bereft of life

  • Canon: this character's dead!
  • Me: oh no they're not, uh, they're just resting
  • Canon: they're stone dead!
  • Me: n-no - they're just stunned, that's it!
  • Canon: STUNNED?!
  • Me: they're - they're probably just pinin' for the fjords
  • Canon: PINING for the FJORDS? Now see here! They're bleeding demised! Look, they're lying on their back!
  • Me: that character prefers sleeping on their back, you know
  • Canon: this character has ceased to be! They've expired and gone to meet their maker! They're stiff! Bereft of life, they rest in peace! They're pushin' up daisies! Their metabolic processes are history! They're off the twig! They've kicked the bucket! They've shuffled off this mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleeding CHOIR INVISIBLE!
  • Me: remarkable character, that one
  • Me: lovely backstory
Once a Queen

(He said once that he didn’t know how to tell Susan’s story.  She deserved better.  This is my poor tribute.)

She wears high heels and red lipstick
They call her a queen, and her words
Are arrows strong and true and changing
the world - she does not need Narnia, that
Children’s dream that forced her to grow
Up and then rejected her for being grown

She speaks up for the downtrodden, makes
waves the way she knows how - seeks to save
for her beauty is equal to her kindness
And her siblings don’t understand why she
Doesn’t want to go back to a place that
Took so much from her - she has survived war
Twice over, the responsibilities lie heavy on her heart

(It is easier sometimes to sneer, than to weep)
Later when her hair is silver but her
Lipstick is still red she lies down to rest
Wakes in a forest that echoes familiarity
She looks down at a pool and sees her siblings
Rejoicing in a world free from pain and suffering

She blows them a kiss but she is a queen
(Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen)
Her job is not done and so she seeks out other pools
To find the one in need of a helping hand,
Of her words and arrows, and if a lion walks
Beside her, and her hand tangles in his mane
None else are there to see this act of reconciliation
It is with solemn golden eyes and a breath of blessing
It is with a heart made strong through breaking and
A head made wise with living that she dives into a new beginning

Things That Mattered

Originally posted by lilpieceofmyworld

Pairing: Clay Jensen x Reader

Request: “Clay Jensen x reader where the reader was in the car with Jeff and survived and is coming back from the hospital to stay with Clay and loads of fluff?”

Word count: 986

Posted: 22nd of April 2017

A/N: Another request is up! I loved this imagine and Jeff is ALIVE, okay? Because, repeat after me, JEFF ATKINS DESERVED BETTER!
Hope you like it thought. Anyways, I am accepting 13 reasons why requests, please send some in! Thank you.

- G. x

Warning: Mentions hospital, accident and wounds.

The idea of coming back home made you feel alive again and you felt relieved, since you couldn’t stand the hospital scent anymore. You felt alone and bereft of life in those hospital walls, even though you were really alive and only scarred.

In those hospital walls, you spent your days worrying about your big brother, Jeff. You were thankful that he survived, although his damage was worse than yours since he was the driver when the car accident happened. You got some scars on your forehead and other parts of your body, while he broke some of his bones and he almost died. Sad, right? It is and every pain you were bearing was caused by someone who knocked a stop sign over.

“Honey?” Your thoughts vanished as you heard your mother’s acute voice. She was standing in front of your study table and you quickly flashed a wide smile once you saw the boy beside him, one familiar boy. “I’m leaving you two, okay?”

“Thanks, mum!” You sweetly thanked her and she responded you with a pleasant smile.

“Are you feeling better, beautiful?” He asked you as he sat on the empty part of the bed, admiring you from head to toe.

“Jensen!” You laughed while you shook your head in disbelief. “Always a pleaser.”

“Of course not, babe!” He protested and you melted for how he called you. You didn’t see him for a week because the hospital had strict rules and they accepted visitors only for certain hours. Clay has always insisted to visit you, no matter it cost him skipping some hours at school, but you disagreed for what he wanted to do and you forced him to go to school.

“Am I beautiful even with these bandages and band-aids on?” You raised your right eyebrow as you pointed the bandages that covered some of your wounds and bruises.

“You are always beautiful, (Y/N).” He sweetly smiled at you for your insecurities and you didn’t know, but he loved it whenever you would go against him. He loved it, because he knew that he would win the discussion.

“I missed you, babe.” You honestly confessed as you motioned for him to come beside you.

“I missed you too, a lot and no lies.” He said once he was beside you. “I was so scared when I saw you and Jeff hurt. I was so scared to lose you, I didn’t want my girlfriend to leave me, I didn’t want to be alone and I was so scared of the idea that I had to deal with loneliness and forlornness alone.” He confessed, still being emotional whenever the scene flashed in his mind.

“Babe,” You caressed his chin with your thumb. “you know that you can’t get rid of me easily, right?” You wiped his tears and kissed his right cheek after.

“And I am lucky for that.” He smiled at you, shaking off the thought of the horrid happening of that night. “Please, don’t ever go.”

“I will never go, Clay.” You assured him as you weakly patted his right shoulder.

“Promise?” He stuck his pinky finger out and you laughed because of it.

“I promise, love.” You locked your pinky finger with his and you both laughed as you remember the memories of the two of you doing pinky promises. You’ve always respected it and it was forbidden to violate it. It shouldn’t happen, never in a million years.

