ANNOUNCEMENT. IT’S BACK: The Anatomy of You and Me!!!

About a year ago I started writing a fanfic called The Anatomy of You and Me. It was about Phil starting as a surgical intern in a London hospital and meeting Dan, his cocky fellow intern who essentially pisses him off as soon as they meet.

I was awful and did four chapters and never updated it and deleted it. Which is sad because it was super popular.

SO….I’m bringing it back…but BETTER.

In the past year my writing has gotten soooOOOOooOOoo much better and I wouldn’t feel good about simply re-posting the chapters from before. Therefore I am re-writing it and starting all over again. (but with structure and a good storyline i’ve planned out and a decent upload schedule)


I hope this makes some of you happy and to those of you who never read it when it was here, I really think you’ll enjoy it!!

I’m so excited and I worked really hard and I can’t wait to see what you all think!

The Anatomy of You and Me. Chapter One. Tomorrow. Be there pls thanks.

Five Times Ellie Queen... (FICoN ‘Verse, Olicity, Mature) 1/6

Five Times Ellie Queen Had The Worst Timing In The World (and one time it was pretty perfect) 

by @dust2dust34 and @so-caffeinated for @olicityficbang 

Welcome to our official second story in the FICoN ‘verse, written for this year’s Olicity Fic Big Bang!

Summary: Oliver and Felicity’s daughter has an uncanny ability for things to happen at the most inconvenient time possible. But, every now and then little Ellie Queen gets it exactly right.

A/N: An important note about this story - five of the six parts of this story are set before FICoN, which means it’s set before Ellie time travels, and technically in what we think future canon should be.

Additional important note, thank you to @fallingmeleth for the gorgeous cover art! We were blown away and we love it. And thank you yet again to @jsevick and @alizziebyanyothername for being our amazing betas. I cannot overstate how wonderful and important you two are to this process.


While he might not be all that thrilled with dessert, Felicity will be.

That makes it worthwhile.

Seeing his wife smile makes anything worthwhile.

His wife. They’ve been married ten months now and he still feels a thrill of giddiness every time he realizes she’s actually his wife. He’s actually her husband.

(read on AO3)

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anonymous asked:

"So what if I broke my arm I’m still doing it.” Perfect timing for "if fishes were wishes" !!! Also there needs to be something for nonbinary Mikey!! I saw your tag and I completely agree!!!

ridiculous sentence prompts

(I got this same exact prompt from two different people! That’s pretty cool!)

“So what if I broke my arm, I’m still doing it,” Mikey announces to the room at large. He’s grinning ear to ear, and Don’s glad Raph and Leo are there to curb that enthusiasm, because he’s not sure he’d have the heart to.

“No,” Leo says, with feeling, “you’re not. The doctor said no sports or gymnastics while you’re in that cast. This definitely counts as both of those things.”

“Aw, Leo. The cast is coming off in like a week anyway.”

“So wait like a week,” Raph interjects simply, and Don has to look away to hide his smile at the pout that transforms Mikey’s whole face.

“In a week the tryouts will be over and the squad’ll be filled up! Dudes! You’re being so bogus right now!”

“Sorry for being bogus and caring about your health,” Leo says dryly, not sounding very sorry at all. But he reaches over to rub a hand through Mikey’s curls a moment later, words notwithstanding. “There’s always next time,” he adds, and Mikey holds onto his sulk for an impressive six seconds before he deflates with a sigh.

“I guess.

“Why are you so into cheerleading all of a sudden, anyway?” Raph asks, nudging his shoulder. “That kinda came out of nowhere.”

“Umm, did you see those girls? Their uniforms are super cute.” Mikey grins, and hoists himself up to sit on the counter, and Don is a little surprised at him up until he continues with, “I want one.”

Ah, Donnie thinks.

“Of course you do,” Raph says, without the cruelty other kids their age are capable of, and Leo shakes his head fondly.

“They’d probably have you wear pants if you joined, Mikey,” he points out, and Mikey’s face falls in a way they aren’t prepared for.

“No way. For real?”

He sounds truly disappointed, and Raph says, “It’s not like you could'a tried out anyway, not with your arm,” mostly to try to take the slump out of Mikey’s shoulders; but Mikey is rubbing the tips of his fingers against the rough denim of his jeans, looking unhappy, so maybe this is a bigger deal than he’s letting on. And maybe it isn’t really about the cheerleading uniform.

So Don reaches across the counter, and pokes him in the arm to get his attention. And when he lifts those round almond eyes, Don meets them squarely.

