world wearied

ok but hear me out on this for real

  • cc tinsley is a newly minted private detective. he’s intelligent, he’s driven, he’s determined, but he still believes in humanity’s innate goodness. he’s always determined to use his status as a private detective to combat police inadequacy to help people. he’s hired by a family to investigate their missing children, after the previous detective they went to vanished mysteriously and later turns up dead, and ends up teaming up with a reluctant ricky goldsworth to solve the case
  • ricardo ‘ricky’ goldsworth is a hardened, world weary man who’s grown sick of the cold ways of the world following the sudden disappearance and later brutal murder of his friend, a private investigator named artemus ogletree ( ( ͡º ͜ʖ ͡º) ). but he reluctantly agrees to help tinsley and the man’s innocence starts to rub off on him. oh and he’s super catholic. goes to church and everything
  • dr. fear as a mysterious man who you know exists, and you know is a presence, but he always exists in the shadows, and we see him a few times but we don’t ever really know if it’s him. is he a member of the italian mafia? is he a doctor determined to find the perfect human subjects for his experiments? is he behind the kidnapping of the kids and the death of artemus ogletree? who knows!!!
  • louise is a district attorney with a shady past that she doesn’t talk about, who sits by the side of the law no matter what the consequences, and ends up roped into tinsley’s investigation as possible shady dealings with the mob and cover ups spring to light and put both her career and life in jeopardy
  • shane and ryan are two reporters for the newspaper who constantly hang around the crime scenes and make snarky jokes and are insufferable but also lovable in their own distinct ways
  • (feat. holly horsley as a detective turned true crime writer à la david rossi) 
  • and the whole thing is this neo noir au where you can’t really tell what time period it is but there’s backdoor business and betrayal and murder and child kidnappings and seduction and religion and threats and the mob and there may or may not be a trip to florence in the final showdown
  • also both don and db cooper show up. are they cameos or bigger players? only time will tell

thoughts? comments? concerns?

anonymous asked:

help i remember this fic where adam and ronan were like? in someone’s house on adams break for college (thanksgiving maybe) like just at this persons mansion for some reason and i remember they smoked weed and i also remember it was very good but i have no clue what happened to it.... Help Me

I don’t know this one! If anyone does, please rec it!

-Sheila

I think the anon is looking for new worlds for the weary, new lands for the living! It’s an awesome fic :)

-Hilary

German words without English equivalent
  • <p> <b>Engelsgeduld:</b> (lit.: angel's patience) great amount of patience<p/><b>Feierabend:</b> (lit.: party-evening) the rest of the day that remains after work<p/><b>Fernweh:</b> the desire/longing to travel to faraway places/ foreign countries<p/><b>Fingerspitzengefühl:</b> (lit.: fingertips-feeling) good skill in handling things/ sensitivity and empathy<p/><b>Fremdschämen:</b> (lit.: foreign shame) shame that arises from the compassion with someone who made a fool of himself<p/><b>Geborgenheit:</b> more than safety, protection and invulnerability, it symbolises peace, warmth and calm you feel especially when you're with the people you're close to (e.g. family, friends)<p/><b>Gemütlichkeit:</b> feeling of comfort<p/><b>Habseligkeiten:</b> valuable and personally important possessions<p/><b>Innerer Schweinehund:</b> (lit.: inner pig-dog = weaker self) the part of a person that they have to overcome to be productive<p/><b>Kitsch:</b> objects with superficial beauty that are actually useless but are appreciated nonetheless<p/><b>Konfliktfähigkeit:</b> (lit.: conflict ability/skill) ability to deal with conflict / ability to constructively solve interpersonal conflicts<p/><b>Kummerspeck:</b> (lit.: grief/sorrow bacon (fat)) gained weight from emotional overeating (especially after a breakup)<p/><b>Lebenslüge:</b> (lit.: life's lie) a lie that you tell yourself to make life more bearable<p/><b>Mitdenken:</b> (lit.: with-thinking) ability to think for yourself and do more than what you were demanded to do / trying to find a conceptional solution to a problem together with other people<p/><b>Sehnsucht:</b> intense inner longing for somebody, something or a place<p/><b>Schnapsidee:</b> (lit.: schnapps idea) a ridiculous and crazy plan/idea you have while you are drunk<p/><b>Sprachgefühl:</b> (lit.: language feeling) feeling/sense of language, instinctive feel for a certain language / intuitive feeling of what is linguistically appropriate<p/><b>Stehaufmännchen:</b> (lit.: little stand up man) someone who doesn't give up and begins anew<p/><b>Torschlusspanik:</b> (lit.: gate-closing-panic) the fear of missing something important / not being able to do some things (because you're too old)<p/><b>Verschlimmbessern:</b> (lit.: verschlimmern=exasperate, verbessern=improve) improve something for the worse / make something worse but with having had the intention of improving it<p/><b>Vorführeffekt:</b> (lit.: demo effect) the effect that something you're actually able to do doesn't work when you want to demonstrate it to other people<p/><b>Waldeinsamkeit:</b> (lit.: forest loneliness/solitude) the seclusion/solitude of the forest<p/><b>Warmduscher:</b> (lit.: warm showerer/ somebody who showers with warm water) a wimp / a person that doesn't like to leave their comfort zone<p/><b>Weltschmerz:</b> (lit.: world pain (world weariness)) gratuitous melancholia / kind of feeling experienced by someone who believes that physical reality can never satisfy the demands of the mind / the feeling of anxiety caused by the ills of the world<p/><b>Zeitgeist:</b> (lit.: time-spirit, spirit of the time ) the dominant set of ideals and beliefs that motivate the actions of the members of a society in a particular period in time<p/></p>

