write something angsty with michael or duncan (or both 👀) using “was this all just a game for you?”

y’all know i love making duncan sad so i’m going w my baby dunc for this one just look at him... baby.

like always... italics indicate a memory/time jump i hope that makes sense

warnings: angst, oral (female receiving)

word count: 1,532

Duncan couldn’t look at her. Where he once saw love in her eyes all he could see was a betrayal. Lies. Empty promises.

“What don’t I understand, Y/N? Hm?” he pushed his hair back as he paced back and forth. He was so angry, he thought he was vibrating from it.

“Duncan,” she pleaded.

“Don’t!” he snapped, “Just don’t even fucking bother.”

“How did you find out?” her eyes dropped to her hand - still adorned with the hefty diamond that promised a life full of love with Duncan.

Duncan’s weight shifted on the bed as he rolled on top of her. His bare chest pressed against her. Everything was so quiet. The back of his hand ran down her cheek, caressing it softly, ending the soft touch by grabbing her chin and tilting it up to kiss her.

“You haven’t taken it back yet have you?” he chuckled, searching for her hand. His thumb ran over the ring - still making sure it was secured on her hand.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Of course not,” she pecked his lips, “I love you,”

“I....” Duncan drew out the word, moving his lips down to her jaw, followed by her back, “love....” he kissed along her collarbones, “you...”

He continued to trail kisses down her bare torso, slowly inching lower and lower. Duncan’s hand found its way between her thighs, feeling her arousal coat his fingers. He smiled into her tummy as he continued his wet trail of kisses.

“Mrs...” he chuckled, his breath tickling her skin. He kissed her pussy, looking up at her through his dark lashes.

“Mmm, not yet,” she laughed easily. The sound that could make even Duncan’s heaviest days feel a million times lighter.

“Not yet,” he repeated, as he moved his lips to her inner thighs, smirking when he noticed her squirming from the anticipation. His words held a double meaning. “But I can’t wait until the day you become my wife.”

And with those words he dipped her head between her thighs and licked down her slit, not letting her get another word in. Whatever thought she had turned to mush as she gave in to the sensation of his tongue on her pussy.

Her fingers found themselves tugging on to Duncan’s locks - her bright diamond a sharp contrast to his dark hair.

“How did I find out?” he barked out a humorless laugh. Beyond the point of heartbreak - Duncan was furious.

“That’s what you decide to go with.. I can’t fucking believe you.” he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Y/N knew it was his telltale for how upset he was. She felt so small. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she thought. She fucked up and knew nothing she said could make it right.

“But you want to know how I knew,” the word tasted bitter in his mouth, “You were reckless, Y/N” his voice echoed through the kitchen they stood in. “They saw you,” he shrugged, referencing the story his friends shared of seeing her with another man. “Couldn’t even have been a discreet enough whore and not been caught,” the venom spilled out of his mouth with that one. But he was too angry to care. Even when she winced at the word, he couldn’t bring himself to take it back.

Duncan’s oldest friend and colleague stood at the door to his office. “Duncan, do you have a moment?”

“Yeah, come on in,” Duncan closed his laptop as his friend closed the door behind him and took a seat across from Duncan.

“So, what’s up?” Duncan tidied up the papers on his desk.

His friend sighed, “Listen,” he looked so nervous - but he knew it needed to be said, “I guess there's no easy way to say this so I’m just going to say it.”

“Woah,” Duncan laughed easily, not taking the gravity of his friends tone, “I’m happily taken,” he joked.

His friend winced - did anyone really enjoy being the bearer of bad news?

“Duncan, this is serious,” he sighed heavily. “I think Y/N is cheating on you.”

Duncan’s smirk dropped from his face. “You’re being ridiculous. Why would you say that?” Duncan frowned.

“I wish I didn’t have to tell you, man. Eric and I were at lunch and I saw her! She kissed another man before they had lunch a few tables away. And,” he met Duncan’s eyes, “They walked into the hotel together. This was maybe 40 minutes ago - you can check if don’t believe me. Or talk to her, I don’t know! I just... couldn’t go on without telling you what I saw.”

Duncan felt like he was frozen.

“Dunc?”

His felt a lump in his throat. He didn’t know how to explain it, but - his instincts told him his friend was telling the truth.

Duncan opened his laptop, pulling up the Find my iPhone feature. The loading circle seemed to be taunting him as it turned and turned, pin pointing Y/N’s location.

Sure enough, she was at the hotel his friend said.

In an angry fit, he pushed the papers off his desk. There had to be an explanation.

“Duncan..”

“I just need a fucking minute!”

He nodded and left Duncan alone.

Duncan started to call. And text. And call again.

Baby, pls call me Call me Y/N?

Not one response.

He couldn’t be at the office anymore with his mind swirling with ideas.

He went home and waited.

Fuck, Y/N thought, seeing Duncan’s car. He was never home this early. She looked in the rearview mirror, making sure her makeup looked okay before she headed inside.

“Hey, babe! You’re home early! I just saw your messages. I was thinking we could go to dinner out in Midtown tonight?” she chattered along, putting her things away, not once looking directly at Duncan.

It wasn’t until she felt the utter stillness of the room that she realized something was wrong.

The look on his face said it all.

He knows.

Her heart dropped to her stomach.

“Babe? Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know Y/N. Is it?” his deep stare made her feel such shame. “Where were you? And for the love of god, please don’t lie to me.”

Tears started to fall down her face. She knew he knew.

“I’m sorry.” she cried.

“For what?” his teeth were clenched now.

“Don’t make me say it.” she pleaded. She reached out to touch him, but he flinched away.

“For godsake, Y/N!” he hung his head low, “Why? Why did you? Was I not enough? I fucking trusted you! I love -” he couldn’t finish his words.

“You don’t understand!” she cried.

“Was this just a game to you?” She’d never seen Duncan look at her that way. Disgust colored his tone, “Find some rich sucker to marry you while you continued to screw around?” He shook his head.

“You know it’s not like that, Duncan. I love you.”

“No, Y/N. I don’t know what it’s like because instead of explaining shit you decide to ask how I found out?” Duncan sneered, “Fuck you.”

“If you loved me you wouldn’t have done what you can’t even bring yourself to say,” he continued. “Get out. Two years of us - for nothing. I hope he was worth it, for your sake.”

Duncan stormed off to the guest room not wanting to be near her or the room that held warm memories of them. He couldn’t bring himself to lie down or keep still. He waited. Impatiently, but he waited.

Waited for her to knock on the door - to tell him it was just a joke gone wrong - or at the very least tell him why.

But the knock on the door never came.

He could hear her shuffling around. Every time he heard her sob, he fought himself from running out to hold her. He was too angry. Too hurt.

He tired himself out from crying and eventually fell asleep on the unfamiliar bed.

When he woke again, it was only a quarter past 1:00 AM. The house felt still.

He walked out to see if she were sleeping. The light in the kitchen was still on, but everything else was dark.

Sitting on the counter, he found her ring, the ring of promises he made to her, sitting neatly on top of a blush colored paper, scrawled with her handwriting.

I owe you an explanation - one that’s not just written down. I never meant to hurt you. It was never supposed to be like this. I love you.

Staying with my mom for a few days. Call me. xo

He took the ring in between two fingers recalling the dozens of shops, both vintage and new, he visited in search of the perfect one for her. Something delicate, but strong. Something beautiful that would last forever.

Something he thought represented them.

He dropped the ring on the counter again and traced the words on the paper. Duncan was too tired to think. He was too tired to know if he would call. He found himself on his couch, falling asleep mourning what he’d lost.

okay so i’ve had some writers block for a while and!!! ive been reading old request for some inspiration and this one had me typing away :)

so i hope you guys like it AND i hope it makes sense? sometimes i worry that my time jumps / memories don't translate well when they're typed and that they only make sense in my head?fvjnsrkv

anyway... tagging a few people who are regularly on my taglist + a few that interacted w my post!

@xavierplympton @desertsunflower00 @royalblueviper @dailylangdon @langdonswhoreprobably@rpwithjayn @xavierplymptonstan @spoo-per @wickedlangdon @leatherduncan @plsfuckmelangdon @bitchchatter @beautyiswithinchaos @blakewaterxx @littledemondani @little-grunge-flowerz @lovelylangdonx @sexwon131 @fckinsupreme @prophecy-is-inevitable @shenevertricks1831 @kissme-throughthephone @shyvirgoanon

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd angst #duncan shepherd smut #cody fern #hoc #Anonymous

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seachanqe · 5 years ago

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write the softest words and kiss them

My first entry for Aspec Martin Blackwood Week, using the prompt “Poetry”!

Tags/Warnings: Internalized Acephobia, Aro-Ace Martin Blackwood, Demi-Aro Martin Blackwood, ace relationship, Non-sexualized intimacy, Post-159

Relationship: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Summary: Jon had walked into the Lonely and saved him from his own personal hell; he saw Jon, he felt the force of that love. It was all-encompassing, a choking, bright explosion, and after everything, Martin's afraid. He's afraid he's not a worthy recipient of those feelings, he's afraid his own version of-- of-- that emotion won't be enough for Jon. But Jon's Seen him, and he's still here. That-- it has to mean something, even if it's out of misguided pity or obligation.

Or: As they both recuperate from escaping the Lonely, Martin shares with Jon his feelings and fears related to love, through an explanation of his relationship with love poetry.

Read on AO3 or below

Pale, pink dusk light filters through the dust-filled air of Martin's neglected-of-late flat. Martin flicks on the hall light, blinking as he adjusts to the sudden flood of light. Routine kicks in and he toes off his shoes. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Jon follows his lead, though he makes sure to untie his first before setting them neatly next to Martin's. Martin's mind stalls on the sight of Jon's shoes next to his, though he can hardly process why at the moment. The warm weight of Jon's hand settles on Martin's back.

"Martin?" Jon murmurs with unconcealed concern, and steps closer; Martin knows the simple utterance of his name is many questions at once: Is everything okay? Are you still here with me? And-- and-- He flinches away from the emotion seeped into every syllable Jon utters; it's just too much, everything feels too much, especially when what he feels might not be enough for Jon. Jon had walked into the Lonely and saved him from his own personal hell; he saw Jon, he felt the force of that love. It was all-encompassing, a choking, bright explosion, and after everything, Martin's afraid. He's afraid he's not a worthy recipient of those feelings, he's afraid his own version of-- of-- that emotion won't be enough for Jon. But Jon's Seen him, and he's still here. That-- it has to mean something, even if it's out of misguided pity or obligation.

Martin takes a quick, deep breath, before nodding in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. "Yeah, yeah. I'm--I'm fine."

