#still new to writing please be kind

[dol-dee]

Lazy scribbling quiets through the early morning of the library. The light still muted and sleepy. Books lining the shelves. Everything blissfully calm.

Dee yawns, leans heavily on the library counter and continues to chip away at the last of her homework. 

Impeded only by the heady moans, pathetic gasps and friction against her back as Sydney grinds into Dee's ass. Greedy for the stimulation it provides. Lost in the pleasure of her frantic humping.

.

.

When Dee met Sydney for the first time she hadn’t been particularly interested in the girl.

Had felt a somewhat lukewarm, detached sort of neutrality towards her. 

Only a step above most other people, in her mind, because Sydney was polite, nice enough to talk to (despite the religious bullshit) and didn’t grope or assault her. As everyone else in this shithole of a town liked to do.

Unfortunately those feelings of neutrality were quickly replaced with something else, once Dee got to know the reserved blonde a bit more.

Not only was Sirris her parent; kind, patient Sirris who taught science and was laid back enough that even the rowdiest delinquents begrudgingly tolerated them. But it also meant that most people, or students - not to mention, Whitney and Headmaster Leighton -  didn’t fuck with her. 

Or- At least not to the extent that they like to do with her.

It also became apparent that Sydney actually was as innocent and chaste as she behaved. Like the churches fucking holy figure incarnate. Oblivious towards any of the advances and comments made towards her. Unblemished to a degree she could never hope to be. Not in her circumstances. In short, it meant she was treasured.

“Treasured”. 

A word, so unattainable, Dee could only hungrily salivate over the thought of it. 

Jealousy simmering in her chest, as she shivered in her shitty, orphanage issued bed. As she choked down the cheap, bland food the orphanage provided. 

As she had to steal, fight and whore herself out to stay afloat. As she had to waste more money on bandages, than necessities, green and blue as she was from another run in with would be rapists, kidnappers, bullies and so on. At this point they all started to blend together. 

As another week's pay disappeared into Bailey's bottomless pockets. Another week of freedom, for now at least. An incessant cycle.

Yes. Dees' feelings of neutrality had quickly soured into resentment, for someone who wasn’t even aware of how good they had it.

So the next few times they had crossed paths, Dee had been curt, snappy, maybe even a little cruel; stealing one of the books, knowing Sydney would be the one getting in trouble for it. Despite her best attempts to not let her jealousy boil over.

It had left the Librarian visibly confused and uncertain but annoyingly polite despite it all. 

For the sake of her own sanity, morals as well as a Detention free life, Dee had taken to avoiding Sydney altogether and that had almost been the end of things. 

Until an Idea started to creep in. A gross, sickly little thing that would make her no better than the rest of the fucks in this town. 

But the thought didn't leave her, slowly grew with each passing day instead; like mold or.. lichen she supposed.

She wanted to ruin Sydney. Wanted to drag her down to her level, in the only way she knew. . .

Which is how we find ourselves back in the present. Sydney fervently, desperately dry-humping Dee's ass. Her surprisingly massive girlcock soaking precum into both of their skirts. 

Dee couldn’t even lie to herself; just thinking about Sydney’s pretty, meaty cock had her salivating. Who would've thought someone so cute could hide something so massive under their skirt?

But right now was not the time for that, she had her homework to finish.

Besides- hearing Sydney’s whorish, unabashed moans as the blondes whole body pressed into her back, hands desperately groping and pawing her tits and waist and her cock grinding into her with an almost religious fervor - was exactly the kind of ego boost she needed right now.

[topaziraphale]

"Stop saying Crowley won't help Aziraphale in S3 he'd go back to him in a HEARTBEAT and nothing would stop him" I get it no one likes the idea of Crowley being bitter after what happened for a long period of time but like can we at least acknowledge that he's currently going through probably the most emotional pain in his life since falling? Can we agree that he's opened his heart entirely - something you couldn't pay him to do unless the world is literally ending and he's desperate - to Aziraphale, and got shot down? Can we understand that he did it AGAIN only to lose Aziraphale again? Not that what Aziraphale did isn't without Crowley's own shortcomings (hiding the truth of Heaven's cruelty from him) but like,,,,

The appeal here isn't Scorned Crowley Doesn't Love Aziraphale Anymore, or Never Wants To Help Him Again, the appeal here is Crowley learning enough self respect to not just walk back right to Aziraphale like nothing happened after Aziraphale has had a pattern of consistently refusing him. Going years ping-ponging between "We're not friends I don't even know him" to "That's what friends are for right?" and "We're friends, why would you even say anything?" and "Friends? We're not friends. We are an angel and a demon!"