I see what Marvel is not subtly doing. Captain America has lost everything and has grown a beard and his uniform is darker. Thor’s hair was shaved and he lost an eye and now has an eyepatch. Star Lord has lost his powers while Iroanman’s suits have been heavily modified. By this point all of the Avengers and Marvel universe have been through the absolute wringer. All for the purpose of making Infinity War as edgy, post apocalyptic aesthetic, dark and dirty and scruffy as they can get away with for the Avengers. And let me tell you I am HERE for it. Put them in Black with bitchin haircuts and missing body parts and world fucking weary. I wanna see them looking like the grubbiest darkest kicking ass done with this shit Mad Max squad ever

2

older!Corvo and older!Daud meeting someplace out-of-the-way for a smoke for @yellowcandy

The Dreamer Within You

I wear sunshine on my lips and stars on my nails. My hair is a garden of roses that blossoms in a different color every morning. I drink galaxies for breakfast and use ribbons of moonbeams sprinkled with comets as laces for my shoes. My eyelids are the wings of hummingbirds and my skin, the velvet blackness of night seasoned with stardust. My breath is the scent of wildflowers and magic. And I wear music as jewelry around my neck.
You’ve known me as the dreamer who lives within you and the creativity you lost as you grew up. I helped you discover your imaginary friends and whispered in your ear to create your own world. I replaced your ordinary eyes with kaleidoscopic diamonds and your nightmares with dreams of flying. You still see me in children: the five-year-olds who pray to the Easter bunny and the eight-year-olds who wear rose-colored contact lens, viewing the world as a big bundle of joy where everyone is happy. You wish I’d never left you when your parents fought and got a divorce or when your first love broke your heart into pieces. You think I faded inside you little by little every time your teacher said you’d never amount to anything in life or during those sleepless nights when you felt unloved and believed you no longer belonged anywhere.
You wish you could trade all your ‘growing up’ for just one more day of staying a child. To feel my soft fluttering kiss on your salty, world-weary cheeks as I lead you once again into the world you created and then abandoned. And to help you rediscover the pirate ships and treasure chests hidden in scudding masses of clouds. To just be a child again, nothing else.
You think you outgrew me when your turned thirteen when all your friends seemed more interested in their own bodies than your fairytale stories about flying imps and green-skinned witches. You let the world turn you angry, cynical and disappointed. You learnt that not all people are good and that rainbows don’t really lead to leprechauns’ pots of gold. Growing up had changed you and you blamed me for letting you down.
With every day of disbelieving, I was vanishing within you until one day I was nowhere to be found. Your head full of dreams wilted as real-life responsibilities mounted on your shoulders and left you on your knees. Soon, I became just another tattered memory you remembered occasionally on bus rides back home and sighed at.
*
But one evening, you stop to look at the moon. It is deliciously glowing and hangs crescent in the sky. You casually envision a Siamese kitten sitting on the inner curve of the moon with its kinky tail waving at the stars. And just like that, you hear me laugh. That laugh you hadn’t heard for years; that laugh that still rang with innocent delight and childlike wonder.
I say to you, “Remember, I’m the dreamer within you. The bottle of rainbows in an ocean under a rainstorm. The sweet clusters of dew in a field of parched grass. You’ll never lose me, you just have to find me. But I’m always there.”