Jon appears unconvinced but nods back, his eyes never leaving Martin's face, his hand clenched in Martin's shirt as if he's afraid Martin will disappear in front of him and he'll need to pull him back. Martin simultaneously relishes and shies away from the attention; it's everything he's wanted and at the same time too much for him to handle. He had spent months purposefully withdrawing from his own life, and he's suddenly being properly seen, by the person he cares most about in the world. And although it's overwhelming, he can't help but also be drawn into it, like a moth to the flame. So few people in his life have offered to love him so freely, he can't help it. He tries to bury his dread, at least for now, for what he sees as an inevitable fallout; later, he tells himself, later .

Martin's flat is small; the short hallway they stand in leads to a combo kitchen and living room, and a door off the left to his room and bathroom.

"Jon? I--" He looks apologetically at Jon, with a quick glance over his shoulder where he can feel Jon's hand. "I need to close the curtains and turn the rest of the lights on."

"Mm? Oh, oh right, sorry, of course." Jon pulls his hand away, to rub at his own neck instead, in a familiar, awkward gesture that unexpectedly brings a smile to Martin's face.

"Thanks," Martin says softly, before retreating. He makes quick work of it and, out of instinct and a bit of embarrassment, begins to tidy up a bit. Books, used tea mugs, chipped plates with crumbs, haphazard pieces of trash, and random articles of clothing are all strewn about the living room. Martin had hardly been expecting guests; he honestly hadn't expected to still be alive, let alone have Jon in his flat.

"You don't-- Martin, it's fine."

Martin glances up at Jon, his arms full of clothes. Jon had been not-so-surreptitiously looking around while Martin had started cleaning, and was currently standing by his old, rickety desk.

"Is it?" Martin asks, and he can't stop his voice coming out higher pitched than usual. "It's a mess, Jon, I'll just--"

"Martin--"

"--put these clothes away, and finish tidying up the coffee table and end table--"

"It's fine, Martin. Really. You're tired. I'm tired. Please." Jon's voice drops to a pleading tone, and as much as Martin wants to be stubborn, he feels himself giving in. Jon's right--he's tired. And he doesn't want to keep Jon up either.

"Okay, fine, but only cause I already cleared the couch. And I'm making tea first no matter what you say. Then we can sleep"

Jon breaks into a fond, albeit weary, smile. "That's-- that sounds nice. Thank you, Martin."

---

While the tea is seeping, Martin looks up to see Jon holding one of his notebooks, an odd expression on his face. Tilting his head to read the front, Martin squints at the notebook in Jon's hand and immediately has a minor heart attack.

"Jon!" he blurts, starting forward. Jon flushes, nearly throws the notebook back on the desk, and immediately raises his hands, apologetic.

"I-- S--sorry, I didn't mean, I just-- I saw it and I--I suddenly knew -- I knew ," Jon says in a rush, "I didn't mean to know, I swear, I just-- it just happened."

Martin snatches the notebook from the desk, holding it so tightly he could feel the edges dig into the palm of his hand.

Biting his lip, Martin looks down at the notebook. It had been a while since he had opened it and read its contents, and even longer since he had written anything in it.

"What do you know?" he asks, heart in his throat.

"I'm so sorry, Martin. All I know is that it's-- it's some of your poetry," Jon says shakily. "I missed it," he adds, softly, like a wish, almost to himself.

Martin meets Jon's eyes, searching for deceit, for some proof that this is a joke, but Jon's earnest and pleading in a way Martin's never seen before.

"You've missed it?" Martin asks incredulously. "When have you ever-- "

"Oh god--" Jon's blush has spread to his ears, and Martin tries to ignore how adorable it looks. "Uh a few years ago, when I thought--" He sighs. "It doesn't matter. I was going through the trash, and found a few of your poems."

"Of course you did," Martin says with a sigh. "And then you read them."

"Yes," Jon whispers. "But," and his voice grows more loud, more certain, "I-- I liked them Martin. I missed having those little pieces of you around. I--I missed you ."

Martin can feel himself turning red now, and jumps on his immediate instinct to change to the subject.

"Tea's ready! Here," he says, tossing the notebook back down on the desk. "Go sit on the couch and I'll bring it over before it gets cold."

Jon murmurs his agreement and thanks, but doesn't comment on the change of subject.

---

Both too stubborn to take the couch, they end up agreeing to share Martin's bed. Too exhausted to change the linens, Martin halfheartedly apologizes for the musty sheets before collapsing into bed. He tries not to think about how this is the first time he's ever shared a bed with anyone, let alone someone who he--he... cares about so much.

---

The next morning, they decide to continue to hide away in the flat, both unwilling to risk being discovered until they hear from Basira. Martin gets to work after breakfast tidying up the flat with Jon's help.

"When did you start writing poetry?" Jon asks nonchalantly, no compulsion in his voice, as he folds freshly laundered bedding. Jon had insisted; apparently among Jon's many talents was folding a fitted-sheet perfectly.

Martin nearly drops his washcloth, and glances over at Jon, eyebrows raised. "Where's this coming from, then?"

Jon bites his lip, and gives a little shrug. "I--I don't know everything, Martin. Not the things I want to know."

Martin shakes his head. "Why would you want to know about this?" Martin asks, unable to keep the self-deprecation out of his voice.

"Martin," Jon says, in that damned voice, soft and laced with pure emotion. He had no idea Jon could even sound like that until a few months ago. Jon sets down the sheet he had been folding, and walks over to him, arms outstretched. Martin almost flinches away, but when Jon hesitates before him, clearly waiting for an okay, Martin sighs and gives a little nod. Jon wraps his arms around Martin, and runs his hand up and down Martin's back soothingly. "Martin," he says again, just a whisper, before pulling back, his hands falling to Martin's waist. "Is this okay?" Jon's warmth is a comfort, an anchor.

"Yes, yes. But, you still haven't answered my question."

Jon's hand, so assured, moves to his face, cupping his jaw, cradling his head. Martin squeezes his eyes shut at the casual show of affection.

"Because it's important to you, Martin. I--I love you." Martin's heart jolts, and his throat feels full of cotton, and he swallows, jaw clenched, refusing to cry. "And because of that I want to--to know everything about you."

After several long moments, when he's sure he won't start crying, Martin finally responds, glancing at Jon before quickly looking away. "Okay," he says, more raspy than he would like, "Okay. I, uh." Martin winces. "Jon, I, I care about you a lot too, I-- fuck."

He pulls away from Jon, his hands clutching the back of the sofa. Jon lets go of him, apparently reluctantly, and steps back, concern etched across his face. "Martin, its fine, you don't have to--"

"I-- It's complicated, Jon," Martin interjects. "I do... love you? I just," Martin runs a hand across his face, exhaling slowly. "Let me answer your original question. It will explain things better."

Jon nods, no less concerned, but waits, watching Martin intently. Martin's used to that though, it's almost comforting, the normality of it.

"When I was 9 or 10, I guess? Used to write instead of listening to the teachers. Kept at it even though I was never able to take any formal classes, but learned by trying to emulate poets I admired: Dickinson, Blake, Frost, Whitman, Keats."

"That's admirable."

Martin squints at him, unable to help being wary for a sign of any mocking. Jon looks stricken. "Martin, I'm serious I promise. You didn't-- You didn't have the opportunities that others had, but you still-- You did it anyway."

"I have a harder time reading modern poets. It's hard-- it's hard for me to sort out the good from the bad. And there's," Martin winces, "some stuff I'd rather not read."

Jon's interest is clearly piqued. "Like what? If you don't mind sharing."

Martin gives him a pained look, a feeling of dread in his gut. "Love poetry-- don't laugh-- It's just-- I hate the tone of it, and then there's all those break-up poems and heartbreak and I just… I don't get it. It's not for me," he finishes, a touch too defiant.

Jon tilts his head slightly, questioning and bemused.

Under his scrutiny, Martin folds inward. He grasps his hands together, his head bowed. "I don't-- I usually don't feel that way. And I didn't like to read what I'm missing," he says in a small voice. Jon says nothing, but his hand twitches, like he wants to reach out. Martin takes a deep breath, and continues.

"Jon, I don't usually get crushes-- I, uh, actually never had one before you, and all this time I wasn't even sure that it was an actual," Martin couldn't help how his voice curled with aversion, " crush . All I knew is that I wanted to see you happy, I wanted to help you, protect you, I-- that I would do anything for you. I care, I care so, so much, I may even love you. I just-- I don't know what that is, and I don't want to promise anything that might-- that might go away. And, Jon, I'm terrified ."

"Martin," Jon says, voice raw and aching, and it's too much, Martin's terrified of what Jon will say. Jon will leave him, walk away, and, if he's being honest with himself, it's probably for the best.

Jon reaches forward, gently covering one of Martin's hands with two of his. "I get it--or at least I think I do--this… stuff," Jon says, echoing Martin's tone of aversion, "is complicated, ephemeral. I have similar struggles with trying to define how I feel when it comes to relationships, love, though I do not wish to claim it's exactly similar to your experiences."

"If you still want a relationship, if you want to try this, being together, I want that too. Any version of us would make me so happy. But if you--if you aren't comfortable with it, if it's too much, that's--that's fine. A world with you in it is enough for me."

Martin bites his lip, considering what Jon's said, wisps of bitter skepticism clouding his thoughts, even as tears burn at the corners of his eyes. But Jon's hands are warm around his. Jon's hands don't cling at him, but simply rest there, a steady, solid weight. Something real , offered freely, with no strings attached, no expectations. And he knows what Jon's said, what Jon's offered contains no lie. The tears bud like flowers, and fall down his face.

"Okay," Martin whispers, "Okay."

Jon leans forward, enfolding Martin in his arms, and Martin rests his head on Jon's shoulder, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

After several long moments, Martin gives a damp laugh. "Don't expect me to write you any love poems though."

Jon inhales, clearly ready to disavow any need for love poems, but Martin pulls back slightly before he can, so that he's looking into Jon's eyes. "I actually tried, you know. When I realized how--how strongly I felt about you. I got excited, that I might be able to write a love poem, but--hm. It felt, hm… wrong, I guess? But," he adds quickly, "it's nothing personal, I just. Like I said, don't like 'em."

"That's fine, Martin. I would be honored to hear any of your poetry, though."

Martin rolls his eyes, a small smile peaking through, like the sun on a cloudy day. "Persistent, aren't you. How about later today?"

"I'd like that," Jon says, and Martin could lose himself in the quiet, joyful mood Jon radiates. "Thank you, Martin," Jon says, like he isn't giving Martin everything, like he isn't the most wonderful man Martin's ever met, like he isn't accepting everything Martin is and continues to love him.