Like I get it, Crowley is a heartbreakingly forgiving person. Of course he's gonna forgive Aziraphale, I'll be surprised if he didn't forgive him by the time he walked out the bookshop door, but gdi he could at least grant himself the luxury of being at least a little irritated for longer than however long it takes to make a globe and some books float and angrily cry out to God in his flat. But due to the change of pace and dynamic that is establishing part of the conflict for Season 3, I just really like the idea of him for ONCE prioritizing himself and being like "Okay, fine. We'll get back at it when you're ready, then," instead of just taking Aziraphale back like his words and actions meant nothing to him, when clearly they have an effect on him.

What is Aziraphale going to learn if Crowley just accepts what he did so quickly, like he always has the entire time they've been friends? Idk maybe I'm just projecting too much darkness on their dynamic but I mean, if the pattern of Aziraphale pushing Crowley away/disrespecting him one day and then being fine with his friendship the next + Crowley never stopping to be like "Hey, that's not cool, at least give me a little credit" or smth was fine all along and will continue to be fine in the future, then why, after 6,000 years of being friends and loving this demon, can Aziraphale still not accept that Crowley is just fine the way he is, and instead got excited to promote him to an angel in a heartbeat once the opportunity presented itself? You can't blame all of it on Heaven when Aziraphale has demonstrated his free will/defiance to Heaven so many times. Or, I don't know, I guess maybe we can? Maybe I'm just craving too much angst to the point where I'm letting it cloud my analysis of canon. Idk.

[casdeans-pie]

Dean can’t remember when the dreams started, really. He thinks he’s been having them for a long time. But ever since he got Cas back from the Empty, they’ve been more frequent. And more vivid.

Intense.

Heat. Lips. Dark hair. Dark feathers…

Dean runs a hand over his face as his heartrate slows, expecting the dream to bleed and fade away. But if he closes his eyes, he can still almost feel the solid muscle and silky feathers of two huge wings beneath him.

‘I love you’, Cas said before he died again.

‘I love you too,’ Dean said when he brought him back. ‘You self-sacrificing sonofabitch.’

It’s the soundtrack to his dreams now: IloveyouIloveyou.

He knows they need to talk about it. He does.  

He’s getting kinda sick of starting the day with a cold shower.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

[soldier-poet-king]

Expericing the Horrors this morning in SO many different ways.

Like. Having to acknowledge my compulsive people pleasing and the way it fuels my martyr complex, even tho mostly I simply Do Not See It and pretend it's a virtue or doesn't exist. My notions of Duty and Obligation, which are good and my only reason to keep going sometimes, are also morphing into a genuine obsession and fueling said inability to say no or even thinking I'm allowed to say no. Wrestling with the fact that sm of this is an attempt to remain in control of the situation, to keep people placated bc they can't get mad at me then, but also still living with my parents who made me like this in the first place, because that's the best financial decision for me rn. Guilt or anxiety or whatever about the fact that my coping mechanisms/thoughts could be worse but also could definitely be uh..better. ongoing frustration with work and my workplace. [Redacted] happening suddenly at work this morning, which while not impacting me directly, has definitely made all of these emotions Worse.

[haledamage]

a kiss after treating a wound for Etain and whichever out of Casavir, Lann, or Vikkari you wanna use 😊

While all three options are very tempting, Casavir won out this time around 😁 mostly because in Faerun, Etain doesn’t have angelic powers that include very powerful healing spells, so more drama and less righteous smiting of her enemies 😇

Etain/Casavir, Neverwinter Nights 2, sometime in late Act 2/early Act 3 I guess? It’s not really related to the plot beyond mentions of stuff from very early in the game. Not yet in a relationship, but so, so much pining. So much.