You then realize you’ve been wrong this whole time. It wasn’t me who had let you down, but yourself.

anonymous asked:

But you don't know Benedict.

Ah, now this is a topic I’ve been lucky enough to discuss with some dear mutuals over the years, so let me see if I can do an answer justice.

Of course, we can never know the man, not truly; that is only for the very lucky few that are a part of his life, his world.  But there is so much we can deduce of him, based upon his work, his words, his public deeds and behavior.  

If you look at his work alone, you see incredible natural talent that he has refined through dedication & physical and mental discipline; you see a love of the written & spoken word; and most especially you see a keen & compassionate understanding of the human condition–for how else could he bring such breathtaking truth to all of his characters?  Even the wicked ones, like Khan & Richard III–he makes us feel that even they have reasons for the things they do, often rooted in emotional/psychological pain.  Though the evil they do is no less evil, we can sympathize to some degree, with what brought them to that place.  In my lifetime I have seen no player more truly & more lovingly—in Shakespeare’s words—hold the mirror up to nature.

In interviews & public appearances, you find a humble, self-effacing man, a bright wit, & sense of humor generous enough to make himself as likely a target of jesting as anyone or anything else.  He values home, hearth, family, the environment, although he could easily give over to hedonism on his bank account. How many times do we see him wearing the same clothes, carrying that same blue water bottle on set, even brown bagging his lunches at times?Choices, I’m sure, that reflect his commitment to simplicity and to reduce his carbon footprint. Benedict’s charitable works have been well-recorded on this site, so I’m not going to research it, but when I run across a post about it, I’ll be sure to reblog for info’s sake.

I won’t speak at length about his personal relationships, except to say that’s a man who loves his wife thoroughly. It would frankly break my heart to learn he had the same feet of clay of so many other public figures & celebrities in this regard—what I see tells me he and Sophie have the real thing. And that he guards his little family’s privacy so jealously is further testament to that.

In short, (though this runs long) I trust my eyes & ears, and they tell me to trust in the public image that is clearly on view.  I see a man who gives as much positive energy to the world as he can, and embraces life with complete joie de vivre.  And as I believe in the human soul, I see a most spectacular one that shines luminously, not only enhancing his unique physical beauty, but reminding me that true good is possible in a world that is often quite selfish & mean.

I could probably go on with dozens of more examples, but let me just finish with one of my favorite photos of him, which for me reflects (I hope) a bit of what I’ve written here.

Thank you for your ask–it was a delight to answer! ❤❤❤

Finn does not give a fuck about your idols

Star Wars: The Force Awakens established the male lead Finn as an antifascist, anti-authoritarian hero, and he is justly celebrated as such. I don’t think people talk as much, though, about his relationship with authority and legends in general: Specifically, that he does not trust authority and has no use for legends.

This makes Finn a different kind of hero, one who is not only anti-authoritarian but anti-authority. He is not like Luke who was all starry-eyed about the Jedi and his father. He is not even like Rey who filled her starved soul with dreams of heroes, or Poe who grew up surrounded by legends. Finn also stands in contrast to the main villain, Kylo Ren, who turned his back on the heroes of the Rebellion and Republic only to bow down to idols of the Empire and First Order.