“Geez!” Clay blurted out after he admired your face once again. “Only God knows how much I love you and how much I will love you in the future.”

“Clay, watch out for the ants!” You both giggled. “You are too sweet and cute.”

“Am I or am I not your favourite cinnamon roll?” He winked at you and you laughed harder than he expected, maybe it was for the way he asked you about it, maybe it was because he called himself a cinnamon roll.

“Of course, you are. No doubts.” He giggled and he slowly caressed your face with his free hand, he avoided your scars as he carefully leant in to give you a quick kiss on your lips. “I love you too, Clay.” You said as you went back to your topic before.

“I love you more, gorgeous.” He smirked and you just rolled your eyes. You knew that you couldn’t compete with Clay Jensen, he would always win and he loved that.

“Alright, you win!” You showed him your pouty lips and he took it as an opportunity to kiss you.

“Stop pouting or I’ll eat those lips.” Clay naughtily said and you bit your lower lip as you couldn’t believe for what your shy and reserved boyfriend has just said. You knew that he was playing a game, but you knew that you would win this time.

He leant in once again to leave another quick kiss, but you pulled him closer when he broke the kiss. You closed the gap between the two of you and you deepened the kiss as he played with your hair and you rested your hand on his jaw.

You knew how to drive Clay crazy and, in fact, you knew that you already won when you heard a moan escaping from his red, almost swollen, lips.

“Who’s the loser now?” You proudly asked him, sitting up on the bed, and he fussed when you broke the kiss out of nowhere.

“Dork!” He jokingly blurted out as he stood in front of you to let your lips meet once again and, this time, you shared a slow and passionate kiss, not minding who won or not, not minding how much you drove Clay crazy.

This time, the love and the emotions that you shared were the only things that mattered. Because that’s what really mattered and you couldn’t thank him enough for letting you feel that you were loved.  

Alm’s Route: Field of green grass and a blue sky paint a picture of the hopeful future that this hero strives to deliver. Though the battles may be hard and harsh, Alm, along with his friends both old and new, makes his way forward, bravery guiding his blows, and love giving them strength! With the power of friendship, no shortage of smiles can be found here, even in the grim battlefield, as these boys, girls, men, and women learn to accept their differences, understanding that the place of one’s birth has no bearing on your lot in life!

Celica’s Route: Yet another skirmish. A Cantor has spawned. The enemies triple your numbers, provisions run low, but not lower than morale. Behind a rock on a god forsaken, blasted wilderness bereft of life and mercy, Celica hides, biting on a piece of wood as she casts Fire on her left arm to cauterize a poison claw wound. Her red eyes are bloodshot, she hasn’t eaten in 4 days, Kamui missed yet another attack, Boey hasn’t had a double attack in the entire game, a Witch evaporated Valdar as soon as the enemy’s first turn came, Saber gets only a single point in HP for the fourth time in a row upon leveling up, Mae missed Thunder in the essential moment, dooming your entire 14 turn odyssey of calculated risks and frowns. It’s Celica’s turn. She moves out of her hiding spot, Seraphim spell in hand, running for dear life as thirty Aracanist and ten Cantors shoot at her with massive machine guns. Blake is right behind Celica, waving his 30 Attack stat and his Shadow Sword with wild abandon, lusting for her throat, Wolff is shooting rocket propelled grenades at her from a nearby attack helicopter, another Cantor spawned and makes his way towards Celica. A necrodragon ate Boey. Celica dodges the bullets and the rockets, but while dodging, another Cantor spawned. There was only one dream, and it’s been ripped at the seam, you will lose all you love, despite how much you yearn with greed, as your heart bleeds, despite how much shrapnel frays your tired back, despite how much you try to hold with those splintered, wounded hands, everything spilling out of them. The end is near. Another Cantor spawned.

  • Pearl: Is Pink Diamond dead?
  • Rose: Why, yes. Yes she is, young lady. She has passed on. This gem is no more. She has ceased to be. She’s expired and gone to meet her maker. She’s a stiff! Bereft of life! She rests in peace! If she didn’t shoot herself, she’d be pushing up daisies! Her metabolic processes are now history! SHE'S OFF THE TWIG! SHE'S KICKED THE BUCKET! SHUFFLED OFF THE MORTAL COIL! RUN DOWN THE CURTAIN AND JOINED THE FRIGGIN’ CHOIR INVISIBLE! THIS… IS AN EX-GEM!
This is what happened, right?
  • Kaiba: He's hiding!
  • Yuugi: He's not hiding! He's passed on! The Pharaoh is no more! He has ceased to be! He's expired and gone to meet his maker! Bereft of life, he rests in peace! If you hadn't dug up his grave, he'd be pushing up the daisies! He's run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible! *Brandishes Puzzle* THIS IS AN EX-PHARAOH!

Imagine spending Sebastian’s birthday with him.