Martin leans towards Jon, scrutinizing his face, trying to memorize all the little details from his many scars that pepper his cheeks, to the small mole on his jaw, to the rich brown-gold of his eyes. Jon gazes back, his expression reverent. With some apprehension, Martin presses a kiss to Jon's forehead, a mere brush of lips.

"Is this okay?" he asks, biting his lip as he pulls back.

Jon gives a little laugh, warm and breathy, and nods. "It's--it's good, Martin." And despite Jon glancing down at where Martin's biting his lip, Jon doesn't surge forward to claim a kiss, but continues to let Martin lead. Martin considers Jon's nose; it's always cute when Jon scrunches it. Martin presses a kiss to the tip of his nose, and drinks in the nearly dopey smile on Jon's face when he pulls back again. He did that.

"Would it--would it be okay if we finished up the… the," Martin attempts, waving a hand vaguely towards the pile of unfolded laundry. His own washcloth was somewhere behind him.

"Of course, Martin." Unexpectedly, Jon doesn't look put-out by this, but appears happy to return to his folding. "If you don't mind though, I'd like to--to talk more about this later? There's some stuff about me I want to share as well."

"Oh! Yeah, oh god, sorry, I--"

"Martin!" Jon says sharply, but not unkindly. "Martin, don't apologize, there's nothing to be sorry about. I just think--" Jon exhales. "This heavy stuff needs to be in small doses, there's only so much we can handle at a time."

"That--that makes sense. But whenever you want to talk about it, I'm here."

"Yes," Jon says, with a warm, gentle smile. "You're here."

#aspecmartinweek #the magnus archives #my writing

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totallyseventeen · 7 years ago

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Soulmate AU | Soonyoung

In which you and Soonyoung are soulmates.

Non-Idol Soonyoung x Artistic Reader

This is my first work ever posted to Tumblr, so I really hope you enjoy!

It all started in kindergarten. You were sitting at your little desk while meticulously coloring, and you saw a crudely drawn smiley face appear on the top of your hand. Like any five year old would do, you stand up and scream. The teacher rushed over to your side, and after hearing what happened, she told you about soulmates.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar concept to you; your parents had mentioned the term numerous times before, but you just brushed it aside. Your teacher explained that everyone has a link to their soulmate, but those links vary from couple to couple. She then told you about your link. Whatever you soulmate wrote on himself, you could see and vise versa.

You stared at the smiley face on your hand and admired it. Yes, it was a very bad smiley face. The smile was very crooked and the eyes were so off it was laughable, but it was from your soulmate. You ran back to your desk and snatched a baby blue magic marker and wrote “Hi :)” in sloppy letters on your forearm.

That was the first time you and your soulmate ever had contact, but that was years ago. Now, you are nineteen and have much more knowledge about your soulmate. You learned that he was Korean very quickly, as having strange characters pop up on your arm worried both you and your parents. You learned the language over a long period of time, and your soulmate learned some English, but he is still learning.

He loves to dance. You learned that when he scribbled odd lines and dots along your arm. After a few minutes he wrote an explanation on his hand saying how it was choreography. You attempted to decipher and do it yourself, but you couldn’t distinguish what he meant by the mess of lines mapped out on your arm.

He loved his friends, as well as making people laugh. He would often write down really cheesy jokes where he knew you would see it just so you would laugh. His friends were also very prevalent in his life. They would often prank him by drawing things on him which transferred over to you too. You didn’t mind it that much though. It was a (rather unfortunate) method to discovering more about him and his life.

You also tried to show him a part of yourself. You loved to doodle on yourself. Art was a form of expressing yourself when words couldn’t do justice. The doodles ranged in size from a small little flower blossoming from your nail bed, to a beautiful, intricate lion that took up your entire hand. What you didn’t know was your soulmate watched the creations come to life. It was the highlight of his day to see the ink from your pen magically appear on his skin while swirling into intricate designs he could never have imagined. It was like a window into your emotions. The doodles depicted an aspect of your mood to your soulmate, and he treasured your doodles. He would even flaunt them to his friends and brag about your talent.

Of course, both of you attempted to divulge your names or your location. When you tried to write that information down, the ink swirled around like it was mixed with water. It swirled around which made the writing illegible. It was a very frustrating ordeal, but it did create a wonderful water-color like design. You supposed it was like the universe saying sorry for the trouble.

You woke up on this particular day and were immediately dreading the day. You moved to Korea about a year ago. You made this big leap to try to become one step closer to meeting your soulmate. You let your soulmate know through a vague message that simply stated “I’m moving to you.” He immediately began writing when he saw that message, but it was all blurred out. A small smile made its way onto your face when you saw how excited he was.

You have been here a year, as said before, and you are working in a little coffee shop in Seoul. It is a quaint little shop that has a feeling of peace within it, well, when it isn’t full of customers. The shop is located near a fairly busy street that creates a lot of foot traffic, generating a good crowd. The only bad thing about this set up is that most of the people who come in the shop are pompous and arrogant businessmen and women. It very aggravating to deal with a customer that lets you know they could do your job better than you do. You have to stick with it and hope you won’t slap someone, but you get by most days with the help of conversations betwixt you and your soulmate.

After working for about six hours for your morning shift, you return to the counter to attempt to gain some extra spending money. The familiar ding of the bell on the door sounds and you turn to the door to recite your required greeting.

“Welcome to Jeonghan’s Cafe!” The cheer in your voice is obviously forced, as well as your smile. The man that just walked in returns your false smile with a genuine one that seems to be overflowing with joy. His dyed blonde hair sticks out and grabs your attention, as does his smile. His chubby cheeks accentuate his smile in the most precious way and you can’t help but be shocked at how smokin’ hot he is. You shake your head to remove those thoughts and turn to the register where the man is currently waiting to have his order taken.

You scamper over to the register as quickly as humanly possible and turn to face the gentleman. “Hi! How can I help you today?” You notice some of the fake cheer in your voice has disappeared, and the same has occurred with your smile. They aren’t completely fake, which is a first for this job. You wouldn’t hit on him or anything though; he has a soulmate of his own and you respect that.

“Ah, yes. Can I get an Americano please?” His voice was comforting as opposed to the brash and hateful voices you have grown accustomed to hearing day after day.

“Yes sir. Will there be anything else?” The man shakes his head with the same smile adorning his face. “Okay. Your total is 2900 Won. May I get a name to go with that order?”

“Soonyoung.” The name fits him. And, he didn’t notice that this shop didn’t require you to get his name for his order. You walk over to make his drink after he pays you and he takes a seat in a nearby booth. You pour the drink into the cafe’s signature cup and walk it over to him.

“Thank you so much,” Soonyoung states with thanks evident in his small, expressive eyes. He grabs the cup and holds it with both hands, which conveys a child-like innocence. After mumbling out a quick thanks, you rush back to the counter to try to hide the subtle blush creeping up your to cheeks.

You look around the shop and see that Soonyoung is your only customer and it is in the middle of the afternoon lull, so you pick up a pen that happened to be lying nearby. You then begin to doodle on your hand.

You begin at the tip of your middle finger and create small precise lines flowing down to the middle of your hand. You begin to branch off of the little lines to create more lines with several scattered leaves along each line. You drew the most magnificent and unique tree on your hand that you could imagine. After about five minutes, you hold your hand infront of yourself and marvel at your work. You usually dislike your handiwork, but this time was different. You felt proud.

You then remember that you still have a customer and turn your attention to him. His coffee is half gone, and he is currently looking down at the table like he is in deep thought. Well, that is what it looks like from your view in which his back is facing you. In reality, Soonyoung is still entranced by the way the ink flowed onto his skin and by his soulmate’s artistic ability. He looked at what he assumed to be the finished project and was stunned at how talented his soulmate truly was.

The familiar chime of the door’s bell rang again and a group of three men walked in. They all seemed to radiate a certain confidence, and they walked with a certain graceful air about them. You assume that they are dancers due to those observable facts. You have been learning a lot about dance ever since you discovered your soulmate enjoys it, so your assumption may be correct.

After reciting your usual greeting, they all give you a small smile before looking in the direction of Soonyoung. They begin to walk over to him and they greet him with big smiles, which Soonyoung returns wholeheartedly.

They sit down and Soonyoung immediately displays his hand to the three people. “Guys! Look at how talented my soulmate is!” He nearly shouts his comment in the poor boys’ ears and they examine his hand while marveling at the work of art sketched onto their dear friend.

“You have a very talented soulmate, Soonyoung. I just wish you wouldn’t scream every time she draws something,” one of his friends with sharp, piercing features states while still examining Soonyoung’s hand.

You regret to admit that you had been listening to their conversation, but you were now interested and ecstatic. From what has been said, it sounds like Soonyoung could possibly be your soulmate. The thought of your assumption being wrong slips into your mind, and you refrain from going over there to confirm your theory.

“Hyung, can you buy me a brownie?” The shortest of the group asks with a cute, unintentional pout on his lips.

Soonyoung sighs in an overly dramatic manner, “Just this once, Chan.” With that he stands up and proceeds to walk over to you. You rise up from your position slouched over on the counter and prepare to take his order.

“May I please have one brownie?” His eyes dart to the display containing numerous delicacies and sweets.

“Sure! One second, Soonyoung.” You retrieve the brownie and place it neatly on the shop’s special napkin. You grab the four corners of the napkin to hand it to him, as it is a strange habit you have developed . Soonyoung reaches his hand out to get his friend’s treat, when he suddenly froze and his eyes seemed to double in size.

He looked at you and then his eyes traveled down to your name tag. “Y/N. I knew my soulmate would have a beautiful name.” His cheeks redden from the cheesy line he just used as your jaw drops. He then shows you his hand with the exact same drawing of a tree sketched onto the skin.

You snap out of your shock-induced trance and look into his eyes. They are full of compassion and, dare you say, love. “It is nice to meet you, soulmate.” A bright smile takes over your features as you say this.

Soonyoung’s smile somehow grows bigger and he lets out an adorable little giggle. “It is nice to finally meet you too, soulmate.”

#seventeen #hoshi #seventeen hoshi #kwon soonyong #soonyoung #seventeen scenarios #seventeen soulmate au #I am so scared to past this holy crap

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shochmonster · 7 years ago

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TEASER [for my next writing project]

Yeah, yeah, I know I’ve been a little quiet lately, but I assure you it is with good reason! While OLLIE is making its final edits before heading out on submission, and now that I’ve revamped PINTO anew, I started something totally original to follow after. Here’s a snippet of what I’ve written so far. You Downton heads will be happy to find we’re back in the 20′s again :)

When the lads at the pub asked why I did it, I told ‘em it were on account of those tarty London whores. Couldn’t stop thinking about them, I said – what, with their plunging necklines and thick tits and all – who had time for a proper wifey? It would have only been cruel to little Marlene if I’d gone through with it, sharing a bed with her while I dreamed up all the dirty things I’d like to do with a fat-arsed slut on hands and knees. Of course, the boys agreed: they said as much with the two rounds of ale they stood up for me while I made my confession. Besides, it weren’t really that much of a fib. Not really.

