THE CONSERVATORY

~ she/her | minor | artist ~ This is now a writing blog. ✨ MAIN BLOG: https://www.tumblr.com/buttercupsss2

[buttercupsss3]

THE CONSERVATORY ✨

✦ Est. Feb 26 2026

art blog ; main blog ; you are here!

[oldcoyote]

if you ever doubt that your ao3 comments matter or mean something: i have been struggling with my writing for 6 months straight, crying myself to sleep afraid that i will never be able to write again, that the thing i love most in the world has left me, that my writing is just gone

this morning i got this comment:

and after i stopped blubbering over it, i picked up my writing notebook, and re-read all my fic research, and opened up my document again for the first time in weeks without being afraid of it

you have no idea how much writers treasure every single comment we get. you have no idea how big an impact you can have. sometimes, just sometimes, your one "insignificant" comment changes everything

[sunwornink]

here is your daily reminder to COMMENT ON THE AO3 FICS YOU READ! it goes such a long way, especially if it’s a multi-chapter work and you can only leave kudos once. ANYTHING is an acceptable comment—emojis, keyboard smash, screaming, in-depth analysis! i promise you, the writers want it ALL

[buttercupsss3]

Please 🙏

I write for myself, yes, and even without comments, I will go on writing, but comments make it so much more enjoyable and it helps motivate me to write more and faster. One or two comments can sustain me for like three chapters. I love getting comments they give me life..

[buttercupsss3]

Forever now unsaid,

4. Thought I'd learned a thing or two, but

Lan Fan stands. The two of them go silent and stare up at her. They’re waiting for an explanation. She doesn’t think she can speak. She’s burning up in her bǐjiǎ. She wishes the sweat pooling beneath her would turn into an ocean and devour her. Wordless, she ducks her head and runs away. “Ah.. Lan Fan!” Ling stands on instinct, moving to follow her, but he pauses. Smooths out the front of his robe and sits back down. “Dammit.”

Edward doesn’t know what to make of it.

Forever now unsaid, - Chapter 4 - Buttercups (buttercups_08) - Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga [Archive of Our Own]

okay THIS is my favorite chapter so far.

[buttercupsss2]

“Maybe Lan Fan would look wondrous in red, but now, Ling is more captivated with the idea of Edward dripping in gold.”

Me when the love triangle is doomed

[buttercupsss3]

Lol

[buttercupsss3]

heat abnormal

Birth felt like being smithed from the smoldering remains of melted down scrap. It felt like being shaped, sharpened, refined, into a weapon out of pure, latent potential. Like a deity, clawing, reaching under the sheath of existence, molding stagnant material into something that can be used.

Birth felt like becoming.

And he realized, as he became, as he perceived his own claws and heard his own voice and formed his first thought, that he was hungry.

That’s when God gave him an answer.

or

All the old memories come flooding back. Greed flounders, unable to deal with the pain of it.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[seleantro]

WHY THE FUCK IS BREATH AND BREATH SPELT THE SAME

I SWEAR IT WAS BREATHE AND BREATH

[buttercupsss3]

It is breathe and breath! Breathe as in “breathing”, breath as in “breathless”

You had it right

[buttercupsss3]

“You’re thinking about her.”

Greed jolts, pulled out of his thoughts when Martel speaks and slides into the barstool next to him.

He scoffs, dropping his elbows onto the bar and ducking his head in the other direction. But he can’t help the way his knee bounces and his fingers fidget, his body language betraying him. He has to stop himself from pushing his rings around. Damned nervous tells.

“Nah,” he says anyway, pushing a laugh from his lungs. “No reason to.”

Martel snorts beside him.

He scowls and turns toward her, slamming a hand down on one of his knees. “What?! I told you, I wasn’t!”

“Aaaand, there it is. You tell on yourself, ya know that?”

“No, I don’t.” He huffs, sitting up straighter. He can’t help but pause. He can’t help but let his next thought spill out of his mouth: “She doesn’t like me, anyway.”

“Since when did you care about that?”

“I don’t!” He crosses his arms. “But she does.”

Martel raises a brow at him, grinning. “Uhuh.” She lifts her eyes from him momentarily. “Cetto, get me a bourbon on the rocks, will ya?”

Dolcetto makes an affirmative noise, grabbing two glasses from the back wall. Greed frowns. She always asks for that when she’s about to drag him into a heart to heart. He hates heart to hearts.

Martel turns back to him, just as he feared, placing her chin in her palm. “You want her, don’t you?”

Greed’s expression drops at the phrase. Want. His avarice bites at him like a ravenous stomach, threatening to eat itself, pangs of hunger and longing radiating out from his stone. It’s unmistakable, unbearable, unrelenting. Ever since that day she admitted she knew what he was, he’s grown an appetite for her. It’s dangerous, wanting to keep someone like that around, especially someone so close to the military. It’s nonsensical. So, he hasn’t made a move. He doesn’t plan to. Even if that means his avarice really does end up eating him alive.

