AN: OK, I have been
bitten by the Parent!lock bug and the Sherlolly bug and I’ve been bitten badly.
This silly one-shot came to me last night and I know it’s not overly realistic
as a first word but the idea amused me and I hope you enjoy it.
Remember the time we first met at the seaside back in 1987? Those times were so simple, just you and I. Watching the waves ebb and flow, harmoniously. I would do everything to have that moment again. I wish you didn’t leave but it was for the best, you are at a better place now.
I go back to the seaside to keep your memory alive.
hiii! I’m amber and I’m from the UK - I’m looking for a pen pal to exchange cute little trinkets with and there’s something awfully romantic about sending a proper letter! I really love art and drawing and literature; I’m quite an aesthetic fiend as well. I love a lot of indie music, but I’m also a one direction fan (haha). I’d love to travel some day, so talking to people from different countries would really brighten up my weeks!
Interests: poetry, books (anything from YA to Fitzgerald), Netflix, gossip girl, art and drawing, photography
Mark Rutte, prime minister of the Netherlands, REALLY published a letter attacking all racial minorities of the country in a major newspaper. One passage even named “calling a normal Dutch person racist” as an offense in the same breath with homophobia. I’m beyond belief - this man is really out here trying to court the vote of Geert Wilders supporters because he knows he screwed over every lower income family in the country with his economics so the only appeal he has left is riding the wave of xenophobia and DARE I SAY, racism. Are you gonna tell me to leave my country for posting this, Rutte? Disgusting, despicable, manipulative, transparent little man that you are.
Hey, so personalized Drabble, yeah? You know me girly but if you have any questions just ask. Dean, please :) how about me bringing home a bunch of puppies one day because I just couldn't resist. Anything else you feel inspired to include. Lotsa fluff please! :) you rock, Talia! 😘
Title: Too cute to resist
Pairing: Sydney x Dean
Warning(s): Cute fluff, swearing, Sam being overprotective of puppies
Word Count: 487 words
A/N: So. Tryna get back into the swing of things with a couple (horribly) overdue drabbles. Yikes. Wish me luck!
The first sign that something’s wrong is that it’s quiet.
Dean frowns, a mix of suspicion and apprehension slithering up his spine. His hand reaches out blindly and closes around one of the Men of Letters’ archive books, a dusty old thing (not that he cares). He rounds the corner quickly, book raised and ready to strike at whoever tried to break in…
Or whatever, more like.
Sydney grins sheepishly, holding a squirming golden yellow ball of fur. Sam’s sitting next to her, with not one, but three puppies in his lap. All he can do is stare, trying to figure out why there were four puppies in the bunker.
“I can explain!” Sydney blurts, light pink dusting her pale cheeks, and a tuft of her blond hair (almost identical to the puppy’s too) falls across her face.
“Wh- How- Why… What?” Is all Dean can manage. His brain is still trying to wrap around the concept of four – f o u r – puppies, in his safe haven. “Sam what the hell?” he demands, and Sydney makes a noise of protest, standing up with the puppy cradled in her arms.
Dean wants to protest, he should. Dogs were always more of Sam’s thing, not his. He doesn’t want to be cleaning fur out of his jacket, jeans, shirts, floor, out of Baby, all the damn time. He really should protest… but Sydney’s dark green eyes sparkled with hope, and her pout – damn that pout– makes his heart soften towards the pups.
“I picked them up in a box from the river,” she blurts, and Dean’s ripped from his introspective daydream about his girlfriend. Who’s currently puppy-eyeing him with a puppy. Rude.
“And….? Why are they here?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer (he’s hoping she won’t keep all four, but chances are slim).
“And I couldn’t leave Bailey, Sadie, Buffy and Bones all alone in the cold!” Sydney almost whines, and Dean knows he has no hope in hell of getting her to give up the dogs. She’s already freaking named them.
Sam laughs, letting the dogs crawl all over him while they explore their new territory. Dean can’t help but chuckle a little because they are kind of cute, and they are fluffy and–
“Oh my god I knew you’d love the puppies! This is Buffy,” Sydney giggles while Dean struggles not to accidentally drop and kill the small wriggling ball of fur suddenly plopped into his arms.
“Syd-babe- some help would be nice!” he yells, and Sydney picks the dog up effortlessly, watching as a now very disgruntled Dean brushes himself off. “Keep them outta my room,” he huffs, stomping off to take a shower.