In actuality, the truth was dull, and affected me in a nuanced fashion that required the sort of context you don’t talk about – even at the pub. Most of me Liverpuddle mates were shipyard blokes – real salt of the earth, Cammell Laird types – and already liked to have a laugh over how soft a career in service had made me hands, of how nice me nails were. It was unlikely that they’d understand why a plain letter in the post would be reason enough to bin a pretty lass and all the carnal accoutrements that came with her.

“But I seen her, your Marlene,” said Fat Rupert, a riveter from Birkenhead. He was a hefty bloke with an even heftier moustache, which twitched whenever he spoke. “Such a pretty, coy thing. And that small mouth – like a tight, little bud.”

“Bet she were a tight, little virgin, too,” interjected Will, lifting his fourth pint glass high and punctuating his declaration with a hearty belch. “She certainly giggled like one.”

“That’s the trouble,” says I, trying me barmy best to burst over the irrelevant detail.

“How?” Fat Rupert guffawed, slurping at his ale. It were rather disgusting how the head of his beer caked his thick whiskers, like a walrus cutting through seafoam. “Ain’t noffin’ better’n the maiden voyage.”

“I think I prefer the experienced ones,” I offered vaguely, drowning the details in another hearty glug-glug-glug of ale.

“Ohh,” hummed Will; “Hence the whores.”

“Right, the whores,” I agreed distantly, my head otherwise stuffed fat with nostalgia for Quince Orchard Park and the life I used to lead there. Blame it on that infernal letter, anticipated and unexpected all at once. If I were half as clever as I liked to boast, I’d’ve never writ the card that prompted the reply, and I’d’ve married Marlene without ever thinking of old Holly again. The wedding was marked for summer’s end, but all I could think of was how Holly and I once ruled the servants’ hall of Quince Orchard. Smug, oily and bursting with havoc, those had been the days! How spoilt I’d been to take that for granted, and yet, here I was, drowning in hubris and beer. The card were only meant it as a courtesy – the sort of last ditch call that disguises a farewell to times you only just realized were happy ones. What I got mailed in return was the uncorking of the turmoil I thought I’d repressed ages ago, and an onset of verklempt mania.

“I don’t see why you’ve got to choose,” inserted Fat Rupert, moustache sweeping the rim of his pint glass. “Marry the virgin, fuck the whores – that’s what I’d do.”

“What it is, right, is complicated,” I snapped, clutching my own glass so tightly, I thought I might crush it in my fist.

Will snorted, somehow managing wry, idiotic amusement in the halo of my irritation. “All this comin’ from the corker who fucked His Lordship’s daughter. Ain’t you bein’ a bit, well, prude, like?”

“Ain’t prude to be prudent,” I retorted, slamming my glass onto the bar with enough force to startle Fat Rupert. “And if you’ll recall, all that mess got me the sack, and here I am, workin’ the docks with you lousy sods.”

“Sounds like a fat cat whining after his fat lifestyle,” Will simpered. He was a true product of Liverpool – a real Scoucer spawned in the mucky Mersey River and left to crumble in the shipyards like a dried-out barnacle. To Will, anything from the countryside constituted as posh, even if it was only a stiff job in service that had more to do with how pretty your face was than owt else. Lucky breeding made me tall enough, fit enough – and just German enough to pass as goyish. It were the only reason I managed to find work after I came home from France, so I wasn’t about to complain. That was Will’s bit.

Fat Rupert’s empathy was only slightly more reassuring. He clapped me on the back with enough force to bruise. “Sounds more like the cat’s just got cold paws.” he chortled, massaging the welt he’d smacked through my shirt. “Don’t worry, me laddo. Happens to the best of us. You got your whole life to try again!”

But Will wouldn’t let it go – most likely because he couldn’t catch a woman if his life depended on it. “So our Eddie’s man enough to face the Kaiser’s guns, but he can’t hook a gel?” he hiccupped, just short of spilling his ale onto Fat Rupert’s duffle coat, which was disgusting and sooty, but still marked with the chevrons he’d earned after Verdun. The near-accident got Will the full strength of Fat Rupert’s mishegas, which usually spiked after the third drink or so.

“Our Eddie drove a tank through Cambrai whilst you were in convalescence,” Fat Rupert snapped, a hammy finger right in Will’s chest. His mustache bristled, reddish whiskers clashing against his ruddy drunkard’s cheeks.

“Yeah, and me leg’s still dodgy, you jerk’n’bed,” sniffed Will, unperturbed. As if to prove his point, he rapped a creaky knee with the back of his hand, though it was hard to know how much of it was just mithering. Will and Fat Rupert had this particular argument on a weekly basis, as steady as clockwork and about as melodramatic as a radio play. I let them drag on, too lost in me own head to worry about which one of them were goin’ to get laid out first. Besides, it distracted them from their nosy questions about Marlene, and why the mere reminder of Holly warranted such an abrupt change in plan. Not that I’d even got that far in my explanation: the less they knew of Holly, the better. I only wished I could say the same.

I hadn’t heard from old Holly since I got sacked and drudged off to Liverpool – though in fairness, I hadn’t made it easy, either. Any prim intentions to try writin’ got buried in the six months I spent wallowing in me cups over how foolish I’d been. Guilt overwhelmed me whenever I got even half a mind to take a nib to paper, overpacked with all the petty things that had inspired my betrayal. How was I to start up any communication after all that? To write as if I hadn’t jammed the knife in – as if I hadn’t twisted it cruelly at the fore?

Marlene turned up somewhere in that grim season of self-pity, intruding upon my vulnerable existence right when it was particularly sore. Every working day, we both took the Mersey Railway into Lime Street – even got on at the same ingress and all. Our casual salutations, the gentlemanly tip of a flatcap, her polite dip of the chin, went on in silence for about a month. I only knew she were a nurse on account of the starch pinafore she wore over her dresses, her hair always neat and pinned beneath the same little bonnet. She wore the uniform proudly – a bleeding heart that had tended to shell-shocked veterans all through the war, and then onwards, after the hun stuff finally kicked her papa underground. That was the second detail she ever shared with me, the first being her blushing shock that I knew where she lived. I told her it was because I was desperate to meet her; in truth, I’d only discovered it by drunken happenstance, stumbling home with Will and Fat Rupert as she blazed through the night like an airy pixie, her hospital whites aflame with moonglow. If I had to surmise it, convenience mainly dictated my evolution with her: she wanted another man to dote on, and I needed the cooing.

I let it go on for nearly a year, which is roughly how long it takes to stitch up a cracked heart. The afternoon I put a ring on Marlene’s finger followed the morning I’d dropped that damning and wistful missive into the post, Quince Orchard Park emblazoned beneath Holly’s full and proper name. Procuring a positive response to one of those tasks was significantly simpler than the other. Interestingly, destroying that same progress is just as easy – and a method which I am excellently schooled in. Marlene will mend: she’s a fixer, after all.

“So did you tell her all that when you broke it off?” Fat Rupert interrupted my musing with a rude elbow to the ribs. “About the whores and such?” The pinkening of his cheeks had intensified with his desire to hear more saucy chat, his ginger moustache delineated only by the creamy foam dotting the whiskers. Oy, but Fat Rupert gossiped like a girl.

“I’m not a complete schmuck,” I snapped, folding my arms over my chest so that I could feel the thin shape of the letter that had triggered it all inside my coat pocket. “There’s just some stuff you can’t say that plainly. Especially to women,” I explained further, certain the paper envelope would burn through the lining in my jacket, tattooing its neatly typed communiqué into my flesh. Cold, regimented and not written by Holly at all, the note came from the new butler at the Orchard and very cordially informed that Holly had moved on. It might have been binned straightaway if the message ended there, but no.

Dear Mr. Finch:

Please be informed that Hollingsworth has accompanied His Lordship’s second daughter, the Lady Catherine, to London for the purposes of establishing her own household, and is now in her direct employ. Any further business or inquiries can be directed to the enclosed address. Congratulations on your nuptials.

When arranged in the formation of Lady Catherine’s new residence, the common alphabet read like hieroglyphs, strange and vaguely mystic. The idea of His Lordship’s mousey shrew of a daughter doing anything on her own was laughable, furthered only by how uncharacteristic it seemed for Holly to have followed her there. The big manor house at Quince Orchard had been as much Holly’s castle as His Lordship’s, and seemed a rather large sacrifice to make for the boring sister, who never went out and was about as interesting as a histrionic sigh. The address didn’t even mark a particularly fancy neighborhood, neither, so there was either something to hide, or the war had gouged the aristocracy more than the papers would let you believe. I chose to believe there was a little concoction of both.

TBC

#writing #thommy #new projects #not sure how else to tag this since it's not got a solid title yet

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egoiistas · 7 years ago

Text

Dear Mr. Mustang,

Day 5 of Royai Week: Letters Rated: T? iunno || Words: 2928

January 10th, 1904 Dear Mr. Mustang,

The house is quieter with you gone. It’s funny, all that time trying to keep the noise down and it’s the first thing I notice. Father barely speaks, I think he’s still furious with you - he doesn’t show it, he was never one to vocalize his thoughts. He stays in his study, leaving his comfort zone for dinner time or at night once he’s done brooding, I suppose.

I’m not completely sure why you’ve asked me to write to you, but your face looked genuine when you asked so I won’t take it as a jest. I suppose I’ve run out of things to say. I’d like to know what the academy is like. I wish you the best in your training.

Riza H.

Riza bit on the edge of her inkpen, nervous about the words that she wanted to say without saying too much. She sat back into her wooden chair, having half a mind to tear it into pieces. Her hand hovered over the sheet, ready to crumple into a ball, but she hesitated.

Leaning forwards, she grabbed the short edge of the letter and folded, creasing it to fit neatly within an envelope. She tucked the letter away to drop off at the postal office during her trip to town.

January 30th, 1904 Dear Mr. Mustang,

Winter classes are in session again. I’ll admit the house seems lonelier. In between the usual upkeep around the house and work from the courses given, there’s hardly a soul to speak to besides what I’m doing now in these letters. I’ve played with the thought of leaving this place too. You always talked about the big city and I only have my imagination and images from books to go by. Perhaps, one day, I could go see the rest of Amestris. I laugh just thinking about it.

As I write this, Father’s cough is going off a few doors down into his study. Someone would need to take care of him. I do hope these get to you. Old Lady Germaine at the post says I’m addressing them right. If not, I hope a kind stranger takes comfort in the musings of a random girl.