---

Healing wasn’t Etain’s specialty.

Magic in general wasn’t something she had much talent for, beyond a few bits and pieces Aimee had managed to teach her when they were children. But what she lacked in skill she made up for in sheer willpower. 

She spent all afternoon expending every ounce of curative magic she had and wracking her brain to remember any of Father’s lessons in herblore or Tarmas’s in alchemy that might help. She even tried praying, to the gods of the sun and the forest, and even to Tyr, who had never paid her much mind but would hopefully be willing to listen on behalf of one of his faithful.

It had been enough--barely--to pull Casavir from the brink.

Sand had come by sometime just before sunset, looking exhausted and disheveled and even more surly than usual. He stayed just long enough to drop off a handful of potions and a stern if hypocritical lecture about not overextending herself. The potions had taken the gray cast from the paladin’s skin and cooled his fever, but it hadn’t been enough to wake him.

That had been hours ago. Long enough that the lanterns were starting to burn low, the shadows in the small room growing long and flickering. Etain stayed by Casavir’s bedside, mixing herbs and moss with her mortar and pestle until it formed a serviceable enough paste. She grabbed a pinch of it, rolling it between her fingers before carefully pressing it against the wound in his side.

His eyes immediately shot open. In a single, fluid motion, he sat up in bed, seizing her wrist with one hand while the other reached out for his sword.

“Whoa, easy!” She knew she wouldn’t be able to physically overpower him, but she still pressed her free hand to his chest like she might be able to push him back down. In the most soothing tone she could muster, she continued, “Easy, Cas. It’s okay. You’re safe here. But you’re injured. I need you t’lay back down, okay?”

To her relief, he obeyed, his sudden burst of energy calming at the sound of her voice. He let her guide him back down to the bed and settled down with a heavy sigh.

In the silence that followed, he rolled his head enough so he could watch her more easily. She tried not to tense under his inspection, letting him take in their surroundings, the table of empty potion bottles and half-crushed healing herbs, the fact that both of them were out of their armor and alone except for Pippin, who was curled up by the door. The grizzly hadn't so much as moved during Casavir’s brief outburst, knowing his mistress wasn't in any actual danger.

“Please do not be a dream.” Casavir’s voice was rough with pain--and probably also from whatever Sand put in his potions--but the words were clear enough.

Etain shook her head, sending a small smile his way as she picked up the bowl of her mortar again. “Is this somethin’ you dream about a lot, Cas? Gettin’ stabbed?”

His eyes were fever-bright but clear when they met hers. “I dream of you, Etain.”

“...Oh.” Any reply she might’ve made disappeared in a puff of smoke. She turned away, shaping another pinch of herb mixture in her fingers for far longer than necessary, waiting until her heartbeat slowed and the blush faded from her face before getting back to work.

Casavir didn’t so much as flinch this time when she carefully spread the concoction over the stab wound in his side. The swelling around the wound started to fade, the angry redness of his skin fading as poison and infection were drawn from him. By morning, he should be almost fully healed, and the herbs would flake away like ashes.

Hopefully. Assuming Etain hadn’t screwed up her measurements.

“Where are we?” he asked eventually. If he felt any discomfort from either her silence or her makeshift poultice, he didn’t show it; he just watched her face, expression warm but otherwise unreadable.

“My old room at the Flagon. Duncan was nice enough to let us crash here for a bit, but my room’s the only one that was ready when we arrived.” She set down the bowl and reached for a roll of clean bandages. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I recall… fragments.” He closed his eyes as if that would help his recollection, a familiar frown furrowing his brow.

Etain waited to see if he’d say anymore, but he didn’t. “D’you remember the part where you saved my life? That knife was meant for me. You stepped in front of it.”

Casavir’s expression immediately evened out again, relief overtaking his previous consternation. “Good.”