A/N: I don’t know where you are, but in Australia it’s Sebastian Stan’s birthday so here’s a little Seb based fic. I know I don’t write many of these ‘cause well, I’m in-love with Chris. But for those who prefer Seb, this one’s for you. ❤️ 

Today was one of those beautiful days in New York Sebastian always talked about when he was asked about his city. The weather was stupendous, it was almost as though the universe had parceled it out to him as a birthday present. 8:00AM had him waiting outside your apartment building, observing each passerby with great sonder. The thought had was all these people passing him had lives as vivid and complex as his, perhaps they had a birthday to celebrate with their best friend too. He couldn’t tell; no two lives were the same. You were meant to pick Sebastian up at his, but he couldn’t wait. The two of you had plans to spend the day together before his birthday party tonight with the rest of your mutual friends. His boys already had him with a pre-celebration at The Surf Lodge, so now it was your turn. If Sebastian was being honest with himself, he’d rather the whole twenty-four hours with just the girl he loved.

You’d been friends with Sebastian since college. The two of you were so close that if he weren’t out of the state filming, you made sure to see each other at least once a day. It didn’t even have to be an official plan, you could come home and see him waiting on your couch. You had one of those relationships where it wouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone if the two of you got together, but it also wouldn’t if you simply remained friends. There was no fear of risking your friendship preventing you from being together, you were just content with what you had going. It wasn’t like you hadn’t discussed it before, or shared a drunken kiss or two. It was hard to define the kind of love you carried for each other. It was a mix of many; the lines were always blurred. The two of you could be radically happy as a couple, yet if you saw him with another girl- you’d just be happy for him. It was the same if he saw you with another guy because unadulterated happiness was what you wanted for the other, it didn’t matter how it was achieved.

But Sebastian was starting to question the methods, wondering if he was being bereft of a great life with you. He was turning thirty-five, he was getting to an age his mother was starting to worry about. Out of everything he’d accomplished in his thirty-five years, marriage and kids were yet to be conquered. She wanted that for him like every mother wanted it for her child, and she wanted it more whenever he saw him with you. She may have respected your decisions as adults not to pursue a relationship with increasingly high success rates, but she didn’t understand it. If she were either of you and she knew the person standing before her was easily the one she could spend the rest of her life with, she’d sweep that opportunity off its feet the second it became available. She forced that idea on Sebastian at dinner last night, promising him that “one day, she’s going to be with another guy and you’re not going to be okay with it.”

“Sebastian Stan,” he heard you call his name and he turned; the smile was on his face even before he saw yours. “What are you doing here?” You chuckled. “I’m meant to go pick you up, it’s your birthday.” He shrugged, pulling you in for a hug. “Happy birthday, old man.” Your arms wrapped around his torso tightly. Time stood still for the both of you and a comfortable silence ensued. You both smiled because nothing compared to the feeling of being held by each other. You, too, were starting to question if being just friends was enough for you anymore.

“You realize you’re only a year younger than me, right?”

“Mm hm,” you nodded, pulling away. “And don’t you forget it,” you held out his present for him and he took it, releasing a soft laugh when you said, “old man.” He held the small box in his hand, turning it left and right as he admired the wrapping. “You can open it now if you want,” you informed him when you saw his empty wrist. “It’s nothing fancy,” you bit back your smile when you said that.

“You always say that when you get me something fancy,” he chuckled, gently tearing into the paper. You suppressed your urge to laugh when he said that, he simply knew you too well. “Holy shit,” he cussed when he saw the packaging. “Are you out of your mind?” He scrunched the wrapping paper and tucked the ball under his arm, opening the Audemars Piguet box to reveal a beautiful watch: a Jules Audemars Tourbillion silver dial watch. “Why did you spend so much money on me?”

“It wasn’t that much,” you shrugged nonchalantly as you walked off in the direction of the café the two of you were planning to have breakfast at. Sebastian followed after you, closing the box. He wasn’t an idiot, that was a very expensive watch. So much so he felt the need to cover it with the wrapping paper so no one could see what it was. He wasn’t afraid you’d broken your bank, it was hard for a successful owner of a big publishing company to do that. He just found the gift unnecessary considering he was happy with your presence as a gift. “If you’re going to whine about the gift all day, I’m turning around and going home.”

“Trust me I’m very aware of what you’d do if I whine about my gift.” You’d left him on his birthday before, but he’d bugged you too much. You came back with cake, but he stopped whining after that incident. He hurried after you, joining your side. “Can I just say one thing?” He asked.

“Depends,” you glanced at him, slipping your hand into his. “Is that one thing ‘thank you, I love my new watch’?” You raised a brow then smiled when he laughed. “If that is so, no need.” You told him and he sighed, squeezing your hand. “Are you going to just carry it in the box, or are you going to put the watch on?”

“Can I put it in your bag first so we don’t get robbed in broad daylight?”

“God, you’re so dramatic,” you laughed, taking your hand out of his to hold open your bag for him to put his gift in. “No wonder you became an actor, I can’t imagine you doing anything else.” He rolled his eyes, flashing his teeth when he smiled. “Can you promise me you’ll wear it?”

“Of course I’ll wear it, darling,” he gently pinched your chin. “It’s a beautiful watch and I am very grateful you got it for me.” You smiled, letting him take your hand as the two of you continued down the street. “So can we sidetrack my birthday for a second and talk about yours, ‘cause for the first time in sixteen years I actually don’t know what’s happening. Are you having a party, are you-” You laughed at his confusion, and he chuckled, “what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged.