Riza H.

February 16th, 1904 Dear Mr. Mustang,

I’m hesitant to write this, even now. I feel as though I’m being irrational and losing focus over stupid letters. For heaven’s sake, you’re in the military academy and I’m just someone with too much time on their hands who can’t handle a father who mumbles to himself about a legacy and his alchemy like a madman. I can’t

The pen veered off the paper’s edge and dropped onto surface of the desk with a clatter, and her palms pressed down into her eyes to stop the manifestation of tears. She knew it was a lost cause. She tore herself down, reprimanding herself her letters were just that, not a diary. Her father’s voice became eerily clear in her head, encompassing her own thoughts. She was 17, not a child with her mind in the clouds.

She shut her eyes, curling her body into the seat of the chair. The temptation to leave was all she could think about.

In a way, she envied Roy and his ability to pack up and leave once as the apprenticeship came to a close. Her time would come, Riza consoled herself.

Taking a deep breath, she wiped the remnants from her moment of weakness into the collar of her dress. Her hand ripped the letter and tossed the pieces into the wastebin next to her desk. Riza lifted the surface of her desk to produce another sheet of paper. She began again.

February 16th, 1904 Dear Mr. Mustang,

How’s the winter treating you in the academy? I’ve been very busy with schoolwork. I sometimes find time to go out into the field and shoot some old cans - glass bottles if I’m lucky. I wonder what it is like to have a dog as a companion. Father takes strolls on his own. He hasn’t offered apprenticeship to anyone else. What little he says, he’s always sure to remind me to keep mindful of my studies and says no one can take my education from me. Are you keeping up with what you learned here? Or has it all gone away? Best wishes.

Riza H.

February 29th, 1904 Dear Mr. Mustang,

A day that only comes around every four years. An unusual occurrence in our everyday lives, like birds singing in the winter, sunlight during the rain, or my father coming home with groceries and packages after a day out on the town. Can you believe father goes out? It seems a new life has gotten into him lately.

He’s mostly silent to me. But there is something unsettling, where his eyes wanders. It’s not at me, but it’s something around me and I can’t quite place where they roam. Could he be going mad after all? He seems better but..I digress.

Best Wishes Riza H.

March 15th, 1904 Dear Mr. Mustang,

Whether or not you’re getting these, they’re my only consolation. It takes my mind away. The Ishvalan War is getting more dangerous and closer to rural areas such as my quiet little hometown. Father’s malady bothers him less as the temperature begins to warm. He makes trips still to the town.

I talked to him about if I could ever travel out of town and go see Mother’s grave that lies at a cemetery a little more to the east. He became irrationally furious. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. He degraded my intelligence, which was off-putting, but �� The anniversary of her death is soon, perhaps I should feel some empathy for the loss of his wife, as well. Hope you’re well.

Riza H.

March 21, 1904 Dear Mr. Mustang,

I’m terrified. I have nightmares.

The letter dated March 15th laid on her desk; it settled unwritten. Riza placed the heavy quilt given to her by her mother and tried to find the comfort or a light to latch on to.

May 25th, 1904 Dear Mr. Mustang,

It’s your birthday. I wish I had saved the address to your Aunt Chris so that I could send a gift there, but I seem to have lost my head and with it the address you left behind. I swore I placed it somewhere safe. I’m biting my lip as I write this - I miss your goofy nature. Your light heartedness brought a little glee to this otherwise dull existence. I laughed harder than I ever remember doing and my smiles are far and few between now.

This is rather forward of me and quite unlike me, but I reminisce on the the summer days where we spent the lazy afternoon under the clouds. I never imagined I could enjoy losing time watching the clouds roll by. It’s only been a half a year, but it seems so long ago now.

Best Wishes, Riza H.

June 18th, 1904 Dear Mr. Mustang,

We managed to go visit her. Her grave was no longer intact. Father was silent the entire ride home and there was something in the surface of his eyes that I wasn’t able to read. Perhaps I’ve been staring at them as listlessly brown eyes that any emotion would be so foreign for me.

There was a skirmish of some kind with the Ishvalans and now there’s no telling where the grave was amongst the barren wasteland. It should be alarming that the fighting is nearby, but military men came to our door and spoke to me about the safety they were assuring.

Father, as bold and brash as he is, spat in their faces. I apologized for it. Thankfully, they were convinced when I told him in low tones that he was missing a screw. I saw their heads look at the state of the house and they understood immediately that it was just us there. Whether I should be unsettled by it, we’ll find out.

My heart aches, Roy. I’ve seen my mother’s grave a handful of times. The memory of her is so fleeting and I barely remember what she looks like any more. I shed my tears, not for the loss of a mother, but the only memory that was tangible. I have a theory Father took down all the pictures and destroyed them. I wonder if I look like her, would that be the explanation for his cold behavior towards me? On a lighter, yet somehow darker note, could you imagine a daughter with the spitting image of Berthold Hawkeye with a bow? Best Wishes.

Riza H.

September 12th, 1904 Dear Mr. Mustang.

It’s my birthday. But there hardly seems a reason to celebrate. The sky is dark and gloomy as if winter will approach earlier this year. The entire summer has passed and classes are over. I wonder why he felt the need to send me to school. Does he possibly intend to marry me off to someone? What are his plans? He seems like he’s in a scheming mood, but I’ve mentioned before his behavior is unlike from what I’ve seen since you left for the academy.

I’ll blow out a candle or perhaps an imaginary one. I’ll take comfort in the times I made your birthday cake. Or the one year you tried to surprise me with a small cake for me. You said “small cake for the small lady.” I was so mad, but I hold that memory dearly now. It was an awful cake too. Someone should teach you how to bake. If only you’d learn.

Take care. Riza H.

November 27, 1904 Dear Mr. Mustang,

Do you believe we’re born with our burdens? That we’ll never escape them no matter how fast you run? Forgive me for being vague. The tears that fall are trying not to dilute the ink on the paper as I write this and I don’t have the energy to begin once more.

Alchemy is lauded like the salvation of mankind. If this is the product of alchemy, if this is what my father has to show for his years of research, then I wish I had no part of it. There’s a fire on my back and I cannot extinguish it. It burns terribly, like his alchemy. I’ve fallen sick from it, from his inexperience in the application of it.

If you ever have a child, promise me you won’t treat them like my father has treated me. I hardly have words to speak to him. He speaks to me now with a tone of concern. I know it’s not for me. Not for the welfare of Riza Hawkeye. Was I unworthy of it? Did he question my aptitude? Did he not think I’d be capable? Questions are swirling in my head, pleading for answers, and I lack the courage to confront him. What else is he capable of? What more do I not know of Berthold Hawkeye? Please send me your regards. I beg for someone to show me they still care for a forgotten girl in a rundown house.

Riza H.

January 12, 1905 Dearest Mr. Mustang,

It’s the new year. A whole year has gone by and a lot has happened since you’ve gone to your military academy for reasons I may never know. I’ve sent a myriad of letters and I’m not sure if you’ve received them or if there isn’t time for you. But as I said, this is the new year and I suppose I should create my own closure by properly saying good-bye - for my own sake. Plenty has happened, the unspeakable - things I never thought I’d witness, but I bear the scars of it. You gave me an insight of a different type of life. I can only hope I can get a semblance of what that’s like.

I never thought I’d admit this to myself. I wish that you were here. Wherever you are, stay safe, Roy. Best Wishes.

Riza H.

Delicate hands folded the letter into straight creases before it slipped effortlessly into the white envelope and addressed it for the last time.

With a sadness in the depths of her chest, she sealed the envelope, rising from her chair. Riza exited her room and saw the light escape from the cracks of her father’s study. A warm jacket weighed heavily against her tiny frame, but the bite to her cheeks reminded her that a minor inconvenience was leagues better than frostbite to her skin.

Old Lady Germaine no longer worked the post office, having recently retired. Her granddaughter now ran it for her. The girl around the same age as Riza perked as she entered the building. Riza shivered off the change in temperature and began to materialize the letter from the inner lining of her jacket.

“Miss Hawkeye, right?”

A little stunned to be called by name by someone she didn’t see too often, she nodded slowly. This was a small town after all.

“My grandmother said you’d be coming in a lot.”

It made her embarrassed and Riza thanked the cold for the redness on her cheeks. She silently placed the letter on the counter, sliding over to the girl to handle.

She smiled at her as she took it, but extended her other hand, “I’m Germaine, like my grandmother.” Young Germaine, she thought comically.

She took the hand and shook it courteously. “Riza Hawkeye. Nice to meet you.”

“Same to you! I’ll see you around.” Riza heard her say as she turned around to exit back into the bitter cold.

As she walked back into the deteriorating manor, at first, she thought her father was in his study again rambling to himself like the self-deluded madman he became. However, as she hung the coat on the rack, Riza listened carefully and distinguished a second voice. It was deeper and louder than the weak voice of her father. Curious, Riza began to ascend the stairs to second story, trying not to stir the noise out of the steps.

The second voice sounded as if they were pleading and her father responded with the emotionless tenor that somehow broke her heart every time.

Suddenly, it changed.

Riza heard the chatter grow into yells. A plea for someone to help, for a doctor, “Someone call a doctor! Is anybody here?!”

Riza dashed as quickly as her thawing legs would allow her to the origin of the sound from the study. The panic set in her and she didn’t know who was in her house or what was going on, but someone beckoned for her that wasn’t her father.

At the threshold, she froze in a manner likening to the ice outside. She leaned against the door with her palms to catch herself and her face contorted in a look of disbelief and horror.

She smelled the tin in the air. Blood contrasted against the white of the paper on the desk. The cough that deteriorated her father’s health only worsened with the winter, and her father was slung around the shoulder of a military officer. It took her a moment to register the face and she could swear the feeling of her feet nearly left.

It was him. Standing in the flesh. Terror in his eyes.

“Riza!”She heard him shout.

The family doctor came right as the feeling gathered in her fingers. Berthold Hawkeye was pronounced dead at 12:47 pm on January 12th, 1905.

She didn’t offer Mr. Mustang to stay the night with her the Hawkeye manor, so he stayed at an inn in town. He left the next day to take care of some matters in Central. He said he’d be back for the funeral he was going to pay for.

The letters became insignificant now. They were nonexistent and she vowed the topic would never surface unless he brought it up. The feeling of embarrassment from being acknowledged like a stranger. She couldn’t help but doubt herself. Her thoughts went to the few summers they spent together, a time when she didn’t see him the way she did now. Where they all in her head? Did she not only inherit her father’s legacy but his lunacy too?

Riza felt the quietness of the house. It was so silent. She could feel his ghost around her, especially on her back.