“‘Good’? Cas, it was poisoned!” She bit her tongue, surprised at her own outburst, and didn’t speak again until she was sure she could do so without yelling at him, though she wasn’t quite able to smooth away all the sharp edges from her voice. “I’ve been fightin’ tooth and nail to keep you alive until Sand could mix an antidote. I thought--” her voice broke, anger giving way to fear, “I thought I was gonna lose you for a minute there.”

He reached out and took her hand, and she dropped the bandages back to the table, forgotten. At his wordless request, she abandoned the rickety stool she was perched on and sat on the edge of the bed instead. He pulled her even closer until he could hold her hand over his chest, covering it with both of his and pressing her palm against his skin so she could feel the steady, even beat of his heart.

“I apologize for worrying you, my lady,” he murmured, voice deep and rough and heart-stoppingly sincere, “but I will not apologize for saving you. I will always try to save you.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d made that vow. And like every other time, Etain was torn between wanting to kiss him for it and wanting to shake him until he placed more value in his own safety. 

She didn’t do either, and instead used her free hand to push a few wayward strands of hair out of his eyes, then let her fingertips trail lower, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “My life is not more important than yours, Casavir.”

Her rare use of his full name brought a smile to his face. “Yes it is.” His knuckles brushed against her cheek, his touch gentle and almost reverent. “No one is more important than you are. Not to me.”

His ice blue eyes watched her with an intensity that was at odds with the softness of his touch. Etain could feel herself blushing again under the heat of his stare, but she held his gaze as best she could, fighting against the urge to turn away and hide from it. “You’re just sayin’ that because you think you’re dreaming.”

“No, Etain. I say it because it’s true.” His smile widened enough to show a hint of the dimple in his right cheek. Casavir had a beautiful smile, dashing and boyish and even a little playful, made all the lovelier for how rarely he let it show. Etain had fallen a little bit in love with him the first moment she saw it.

And had been falling ever since.

He murmured her name again, drawing her eyes back to his and making her realize she’d been staring at his lips for gods-only-knew how long. Too long for him not to have noticed, even addled with potions as he was.

“Cas--” she started, but she wasn’t sure what she intended to say after. She bit her tongue before more words could escape.

Casavir looked at her like her awkward fumbling had just given him the answer to a particularly complicated riddle. “This is not a dream.” He sounded like he was trying to reassure himself of the truth. Like he needed to be reminded.

“No. Or anyway, if it is, I…” Etain looked down at where her hand still rested on his chest, unable to meet his eyes anymore, “I don’t think it’s one of yours.”

He chuckled, and warmth bloomed in her chest at the sound. “Is this something you dream of often, my lady? Tending my wounds?”

She smiled slightly, daring a quick glance back at his face, and echoed his declaration from earlier. “I dream of you, Casavir.”

Instead of replying, Casavir slowly sat up, mindful not to reopen the wound that Etain had spent so much time and effort healing. With a gentle touch, he lifted her chin until she met his gaze again.

It wasn’t until she looked up that she realized how close he was. Their positions on the soft, worn mattress erased the slight height advantage Etain usually had, putting them at almost the same height. It made the space between them seem much smaller than it actually was.

The way Casavir continued to watch her didn’t help matters either. There was a wistfulness in his expression, and something she could only call longing. It reminded her, strangely, of Aimee, and the way her friend would talk about the adventures she wanted to have and the places she wanted to see; a mix of desperate desire and resigned sorrow, like mourning the loss of something before she even had it.

His next words only made the comparison stronger. “If this were a dream,” he whispered, “I would kiss you.”

“You can’t kiss me when you’re awake?” Etain matched his tone, not wanting to break whatever spell they seemed to be under by speaking too loudly.

“There is nothing I want more. I have wanted to for far longer than I care to admit.” His thumb traced the curve of her lower lip, as if imagining what it would be like, but his smile was sad. “If only it were that simple.”

It could be, she wanted to say. It could be so simple. Let us have one thing in our lives that’s easy. Something we don’t have to sacrifice or fight for.

All she actually said was, “I know.” She turned her head so she could kiss his palm. “But I wish you would.”