Finn’s closest predecessors are Han Solo of the original trilogy and Jyn Erso of Rogue One, especially Jyn who was the traumatized, world-weary outsider before she threw in with like-minded comrades in the Rebellion. With Finn, however, I believe the ambivalence about choosing a side is portrayed as not only a reflection of his trauma but also a healthy reaction to it.

This hesitation about the Resistance puts Finn in a fascinating position in the Star Wars universe and opens a whole new window into the nature of political thought in the Star Wars franchise. Here’s how:

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In the brittler, more wounded moments, or the ones where she cops to questionable behavior of her own, Swift sounds like she’s 27 going on 40. In the songs where she’s dealing with the love she believes can take her away from all that world-weariness, it’s more like 27 going on 16, again. That’s an ideal balancing act for a singer who was “happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time” in “22” and five years further on is still all that, along with seasoned, innocent, closed off, open, guilty, guileless, and really kind of genius at the same time. She contains multitudes. We might relate.
—  Chris Willman, variety (x)
Pirate Diplomacy

A quick thing that I’m dedicating to @shoedonym, who had the idea of Killian threatening people while looking, well, like this.


It’s almost night time in Storybrooke. The hour between light and dark, where distances grow fuzzy and the eyes play tricks.

The thieving hour, it ought to be called. At least, in the opinion of a young criminal mastermind by the name of Jack Bradagan, who is probably given to more poetic flights of fancy than most thieves.

Storybrooke, he has discovered in the short time since he stumbled through a portal, is a very sleepy, unassuming town. The port is far less crowded than any he’s ever visited back home. In fact, at this hour, it’s all but deserted. There is no noise and light spilling from taverns beckoning sailors to drink and spend their coin, no brothel or loitering whore to be seen anywhere, no late-night gambling or merchant stalls.

He has his target. He has his crew. He also has a sword, and several knives hidden in strategic places upon his person. He takes a deep breath, then motions to the other four, and they make their way along the docks, to the lone sailing ship tied up at the pier. The Jolly Roger.

The gangplank is down. Jack leads the way up to the deck, almost giddy with excitement. The price he paid for the tip-off looks to have been worth it. It’s not nearly this easy to even board a ship back home.

“I don’t think you want to do that, mate,” says a man’s voice behind him. It’s a hard, world-weary sort of voice, a voice that has seen more than its share of thievery. It’s followed by a soft cooing sound that seems out of place. The voice goes on, “Turn around.”

Jack is already doing so. His heart is simultaneously somewhere around his knees, and trying to jump into his throat. He knows that voice, or rather, he knows what a voice like that means. It’s a voice used to giving orders. He’s heard it from many a captain, though never quite like this.

The man standing in front of him looks like he was made for thieving hour. He is dark-haired and dressed in shades of black and grey and navy, so that he seems to blend into the falling night, except for the pale skin of his face and hand. His one hand, which is currently holding a sword, the curved blade pointing at Jack. The other arm ends in a wicked curve of metal. More metal gleams at his belt: a strange-looking badge of some kind.

Strapped to his chest is a baby. Jack blinks, taken aback, but it is definitely a baby, cradled against the man’s chest, tiny hands flailing a little.

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Hold The Line

(x, x)

Characters- Dean x Reader 

Summary- Dean comes back from Purgatory a changed man, and things between he and the reader shift from friends to something more.

Word Count- 9,415 (**laughs maniacally, ripping her hair out all the while**)

Warnings- Longform NSFW Smut (chest worship, fingering, a hint of sub!Dean, definite rugburn, fluffy sex), language, protective! Dean, and Dean angst in regards to early season 8 events.

A/N- This takes place in season 8, mostly at Rufus’ old cabin. I know the cabin doesn’t have a fireplace, but we’ll pretend it’s right next to the tv. Cool? Cool. Title is taken from the Toto song of the same name. Again, thanks to everyone for being patient with me while I wrote this one. Super special thanks to @jpadjackles for helping with my plot bunnies, and @winchestersinthedrift for the lovely smut writing advice that I hope I did some justice with. Part of @curliesallovertheplace’s Celebration Challenge and @sis-tafics and @eyes-of-a-disney-princess’ Have a Hubba Bubba Birthday Writing Challenge. The prompts were “What if Dean is a cuddler?” and “The One With All The Kissing”.