“There’s a pretty obvious solution here,” he says, in the manner of a person who solves major dilemmas like these every day. When Mikey only blinks at him without understanding, Don expands, “We can get you a pleated skirt at pretty much any retailer in town. We could probably even find you an orange one.”

Mikey hesitates, and then hedges “Really?” so hopefully that Don wants to drop everything and take him shopping immediately.

He settles for rolling his eyes. “Well, yeah. You don’t even like football, so you certainly wouldn’t like cheering at all the games. Don’t sell out just for the uniform.”

It makes Mikey laugh, bright and delighted, and Leo and Raph are smiling, too –

And that, Don thinks, with a familiar ache in the center of his chest, of shared warmth and approval and love, is pretty much the only thing that matters.

in this house on the corner

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8]

For some reason she hadn’t actually considered the fact that moving in meant seeing Bellamy every day . Early in the morning over coffee before he went into work, on lazy weekends when they both slept until 11:30 before stumbling into the kitchen to find something to quiet growling stomachs, when he would stumble back home from late shifts or nights out at the bar with Miller.

Every day.

With bags under his eyes and freshly showered and messy hair. Stretched out on the couch or reading a book at the kitchen table.

There was a slight possibility she hadn’t thought it all the way through.

Just moving in with an old friend, she’d told herself, over and over and over again. It made sense. He didn’t want to sell the house and she needed a place to live. And she didn’t want him to sell the house either.

But her stomach felt like lead and she knew, no matter how much she could never admit it, no matter how much she tried to ignore it and deny it and pretend the worry was all for nothing, she knew it was probably a bad idea. It wasn’t just moving in with an old friend. They were never friends. That’s not ever what they were and they certainly weren’t anything close to friends anymore.

She wondered exactly what she’d gotten the two of them into now.

read the whole thing here


A/N: First prompt I was sent, so here ya go! I kind of forgot that the prompt said all night, so sorry about that. I also kind of set this is up like Underfell Sans and Papyrus raise gaster blasters? It just worked better so…enjoy!
Des: Underfell Sans finds his self in a little predicament, and his gaster blasters aren’t really helping.

“Sans, go into the garage and check on the gaster blasters.” Papyrus ordered, not bothering to look up from work. 

“Why do I gotta do it? I never see you out there-”


Sans sighed, accepting defeat. You couldn’t argue with Papyrus; he was always right. The smaller skeleton made his way to the wooden garage, the doors slamming from the inside. 

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Lost and Found - spaceboiiii Archive of Our Own

“Where exactly is ‘here?’ I mean, you said ‘Neverland,’ but… where is that?”

Bokuto’s face scrunches up as he considers. “I don’t know! It’s wherever you want it to be. I hope it’ll be home for you someday.”

That strikes Akaashi, and he swallows. He doesn’t remember ever having a home before. He is, after all, a “Lost boy” now. But, if this place ever does become home, how will he know? What does it feel like?


innumerable thanks to @i-homeostasis for their nano cabin as well as their editing skills, @northofus for doing writing sprints with me all through july, @pretentiouslimericks for the unending moral support, and @shions-heart for writing beautiful things that inspire me to improve my own writing \o/
Skyline - liquescensolla - Tokyo Ghoul [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Rating: General Audiences

Category: M/M

Fandom: Tokyo Ghoul

Relationships: Washuu Yoshitoki/Ui Koori, Washuu Yoshitoki & Ui Koori

Characters: Washuu Yoshitoki, Ui Koori

Additional Tags:

  • Awkward Phone Conversations
  • charming Yoshitoki
  • smitten Koori
  • How Do I Tag
  • Slow Burn
  • well my shitty attempt at slow burn

Summary: It’s still fresh on his mind, every word, every emotion. It’s affecting his daily life. Whether he’s in the office writing out his report and smoking outside during break, that sultry voice, laced with concern for the young investigator. Even if he could just erase it and lock it away for a later time, he knows that just won’t happen. Where a phone-call leads to a development he’s not entirely sure he’s ready for.

Series: Part 2 of the Washuu’s Hope series

Gays look out for each other


I just like the idea of the Momma Gays™ cheering on their fellow gays in the background
Also I would like to put out Jaremore for the possible ship name. Join the trash.

“Lady Allura. Lady Kima.” Jarett bowed slightly to the two women.

“You were the captain of the guard at Grey Skull, weren’t you?” Allura asked curiously, smiling gently at the man in front of them.

“Jarett Howarth, my lady.”

“What’s that accent from?” Kima asked, tilting her head to one side.

