i lost my pencil as well so its drawn in pen

Titanic AU - Epilogue

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Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22
Part 23
Part 24
Part 25
Part 26
Part 27
Part 28
Part 29
Part 30
Part 31
Part 32

Davey was only half paying attention to the news. It was on in the background whilst he listened to his daughter catch him up on how his grandkids were doing now they’d scattered to the wind across the country. Then he heard the word Titanic, said with enough grandeur that he knew it was the ship. Looking up instinctively, he saw a drawing he thought was lost forever to the ocean being held up to a camera. Suddenly Katie’s words became distant ringing and the spiel of the reporter talking about recovering artifacts from the Titanic was roaring in his ears.

“Jack,” was all he managed to say, the name wavering and stunted.

“Yeah?” Jack called back, sensing the shock in Davey’s voice and immediately putting down the wooden spoon he’d been stirring their dinner with and poked his head round the doorway into the living room. When he saw what Davey was looking at on the television his legs found themselves moving of their own accord and he walked over to the sofa. “Oh my god,” he breathed in awe, sinking down onto the couch beside Davey.

“I never thought…” Davey trailed off, because of course he’d never thought he’d see the drawing again. He’d thought about it so often, regretting not saving it and imagining it in the dark as it slowly turned to mush and then to nothing, but apparently he’d be wrong about its fate.

“What is it?” Katie asked, concerned. She was looking at the screen and trying to see what they saw, but all she could make out was some fluff piece about a rather suggestive sketch of a young man, clearly drawn by a lover, found in a ship wreck. What did that have to do with her dads?

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Summer House ~Chapter One: Changing Writers

Okay so…. @diggo26 is the only person whose read this story or what I managed to write during the month of April during the camp that @green-arrows-of-karamel allowed me to take part in. She’s certain this is a great story and I’m still unsure. I’m posting the first chapter because again a certain friend desperately wants me to share…

Summary: Oliver Queen has been missing for two years. On the eve of his 2nd anniversary the local paper with the families consent has decided to run a memorial article since one was never done when he first went missing. Sara Lance was assigned the story at first but know the paper’s hotshot reporter Felicity Smoak has been assigned the story. Felicity must now put her personal feelings aside as she searches for the truth to Oliver Queen’s disappearance.  

FYI I suck at summaries so please give it a shot. 

Read it here or on AO3


Red tapestries, faded hardwood and, broken glass surrounded his tall, angular form. He pushed his fingers along the white marble window sill; the dust fell over the beveled edge with ease as his cold blue eyes peered through the scratched up window panes.

The empty branches scratched along the battered, abandoned glass; the windows now were simply a broken reflection of a place that once felt like his true home. He shifted his gaze and, let the rhythmic pace of the wind along the glass ease the growing loneliness within his hardened heart. The clock along the stone mantel clanged, the windows rattled and, the shutters snapped along the home’s stone exterior.

His sharp inhale seemed silent when the wind once more howled, “Two years tomorrow,” he groaned to the creaking walls. “Two years and no one’s come…” he bemoaned as the lone flicker of light finally went out…

Chapter One: Changing Writers

The room around her was filled with the sounds of tapping fingers and thudding brains. Her brightly painted fingernails tapped along the faded black keys of her worn office keyboard. She tapped at the edge of the archaic machine and, let her furrowed brow fade into a frustrated one.

“Every life has a story, every journey has a reason and, every life has to find its ultimate purpose.”

Once she read the line aloud she immediately pressed her eager pinkie over the fairly worn backspace key. She watched with anticipated annoyance while each word slowly began to simply fade away.

She heard the sharp scowl of her thoroughly overworked officemate. “Please explain to me how that cow expects us to produce miracles from absolutely nothing!”

Felicity grumbled in sour agreement, “I take it you’ve been given the memorial story from hell?”

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A setup for a bad joke

Word count: 1367

Summary: A male design major and a dyslexic english literature major walk into a bar, sounds like the setup for a bad joke, doesn’t it?

Hello! This is the first original one from me so please don’t kill me 😂😂

Anyway no warnings, its set in an AU where the boys go to uni together (college for you Americans)

And hey, its hella gay

Sophie xx


The best part about the ‘Antlers’ pub was that, despite the thick crowd which usually congregated on a tuesday night, Lefou felt that the atmosphere was more calm than anything else. Occasionally at this time of night, there would be a couple of know it alls fighting over who could get the barmaids number (despite her never agreeing to have given it in the first place) or someone proclaiming himself the best at pool in the bar, thus initiating an intense game which resulted in cheering and annoyed grumbled from whoever had lost that night, yet tonight, it was peaceful. No agitated testosterone filled men who wanted to prove himself worthy and no singalongs which they all seemed so fond of. Silence.

LeFou was currently engrossed in a novel which was set in front of him. Of course it took him time to figure out what it actually said and thanks to his specialised glasses, that time had halved, yet being dyslexic had its downsides.

A couple of men across the bar sat down and scooted close to one another, whispering to the person who was sat in the centre of the trio, each of them gesturing towards Lefou, yet he was not aware of the congregation, in the book, Briony had just walked in on Cecilia and Robbie.

A figure was walking over from the bar, two beers in hand and a sketchbook precariously balanced in the crook of his elbow, as well as a mechanical pencil gritted between his teeth, if seen out of context, one would have even considered the situation comical, somewhat.

When the man finally made it to the table, he gently placed each beer in the center, before sliding the sketchbook and the pencil along with them.

Lefou looked up from his book to see a man. A tall man at that. This was also a particularly attractive man who seemed to be extremely well dressed, considering their surroundings, yet the man stood there with an eager grin and a small blush on his cheeks.