“You love birthdays and you’re telling me you’ve got nothing planned?” He asked and you nodded. “No,” he shook his head, discounting anything you’ve told him. “I don’t believe you. You always do something for your birthday, big or small- I have never seen you do nothing for it, so let me know so I can accommodate whatever it is you have planned.”

“I have nothing planned, Seb,” you assured him. “I’m not lying. It’s on a Friday so I’m going to work. I have no plans, other than you. I am definitely going to go see you because- well, it’ll just be sad if I don’t see anyone I love on my birthday.” He eyed you suspiciously and you laughed. “I’m not lying!”

“Okay, even if you don’t have a party planned- I am not letting you spend your birthday working, you are going to take the day off because you can as the CEO.” You shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with his statement. “We’re going to spend the day like tourists, visiting all the hotspots in New York like we did when we were younger. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded.

The comfortable silence returned as you and Sebastian continued to walk, then he suddenly stopped and moved in front of you. You looked at him with furrowed brows then felt your facials softened when he said, “how would you feel if I told you I loved you?”

“Depends if this is a confession,” you answered. “I feel like you’re quoting Ed Sheeran and I um- I don’t really know how to process that.” He chuckled, shaking his head in utter disbelief that he’d waited this long to decide you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. “This feels like a weird conversation to have on the side of the street.”

“I know, but I had dinner with my mom yesterday and she told me that one day I’m going to see you with another guy and I won’t be okay with it.” He told you. “I went home and I couldn’t sleep because of that, the idea of you with someone else. And it’s insane because- all I want is for you to be happy, be it with me or without me. Then I realized I was in-love with you and suddenly all that time I spent just being your friend became absurd to me.” He stopped rambling when he realized you hadn’t said anything. “Am I ruining this by telling you that?”

“No, of course not,” you shook your head. “Seb-” you chuckled, feeling your smile reach your eyes. Your mind was cloyed, it felt like felicity hearing him admit that. It didn’t occur to you how much you wanted him to admit that until that very moment. “I’m in-love with you too.” His smile tenfold. “I can’t believe it took us sixteen years to get here, but- I am. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and I can’t imagine having to spend the rest of it seeing you with someone else. So yeah,” you felt your eyes water, “I’m in-love with you too.”

“Let it be known,” he began as he pulled you into him, a hand on your waist and the other gently caressing your face. “That my thirty-fifth birthday is officially,” he dipped his head and lowered his voice into a soft whisper, “the best,” he inched closer to your lips, “birthday,” he smiled, “ever.” You chuckled then met his lips a passionate kiss.

Tags: @chrisevans-imagines @widowsfics @m-a-t-91 @imaginesofdreams  @katiew1973 @winter-tospring @shamvictoria11 @soymikael @faye22 @always-an-evans-addict @heartblackerthancoffee @whenyourealizethisisntagoodname @yourtropegirl @smoothdogsgirl @createdbytinyaddiction @dreamingintheimpalawithdean @rileyloves5 @buckys-shield @catch-me-im-a-falling-star @tabi-toast @ssweet-empowerment @chrixa @feelmyroarrrr @akidura79 @castellandiangelo @edward-lover18 @yourenotrogers @im-a-fandom-slut @royalexperiment256 @palaiasaurus64 @tacohead13 @badassbaker @pegasusdragontiger @sfreeborn @dorisagent101 @aekr @imagine-cats96 @adeptkillsyasse @shliic @justanotherfangurlz @winchesterandpie @creativeheartgemini @camerica96 @thestarlighthotel @lilya-petrichor @pinkleopardss @lizzysugar @bywonater @avengingalec @nerdingoutismylife @rayleyanns @captainxamerica @lapetitsyrene @01asianista @alwayshave-faith @southernbellestatues @thegirlwiththeimpala @callie-swagg1 @what-if-wenevermet @hillrich @patzammit @gerrardisgod @stevcsass @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19

Seeing Double

He’s being ridiculous, he tells himself.

It’s sentiment, nothing more, and it’s playing with his senses. Knocking him off balance- Which is a thing not to be borne.

After all, the likeness isn’t particularly striking, once the body’s turned over.

And if the hands are the same size, the nails cut to the same degree of shortness, then what of it? If the hair is of a similar colour and style as that she favours, that’s still no excuse for this ridiculous, insipid… mawkishness which is scratching at his rib-cage. His chest. His heart.

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If you’re so bereft of a life that you feel the urgent and pressing need to snitch on homeless people, panhandlers, and people stealing from businesses that make your year’s salary in a second, you really should get your priorities straight. You’re not helping anyone and nobody likes you.

“Wherever forests have not been mowed down, wherever the animal is recessed in their quiet protection, wherever the earth is not bereft of four-footed life - that to the white man is an ‘unbroken wilderness.’

But for us there was no wilderness, nature was not dangerous but hospitable, not forbidding but friendly. Our faith sought the harmony of man with his surroundings; the other sought the dominance of surroundings.

For us, the world was full of beauty; for the other, it was a place to be endured until he went to another world.

But we were wise. We knew that man’s heart, away from nature, becomes hard.”