“Marquet, my lady. I’m sorry to be rude, but I am looking for someone. Shaun Gilmore.”

The ladies exchange knowing glances before Allura answered Jarett’s question. “I’m afraid I don’t know, Jarett. I assume he’s still in the castle.”

“Thank you.” Jarett nodded and headed down the hall.

“You think so?” Kima looked up at Allura.

“Definitely.” Allura smiled.

“Hmm…Well…” The halfling looked down the hall where the man had gone. “Good luck to him.”


“Shaun? Shaun?”

Jarett had been pointed to the underground bunker Vox Mochina had made during the flyby of the dragon. Apparently no one had seen the human wizard leave the bunker. Curious.

“Shaun? Shau- Oh.”

And there he was. Shaun Gilmore, powerful magic-user, savior of Whitestone, leaned against a wall and completely passed out. That spell tired him out more than Jarett thought it had. With a gentle smile, he sat down next to him and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Hm? What?” Shaun blinked rapidly, trying to wake up.

“It is alright, my love. It is only me.” Jarett caressed his lover’s cheek.

Gilmore smiled drowsily, reaching up to cover Jarett’s hand with his own. “Hello, my dear.” He mumbled softly. “Sorry if I was terrible company, I’m still a bit drained.”

“You are never terrible company.” Jarett insisted, pressing another kiss to Shaun’s skin.

A deep chuckle bubbled from Shaun’s throat. “At least grace me with a proper kiss.” He said with a smile, pulling Jarett close.

“But of course.” Jarett replied, matching his lover’s smile before leaning in to capture Shaun’s lips with his own.

The kiss was deep and slow, both men’s arms wrapped around each other. Their bodies pressed as close as they kissed passionately. 

“You seem to be very awake now.” Jarett teased.

“You have that effect on me, my dearest captain.” 

They both chuckled, foreheads press together, lips a breath apart. Gilmore ran his fingers through Jarett’s hair, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

“Join me in my bedroom, my captain?” He asked softly, holding out his hand.

Jarett took Shaun’s hand immediately. “Of course, my love.”


good shit hahahaha

there are some other LPs i keep meaning to getting around to posting/commenting on, so look out for that. good dragging. drag the whole game, @tayogaming, I LOVE IT (genuinely)

One Shot: The Isabelle and Clary Effect

Prompt: Jace and Simon bond while talking about their gfs (Clary and Izzy)

Jace misses working on the monitoring screens. It’s simple, clean work that makes a hell of a lot more sense than what he has to do on missions sometimes. Not that he doesn’t enjoy slaying demons, but he appreciates soothing work like this sometimes. Even if he has to do it with Simon today.

“So how are things with Izzy?” Jace asks, not really caring for the answer, but momentarily bored enough to strike up a conversation. His voice penetrates the rack of servers Simon is crouched behind, wires coiled at his feet.

“Good,” Simon murmurs, focused on his task. “We finished moving everything into our apartment. And her mom smiled at me the other day.”

“Wow,” Jace says, “a Maryse smile IS impressive. When’s the wedding?”

“Shut up,” Simon says, because Isabelle is choosing that moment to walk by them.

“How sweet,” she says. “You two are bonding.”

“I wouldn’t call it–” Simon begins, but she’s already breezing away again, and all he can do is watch her go, his eyes full of adoration. She looks back at him at the last moment before she rounds a corner, and her eyes are alight with the same look. Simon keeps staring even after she’s gone.

“Good God. Heaven couldn’t help you now. You’re officially stoned on the Isabelle Effect,” Jace states.

“Yeah,” Simon rolls his eyes, coming back to himself. “Call me a stoner, then. Have you seen the way you look at Clary? Why don’t you mention the Clary Effect?“

“I’m hopelessly in love,” Jace says simply.

“Disgustingly in love,” Simon corrects.

“Izzy should be sainted for living with you. Seriously, I don’t know how she does it. I’d probably smother you with a pillow in your sleep if I had to deal with you 24/7.”

“Then it’s a good thing we don’t live together,” Simon shudders at the thought. He couldn’t deal with Jace pissing all over his parade all the time either.

“My screen just went black. Is that what you were trying to do?” Jace calls out.

Simon tips sideways, looking out from behind the servers to see for himself. “No. Give me a minute.”

“Sure. Take all the time you need,” Jace says sarcastically. “You want some tea and cookies while you’re back there? I’m just trying to ensure the safety of the Institute, no big deal.”

“The more you talk, the longer this takes.”

“Why? What are you even doing back there?”