It was a surreal moment. Riza entered her father’s study and began sort through his belongings and organize the clutter he had left behind. There were books upon books stacked halfway to the ceiling and filled the bookshelf. Some of them with paper notes jutting out the edges and she hated each and every blank book for not being good enough for her late father.

She let out a sigh without anyone in the large house to hear it. Once the loose papers and strewn books were organized, she reached for one of the many trunks and opened it. This one was more organized with folders and dividers to separate papers. There was a clump at the back that made the dividers bend from the breadth of the contents.

As her delicate fingers wiggled it out, her eyes widened and she felt a cold sweat suddenly spread across the surface of her skin. In her hands were a stack of letters with a string wrapping them together. In the front was her familiar handwriting and the familiar address she wrote so many times

Her breath escaped through her lips.

Roy Mustang Renwall Military Academy East City, Amestris

#royaiweek17 #royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #berthold hawkeye #fma #fullmetal alchemist #q

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tokyoteddywolf · 7 years ago

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P! A! R! T! T! E! N! What does that spell?? PART TEN!! Please

*whispers* guess who’s back~💙Enjoy my dear!———————————-Blue made sure to monopolize Lance’s lap once the movie room had been arranged, the shorter woman able to fit under her cub’s chin with ease. She shot Black and Shiro a smug little smirk at the almost pouting expression on the Black Paladin’s face, her sister raising an eyebrow questioningly.

Hunk and Yellow were currently cooking up a storm, Hunk handling entrees and Yellow focusing on sweets. Pidge and Green were setting up the gaming system, while Keith and Red were gathering blankets and pillows to make a giant nest on the ground.

Shiro scooted over to Lance, not so subtly positioning himself slightly behind the Blue Paladin in case he fell asleep and needed something to lean on. Blue huffed when her sister took up the opposite side, further up in order to grin at her little sister. Black merely chuckled and reached over to pat Lance on the head endearingly. “It is good to have you back, blue cub.” She said, Lance turning to face the leading lioness.

“Huh?” He looked a bit bewildered at the nickname, and Black merely smiled. “Ask Blue, later of course.” The next question out of Lance’s mouth was interrupted by the door sliding open and Hunk walking in, arms full of plates piled high with foods, accompanied by Yellow carrying a container full of still hot alien cookies.

Green whooped and bolted forwards, only to be blocked by a screeching red blur that tackled her to the ground, hissing and flailing, a tangle of angry struggling limbs. “No! You always steal anything Yellow bakes before I have a chance to get any! I haven’t had Yellow’s baking in over ten thousand years! Ten thousand, Green! You are not stopping me from getting a taste this time!!!” Red yowled, pinning her bigger sized sister to the ground on her stomach, clamping the green lioness’s arms behind her back.

Yellow sweated nervously. “Um, girls, there’s plenty for everyone you know. I’m pretty sure Green can’t possibly eat all of these…” the meek yet bulky blonde attempted to speak over the noise, but the red and green tangle on the ground was too busy screeching furiously to hear her.

Blue hissed warningly as her wrestling sisters got too close to her charge, narrowing her eyes. Lance yelped and ducked a kick to the head, and that’s when Blue lost her cool. “ALRIGHT, THAT’S IT!!!” She roared, launching herself from Lance’s lap and into the fray, attempting to subdue both of her older sisters. Lance scooted back, only to squeak in surprise as Shiro pulled him onto his own lap.

“Safer here.” Was the only explanation he got, not that he was really going to complain about it. Shiro really was comfy to lean against, he had this nice, well rounded all muscle body that was perfect to lay on, firm but soft as well.

Pidge neatly stepped around the wrestling trio of humanized Lions in order to snatch a cookie for herself, tossing one to Black, who munched on it in amusement while watching her squabbling sisters. She then started up the gaming system while Hunk passed around food, Keith finally joined the pile on the ground and Black eventually separating the blue, green and red mass of angry wrestling women.

Lance was the absolute king of gaming, but Pidge was a geek and that made her a tough opponent to beat. Blue was pressed up against Yellow a short distance away, eyeing Shiro warily as her Paladin and the Black Paladin played against Pidge and Hunk together. Hmph, her sister’s cub certainly wasted no time showing his affections, did he? Then again he had almost lost Lance to the inky black oil planet and the damages caused by the Galra…

She turned her attention back to the movie. She’d interrogate the Black Paladin about his intention towards her little Lance later. Pidge had replaced the game with a movie, a documentary on the Yelmores. For now, she’d allow her cub to sleep peacefully in the older man’s lap, as the flush across the bridge of Shiro’s nose and cheeks as Lance nuzzled into his neck was extremely amusing to the old lioness.

Even she could not excuse herself from admitting that the two cubs were quite cute together, really.———————————-// this was a long time coming, I am so sorry, but it’s here now and maybe a part eleven, maybe a separate scenario, maybe it’s ended here. Let me know if you want this arc ended, if you want a separate scenario, or a part eleven! Tests and the upcoming SBACK test are kicking me into next week without a break so I’m tired a lot more than usual, rip ;-; but I haven’t kicked the bucket yet! I plan to keep writing more Mama Blue AU, just more like short arcs and fics, like the Shance confession and maybe Blue and Lance fending for themselves on a planet while the team rushes to save them, or Blue being motherly with Lance, or (what I really want to write) Sibling Interactions between the Lions like Green and Blue pranking the shit out of Allura or Black and Yellow helping out around the Castle or Red and Blue arguing, so many possibilities!💙🖤💛❤️💚

(Masterlist here! -> https://tokyoteddywolf.tumblr.com/post/160169071603/mama-blue-au-masterlist )

#Mama Blue AU #my writing #shance #fucking finally I got this up #voltron

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automationgeeks · 8 years ago

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Top Places To Start A Blog (Updated Edition) - Thats Huge For What I Am Striving To Accomplish With My Blog)

Similar to MySpace, Xanga started off in 1999 as a social networking site frequented by teens.

One year later, Xanga added blogging capabilities.

Therefore the platform offers users the option of giving eProps to show love for a particular post. With that said, the site has an estimated 40 million users, and is the 1438th most visited site on earth. I also think WordPress is a lot better than blogger overall. You have unlimited possibilities because of the thousands of plugins people have created and WordPress is easier to use when you get the hang of it. One page for blogging, comments and a petition and one page for updating and organizing historical documents, images and pdfs as needed. So here is a question. Recommendations?

I look for to create an ongoing research based blog for a specific population. Thanks! Highly informative just bookmarked for further updates. Fact, hi that's better review for beginners who look for to start online blogging in easy way by beginning to ending bit by bit explanation thank you very much for your efforts for this article, its really helpful for us. Basically, will you kindly suggest and help? p site I have found that is free, uses Cpanel control panel, and gives me unlimited disk space, and bandwidth is while experimenting with templates am facing with problems and haven't come across any template that made me happy. All these sites are great for people that know absolutely nothing about web hosting or managing a website.

These sites give you should you rather pay upfront for a domain and hosting so have things free after that, or pay as you pick things like pages, video, traffic levels and more? This where it starts getting very entertaining, right? Will you like to monetize and keep all the earnings, or have to share? Notice, wordPress vs Squarespace/Wix/Weebly is a highly common question new website owners face. Let me ask you a few questions to see which way is best.. Will you like no glitches, or glitches?

Will you rather have communities and support forums everywhere to ask questions, or get a site thence exist in a contained and lonely environment?

Sort of an online diary.

Can I transfer posts when switching to, if I start out on WordPress.com. I look for to keep it all consistent and coherent. Must I just start out with the.org to save a headache later? While I use a plugin for this on my sites now I've direct coded them for clients and in the past for my own sites and love the extra functionality you can get by looking into those variables. Tumblr was recently bought by Yahoo, who has interesting plans for the entire blog advertising thing. At a time when WordPress and Blogger were neck and neck for new users, Tumblr showed up as the 3rd guy to the party. Actually, they received quite a few 'signups' from users wanting a tally refreshing have blogging, and have grown ever since. Nearly everyone is there already and you get taken seriously outright.

Awesome question.

Sorry for the extreme delay here as I get up to date on comments.

You won't own your blog there or be able to monetize it, for the sake of example. Google + can be used like a blog if you put hard work into sharing quality posts with the right people, and consistently engaging good circles. Oftentimes whenever making beautiful blog posts and more, s awesome for building google rankings. At the moment and really for any time in the forseeable future I like wordpress.org for running a blog. Now pay attention please. I am writing a blog about Angels for almost two years. I make no money, And so it's all about making a better world. As a result, must I go to word press? Now I just need cheap. Your advice is appreciated. Time to renew and I will like to move. I went with them as I was so new I needed that's all very new, as you can tell.

I have a registered domain name and a website on iPage.

I don't know how WordPress should / does / can fit in with the blog portion of my website.

Can I create an active blog as amidst the tabs, or do I sensibly require a separate site dedicated to a blog to do, eventually, the full range of marketing, promotion, and so on? Sites is good for private groups or a corporate intranet, not much else. Then, google does not put much effort into supporting Sites. It has very limited functionality. I am using Google Sites since 2010 for my blog/ecommerce site, and regret that I didn't start with WordPress.org. I noticed Google Sites ain't on the list. I've squeezed as much as I can out of Sites but am now considering changing. I think I am planning to start with wordpress.com and see how I get on.

Thanks for all this amazing info! Please can you clarify similar structures as a WordPress site does. Joomla is an advanced CMS used by developers to publish plenty of the websites we visits every day. Minus of blogger is that blogger do not allow to cash in if your blog with adult content. Recently I opened my new blog about erotic photos and videos -I have to say that blogger is easier to use comparing with wordpress -'htmlediting' is plus, free video downloading. Besides, minus of blogger that administation can delete your blog without alert. So this not only makes it harder to transition those images down the road BUT can affect Search Engine Optimisation if you have an image or graphic heavy site.

My additional Blogger con should be that the photos aren't stored within website either, they are linked to an offsite location. And suchlike you can't change the fact that the photo/image is linked or at least sourced to another domain, while you can add your alt tags. I added your remark about Squarespace! I only wish I had a link to your web site, I would give you credit for that kind comment. Thank you for informing everyone including myself, and hope you found a better home for your blog posts! You can do it! You should take it into account. You are right that bloggers have to learn that on their own. I'm almost sure I realised many professional bloggers prefer to write than to manage all things techie or buggy, there're many free tutorials out there to help. Myzooming.com is a blogging platform for those who seek for to use wordpress but can't afford. I appreciate your work. I hope it ok you a time to finish it. Did you hear of something like that before? This list is awesome braa. Eventually, for the most part there's another platform I think you can add. Go watch all of Gregs youtube videos.