Chief Luther Standing Bear


Graphic - Eanger Irving Couse



Lithograph: Odilon Redon, I saw a glimmer of light, large and pale (Je vis une lueur large et pâle), 1896

Photograph: Eugène Atget, Hôtel de la Marquise de Brinvilliers (otherwise known as Hôtel d’Aubrey, c. 1900)

What truly terrified the cadets was the thought that, at the end of one of the castle’s corridors, was situated the room that used to be the bedchamber of the departed emperor Pavel I, and to which one night the late tsar retired in fine feather only to be removed the following morning bereft of life. The older students claimed, in a tone of deep conviction, that the spirit of the emperor inhabited that room and every night slipped out and inspected his beloved castle – and the rookies fell for it. The room was kept firmly locked at all times, with several bolts; however it is a well-known fact that no locks or latches can keep a ghost restrained. Furthermore, rumour had it that there was a secret passage to that chamber – and there actually was. As the legend goes, some older cadets found their way in and kept entering at will, until one of them committed an utter stupidity that cost him dearly.

Nikolai Semyonovich Leskov, The Ghost of the Engineers’ Castle (translated by Colouringreflections)

Music: Valeriy Alexandrovich Gavrilin, “Grand Waltz” from Anyuta ballet (suggested interpretation: presumably the Leningrand State Concert Orchestra)

crazyloststar  asked:

mikanoa, 78

congrats for sending in the first prompt! <3 here’s me being super pretentious as a reward.

mikanoa ;『 7 8 』I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. 

He meets her for the first time when he is only eight. Tender and fragile, yet intimate with the rancor and ineffable horrors the world favors upon those undeserving. He sees it in her eyes; the universe held in golden amber, a wellspring sheltering the harrowing macabre of all the unknowns, and he is bonded. He understands.

He wants to reach out and pull her into the sanctuary he has carefully nurtured against the winds of atrophy seeking passage into his miniature, sequestered kingdom. It is his personal mission, one right in a world of a million wrongs, to gather together those who have witnessed the roil of immorality, of despotic powers playing temptress to god’s wrath. There are things he was never meant to understand, but he does.

Before the looming crescendo of fate’s claws dig terminally deep, before the thread —finespun in silky gossamer— keeping modern civilization aloft unfurls to give into the end of life’s legacy, he lets himself drift towards her warmth, her cool gaze freckled with dappled mischief and something oddly profound. In all his wonderful, naïve exuberance, he attempts to save her without a wisp of thought, from the man he finds, years later, to be entangled in gilded mysteries and forsaken tragedy as deep as the principles that govern all matter of living things.

In that infinitesimal moment in time, he is weightless and infinite. He lingers in her lush memory, the aftertaste of calming lilac diffusing into every pore of his mind, soul, and body until he is utterly consumed. He thinks he is invincible, that it is forever. He quickly learns that regardless of strength or will, time’s sovereignty is absolute. Time is a magnate who waits for none and leaves little mercy in its wake; grasping, esurient fingers reaching blindly for a reminder of what once was and finding nothing but a phantom of halcyon days, a throbbing ache in the shape of soothing lavender, fading away from the vestiges of his mind, drowning, at long last, in the fiery emerald gaze of a boy who becomes his everything.   

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WiFi and Coffee

It had been one hell of a storm, that night. Feliciano had fled to join him at the first hint of thunder, as usual, waking Lovino up in the process. Without a word, he folded his arms protectively around his baby brother – this was the only occasion he’d hold him like this without putting up a hell of a lot of a fuss first. Feli had always been a bit of a baby when it came to storms.

The next morning, he was inspecting their property for damage like felled trees or debris thrown about by wind, among other things. It had been pretty rough, and he knew that they’d been right in the centre of it; at about three in the morning, they’d had five minutes of peace when he’d allowed himself to think it was over. Turned out that they were in the eye of the storm.

Even now, there was still a steady drizzle of rain making him uncomfortably cold and wet.

As Lovi made his way over to one of the vines, he was grateful that they’d finished the year’s harvest. This would almost certainly have ruined the crop if they hadn’t.

He finished his rounds by leaning over the fence of the small paddock and checking on the trio of horses inside. They trotted over, ears pricked and eyes attentively trained on him, and efficiently frisked him for treats once they had reached the fence. Even the retired old mare that they’d taken on as a favour for a friend was looking chirpy.

“But then again, nothing much rattles you, does it, Nonna?” He murmured, digging into his pockets to pass out a few mints.

There weren’t any new bumps on them that he could see, and no injuries under the thick layer of mud on their coats. Satisfied that all was well, he returned to the house to get a real breakfast in him – not just a thermos of the strongest black coffee he could make.

Sitting at the table, he unlocked his phone and began to check the local news as he ate, only to find out that there had indeed been a casualty.

The Wi-Fi was dead.

It had passed on. It was no more. It had ceased to be. It had expired and gone to meet its maker! It was a stiff. Bereft of life, it was resting in peace. Its metabolic processes were history. It was off the twig. It had kicked the bucket, shuffled off its mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible.

Isolated as their house was – usually a bonus, in the elder brother’s opinion – this was more than a little bit of an inconvenience.

He flew to the phone and, when Feliciano came down in his overlong pyjama top, rubbing sleepily at his eyes, Lovino was furiously swearing at the landline in his hand.

“Did the phone do something wrong, Lovi?”

Damn right it did something wrong!” He jammed it back down in the cradle, growling at the cheerful little beep it made when it clicked into place. “Fucking thing isn’t working!”