She senses it, obviously, because she hums at his silence. “Certainly a predicament.”

The longing worsens. He crunches his brows together. “I could do without you pointing it out. The more unlikely it is, the more I want it. Hell, I don’t even know if she’s coming back. I shouldn’t care. She’s not mine.”

“But you want to keep an eye on her.”

“.. Yeah.”

He watches Dolcetto as he finishes up their drinks. The chimera slides the glasses over toward the two of them. Martel picks hers up and sips from it. It clicks when she sets it lightly back down.

“There’s more, though,” she says. It’s a statement. Not a question.

Greed glares down at his drink. Swallows. Picks it up. “I want to have her. I want to have her in my hands, I want to touch her, I want—“

“You like her.”

Greed almost drops his glass.

[buttercupsss3]

Greed.

Greed.

GREED.

Elissa almost reaches out to touch him. How badly she wants to brush her fingers over his jaw, to kiss his face, to tell her she’s his like they used to. But she stops.

He’s so young.

“….Greed?”

It doesn’t make any sense, but the man—boy—before her looks up at her, recognition registering on his face at the name. He stares at her, then grins, mouth crooked, tusks poking up. “Yours truly, dollface,” he says, with too much sass, turning toward her. He could always be sassy, but not quite like this. It was too impersonal. She thinks he’s scared.

He reaches up to feel the pulse point on her neck, like he always did, like he was making sure that she was real, like he was making sure she was his and she was alive.

She grabs his hand just as his fingertips brush her skin.

“I don’t understand.”

“..What’s there to understand? I’m right here, aren’t I?”

“I just…” She looks him up and down, then back at his face. “You’re so young.”

He lowers his eyes then, frowning. “Yeah. It’s not my body, sweetheart. Can’t do anything about it.”

“How.. how? Why—“ A sob rips itself from her. “I want so badly to kiss you and hold you and— I love you so much, Greed. I love you. I hated not being sure if you were alive or dead, I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone in this terrible world, I couldn’t—“

Greed steps toward her and cups the side of her face in his hand, brows furrowed. “Hey. Hey. Don’t cry, Elie. I don’t want my first time seeing you again to be you crying over me, yeah?”

Nodding, she presses her eyes closed. He raises his other hand to cup her face too, wiping her tears with his thumbs.

“Who was he?” she mumbles, opening her eyes again.

Greed looks taken off guard by the question. Then, like he’s considering not answering. But he relents, huffing a sigh. “Some ambitious brat from Xing. He talks my head off.”

Swallowing, Elissa touches her hands to his arms, sliding them down into the bends of his elbows, pulling them. His hands slide off her face as she pulls his arms off. His brows furrow again, puzzled.

“I can’t… he’s so young, Greed. A child. I can’t.” Elissa looks away, pressing her mouth into a line.

Greed is quiet for a moment. Then he feels his fingers slot between hers, palms to palms. His hands feel different. Smoother, smaller, less callous. Piano fingers. They fit better in hers, but it’s wrong. His hands aren’t languid or smooth, they don’t fit quite right in hers, but that’s what she loved about them. They were different.

“Let’s just talk,” he says quietly.

[buttercupsss3]

Waxing poetic about Greed SO much. SO much.

[buttercupsss3]

Insert dog looking off into the sunset with closed eyes discord emoji

[buttercupsss3]

Snickers. Okay

[buttercupsss3]

Forever now unsaid,

4. Thought I'd learned a thing or two, but

Lan Fan stands. The two of them go silent and stare up at her. They’re waiting for an explanation. She doesn’t think she can speak. She’s burning up in her bǐjiǎ. She wishes the sweat pooling beneath her would turn into an ocean and devour her. Wordless, she ducks her head and runs away. “Ah.. Lan Fan!” Ling stands on instinct, moving to follow her, but he pauses. Smooths out the front of his robe and sits back down. “Dammit.”

Edward doesn’t know what to make of it.

Forever now unsaid, - Chapter 4 - Buttercups (buttercups_08) - Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga [Archive of Our Own]

okay THIS is my favorite chapter so far.

[that-fan-girl]

[kingcandyofficial]

@buttercupsss2

[buttercupsss3]

HGAHAGADA BROOO. This is so me. Fucking hell.

[buttercupsss3]

Cute sneak peak

[buttercupsss3]

Tfw you have an idea that could change how fucking unhappy youve been w ur WIP and you want to rewrite the next chapter NOW but it’s almost 2 am, you need sleep, and you have work all day the next day hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[glassfrogforest]