(Blockquoted sections are flashbacks)


Each bump in the road has you shifting in your seat, the old chevy truck’s shit suspension making your butt numb with vibrations. You check your watch and, yep. You’re making really good time. You should be with the way you’re speeding on the blacktop, mile markers flying past.

Your phone lights up, the man consuming your idle thoughts’ face smiling up at you from the screen. Him and his stupid pretty face. It’s funny the way you could just as easily kiss said stupid face as you could punch it. And you wanted to kiss it. A lot.

You flip open your phone, “Dean?”

“Hey, you almost here?”

You fight to stifle a laugh. “Impatient much, Winchester?”

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some french phrases ♥︎

1. À LA DÉBANDADE

À la basically means “in the style of” or “according to.” À la débandade—literally “like a stampede”— used figuratively in English to describe a disorderly or chaotic mess.

2. AMOUR FOU

an obsessive passion for someone, and in particular one that is not reciprocated. It literally means “insane love.

3. L’APPEL DU VIDE

It literally means “the call of the void,” but in practice it’s usually explained asthe bizarre inclination some people have for doing something dangerous or deadly, no matter how foolish they know it is. So when you’re standing on a beach, l’appel du vide is the voice that tells you to swim away and never come back. When standing on a clifftop, l’appel du vide tells you to throw yourself off.

4. APRÈS MOI, LE DÉLUGE

Après moi, le déluge means “after me, the flood,” and is used to refer to a person’s irresponsible or selfish lack of concern in what will happen after they have gone or moved on.

5. CHERCHEZ LA FEMME

Literally meaning “look for the woman,” cherchez la femme is used in English to imply that if a man is seen acting out of character, then a woman will likely be the cause of it—find her, and the issue will be resolved. Although the origins of the phrase are a mystery, it’s often credited to the French author Alexandre Dumas, whose crime drama Les Mohicans de Paris (1854) contains its first written record: “There is a woman in all cases; as soon as a report is brought to me I say, ‘Cherchez la femme!’”

6. COUP DE FOUDRE

Coup de foudre is the French term for a thunderbolt or strike of lightning, but it’s been used figuratively in English since the late 1700s to mean love at first sight.

7. L’ESPRIT DE L’ESCALIER

Known less romantically as “staircase wit” in English, l’esprit de l’escalier is the frustrating phenomenon of coming up with the perfect observation or comeback after the opportunity to use it has passed.

8. HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE

“Shame on him who thinks badly of it,” warns the old Norman French saying honi soit qui mal y pense, which has been used in English to discourage preemptively or unjustly talking something down since the early Middle Ages.

9. MAUVAIS QUART D’HEURE

As well as having your fifteen minutes of fame, you can also have your mauvais quart d’heure(or your “bad quarter of an hour”)—a brief but embarrassing, upsetting, or demoralizing experience.

10. MAUVAISE HONTE

Mauvaise honte literally means “bad shame.” In English it’s often used simply to mean bashfulness or extreme shyness.

11. MISE EN ABYME

the phrase mise en abyme (“put into the abyss”) is used to refer to the mind-boggling visual effect of a recurring image containing itself into infinity—like a mirror reflected in a mirror.

12. NOSTALGIE DE LA BOUE

The phrase nostalgie de la boue was coined by the French dramatist Émile Augier in 1855, who used it to refer to a person’s fondness for cruel, crude, depraved, or humiliating things. Its meaning has extended over time however, so that today a nostalgie de la boue is often used more loosely to refer to adesire to live a simpler, downsized, or less indulgent life—it literally means “a yearning for the mud.”

13. PLUS ÇA CHANGE

a world-weary acceptance of the current state of affairs—although things might appear to change or improve, beneath it all they remain just as bad as before.

14. POUR ENCOURAGER LES AUTRES

The ironic expression pour encourager les autres—meaning “so as to encourage the others”—refers to an action carried out to discourage any future unrest or rebellion.