“Have you checked that it’s still –“

“Of fucking course I checked that it was all still connected! How thick do you think I am?!”

Feliciano waited in patient silence, well-used to this and knowing that it was better to let him rant everything out. Once the impressive, even by Lovino’s standards, rant was over, the voice of reason spoke.

“Maybe the storm hit a phone line? Let’s go into town; the coffee shops there will have free Wi-Fi.” And there would be cake as well, and Feliciano thought that Lovino really needed a little bit of extra sweetness inside him right now.


And so they gathered up phones and tablets and laptops, and they both got dressed and, more quickly than they usually would be, piled into the car. Lovino very firmly took the driver’s seat because the last time he’d let his brother drive, he’d nearly had a heart attack.

‘Rollercoaster’ was the nicest possible way to describe Feliciano’s driving style. On a good day.


Lovino left Feli to order and quickly found a corner table to get himself ensconced in. Comfortable chairs, clean table, and most importantly, a power socket. He signed in and barely noticed Feliciano arriving with drinks and two generously sized slices of cake as he began to check his email.

The café was busier than usual; most of the tables soon filled up, making Lovino grateful that they’d got in early. When dragged his eyes away from the screen, that was.

“Drink your coffee; it’ll be getting cold.”

He took a sip, and then another when he realised how well it had been made.

After Feliciano finished his own drink and slice of cake, he looked at his brother apologetically. “I’m sorry, Lovi, but I promised Monika yesterday that I’d help her with the doggies while the others are away…”

Monika Beilschmidt ran the local animal rescue, along with her two brothers. Ludwig also did dog training and Gilbert – a trained vet – ran both the blog and sponsored runs. The latter while wearing an oversized Dalmatian onesie. Normally, she’d have more than enough help, but Ludwig was ill and Gilbert was on the other side of the country for a conference.

“Tch. Still haven’t decided which sibling you like most? I swear, yesterday you were fawning all over the twin brother. Last week it was the beer guzzler, and today…”

“Shush! That’s mean, Lovi! And rude of you!”

“Truth hurts.”

Feliciano had been crushing on first one, and then another of the Beilschmidt siblings for about a year. The poor guy was like a carousel of confused pansexuality. If he’d been anyone other than Lovino’s utterly pure, totally innocent baby brother, he would’ve scoffed at him, told him to suggest a wild orgy, and then pick whichever of them gave the best sex. But he was Lovino’s utterly pure, totally innocent baby brother, and thus anyone who would even look at him in a sexual way would have their eyes gouged out in a fit of brotherly overprotectiveness.

Feli ruthlessly shot puppy eyes at his beloved older brother until he gave in and muttered a begrudging and slightly guilty apology. He hugged him and left, running so he wouldn’t be late. Monika was very pretty, but she was also very scary at times.

That left Lovino alone at their table, trawling through local news sites for more information. It was about lunchtime before he knew it, and there was someone trying to talk to him. He looked up, scowling at whoever had presumed to interrupt him.

“Ah! Hi! Sorry – you look busy! It’s just – all of the other tables are full, and I was wondering if you’d let me sit with you?”

The world had to be kidding him.

A quick glance around the coffee shop proved that this guy was telling the truth; there was barely a single seat that was not in use.

“If you have to.” Lovino grunted, quickly returning his eyes to the screen. Hopefully, this guy would respect the rules of sitting with a stranger; no eye contact, no conversation, pretend they don’t exist.

“Hi! I’m Antonio!”

Luck never had been on his side.

“Did your internet get taken out last night, too?”

Oh, come on. He came to check his email, not make a friend. “Yeah, it did.” Hopefully that shortness would cool him off a little.

Thankfully, after a couple of remarks about the storm the previous night, Antonio’s laptop had booted up and latched on to the café’s Wi-Fi.

They sat there in an awkward silence until Lovino left.


The next day, Lovino was back. The landline was still dead, and mobile reception around the Vargas house was, quite frankly, shit. They went into town; Feliciano to go to church, and Lovino to sit in the same café to wait for him.

The majority of the town was singing praises to their god, so there were very few tables that were actually occupied. Unfortunately, one of those occupied tables was the one he had begun to think of as his table.

The table was low, and nestled cosily in a corner near the windows. There were two comfortable armchairs on either side of it, upholstered in cracked, but shiny, leather. It was far enough away from most of the other tables that he wouldn’t have to deal with screaming children, but close enough to the counter that he wouldn’t have far to walk with his drink. Most importantly, right now, there was a power socket nearby where he could plug in his laptop.

He took in a deep breath and lifted his head stubbornly high. He wouldn’t let this prick chase him out of his place.

“Anyone sitting there?” He nodded at the empty chair, something in him saying that the brown mop of curls bent over a tablet looked dangerously familiar.

“Ah! No! No, I’m all alone!”

Antonio. Of course.

“Hey! You never told me your name yesterday!” He grinned. “I think I deserve to know it, if you want to sit with me~”

Bastard probably thought he was being crafty.

“…Lovino Vargas.” It was a price worth paying. He dropped into the seat and opened up his laptop. Conversation did not start; they did their own respective thing until Antonio left, shortly before the church service ended and Feliciano took up the newly empty chair.