(Dean totally lets Buffy into his room that night, because those two flailing seconds was enough for him to like that puppy over the others, and maybe they really are too cute to resist. Just Maybe.)
“As for the Republicans—how can one regard seriously a frightened, greedy, nostalgic huddle of tradesmen and lucky idlers who shut their eyes to history and science, steel their emotions against decent human sympathy, cling to sordid and provincial ideals exalting sheer acquisitiveness and condoning artificial hardship for the non-materially-shrewd, dwell smugly and sentimentally in a distorted dream-cosmos of outmoded phrases and principles and attitudes based on the bygone agricultural-handicraft world, and revel in (consciously or unconsciously) mendacious assumptions (such as the notion that real liberty is synonymous with the single detail of unrestricted economic license or that a rational planning of resource-distribution would contravene some vague and mystical ‘American heritage’…) utterly contrary to fact and without the slightest foundation in human experience? Intellectually, the Republican idea deserves the tolerance and respect one gives to the dead."—H.P. Lovecraft in a letter to Donalad Wandrei, November 8, 1936.
i saw one girl writing letters to landfills. i guess I’m writing to landfills too hon.
sometimes i wonder if i really shouldve done it that day, i would’ve saved me and my family a lot of heartache and trouble. It would’ve made it so i didn’t have to deal with this, at the very least. i could’ve taken all those pills, i could’ve jumped, i could’ve just, cut a little too deep, and i would be over right now. but i didnt, and whether or not thats a good thing is up to me to decide. that really pisses me off. I’ve always been too stubborn for my own good, usually without even realizing it. the stubborn part of my supposedly genius brain is stuck on the idea of me being useless. i have spent countless months and years and moments trying to convince myself of otherwise, but my subconscious is a bit of a bitch. ooh, whats a girl to do? keep swimming i guess, or trudging along, or just, existing. until things come for me.
Unless anyone has any ideas for improvements I think this environment is finally ready for animation! I’m so glad to finally be done drawing cables.
In case you don’t know this is a major asset for my upcoming game review series called “Forgotten Gaming. In it I’ll be focusing on the hundreds of games I own with little to no records of their existence online!
Fun facts about this environment -This was my first time ever working with highlights, up until now I’ve just done shadows -this set contains 30 separate monitors -Once finished this will contain 6 individual layers of animation -The robots above the “Duplexide” letters are based on similar ones I own IRL -every episode will have slightly different clutter and arrangements to simulate a lived in environment
Your Highness, Congratulations on your wedding. I ain't one for letters but, I guess this would probably be the last thing you'll ever get to hear from me. Forgive me if I make myself scarce when you leave for Altissia, else I might do something crazy in front of your dad and just kidnap you. I'm not one for goodbyes either, so I saved us both that trouble. Just be careful out there, alright? Do me proud. Be safe... and know that I loved you. Yours forever, N.
The letter is lost for some years, forgotten among the ashes of Insomnia. It surfaces again only when the King returns to his kingdom a decade letter, victorious both against the war and the Starscourge, but with a steep price.
He traces the old letters with a finger. The paper’s yellowed now, and the ink has faded and smudged by the edges. But this handwriting, he’ll recognize it anywhere, even blind or in death.
Know that I loved you.
Oh, he knew. He knew it as surely as the sun rose, as surely as he knew the back of his own hand. Did Nyx know too, just how much he had loved him? Noctis can only hope so. He has nothing now but memories.
He presses a kiss to the worn paper, and folds it tenderly, with all the care in the world, and tucks it into his coat pocket, close to his heart.
Normally Ares’s letters are penned quickly, which makes his penmanship a little messy. Not so, with this letter: he’s taken special care. He’s learned an entirely new style of calligraphy for it, looping and ornate, which he has embellished with extra flourishes at every opportunity.
To Julius; Kin- and Childslayer; Churlish, inbred, craven dastard who so dearly deserves his exile; the weak and spoilt manchild it was every Jugdrali’s utter misery to call prince; the most ungrateful and miserable wretch to ever claw his way out from the womb of Woman; Plague upon his family; Eternal shame of the Crusader Fala; useful only as a meat suit to house all the unsavoury things of this world,
I say unto you most sincerely: Fuck you.
His very alive Majesty Ares of House Nordion, Son of the Lionheart, King of Augustria