15. RECULER POUR MIEUX SAUTER

If you reculer pour mieux sauter, then you literally “draw back in order to leap better.” a temporary withdrawal or pause in action that allows for time to regroup or reassess a situation, and therefore make a better attempt at it in the future.

16. REVENONS À NOS MOUTONS

“let us return to the matter at hand.”

17. ROI FAINÉANT

Literally a “do-nothing king.” leader who has no real power and instead acts merely as a figurehead, or as a symbol of power or authority.

18. TANT BIEN QUE MAL

Anything that is only partly or moderately successful. It literally means “as well as badly.”

19. VENTRE À TERRE

Ventre à terre literally means “belly to the ground” in French, and so taken literally it can be used simply to describe someone or something lying face down. Doing something ventre à terre, ultimately, means doing it at full speed.

20. VIOLON D’INGRES

hidden talent or pastime, far outside of what you are best known for, and in which you are just as knowledgeable or adept.

tygermama  asked:

short story - I was at the Calgary Zoo once, when the birds had cages made of vertical wires. I was waiting outside the reptile house cause I was too scared to go in and ended up spending ten minutes watch a cockatoo watch me watching it as it used it's talons to squeeze the wires together, slip itself outside the wires and then just perch there, staring at me like it was sizing me up 'you gonna rat me out, human?' It has the most cynical, world-weary look I've ever seen in it's eyes.

That sounds like the chaotic energies of every parrot I’ve ever met, yes.  

anonymous asked:

Hi! For the prompts, can you do one where they go to eden’s twilight and Neil gets roofied? Thanks!

this is… such a good prompt. not sure i took it where you were thinking, but…. here’s this 2k mess

i’m going to regret not proofreading this, but i’m tired and i don’t care


Andrew answers his phone in the bathroom of his New Mexico apartment. “Robin,” is his greeting to the base pumping in through the speaker. The Friday night call is unexpected and routine-interrupting. He’s getting ready for bed, not about to miss out on taking advantage of his weekend of sleep; Robin should be too busy celebrating the Foxes’ latest win to even think about calling him.

“I can’t find Neil,” she says, her panic audible over the intoxicated laughter of someone too close to the phone, rolling into Andrew and upending him.

“What the fuck do you mean, you can’t find Neil?” Four fucking words, and Andrew feels just as empty as he had when he’d been standing in the aftermath of a riot, holding a duffel bag in one hand and a scuffed-up racquet in the other.

Robin’s breath comes in thick and sticky against Andrew’s ear. He can smell the alcohol in the club, though he knows that none of it is on her breath – she’s like Neil; she doesn’t drink.

“I mean that he went to go get the next round for the table and now he’s gone.” There’s a push of noise and then the music is gone and it’s just a memory of laughter and shouting, catcalls and the infrequent patter of late-night traffic.

“He didn’t run,” Andrew says, because Robin would have only gone outside if she had been thinking that; she is intimately familiar with Neil’s story, the crossing of frequencies into her own. Andrew pushes the bathroom light switch down very precisely and paces out of the room. “Get back in the club. Talk to one of the bouncers and tell them what’s going on. If they give you shit, give them the phone and let me talk to them.”

The bedroom is dark, orange light leering only from a small lamp by the bed, and Andrew leaves it that way. He shifts the phone to speaker and sets it on the dresser, shoving his legs into jeans, swapping out his balding night shirt for armbands and something fresher. He’s not planning on leaving, but he wants to be ready. Neil probably just went to the bathroom and Robin is overreacting.

Or Andrew isn’t reacting enough.

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Voicemail

Dean/Cas; post s12 finale, angst, 1K, G. Canon character death. Read on AO3.

Dean develops a brand new coping mechanism.

It’s not like Sam says “you should keep busy” out loud. But his long, lingering, puppy-dog looks and the bunch of cases piled up on Dean’s table pretty much say everything for him already. Print-outs, cut-outs, scattered letters that used to make sense at some point. Two people torn to shreds here, a person drained of all their blood there, evil going bump in the night.

The times when Dean can’t stop thinking about the people that the vics inevitably left behind are the worst.

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