Casavir exhaled sharply, like her confession had forced all the air from his lungs. He pulled her close, his hand curling gently around the back of her neck, almost but not quite embracing her. Warmth radiated from him, and this close Etain could tell it wasn’t an entirely natural heat; his fever was returning.

“Tell me again in the morning,” he murmured into her hair, punctuating the plea with a quick, searing kiss to her temple, “when I can be certain I will remember it.”

“I will,” she promised, forcing herself to withdraw from the safety and comfort he offered. “But right now, you need to rest.”

He let her guide him back down to the bed without argument. It was clear that their conversation had taken a toll on him, no matter how much he tried to hide it, and by the time she pulled the blankets over him he was more than half asleep.

Though he was still awake enough to grab her hand before she could pull away. “Stay with me. Please.”

Etain only went as far as the stool still waiting by the bedside. “Don’t worry, Cas, I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

That was all the reassurance he needed, and within minutes Casavir was fast asleep.

Etain went back to her herbs, trying desperately not to think too much about what would happen when morning came.

[harryshomebaby]

here on tumblr we reblog things. and we reblog the same thing multiple times. and we don’t care when that post was created. we couldn’t care less actually.

reblog the things you like. no one cares what you reblog except the people who make the posts (and they’re just happy you did)

[unproduciblesmackdown]

NOTE: THIS ITEM IS CURRENTLY IN PREORDER. IT WILL SHIP IN JUNE-JULY 2023. We will be printing based on preorder size, so grab one now if you want one!

More than 40 trans writers and artists have joined forces to explore the deeper meanings of the Fast & Furious franchise (and also gender). There's really no way to know why this exists, but it does, and you can own it! Suitable for F&F fans and newcomers alike. Contributions include:

- A new short story by Manhunt author Gretchen Felker-Martin - A demolition derby driver’s perspective on 2 Fast 2 Furious’s derby scene - An essay contemplating the queer symbolism of Cipher’s bowl cut - The scoop on the franchise’s only canonically nonbinary character - Instructions for an F&F-themed tabletop roleplaying game - A contemplation of which Taylor Swift album represents each F&F character - Plus: Bingo cards! Comics! Haiku! And, of course, hot gay erotica…

2 Trans 2 Furious is edited by Tuck Woodstock & Niko Stratis, with cover art by Mattie Lubchansky and zine design by Shay Mirk.

~

This zine is 8.5" x 5.5" and perfect-bound like a real book — fancy! Interior pages are black & white. We're guessing this baby is like 100 pages long but we'll get back to you on that.

Currently only shipping to the United States, sorry! We're hoping to at least expand to Canada soon, and also plan to add a PDF ebook option, so keep an eye out!

(that "the scoop on the franchise's only canonically nonbinary character" is the page i contributed about our one & only beloved akd-acted cam stone!! plus also if you're interested in preordering a fancy printed copy of a zine about fast & furious, which you don't have to even know about or like, with all trans contributors. including me)

[obeymeow]

being neurodivergent is all fun and games until you remember those hourly quote bots on twitter and think well maybe I can't make a bot anymore but I could schedule a few quotes a day, that shouldn't be hard. it sounds fun to have a bunch of quotes of my favorite character Thirteen from hit mobile game Obey Me! and its sequel Obey Me! Nightbringer. and then you think about how arduous collecting the quotes is going to be but she's only been in the games for maybe a year and a half with little screentime and you love collecting things so you start but then you remember that you love collecting things so naturally you have ALL of her screentime in the game and suddenly you have 45k characters of quotes and are several lessons into season 4 (which is truly a trial in and of itself) but not nearly close enough to the end but you refuse to just stop collecting the quotes and make the account with the EXCESS of what you have already because you literally only have season 4 to get through and if you don't do it just seeing the bot (because now you've been informed you can make tumblr bots instead) will haunt you with that knowledge even if nobody else would ever know. this is a general anecdote of a situation that could easily happen to anyone though and not in any way related to my life

[diazevan]

Sometimes your favorite character will make a decision that you disagree with, it doesn't always mean it's terrible writing. I feel certain people need reminding that this show is a melodrama and often plot points happen to keep it dramatic.