“It’s kind of complicated.”

“And I’m not ‘kind of’ stupid, so tell me.”

“It’s a cuff on our incoming traffic, more or less. It won’t affect anything you do though, so don’t worry about it.”

“Fantastic,” he scoffs, sarcastic. “Is this one of your pet projects that could bring about the digital apocalypse and throw us into the stone age?”


“So you don’t deny the existence of such projects?” Jace asks, adopting the sort of voice lawyers do when cross examining a witness.

“You’re hilarious,” Simon dead-pans.

“And you didn’t answer the question,” Jace mutters.

“Your screen back yet?”

He hears the chair Jace is sitting in squeak as he turns to face the desk. “Yep.”

“Good. Leave me alone.”

“I forgot how much fun you are to fuck with though,” he whines.

“I’ve got a job to do, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jace dismisses, though mercifully lets Simon do just that.

They’ll never admit it, but they do, in fact, enjoy each other’s company.

Sea of Chains - Ch. 18, The Charter of Stars

Rating: T

Summary: Years after the events of Anchor, Captain Kai and Jinora Gyatso remain famous names on the seas and their children are literally born pirates. Now, their daughter, Nima, is becoming a little too pirate for comfort. When trouble with Captain Quil of the Blood Moon Pirates turns tragic, Nima is viciously dragged into what can only be be described as every parent’s worst nightmare.

Please consider reviewing on

Kai just couldn’t sleep. Not tonight.

It wasn’t like that wasn’t a normal occurance to him, but tonight especially just wasn’t abiding. Not at all. Jinora, mercifully, stayed asleep as he had slid out of bed. He checked his crew like he always did, then, he checked the twins room. It took all of his strength not to go to Nima’s room. Both Longshot and Yung both told him that it probably wasn’t entirely too healthy for him to visit there too often. For once, he listened.

Yet, he found the night strangely peaceful. Not entirely. Not like a night only a month ago when Nima had been here on the ship and they were freely sailing around the Amaterasu on their way to port in a town they docked at numerous times a year. When his child wasn’t owned by some wicked witch.

Still, the night was peaceful enough that he could only smell the salt air and watch the stars for a little while. Let his heart beat and just be… be nothing. Not think. Not calculate.

It was a relief and a strain all at once.

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fic: How to (Try to) Propose to Phil Lester

title: how to (try to) propose to phil lester

genre: fluff / rating: pg-13 / warnings: swearing

word count: 5500

description: “we have one month, the best proposal wins, and the loser has to get the other’s name tattooed on their ass at the wedding.”

or, the one where they both intend to propose to each other on the same night and dan isn’t having any of it.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Phil doesn’t even blink. “Most people say yes when their significant other of over six years proposes, but then again we’ve never really been ‘most people’ have we?”

a/n: when i spend two months writing a fic, you know it’s gonna be good. i hope. enjoy!

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From the moment they met, Jack knew this was the man with which he would spend the rest of his life. 

“I hope y'all like pecan pie,” Eric Bittle said. He was small, blond, and southern, with a smile that could brighten a room and a pie that smelled like heaven held gently in his hands. Ransom and Holster were on him in seconds.

“Holy shit, did you make this? It’s spectacular!” said Holster, pieces of pecan flying from his mouth. He hadn’t bothered to grab a plate, or a fork, or anything resembling kitchen ware for that matter. 

“Uhh, yes?” Eric looked scandalized. Ransom and Shitty had joined in, grabbing bits of pie and cramming it in their mouths with a voracity that challenged wild hyenas. 

Jack was perched on the edge of the dining hall table, watching the chaos unfold. This wasn’t how he thought it would happen. After a moment, he rolled up his sleeve, tracing his fingers over the soul mark that occupied the inside of his arm. ‘I hope y'all like pecan pie’ was written in large loopy letters. From where Jack sat, he could see the rest of the boys converging on Bittle’s pie. He smiled at the horrified look on Eric’s face. He would be easy to love, Jack thought. 