This set the tone for their interactions throughout the next week. There was a mutual unspoken agreement to share the table. There were brief greetings at the start, which grew warmer and longer as the week went on, and after the first couple of days, goodbyes.

Lovino’s job, as he had angrily told the phone and wifi provider first thing on Monday, depended on having a reliable internet connection. Unlike Feliciano, who taught art at the local school, he needed to stay connected to the rest of the world.

Antonio ran a small business selling advice on employment law and offering training for witnesses at tribunal. Although he didn’t always need to be connected, it could be vital at times.

At their table on Wednesday, Antonio laughed. Lovino looked up and their eyes met. Antonio grinned, still laughing quietly, and showed him the screen of his tablet. A video of a puppy trying to play with its own reflection was playing.

Lovino couldn’t help himself; he felt his own lips twitch and a snort bubbled up.

Antonio was transfixed. He was so cute when he laughed! That little snort was adorable. He resolved to share all of the cute and funny videos and pictures he came across, wanting to make him laugh again.

On Thursday, they got to the coffee shop at the same time. Antonio was directly ahead of Lovino in the queue, and he ordered two drinks.

“Lovi, you can go get our table – I’ll bring our drinks.”

“I didn’t ask you to – “

“I want to!” He beamed.

With a slight grumble, just out of principle, Lovino grabbed Antonio’s tablet and went to ‘their’ table. By now, people had unconsciously begun to leave that table alone, so it was barely used until after they’d left for the day.

Antonio paid and brought their drinks over. To Lovino’s surprise, he’d remembered exactly Lovi’s usual order. On his first cautious sip of it, he discovered that it was even better than usual. What gave the bastard the right to be so damn nice?

When Lovino left that afternoon, he also left behind his phone number, not really expecting anything to come from it.

That evening, just before dinner, his phone pinged.

Hi!! This is Antonio!! :):):):)

Shortly after, it pinged again.

From the coffee shop!!

And again.

Is this Lovi??

He knew that he’d have to reply, or else be inundated with similarly chirpy texts throughout the night.

It’s LOVINO, asshole.

He promptly saved the number under ‘coffee bastard’, not to be confused with ‘beer bastard’, ‘dog bastard’, or ‘eyebrow bastard’, to name a few.

The chirpiness did not seem to be able to be put off.

Hola, Lovi~~~!!

He stared blankly at the screen for a few seconds.

I said LoviNO

Vino, then!!


Awwww!! So mean of you, Lov!!

Was this guy for real? He thought only Feliciano texted like that. At least he didn’t seem to go in for the cruel and unnecessary stretching out of words like his brother did, though.

Loviiiiiiiiiiii!! Are you getting my messages????

… Maybe he spoke too soon.

Yeah, I’m getting them. But I did warn you that my reception up here’s shit.

Awwww, I’m sorry! I’ll try to be more patient!


On Friday, it was Lovino’s turn to be stubbornly – almost passive-aggressively – nice. He bought Antonio a drink and a slice of chocolate fudge cake. Seeing as he always had a large hot chocolate, he thought it was a fairly safe bet.

His landline had been fixed, but wifi was still dead. He didn’t need to spend quite as much time down in the café, but found himself inexplicably reluctant to leave his and Antonio’s table.

That morning, they reached a wordless agreement and shuffled the chairs around to sit next to each other. They shared things they found; Feliciano sent cute pictures and videos to Lovino at lunch time, and Antonio seemed to be doing little more than trawling through YouTube for the cutest videos he could.

On Saturday, at about two, Lovino got an overexcited call from his brother.

“Lovi! They fixed it! We have internet again!”

“We – we what? You’re sure?! About fucking time!”

“The lights are all green, and I can finally check my email at home again!!”

“Fucking fantastic!”

They talked at each other for a bit longer, before hanging up. Lovino had a satisfied grin – or, at least, as close as he could get to a grin – on his face.

“Wifi’s finally back at home.” He explained.

“Oh, wow, Lovi! I’m so pleased for you!”

“Yeah – I don’t have to come here and buy an overpriced coffee to get online any more!” he crowed.

“So are you…?”

“Huh? No – I’m here now. May as well stay for a while longer.”

And things resumed their usual rhythm for the rest of the afternoon, with some tension; they no longer had the driving force of no wifi to push them together. Were things going to change?

Lovino stood, holding his laptop bag close to him. “Um… So…” He studiously avoided Antonio’s eyes. “You… You wanna do this again some time?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… Without the laptop and shit.”

“Like… A date?”

Those were clearly the words Lovino had been trying to avoid having to say. He nodded mutely and kept refusing to meet the other’s eyes.

“I’d love to!” Antonio grinned.

“Th-then we can sort it out through texts, right?”

He nodded, that dumb grin not leaving his face for a second.

Face flushed scarlet, Lovino made good his retreat. He got to his car, carefully set down his laptop bag and got in behind the wheel.

His eye was caught by his phone screen lighting up; Antonio was sending him yet another meme. It was some horrific mashup of Pepe the frog and here come dat boi. And yet, he still couldn’t help the little snort of laughter that came up when he opened it up to look at it. Almost as an afterthought, he pulled up Antonio’s contact details in his phone. After a moment of hesitation, he tapped edit and changed the name. The next time Antonio called, his new contact name flashed up.