[notajoinerofthings]

Die Nächte mit den Springsteen Platten

Fandom: Polizeiruf 110 Pairing: Adam Raczek/Vincent Ross Characters: Adam Raczek, Vincent Ross Rating: Explicit Chapters: 1/1 Words: 5080 Warnings: None

Eine weitere schlaflose Nacht, ein Vincent, der Adam jetzt schon seit zwei Tagen überfordert, und Bruce Springsteen.

Oder: Adam is sad and then horny and then sad again.

[hideyseek]

keep me here

T, 2.2k, fujioka/haiji, cyberpunk au, art forger!haiji & detective!fujioka

“It’s not worth much,” Haiji tells him, “the original piece.” “Eight million credits,” Fujioka counters, without looking at him. Haiji doubts he’s been studying up. He probably knew that already, along with the exact creation date of the original, a detailed biography of the calligrapher, and a slew of other details, down to the particular source of the ink. Haiji had only learned as much as he needed about the piece to recreate it exactly. “Your time is expensive,” Haiji reminds him.

whew! it is the end! the very last one! i've forgotten what the point of this section is in this post so i'm just talking now lol

read on ao3

[haliaiii]

You know maybe I should try having more of a presence on tumblr because it might be the only social media app on my phone that doesn't make me suffer serious brain damage anytime I'm on it

[paganinpurple]

AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED

Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.

It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:

As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.

If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.

No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).

Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.

There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.

For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.

The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.

Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.

If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.

Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.

Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.

People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.

Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.

Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.

It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.

The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.

I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.

I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.

[oatmealaddiction]

Okay but the weirdest thing about the whole "Brotherhood is better you should skip 03" discourse that's become commonplace now, it sort of forgets the world Brotherhood came out in and why you should watch the original Fullmetal Alchemist. When Brotherhood came out, the original Fullmetal Alchemist was one of the most beloved and most watched animes of all time. Brotherhood assumes you the audience have already seen it because of course you have, everyone has seen it, so it skips important information and speeds the story up because it doesn't want to bore you with things you already know. Have you ever wondered "hey why does the first episode of Brotherhood kind of suck, and why am I being introduced to like 50 new characters, and why are they acting like I know what the hell an alchemist is?" It's because Brotherhood thinks you've seen 03.

The first 7 or so episodes of Brotherhood constitute dozens of chapters in the manga, and the first 25 or so episodes of the original Fullmetal Alchemist. The Nina Tucker episode in Brotherhood, in FMA 03 takes up nearly three episodes. Yoki gets a backstory in 03 and it's genuinely one of the best episodes and taken directly from the manga and Brotherhood glosses over it because: duh, you've already seen it. And so if you skip the original you miss out on dozens of really great character building episodes like Ed and Al meeting Hughes for the first time and getting to spend a whole episode helping him free a train from terrorists, or Ed and Roy having a duel that expands on the relationship they have, or episodes where the brothers just help out random people in towns before the major story gets going.

The original also paces itself quite a bit better than Brotherhood and is more in line with the mangas storytelling. In the manga we don't find out about The Gate until nearly two dozen chapters in, and the same goes for the original anime. Like, that's a twist reveal in those stories, and it's weird that the most watched series is the one where they tell you all about The Gate in the first two episodes because they assume you've already seen the original show.

What's more, people don't know that Hiromu Arakawa helped write for the anime while she was still in the middle of writing the manga, and as a result was inspired to write scenes in Brotherhood that the anime did first. That scene of Edward getting impaled by a falling beam? Directly inspired by a similar scene in the original anime. There's a lot of little instances of that and they're great when you can recognize parallels and things in Brotherhood that are direct references to the original anime, but people don't notice any of that anymore. Because the original anime is just an automatic skip these days, and it's a bummer because people don't realize what a giant it was back before Brotherhood was released. They treat it as *bad,* not realizing it was one of the most beloved anime of its time and the problems people take issue with have a lot more to do with personal taste than any kind of actual flaw in the writing. Brotherhood was never meant to dethrone it, and the original anime was always supposed to be part of the viewing experience which is why those first few episodes of Brotherhood are so fast paced. So like, please stop telling people Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is a skip, or it's bad, or you don't need it because Brotherhood is better. Regardless if you think Brotherhood is better or not, the original wrote Brotherhood's check. It was huge, it was beloved, and Brotherhood is *banking* on the knowledge you've seen all of it and loved it. And trust me when I say there is so much to love about the original series. It's still my favorite branch of the FMA franchise, and it's worth your time, I promise you.