Get download wordpress, hostgator for hosting research theme plugins, pick one, and your off and running, best of luck and any more questions, come baqck here and ask. All the best, have fun and give us your domain name when your ready so we can check it out. I'm from Indonesia and can't speak english nocely. Needless to say, free trial, thanks for share, I'm almost sure I just wanna say that ghost dot org not free. I need another dedicat ips, not dot com…hehehe thanks, I actually know you are not understand. Then again, I read that it should cost money annually to move from WordPress to, is there a way I could get past that? I'm not sure about Blogger, I'm quite sure I know you can do it with WordPress.

Say I go with Blogger, so decide that my blog will be better and worth the fees over at WordPress can I move all my content from Blogger to WordPress?

It may be by Blogger or WordPress and its main focus might be to update my readers about music, pictures, music videos, new releases, magazines, lives, and stuff,, I'm intending to start a blog.

I need to be able to do the following. It's a well if WordPress will allow me to do everything I that Blogger does I might just go with WordPress. Therefore, I've read almost almost any comment and your information about the blog options that we have, and it seems like Blogger is the right blog for me.

I think I will try Blogger out first, after that,.

That last statement leads neatly into my next question.

I do move to wordpress, how much would it cost and, is there a way to avoid the fees for the redirection link? As I said, I don't seek for to have to pay additional fees and I understand that if I go with org from the start it won't be something I want to move to wordpress, I should like to start at wordpress.

Including the via attribute which you would use to specify your personal Twitter user name for the via @soandso that generally follows a tweet, So in case you go to https.//dev.twitter.com/docs/tweetbutton and scroll midway down you'll see how you can add specific variables. Therefore if wordpres blogger or so identical if we were not able to take care of and maintain as possible, I love you for this article and I reckon anyway. Which we were able to lots of good, identical nonsense, O Lord, do not??? Did I dream that? I may have misunderstood you somewhere here but I believe you mentioned in a comment to somebody else to keep away from Bluehost. Of course, who will you suggest using apart from Bluehost, if not. While meaning specific, on topics, start niche narrow. Nearly all big brands we know of are going WordPress. It's p way if you need to build a loyal audience. Now please pay attention. People are looking to blogs more than ever for product recommendations but you can't do this Therefore a personal website on WordPress.org is your best bet.

Since it's a roller coaster, overall, go with a pic you can write a LOT on, so this blogging thing.

Revenue, and your ability to profit with a website, will come once your audience is there. You have to establish yourself as an expert in one field consequently blend in your other interests. Everyone needs one, being that it teaches you a lot about the web and is easy to use. Although, pick WordPress, I'd say if you seek for a fancy blogs with plug ins and design flexibility. Of course tips, and stuff take Blogger, I'd say in case you just need to share posts. Most blog readers should go for contents than fancy stuffs that take time to load. Notice that I think it really depends in what you seek for to achieve. Which of the two should you recommend to generate enough traffic and make connections within my industry, with what I need to offer on my blog.

I'm debating between using WordPress, that I know is the go to platform or Google +.

It'll be part blogging of information, I am in the midst of creating a blog that caters to the indie music scene, advice, tips my skills and services should be shared with artists,, personal thoughts and insight and resources but the main premise is to ofcourse network.

Great post and thanks for the insight. Get online quickly with a free trial, setup a cool design and start attracting clients -that's the motto. All over television with beautiful and encouraging ads, SquareSpace offers a nice solution for the business owner in need of a web presence. Go and share publicly I'd say in case you look for to build any sort of following.

As we've been making an attempt to dominate it for a year now, if you need a guide on how to use Google Plus we've got you covered.

Fun features like the badge make getting followers easier.

Google Plus brings you instant community + audience -two things any blogger wants more of. Some might say WP and some will say blogger. However, for an example creately thrives in the diagramming category as it has the perfection that matters. Later, as I manage to learn php and more js, By the way I transform my website in a greate cms gaming platform, build on wordpress, at firat I start as very easy blog on wordpress. Combine in it anithing and display it anywhere I seek for. I had used Movable Type for the blog section, and figured that it will be nearimpossible to make the transition to WordPress. Thanks to you I decided to revive my 'longdormant' website.

Hi, in my opinion it would've been best if you 'copy paste', republish your old posts, and backdate them if you like.

Pretty sure major blogging platforms have this particular feature.

I highly suggest you delete your.blog blog as I reckon the platform should be shutting down soon since look, there're other better options for us out there. Is the WordPress hosting package at Network Solutions limited? Essentially, how limited, I'd say if so.. They say they are using WordPress version they don't really say much else that makes sense to me. Also, I'm wondering how it fares in searches and if I control the ads and receive the ad revenue, or if they do. Consequently, what's different, I'd say in case not. I'm wanting to know how it compares to using WordPress.org -is it quite similar? Recently I built Blogging platform for IT engineers called Wiredify.

It's simple UI but focusing on software engineering. It's quite new but striving to be useful site for all developers. I have learned many things from this post. Blogger? It is a great informative post. Just keep reading! WordPress? On p of this, I can not decide that what's best blogging platform for me. Please give me some suggestion. I am a brand new blogger. I did try other CMS like Joomla and drupal but nothing is better than WordPress I believe. I started out with blogger 6 years ago but later on moved to WordPress and since so I have never looked back. A well-known fact that is. I am a photographer/storyteller, and I'd like to blog as you suggest using hostgator. Nonetheless, I have browsed the wordpress.com themes and can't find one in which the font is not tiny and greyish and in which the photos uploaded are allowed to be large enough for my liking. Thanks for answering my questions! By the way I don't know if wordpress can, I know Blogger can handle it.

I've learned what I'll need to do to backup my blog.

I gonna be able to figure that one out on my own, I believe!

There you should be able to test a demo version of it, as for your A Cwrite is a chat write that you can install in your blog or website -if you seek for to know more type cwrite in your search bar and click on the site that has cwrite ws in the URL. Therefore if I switch from a free WordPress.com blog to a domain where I pay a fee per year will my blog become part of WordPress.org? For example, I am quite worried being that a blogger ld me that WordPress.com doesn't have many options as opposed to Blogger but I don't look for to change now that I have built a small audience. However, thank you very much. Oftentimes any advice? You see, you may find articles at Hubpages you'd wonder why anyone would ever publish.

You may find better home for your blogging and writing needs.

Hubpages started as an article network, the kind of place where you were rewarded for publishing a lot of articles on any one pic like cooking, travel or homeimprovement.

Today, it boasts millions of informative articles and guides. Now look, a byproduct of mass publishing is slightly lesser quality. It's a good idea to send this to them, I'd say if you know a friend who could benefit. Then again, just send an email. Lastly, so this post ok me months to research and make. Thanks to share with us. Helps alot during creating a blog for website whose expecting for traffic. Actually a person can pay more for space and just about every item. Seriously. Basically the org side is worse although a person gets a few free templates. Although, support is a bad joke on WordPress.com. Remember, the real kicker is the price of $ 250 dot 00 for an usable backup. I am in the process of moving first of the year. For the expense of expanding WordPress.com it my be easier to buy web space from a decent host. Some info can be found easily on the internet. For less than $ 150 dot 00 a year lots of us know that there are good hosting sites who have WordPress so you can invite friends to join.

WordPress have a very limited number of social networking links available. WordPress charges for any small step and limit store space. It's not far off from learning something like Microsoft Word and becomes second nature quickly, do expect a learning curve. It's the most powerful and respected blogging platform with endless opportunities. This the case. You got it Nuien. I have made my blog with blogger grindingchocolate.blogspot.mk/. Now please pay attention. Therefore in case I do start the business I'd rather simply be able to build the site on similar platform as my blog rather than have to start from scratch. Generally, given all this information is WordPress my best bet? Hi, I'm looking at starting a blog which I may eventually need to attach to a web based business that I still can't decide if I need to gamble on starting or not -I'm also currently unemployed.

How hard is it to switch from com to org if I just seek for to try out the interface and the blog to see how both go?

In my opinion you have pointed out for the most part there're a huge number of good blogging services available!

I think I was lucky to only know about wordpress.org when I got started and didn't have to take a roundabout way to get there. I any day. WordPress does take slightly longer to learn but if you are serious about a business it's definitely the choice I recommend. So, in any of the questions above, the first scenario is the WordPress.org. For instance, you could've written 1560 posts, 200 posts, 17500 posts, or 82 posts, on the Squarespace platform, and there must be absolutely no way of knowing exactly how many posts you have published -because they don't keep count! Please update this list to include the fact Squarespace does not in any way tell you exactly how many blog posts you have. For instance, my vote goes for wordpress as I know it's quite easier than other blogging platforms. I just love the extra functionality you can add with the vast quantity of plugins.

Hey great post, been looking at the ones I haven't seen before but I believe being a web designer WordPress is my favourite and may always be.

I can't install software without corporate approval and computer management support, Know what guys, I can access the intranet and internet with Internet Explorer 10.

Which web hosts are ready to work with SharePoint from start to finish? My employer owns by rig, and to protect their internal network from malware, they forbid and prevent me from installing unauthorized software. I read a few discussions about getting SharePoint and WordPress.org to work gether and it looks like a disaster, especially for a brand new comer. Nevertheless, will the web site management software try to install on my laptop, or will it become a feature on the web site, if I try to start a blog on WordPress.org or somewhere else.

MS SharePoint Designer 14 dot 0 is authorized for use in supporting internal blogs, wordPress ain't on my employers list of authorized software. Its more like wordpress for more even if I have not been I'm almost sure I liked both the good cms platform for wordpress or blogger. My country ain't listed on Paypal to receive payments. I am currently on a trip and should like to start a blog. Remember, I can only make payments. Actually, being that I am abroad, Actually I am not able to do any payments as well. Sounds like a lovely group and place. I dunno, I'm pretty sure I like WordPress's Users panel bc you can set different levels of power Like can edit, comment, publish, etcetera hereafter email out the logins from WP. I appreciate all the work put in to the info above. Will you mind clarifying the diff between the two sites please? I've always understood ‘org' to be basically not for profit and ‘com' to be a business for financial gain. Usually, I'm still a little confused about the difference between WordPress.org and WordPress.com though. Those definitions is being reversed in your descriptions. You got a great read on me there I like Blogger bc it's free and fun, and WordPress.org bc you can advertise, rank well in search, and generally do more regarding the building entire websites.