He extended his hand towards Lefou, with perhaps a slight tremor, and stood waiting for Lefou’s response.

Lefou gave him a nervous smile and mirrored the stranger, extending his own hand and grasping his, giving it a small shake.

“Can I help you sir?” He inquired.

The stranger gave a small chuckle and shook his head.

“Pardon me, where are my manners! My name’s Stanley, I believe you room with a mutual acquaintance of mine?”

Lefou felt himself grown only more confused until it finally clicked.

“Oh! You were one if Gaston’s friends?”

Stanley grinned wider at this, he sure did like grinning.

“Yes! He left quite suddenly last year, what happened to him?”

Lefou gave an amused snort and closed the book, laying it to rest on the table.

“Didn’t you hear? Attempted murder,” Lefou replied humorously, shaking his head at the table, before being drawn to the beer which stanley was now sliding towards him, mouth agape.

“You’re kidding,” he all but whispered.

“Nope, you remember Belle, history of literature major? Her boyfriend.”

Stanley just sat, running his hand over his hair which seemed to be drawn back into a makeshift ponytail with about half of it trying to be free somewhat.

He let out a huff of air from two almost parted lips, and gave a light chuckle.

“Come to think of it, if i would have predicted someone…” he left the sentence hanging, nothing else really needed saying.

“So,” stanley began, his eyes flitting between the book on the table and back to Lefou.

“Atonement?” He questioned.

Lefou rubbed the back of his neck, whilst also giving a small laugh.

“Yeah… I do an English Literature major, its one of the required readings,” he replied slowly.

Stanley beamed at this, and Lefou wasn’t exactly sure why, but rather than be intimidated by the large grins which stanley sent his way, he was quite comforted by them, there was something warm in his smile, almost reminding Lefou of the feeling that he got when looking at sunflowers, or perhaps when the sky was blue one day, with small clouds passing over them in a lazy way, with a small breezy passing through your hair, a lukewarm one, that didn’t feel humid, or scorching, or freezing, but lazy, and gentle, that was how that smile made him feel.

“So what do you major in?” Lefou asked, now curious about the man sat opposite him.

Stanley looked down to his lap, the blush which previously illuminated his cheek spreading down to his neck, and one of the hairs which had come loose slowly sliding down to cover a small portion of his face.

“I’m a, well…” he paused, and sucked in a breath from his two front teeth “a design major.”

Lefou gave him a smile.

“No wonder you look so good in that shirt,” he quipped, earning him a grateful smile in return, which seemed to break whatever ice would have surrounded them further into the evening.

As the night continued, laughter ran from each mouth, each word and each syllable just as eager as the last, both of them leaning in further and further through the conversations, the jokes that they made prompting more flirtation which lead to more conversation, to the point where they seemed to have lost all sense of grammar and were just spouting random out of context words and giggling at each other, yet it seemed natural, and almost calming to see someone else laugh senselessly at a word so obscenely odd that it made both confused to the point of hysterics.

At some point, the two men whom had been accompanying Stanley, who introduced themselves as Tom and Dick, tapped him on she shoulder and nodded to the door, to which point he nodded back and they slunk away, smiling at the conversation which was taking place.

It was an odd sensation knowing that they were the last two people left in the bar, after a troupe of people who seemed to have taken over half of the area vacated the premises, in fact for both men it seemed an alien concept to be completely honest, yet as the barman ushered them both out, he seemed mildly pleased by how easily they seemed to comply, even smiled at them and bid them goodnight.

Lefou and Stanley stood next to each other as they walked towards the college campus, silently enjoying each others company and the comfortable bubble of peace which seemed to have surrounded them.

When they finally got to Lefou’s dorm, which was the closest to the bar out of the two of them, he had half a mind to invite Stanley up.

“This was fun,” he said, with a slight blush on his cheek.

Stanley nodded.

“Before i head out, i need to give you something,” Stanley said, reaching in his back pocket.

Lefou looked at him inquisitively, not exactly sure on what was about to happen.

Stanley produced a small note pad and a pen from the pocket, and flicked to a page that seemed to be completely devoid of sketches, and began writing down a sequence of numbers before ripping out the sheet and holding it out to Lefou, who was frozen on the spot.

In all his days, never had anyone given him their number.

He reached out and took it, the blush creeping all over his face.

They each mumbled a goodnight and parted ways.

In the morning, Stanley was awoken by a small buzz from his phone, which rested upon his nightstand, and pulled the object towards himself.

Unknown number:

Good morning! It’s Lefou, from the bar last night, how’s things?

Stanley felt a smile break on his face, stretching his features with pure unadulterated joy, his eyes glinting like a child’s on Christmas, and as he typed out a reply, he had a thought that drove him further into the maddening depths of hope that this would work out.

That this joy was only the beginning.

Rapture: Chapter One

GENRE: Comedy/Romance/Drama 
FIC SUMMARY: Emily has enough on her plate when it comes to working for Tom and as a beautician in the thumping heart of London. But throw in secret feelings, old flames, annoying paparazzi, nosy friends and jealous admirers in the mix and all hell seems to break loose! 
AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: sex and language is the only warning. 

Bzzt bzzzt bzzt bzzt


With a groggy groan, the woman in the bed rolled over and picked up her phone without looking at the collar ID. there was no need, she knew who it was.


“Good morning Thomas.” she sighed heavily into the phone.


“Good morning dear, are you still asleep?” the melodic tenor on the other line helped her come out of her sleepy fog.


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