[koushirouizumi]

If you have time, please go write a message of support on Junya Ikeda's tweet. {tri. Jou's V.A.} Please be kind and respectful if you do.

[zhongrin]

honey, can you… oh shit wait i forgot we’re not dating (yet)

© zhongrin | 2024 ✼  [✘] no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. [✓] rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley, neuvillette

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, fluff, non-established relationship, potential secondhand embarrassment, boyfailure neuvillette (/aff)

✼ a/n ┈ zhongrin uploaded 3 weeks in a row?! madness!!! utter madness!!!! /silly i feel like i've been writing too much cutesy/sfw stuff lately.... i want to write 'darker' types of stuff but my brain doesn't seem to want to cooperate ugh pain

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

zhongli watches your reaction closely, at first.

when he deduces that you were self-aware of your own oversight and are evidently panicking about it, he gives you a warm chuckle and shakes his head gently, “there is no need to apologize, and please do not feel mortified in any way. it really is fine.”

if you continue to not believe him, the ex-archon will be as patient as ever with his words of reassurances, and he does not mind repeating them until you feel comfortable enough to ask him the real errand that you wished to bestow upon him.

... but not before he gently places a hand to the small of your back to lead you to walk a little closer to him due to the increasing crowd on the streets, his voice a tender caress to your ear, “coming from you, i certainly did not mind the nickname.”

al haitham raises his eyebrows and shuts his book, “what a fascinating blunder. is that how you view our relationship subconsciously? or perhaps it’s an innate desire you’ve chosen to suppress but accidentally slipped out in a moment of unawareness?”

the scholar has the decency to wait for your answer betwixt your embarrassment, but he eventually sighs when you failed to form a coherent answer that satisfied his inquiries.

“you seem to have the impression that i am displeased at your err. i’d like to inform you that your assumption is yet another mistake - which, i would theorize, was made in the rush of the moment as your nervous system kicks into gear, therefore clouding your judgement. i would suggest you take a few moments to reanalyze my stance based on this new information. i’ll wait.”

and with that, he opens his book once more.

.... um.

congratulations, i guess?

wriothesley takes the opportunity and replies with a cheeky, “yes, honey? what can i do for you, sweetheart?”

he relishes in the utter embarrassment that quickly spread across your face that’s akin to water faced with his cryo elemental energy (though secretly he’s also dying inside at the cheesiness of the situation) and throws you a boyish grin before ruffling your hair.

not a man to let an opportunity escape, the duke decides to leverage the moment to take his metaphorical shot and goes immediately for a straight jab, like an experienced boxer that he is, all the while praying to the hydro archon so that this would be yet another match he could flawlessly win, “you know, my schedule’s particularly relaxed today… i wouldn’t mind staying longer if you want to make it a date?”

neuvillette blinks owlishly, his pale cheeks blooming with warmth as the situation starts to sink in. you, the apple of his eye, whom he treasured dearly and had taken great care to court, had just called him with a term of endearment that he had always dreamed of hearing.

wait, was this a dream? his gloved hands quickly found purchase on his blue horns, before he brought his hands in front of his eyes. okay, he had two horns and ten fingers, still. so he must not have daydreamed this. ah- wait, you’re staring at him. oh, now you’re giggling. and now you’re calling him silly. oh, it should be a crime to be so breathtakingー

it’s not until your expression changed into surprise that he realized he had said that thought outloud.

your teasing “if it’s a crime, are you going to put me on trial, monsieur?” elicits a darker blush on his pale cheeks and an awkward cough out of him.

.... this must be how the young ones flirt nowadays.

“perhaps after a proper date? if it’s not impertinent of me, may i be allowed to take you out on dinner tonight?”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈

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