We have got for the most part there're hundreds of thousands of blogs out there so unless someone has the right link there's little change they'll get there. You should better announce it with care and good timing! Your blog is private until you announce it. With that said, I like both platforms as a newbie I just start with blogspot now I move to wordpress. Loved both…. You undoubtedly should both what the big issue behind both? I'm almost sure I use weebly for my church websitre. On p of this, in spite the fact that the sites listed in here can be considered simple it's nice to know someone with 0 code knowledge can have their own creative slice of the internet world. I get positive feedback about it I am thinking to have a ddler food blog for the past 2 yrs til now I have not done so. My question, for a first time blogger that has no clue about coding is wordpress.com easy enough for a starter?? Is there another blog site that u advise others. Thank u for a great article! What do you think? Plenty of info can be found easily by going online. Still haven't decided on whether I should use WordPress, To be honest I am very interested in starting a blog. That's right! I don't have any HTML skills so I fear that settling on, I actually see the great reviews on WordPress.org. Minus of blogger is that blogger do not allow to earn money if your blog with adult content.

Check this out.

HostGator to install WordPress onto I opened my new site about -I have to say that blogger is easier to use comparing with wordpress -'htmlediting' is plus, free video downloading.

Minus of blogger that administation can delete your blog without alert. Blogger is a great intro. Or a Tumblr or WordPress, like you said a logger blog. It's dangerous to invest time making a business here in spite the fact that they are fun. Usually, ok I have opted to take it. Furthermore, I decided on godaddy. You see, I started to put gether my worpress.org stuff and have transferred my domain. Now I am stuck. Let me tell you something. I can't seem to get my temporary wordpress.org site to become my old domain name.

Which blog site is easiest for fans to subscribe to?

Is that even available in free blog platforms?

It gets missed in the massive news feed, I post it to Facebook. People complain that they have no information when I have a brand new post, there's not a subscription option, I have a weebly blog. Did you know that an experience so compelling that Katy Perry decided This Is How We Do it with the elegance of NYTimes, Sony, Wall Street Journal, Forbes, Snoop Dogg and more. Consequently, wordPress requires no coding knowledge and is free software -it's the domain name and hosting you pay 'aboutasmuchasacupofcoffeepermonth' for. It gives you a website like the world's best and teaches you all about websites, find out how to make a WordPress blog. For p place to blog, and it continues to be the largest blogging community on the web. I must say bravo like in a single word. Now this updated list is really helpful for getting all the bloggers altogether. You should take it into account. Know what guys, I am owner of Namaste UI and follow a certain amount blogger that you have mentioned in the list.

Let me tell you one concern I have learned about life.

There's no MAGIC.

Have a look at my site…automotiverepairinsidernews. You still have to invest the time. Your choice. With Gregs FREE online tutorials and $ I said $ 12 This what you can build. Everything you need is there. My site crashed from my own stupidity, Hostgator had it up and running in 5 minutes. Let me know. You can lead a horse to water, but…. Essentially, enjoy the journey and if I can would have lost 50 work hours, I'd say if I had opted for a free site.a lot of free themes out there, like I said. Have you watched all of Gregs videos on you tube. So, you get what you pay for. I am sure that the $ 12 includes Hostgator, wordpress and Suffusion theme. Just go on and LOOK and Research. With wordpress, a free bog can crash. Free software gives you minimal customizations.org, you can download many free themes and customize them yourself.

Blogger is Google's free blog hosting site.

More popular at the turn of the millenium, Blogger still offers a great service but the designs are a bit elementary.

Try Adsense monetization, design a brand new layout and even edit your first piece of code. Login and publish your first post for free with only a Gmail account. 50 of the time, 'nonresponsive' support, dreadful performance, limited functionality, awful interface, My blog was down >. I know that the registrar responded instantly and were a great help. Therefore, even in transferring my domain, a manual process for them even when it's so easy to automate, they've been 'nonresponsive' and I had to bring in the registrar for which blog.com are resellers. Great insight on the world of Blogging.

I'm a complete newbie to this and … I don't have a FB account!!

My end goal is to eventually gain some ground and start my own biz someday.

I need to start a blog for cathartic reasons and wondered if journal type writing is appropriate for the web. What do you suggest? And so it's the most serious con in the Squarespace advantages and flaws list, and it would've been useful if everyone knew this major disadvantage before investing time energy into starting a blog on that platform. Literally just the domain and hosting are necessary Cheap will be getting your first month of hosting for 1 penny with the coffeemoney coupon. Cheapest will be using a GoDaddy coupon from Fat Wallet should be getting the domain name at GoDaddy. This where it starts getting very intriguing, right? This entry was very helpful. It's good that through this, I've had the chance to brush up with a certain amount blog sites that might suit my preferences. It is quite some amount of time since the last time that I've had a blog of my own and due to unforeseen circumstances, I have not maintained it and almost went on an online hiatus, in fact.

Thanks a lot David!

Not easy.

WordPress.com is designed for tally beginners who don't need much control. Adding that in. Anyways, my mom just started on WordPress.com and paid about $ 26 to get going. Have you heard of something like that before? Got any more details? Start a WordPress blog here, gether with other DB readers. Anyway, what you really seek for is a domain somewhere like GoDaddy or HostGator, and a hosting plan. Also, with these two things you can use WordPress.org which is FREE. Now look. You pay for it with addons. I'm sure you heard about this. I'm pretty sure, that's what not make any sense, Therefore if u will NOTICE I wanted free blog so If I have FREE BLOG with FREE theme why I have to pay for a customizing the FREE THEME. You should take this seriously. Wow, Xanga is still mention worthy?

Still, not that I have much of interest to say.

I'm just over the entire social networking platforms and have noone to talk to but myself!

Ive been missing the writing. Almost any blogger needs to know the exact percentage of blogs published, and needs to be able to access them at any time. You will see that you can not do this basic function, when you try the platform for yourself. You shall not know, since there is no way to count, even by number of posts per page, So in case you write 500 posts. So do not put energy into the platform without knowing this information in advance. To create an online store I will use wordpress. Considering the above said. Even the free plan has certain things the Wix free option doesn't and Weebly is easier to use overall. I feel Weebly is better. Yes, that's right! Ultimately, it depends on what kind of blog it could be. Just try out both for a week and see which you like best they're both free. On p of that, I couldn't log in anymore and I never found some ‘ customer ‘ it's just lost from that moment or after a while it was showing to me that BLOG DOES NOT EXIST or THAT I AM NOT A OWNER… This was a big disappointment for me!

Hello I used a BLOG. After a some blog a big lot, cOM for 3 years. By the way, a great article, has opened my eyes to some new options as I contemplate how/where to establish a blog look for to start. We're looking to do a multiauthor blog with a header/topic message and later posts from various members of the author group in response -each offering various perspectives on the pic at hand. Then, perhaps you can give some advice. Must I first transfer my content to wordpress.org and after that sign up, or sign up to host gator stright away? I currently have a blog on wordpress.com and I bought the domain name. Essentially, I'm looking to move to wordpress.org with hostgator doing the hosting. Try to avoid paying for redirects, it's a good idea to only have to buy your domain name and hosting plan. Nevertheless, write me any more Qs. I will 100 get the hosting setup and tell HostGator what domain you're using first, hereafter export content. I found that they have a Earn Cashback page which direct to cashback, great works bro you are doing a pretty good job. While browsing I found a site buytoearn.in. So found that this site is hosted on blogger which dont allow php and apache server on it.

Funny you ask, just made a video on a couple of kinds of advertising.

Enjoy and write me any questions https.//you love asking people to comment… well, have a happy day!

Know what guys, I might be deeply buried in your inwrite, To be honest I asked you question earlier. Monetizingwise, you can send paying customers to your business. Nonetheless, take it! Just think for a moment. You can build a trusting audience and send out good information to customers on Google +. It's true that almost any blogging platform has certain privileges and also for the most part there're ourselves. It's a well I like WordPress among all other existing platforms, when it boils down to me. Thank you very much for sharing valuable information, enjoyed the post throughout. So in case I start a.com blog will I be able to shift everything over to my new.org blog or would I have to start fresh?

Thanks Greg that's really helpful. I am not in a position at the moment to pay for a domain so in my opinion given that it's only a personal blog I will start on.com and see how it goes for quite a while hereafter when I am in a position to think about buying a domain I will reassess my situation. And so it's so simple and the ns of themes make any blog so unique. On p of that, I must say though, I have love wordpress. Doesn't it sound familiar? The article just keeps scrolling.

Now this has opened my eyes to plenty of other platforms.

Thanks for creating it, now this has been really useful though.

Wow, Know what, I didn't actually know there was so many. I am so confused on what are the steps that I'm almost sure I am mom who is interested in starting a mommy blog. Have no info what platform to use, By the way I want to buy a domain. Furthermore, I need to make my blog look pretty and add icons and stuff. Must I go with blogger or wordpress? I have a blog through blog.com.

However, Actually I started writing, and wanted to pick up that blog again… the site ain't working correctly, Since so.

I have to go through round about ways in case you are going to sign in… and I can't even think about creating a really new post without using the quickpost feature in my dashboard.

I tried blogging a couple of years ago, only got a few posts in, and after that writeped it. Therefore if wordpres or blogger so identical if we are not able to take care of and maintain as possible, I love you for this article and I think anyway, how can we take care of the website that we manage it that much good, similar bullshit ya not boss??? With that said, whenever your personal success its difficult to comprehend, That's a fact, it's unfortunate that the bad titles get rated on p on google and I'm sure some individuals can be fun for dozens of people as it helps them to share their beliefs and thinking with others.

Many blogging platforms are available these days that can won't do any good for aspiring bloggers who are looking to continue blogging for a long time. Get an actual domain name and You can try hosting for 1c so it's kind of like why not as you get to use WordPress.org like the big guys. Find your way to HostGator and use coupon COFFEEMONEY at checkout, in order to get this. Thanks and hey! Definitely wondered similar things long time ago in the past so here goes. Now let me tell you something. By the way I recommend this path, I see plenty of folks getting tied up with them and actually spending more money, oddly, free blogs are fun and ok. Hey I followed Ana's link over here to read your post -nice summary though I have an additional point I'll put in a ‘real' comment. Whenever making money is more convenient, ll also own a WordPress.org blog entirely so.

Either way is optimal though.

With the ease of WordPress.org these days and the fact people actually end up paying for things like a domain name on WordPress.com, Know what, I 100 recommend using the.org to start.

You can export/import your entire blog. You can definitely start on WP.com and move to WordPress.org later. I tried WordPress and it's not WYSIWYG with MS Word. Blogger has had a huge issue with its templates and its graphics insertion since the end of 2013 and none of their forums has figured out the answer, it's a wash. Let me know, I'd say in case you know the answer. I tried out WordPress with those same articles and it doesn't look right, the way it does on Blogger. Doesn't it sound familiar? I have a multilingual thread on my current blog, Blogger, and I wrote posts in advance. Catch with Wix is the premium features, that of course cost money, that you'll almost definitely need as you expand your website.

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