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okay hear me out, I’ve been thinking about this a lot and then there was this post and things kinda spiraled out of control;

  • So Adam is a southerner and after leaving for college and becoming more comfortable with himself, he starts letting the accent slip more often and ofc it shows the most when he’s really happy or talking to Ronan.
  • Usually those two things correlate.
  • Southerners are also known for using sweetheart, darling, and sugar a lot, and even though Adam makes it a point of using none of them usually; he still grew up hearing the words at the end of every other sentence
  • So one night Adam is in bed, tucked in and warm after a long day of lectures, and he’s got his phone pressed to his hearing ear as he sleepily tells Ronan about his day, voice soft and slow and his accent thick.
  • Adam is in that hazy place between sleep and wakefulness, and the murmur of Ronan’s voice when he starts speaking makes him feel safe and warm, so he dozes off for a few seconds and doesn’t catch what Ronan says. 
  • They don’t do pet names except for Ronan sometimes calling him babe but Adam is tired and content and he loves listening to Ronan speak, and the haziness of sleep loosens his tongue and so he sleepily asks; “What was that, sweetheart? I didn’t catch it” and the line goes silent for a bit
  • except Adam doesn’t notice it just then bc he’s too tired and Ronan sometimes needs to regroup his thoughts, so Adam is used to waiting for Ronan to find his words and he just closes his eyes and waits for Ronan to speak again
  • Meanwhile Ronan Lynch is having a religious experience on the other end of the phone, like his face feels so hot he’d be actually embarrassed if he weren’t too busy marvelling at Adam’s voice wrapped around the word sweetheart.
  • What he ends up saying, after several beats of silence, is “Jesus fuck, Parrish, just how tired are you? Go to sleep, fucker.” but his voice is soft and he’s smiling a little and Adam lets out a huff of quiet laughter.
  • Adam answers “Don’t wanna. I wanna talk to you. Miss you.” even as he can feel himself starting to lose the battle against sleep, and knowing he won’t be awake for much longer
  • He hears Ronan’s sigh of fond exasperation, followed by “Miss you too, asshole, but you need to sleep. I’ll just.. I’ll talk to you in the morning.” 
  • Adam nods without thinking, the warm feeling in his chest growing, growing, growing. And he breathes an I love you into the phone, Ronan returns the sentiment and disconnects with a “Good night, Adam.” 
  • The next morning when Adam is more awake, he remembers the phone call and figures out the reason behind Ronan’s prolonged silence and the smile in his voice afterwards. The memory and its following realisation leave him with flushed cheeks and a shit eating grin that he might have learned from Ronan himself
  • He makes a quick decision, picks up his phone, and dials his boyfriend’s number. Ronan answers on the second ring. 
  • Adam smiles and, with a voice slow as honey, he says; “Mornin’, Sugar.”
Hale of an artist

Okay so what IF Stiles is taking an art class at Beacon Hills Community College during the summer, to pick up some extra credits. 

There’s a gen requirement he needs to knock out of the way so he can take a university class he actually wants - something important for his major; he hates the idea of wasting an entire semester and expensive tuition on an intro class he can breeze through at reduced community college prices. When he’s registering he ends up signing up for an art class too (either because it sounds fun or because he’d somehow caught a glimpse of the teacher; it depends on how shocked and awed you want him to be on the first day). 

It’s a life drawing class, which Stiles possibly hadn’t really noticed when he’d signed up, but that’s cool, he’s been doodling in notebooks for years. Back in high school, he used to regularly get sent to detention for caricatures he drew of Harris. (Finstock thought his were funny and pinned them to the board but also gave him detention because rules are rules, Bilinski.) 

He probably ran an anonymous comic strip for the school paper, mercilessly lampooning anyone around campus who caught his attention. Senior Editor Lydia Martin, bless her beautiful soul, refused to reveal her sources every time angry teachers stormed the principal’s office to demand retribution. She even defended him against her boyfriend, the attractive but douchey Jackson Whittemore, who threatened to have his dad sue the school after one particularly blistering comic about his Porsche and lacrosse prowess.

But anyway that’s getting off track because the point is, Stiles shows up to his first day at BHCC, ready to do some Serious Drawing, yup. 

But when Professor Hale makes a circuit of the room to see which students need help, Stiles has to rapidly flip his sheet to a new one. He’s made Very Little progress, and Hale spends some extra time with him, guiding him through ways to quickly sketch the model’s shifting poses. He shows Stiles how to get a rough outline down on paper, using broad strokes to give the impression of movement, only adding details if there’s enough time before the model changes to a new pose. 

Once he moves on, equally patient with every student, but not always pausing with them for quite as long, Stiles flips back to his far more detailed drawing and begins shading in the beard he’d had so blissfully close to his face for those sweetly extended minutes. 

It’s actually more of a challenge than he’d expected! He’s always been good at capturing eccentricities and exaggerating features, but this is new. And the sharp cheekbones, the perfect pattern of Hale’s beard…he breaks two pencils trying to get the hair sleek and dark (yet effortlessly soft) enough, before he moves into charcoal.

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