My bastard’.

Piece of Mind
Nobuo Uematsu
Piece of Mind

These eyes will not be fooled– something weighs heavily on your mind. If I were to hazard a guess, the prospect of entreating the succor of the selfsame beings you once slew seems less than attractive? Heh. I’ll not deny it’s ironic. As you well know, aether is the source of all life. Bereft of its blessing, Eorzea would be naught but a dried-up husk of a realm. By whatever name they are called, gods drink of the land’s aether for their sustenance. The Twelve are no different. Summoning them would be tantamount to bleeding the life out of the land. Yet without their aid, Eorzea is most assuredly doomed. Dalamud will fall, and the land will die. Even should aether still flow, life may never again blossom here. We cannot allow that to come to pass. Even as we move to stay Dalamud’s descent, ever must we be mindful of the toll our actions take upon Eorzea’s longevity. We spare the present at a cost to the future. It will be no easy thing, this balancing act.

Yet we must see it through to the bitter end, no matter the hardship. Take heart, my friend, for all will be well. Victory will surely smile upon us. Whence comes my confidence, you ask?

It comes from you, ______. Yours is the fire of hope that will light our darkest hour.

░ ʀᴏᴏᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ɴᴇᴇᴅʟᴇꜱ

open to all: your muse just died and has trouble acknowledging it - big time

“ Am I dead? “

I think the amount of blood is a dead giveaway. As a grim reaper, Rhydians patience with the recently deceased was very high - but at some point it simply ended. Sometimes he really wasn’t sure if the persons he was dealing with were simply confused about the news or just unexceptionally stupid by nature. A short unnerved snort was to be heard and his face was displaying a mild glare as he added with growing annoyance:  Well, yes. Yes, you are. You have passed on. You are no more. You ceased to be. You’re expired and gone to meet your maker. You’re a stiff, bereft of life. You rest in peace, if there wasn’t so much blood you wouldn’t be pushing up daisies, your metabolic processes are now history! You’re off the twig! You kicked the bucket! You shuffled off the mortal coil! You - yes, you are an ex-person!” 


John and Sarah Makin were commonly known in Australia as ‘baby farmers’; In the 1890′s, after having 10 children themselves, they turned to caring for illegitimate children for payment. Taking care of Horace Murray in 1892, his Mother who was unable to care for him sent child support payments to them. But when she requested to see the child, many different excuses were made; The address she was given for a home in Sydney was abandoned and the family was nowhere to be found. 

They were brought to the attention of the police when a young man was unclogging a pipe from the backyard of the house they were living in. Blocking the pipe were the remains of two infant children. 

When this was brought to trial, two of their daughters testified against them, recalling the clothing and the fact that one day they came home without Horace, leaving them with no explanation so as to where he had gone. 

Before the sentencing the judge spoke to the pair:

“You took money from the mother of this child. You beguiled her with promises which you never meant to perform and which you never did perform having determined on the death of the child. You deceived her as to your address and you endeavored to make it utterly fruitless that any search should be made and finally, in order to make detection impossible, as you thought, having bereft it of life, you buried this child in your yard as you would the carcass of a dog… No one who has heard the case but must believe that you were engaged in baby farming in its worst aspect. Three yards of houses in which you lived testify, with that ghastly evidence of these bodies, that you were carrying on this nefarious, this hellish business, of destroying the lives of these infants for the sake of gain.”

They were both sentenced to hang by the gallows in 1893. After 2 appeals and a plea for clemency, John Makin was hanged just 5 months after the initial trial. Sarah’s sentence was commuted to life imprisonment and hard labor. After a hard campaign, her daughters managed to get her released on parole in 1911, she served 19 years in prison. She died in her home in 1918. 

The acts of these two people led to the 1892 Children’s Protection Act.

Monty Python Memes
  • "Bereft of life, it rests in peace."
  • "Always look on the bright side of life."
  • “My philosophy, like color television, is all there in black and white.”
  • “Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government.”
  • “It's funny, isn't it? How your best friend can just blow up like that?”
  • “Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Know what I mean?”
  • “I don't think there's a punch-line scheduled, is there?”
  • "Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help! I'm being repressed!”
  • “Tonight, instead of discussing the existence or non- existence of God, they have decided to fight for it.”
  • "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!"
  • “And now for something completely different.”
  • “No it can't! An argument is a connected series of statements intended to establish a proposition.”
  • “The Castle Aaahhhgggg - our quest is at an end.”
  • “Of course, it’s a bit of a jump, isn’t it? I mean, er… chartered accountancy to lion taming in one go… You don’t think it might be better if you worked your way towards lion taming, say via banking?”
  • "He's not the messiah, he's a very naughty boy!"
  • "I'm Brian, and so's my wife!"
  • "Oh, it’s ‘blessed are the meek’. I’m glad they’re getting something, they have a hell of a time."
  • "I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, but I’m afraid my walk has become rather sillier recently."
  • "Well you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just because some watery tart threw a sword at you."
‘E’s not pinin’! 'E’s passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E’s expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E’s a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed 'im to the perch 'e’d be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E’s off the twig! 'E’s kicked the bucket, 'e’s shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!
—  Monty Python’s Flying Circus